Artists at Court by Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum

c.Artists at (ourt: IMAGE-MAKING AND IDENTITY

I30o-1550

<:!Artists at Court IMAGE-MAKING AND IDENTITY

Edited by Stephen]. Campbell

Eve!Jn Welch) C Jean

Campbel~

D avidJ Drogin) Stephen J

Sherry C M Lindquist; Frederic Elsig)

Campbel~

L uke ~son) Ethan Matt Kavaler;

Kim E . Butler; L aro1Silver; Elena Calvillo) Giancarlo Fiorenza) R ebecca Zorach

I SABELLA S TEWART G ARDNER MUS EUM BOSTON

'Distributed by University of (hicago Press

i::.Artists at Co11rt: l111age-0\faking and Ide11tit;1

1300--1;;0

:femJJCI)' (ourt, vol. 31 Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum

This collection of essays is based on a symposium held in March 2002 at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum . The symposium and publication were made possible by the generous support of The Andrew \XI. Mellon Foundation.

Produced by Museum Publishing Partners, Cambridge, Massachusetts D enise Bergman, editor Carl Zahn, designer

Front cover: Andrea Mantegna, Ca111era Piela, detail of court scene, ca. 1472, fresco, Castello di San Giorgio, Mantua.

Back cover: Jean Colombe, Charles I of SaVO)' and Bianca of Nfonferrato in

PrCl)1er before the Res11rrected Christ, 1485, from Tres Riches Heures du due de Berry, Musee Conde, Chantilly, MS65, fol. 75.

Frontispiece: Andrea Mantegna, Tri111JJphs of Caesa1; Canvas IX: Caesar 011 His Chariot, ca. 1485-88, tempera on canvas, The Royal Collection, Hampton Court.

Table of Contents *** Ackno1v/edg1nents 7

l ntrod11ction Stephen]. Campbell 9

Painting as Peiformance in the Italian Renaissance Co11rt Evelyn Welch 19

"&mane nostro senensi iocttndissima": The Co11rt Artisti H earfi Mincl and H and C. Jean Campbell 33

"The W'ill of a Prince!)' Patron" and Artists at the B11rgundian Co11rt Sherry C. M. Lindquist 46

Reflections on the Arts at the Co11rt of the D 11kes of Savqy (1416--1530) Frederic Elsig 57

Bologna's Bentivoglio Fami!J and its Artists: Overvieiv of a Q ttattrocento Co11rt in the Making David]. Drogin 72

lVfantegna's Tri11mph: The C11ltttral Politics of Imitation "all'antica" at the Court of JV!antua, 1490-1530 Stephen]. Campbell 91

L eonardo and L eonardism in Luke Syson 106

~orza

Milan

N.Iargaret of A11stria) Ornamenfy and the Cott rt Sryie of Brott Ethan Matt Kavaler 124

"Reddita ittx est": Raphael and the Pursuit of Sacred Eioqttence in Leonine Rome Kim E. Butler 138

Civic Co11rtship: Albrecht Diire0 the Saxon Duke) and the Emperor Larry Silver 1

"Ii Gran ll1iniatore" at the Co11rt of Cardinal Alessandro Farnese Elena Calvillo r63

Dosso Dossi and Ceiio Cakagnini at the Court of Ferrara Giancarlo Fiorenza 176

The French Renaissance: An Unfinished Prqject Rebecca Zorach 188

Notes on the Text 201

Notes on the Authors

Bibiiograpl?J 2

Index 262

c:./Jcknowledgments *** in this volume were first presented at the symposium, The R enaissance CoNrtArtist, held at the Isabella Gardner Museum, Boston, on 2 March 2002. The lectures, which reconsidered the various roles of court artists in both northern and southern Europe, accompanied the first-ever monographic exhibition on Cosme Tura, the fifteenthcentury Ferrarese court artist. Stephen Campbell curated Cosme Tt1ra: Painting and D esign in Renaissance Ferrara, chaired the symposium, and has edited this collection of essays. The Gardner Museum is grateful for his many contributions to the life of the museum. The generosity of The Andrew W Mellon Foundation made possible the exhibition, the symposium, and this publication. Stephen Campbell would like to thank Denise Bergman, Alan Chong, Mario Pereira, Cynthia Purvis, and Carl Zahn for their efforts in bringing this book to completion. Warm thanks also to the contributors. c:.7l1ANY OF THE ESSAYS

Introduction *** STEPHEN

CAMPBELL

~E PAI

TER Andrea Mantegna (ca. 1430-1 506) occupies a special place in Martin \'V'arnke's groundbreaking book, The Court Artist: On the Ancesto1 ef the Modern Artist.' Mantegna, for \'V'arnke, seems to fulfill a kind of ideal destiny for the court artist, and to set the pattern for future careers. He is a paradigmatic example of the ambitious craftsman whose reputation and value were established in a decisive move in 1460 from the guild-regulated world of urban trades (for Mantegna, his native Padua) to the court of the Gonzaga, a regime of professional mercenary captains only recently recognized by the emperor as dynastic rulers of Mantua. Like Giotto and Simone Martini before him, so Warnke's account runs, Mantegna's move to a foreign court held out the prospect of a social distinction and material reward never available to artists in their native urban milieu - unless they had already received the distinction of princely honors. In the city, he would always be a craftsman; at court, he would be awarded the rank of famiiiaris, which brought position and influence within the prince's household and, ultimately, a recognition of the liberal and intellectual basis of the art that he practiced. Mantegna appears as a piece of living cultural property who could dictate the terms of his employment, establish a much resented monopoly on artistic production at court and in the city, obtain a coat of arms and noble titles from the emperor and the pope, and "hold court" himself at his own palace, where he received luminaries such as Lorenzo de' Medici. He thus constitutes a vital chapter in a broader and not unfamiliar narrative of the rise of the artist, defining a role that would be filled with even more spectacular success by Peter Paul Rubens - artist, author, diplomat, aristocrat - a century later. \'V'arnke's view of the court artist was shaped by a search for the origins of the "modern notion" of the artist, of the rise in status of the artist and what he produced, the transformation from a predominantly utilitarian to a predominantly aesthetic and ethical conception of art itself. The cultural distinction enjoyed by artists in modern bourgeois society, which, as Pierre Bourdieu also demonstrated, artists maintain through the claim of not being bourgeois, is for \X!arnke a holdover of the old aristocratic status they had attained by the end of the ancien regime: "The surviving forms of artistic patronage - scholarships, academies, artistic prizes - could not compensate [the artist] for the loss of court functions and emoluments. It was only with the disappearance of the courts that the artist became an outsider, a man apart, still possessing the attributes of his former exalted vocation, but with no material support or legitimation to show for it. . .it is as though art cannot forgive middle-class society for forcing it to find its higher destiny at court." 2 The essays in this volume, in their methodological range and in the variety of court cultures they examine, might cause us to question the trajectory that leads from the case of Mantegna to the rise of the "modern artist." Such a questioning is necessary not only because 9

of the problem of just how typical a court artist Mantegna may have been, or because the essays offer a challenge to the very stability of the category "court artist," but because a consideration of artists in the societies of the European courts before 1 550 may be important for reasons other than their connection to a "modernity" that may already have passed us by. Warnke's idea of court employment as an alternative to, even a kind of secession from, the mercantile and trade-regulated world of the city is challenged by several contributors, who emphasize the ongoing importance of urban markets for the supply of works of art to court patrons: the quintessentially courtly art of tapestry is a telling example.3 ot only did court patrons frequently make use of structures of production that already existed, we also find that powerful bourgeois patrons themselves could bypass such structures. \'V'arnke concedes that tl1e Medici and the Strozzi of Florence created networks of patronage that conceded special advantage to clients deemed to be friends, neighbors, and "familiars." As Evelyn Welch notes in her essay, "the typical Italian system of patronage and clientage functioned at court as it did elsewhere on the peninsula, involving multiple layers or intermediaries and obligatory introductions and recommendations." Finally, Warnke's account incurs the objections of all diachronic narratives of progress, and of histories that seek to portray the Renaissance as a "birth of the modern." Sherry Lindquist's essay on court artists in Burgundy uses the striking disparity in status between Claus Sluter at the court of Philip tl1e Bold and his successor Jean de la Huerta to argue against the implicit teleology of Warnke's account, which like that of Johan Huizinga, seems still to assume a "development from anonymous medieval craftsmen to self-conscious Renaissance artists and their modern(is t) successors." She examines the career of Claus Sluter, sculptor, diplomat, and court functionary to the Dukes of Burgundy at the turn of the fifteenth century, to argue against a prevailing conception of Sluter as occupying the role of the lowly medieval or "pre-Renaissance" craftsman; few later fifteentl1-century artists in orthern or Southern Europe could be said to have achieved a comparable level of success. Like \'V'elch, Lindquist proposes that artists may have attained wealth and distinction at court for reasons other than their artistic accomplishments, because rulers found them useful in other respects. Other contributions to the volume show the continuing value of some of \,'V'arnke's insights, especially his proposal that "the court," however we define it, did make a difference in how artists might be perceived, or might perceive themselves. Entering a prince's household, or establishing a visible association with the court even while maintaining an urban workshop, constituted a vital form of cultural capital. Warnke offers a reminder to art historians that their model of patronage, largely elaborated in relation to the city republics (Venice, or Florence before 1530) and to early capitalist models of production and exchange, requires substantial modification when transferred to the court centers. Examining the situation of the court artist demands an adjustment of market models, as well as notions of social and artistic value. Studies of the art market in Italy have tended, for largely practical reasons, to be limited to the Florentine experience, where the processes of production and consumption have left a fairly thorough deposit of documentation, yielding data available for 10

quantitative analysis.4 Yet if our account of the demand for art is to expand to include the courts - obviously a far from negligible site for the consumption of art - factors determining the value of art and artists other than prices, costs of materials, and protocols of contract will have to be considered. Under the conditions of production and consumption in court centers, value translates far less readily into the terms of a cash economy. Artists who became salaried court servants were compensated not only through cash payments, but through benefits including housing, gifts of food and fuel, the allocation of revenues, and less tangible social benefits that came with service to a princely house. For instance, working for a prince enabled the Ferrarese painter Cosme Tura (1431-1495) to be accorded the term nobilissimus, although this ascription of nobility had no legal basis. 5The benefit Tura received was less material than social; the allure of the court would have made him attractive to other clients. For his predecessor Pisanello, this included other courts: Pisanello moved bet\veen Ferrara, Mantua, Milan, and Naples, where he ended his career in highly advantageous professional circumstances.6 On occasion, art production and its compensation resembled the giving of gifts, that is, it took the form of a pointedly noncommercial form of exchange. Pisanello, Angelo Maccagnino, Mantegna, Durer, Cellini, Rosso, Sofonisba Anguissola, Spranger, and Artemisia Gentileschi, to name a few, sometimes presented their work in this way, following the practice of literary professionals who offered unsolicited work to princes in the hope of reward.7 Compensation was not always obtained through fixed prices, but through reciprocal gifts, which may have been other than financial. Even in more low-end court productions, where artists submitted estimates of cost for contract work, they often found that their work was treated as a gift. Welch has noted that for artists working for the Sforza in Milan, the privilege of working may have been the only benefit received: too often artists found that serving the prince had to be its own reward.s Another important line of inquiry developed by Warnke concerns the emergence of an elaborate apparatus of literary commentary on the visual arts, a phenomenon that characterizes the courts more than the urban centers. Michael Baxandall had already shown, without making much of the fact, that from Cennino Cennini onwards the theoretical literature that proclaims the nobility and liberal status of art itself was produced at the courts or, in the case of Leon Battista Alberti, with a court orientation in mind.9 This literature of art could take several forms - from the formal treatises on painting composed by Alberti (dedicated to Gianfrancesco Gonzaga of Mantua) and on sculpture by Pomponius Gauricus (dedicated to Duke Ercole d'Este of Ferrara), along with others by Filarete and Francesco di Giorgio, to the rhetorical forms devised in the charters of appointment and letters of privilege that were used for artists at court. These letters have the status of formal princely pronouncements; the most notable early examples are those drawn up in the name of King Robert of Naples to honor Giotto in l 329, those used by King Alfonso of Aragon to confer benefit on his artists ("to satisfy my spiritual rather than my bodily needs") and the many similar documents produced in the name of the rulers of Mantua. 10 Here Mantegna really does appear to have a paradigmatic status. In the wake of the extraordinary honors conferred - at least theoretically - on Mantegna, we find equally florid statements on the dignity of art being used to I I

quantitative analysis.4 Yet if our account of the demand for art is to expand to include the courts - obviously a far from negligible site for the consumption of art - factors determining the value of art and artists other than prices, costs of materials, and protocols of contract will have to be considered. Under the conditions of production and consumption in court centers, value translates far less readily into the terms of a cash economy. Artists who became salaried court servants were compensated not only through cash payments, but through benefits including housing, gifts of food and fuel, the allocation of revenues, and less tangible social benefits that came with service to a princely house. For instance, working for a prince enabled the Ferrarese painter Cosme Tura (1431 -1495 ) to be accorded the term nobilissimus, although this ascription of nobility had no legal basis. 5The benefit Tura received was less material than social; the allure of the court would have made him attractive to other clients. For his predecessor Pisanello, this included other courts: Pisanello moved between Ferrara, Mantua, Milan, and Naples, where he ended his career in highly advantageous professional circumstances.6 On occasion, art production and its compensation resembled the giving of gifts, that is, it took the form of a pointedly noncommercial form of exchange. Pisanello, Angelo Maccagnino, Mantegna, Durer, Cellini, Rosso, Sofonisba Anguissola, Spranger, and Artemisia Gentileschi, to name a few, sometimes presented their work in this way, following the practice of literary professionals who offered unsolicited work to princes in the hope of reward.7 Compensation was not always obtained through fixed prices, but through reciprocal gifts, which may have been other than financial. Even in more low-end court productions, where artists submitted estimates of cost for contract work, they often found that their work was treated as a gift. Welch has noted that for artists working for the Sforza in Milan, the privilege of working may have been the only benefit received: too often artists found that serving the prince had to be its own reward. s Another important line of inquiry developed by Warnke concerns the emergence of an elaborate apparatus of literary commentary on the visual arts, a phenomenon that characterizes the courts more than the urban centers. Ivlichael Baxandall had already shown, without making much of the fact, that from Cennino Cennini onwards the theoretical literature that proclaims the nobility and liberal status of art itself was produced at the courts or, in the case of Leon Battista Alberti, with a court orientation in mind.9 This literature of art could take several forms - from the formal treatises on painting composed by Alberti (dedicated to Gianfrancesco Gonzaga of Mantua) and on sculpture by Pomponius Gauricus (dedicated to Duke Ercole d'Este of Ferrara), along with others by Filarete and Francesco di Giorgio, to the rhetorical forms devised in the charters of appointment and letters of privilege that were used for artists at court. These letters have the status of formal princely pronouncements; the most notable early examples are those drawn up in the name of King Robert of Naples to honor Giotto in l p9, those used by King Alfonso of Aragon to confer benefit on his artists ("to satisfy my spiritual rather than my bodily needs") and the many similar documents produced in the name of the rulers of Mantua. 10 Here Mantegna really does appear to have a paradigmatic status. In the wake of the extraordinary honors conferred - at least theoretically - on Mantegna, we find equally florid statements on the dignity of art being used to 1I

reward far less illustrious artists such as Francesco Bonsignori, Lorenzo Costa, and Lorenzo Leonbruno. 11 Regarding Bonsignori, the charter states that "God has raised up rulers precisely so that talent might not go unrewarded, so therefore the prince felt bound to honor in Bonsignori the ingenious art of painting, which in a small space can encompass the vast extent of the world, and make figures which appear to live and breathe." Yet such claims are hardly disinterested. As formal statements of recognition of the dignity and liberal status of the artist, they probably tell us more about the needs of the prince than about any objective consensus on the status of the artist. Princes needed to proclaim the connection of art with intellectual virtue and nobility, in the moral sense, in order to justify their investment in it. At work here is the psychological circumstance that Baxandall long ago pronounced to be the "selective inhibition about display,'' which becomes increasingly pronounced in the later fifteenth century. 12 The prince conspicuously invested in the maintenance of his status: his own claim to virtue and legitimacy was heavily dependent on the highly material forms of building and ephemeral pageantry in which vast portions of state resources were invested, frequently with utterly ruinous economic consequences, as Richard G. Brown has pointed out in regard to Ferrara. 1 3 Ercole d'Este, famous as a patron of architecture, appears to have disposed of buildings like used clothing, constantly dismantling recently completed palaces and churches in order to erect newer and grander ones. In 1479, according to a contemporary, the duke wrote "to his engineer, and also to our duchess ... to have his court thrown down, even though it had been decorated in fine form, and sent a new design." 1 4 Although produced as a commercial transaction between a prince and a host of painters, sculptors, architects, festival engineers, suppliers of cloth, and so on, the ultimate goal of this material magnificence was to realize an ideal, premercantile world above vain display and beyond the mundane reality of commerce. Above all, as Dillian Gordon and Luke Syson remind us, the fact that many early Renaissance princes were mercenaries who fought for material gain had to be offset by spectacular and costly rituals of arms exercised for the pursuit of honor alone: the hunt, the tournament. 1 5 The effect of princely liberality, which was the goal, was ideally achieved through a professed indifference to the world of commerce: money was literally thrown away, in a kind of protracted potlatch: "The feasting which King Alfonso provided [for the visit of the Emperor Frederick III] cost more than a hundred and fifty thousand florins; there was a hunt in which a vast number of noblemen and gentlemen took part; and a banquet, such as even the largest cities of the country could not have matched, was spread. In every place - and there was an infinite number of them - men ate from silver dishes the most sumptuous meats. Not only could confetti be had for the asking, but all sorts were given free to be thrown away." 16 The contempt for money is a leading motif of Vespasiano da Bisticci's description of the life of Alfonso the Magnanimous, whose economically ruinous dispensing of cash to peasants, humanists, and nobles was defended as a kind of Franciscan, ascetic disdain for worldly goods. On one occasion, the king gives away the entire proceeds of the hearth tax to a covetous young man "[to show] that he himself set no value on the money." 1 7 The impression of endless wealth is finally crowned by an ostentatious disdain for wealth; the investment in 12

spectacle has to be redeemed by the humanist demonstration of the worthiness of spectacle and the dignity of the artists who brought it into being. Real art was a demonstration of virtue, not a commodity to be obtained at a price. The association of art with intellectual culture, explored in this volume by C. Jean Campbell, Stephen ]. Campbell, Giancarlo Fiorenza, Kim Butler, and Elena Calvillo, had demonstrable consequences for artistic performance at the courts, regardless of whether artists were treated as "real" intellectuals or whether this accompanied a verifiable improvement in their material status. 18 In fact, Renaissance theories of disegno, which elevated the intellectual conception of tl1e work of art over its material realization and execution, corresponded with one of the most characteristic circumstances of the court artist's operation: the division of labor involved in the production of designs for a whole sphere of artistic media, including painting, tapestry, festival decorations, medals, and metalwork. The elevation of mental conception over manual execution is primarily a phenomenon of the later Renaissance: it becomes current following the establishment of academies of art in Florence (15 62) and Rome ( r 593) and as such falls outside the scope of this book, which might be said to end with the institutional redefinition of the court artist as primarily a member of an academic body - an organ of the early modern state - rather than as an associate of a princely household. 1 9 onetheless, the emergence of a courtly identity even for earlier artists has often been defined not only through an insistence on the distinction between "art" and other forms of work, but through a dissimulation of labor. Warnke's account of the conversion of artist to courtier, whereby craftsmanly labor gives place to a performance of sprezzatura (nonchalance) designed to dissimulate the effort that brings a work of art into being, is marked by a sense of the tensions this must have involved. His assessment of the function of the court as a civilizing mechanism, ennobling that which it touches, corresponds in part with the analysis of court society in the work of orbert Elias, Aldo Scaglione, Stephen Jaeger, and Mario Biagioli. 20 Yet if we are finally to see the court artist defined only as the purveyor of graceful and ingratiating sprezzatura, which enables a tradesman to pass as a gentleman, or as an index of the power of the court to "civilize" and domesticate a social energy that might otherwise remain marginal, unruly, and insubordinate, we are missing the more interesting potential of Warnke's analysis, albeit one not explored by him. The historical image of the artist transformed into a pseudo-cortegiano, his paint-stained fingers now hidden by expensive gloves, is achieved not without a certain sacrifice: gone, for instance, is any sense of the artist having an experience, even a voice, that could be different from that of the feudal aristocrats who surround him at court. The artist's sphere of agency is seen merely as a transmission or extension of the agency of his social superiors or employers; his art would lack the kind of critical potential that (for instance) I ascribe to Mantegna in the reading of the Triumphs proposed later in this book. Gone too is any sense of the artist as a skilled worker who did what courtiers or nobles could not do, who commanded technologies and forms of knowledge that allowed him to lay claim to a social identity finally disparate from that of the gentleman: "The true courtiers can take as much comfort as the spare time they have, and spend it all on amusement" wrote Bronzino in one of his facetious

Capito!i. "But we who always have some work that tires the mind and the brain ... know that all the time one gives to something possibly vain and wasteful is stolen from our works and their quick completion and beauty, because when someone goes back to the quiet of his home and is worn out, he has to rest and put aside all his desires and eat his usual meal and lie down where his senses wear him down, otherwise in a few days he'd be dead and buried. In this way, late or never, you have to complete the works or have them carried out by apprentices, who make a thousand bunglings. It might seem to some that money and favor do not follow people like us who make things, and it seems that the common people honor us even less." 21 Pietro Aretino's play La cortigiana (r 52 5) offers a potentially illuminating if cynical perspective on the figure of the courtier-artist, suggesting that this may have struck contemporaries as a rather hybrid and incongruous social identity betokening the upstart and the opportunist. 22 In the character of the Venetian painter and poet Messer Andrea, Aretino presents the artist as one capable of counterfeiting the role of gentleman, a mercenary reader of Castiglione ("el libro per fare cortigiano" then circulating in manuscript) who proclaims himself capable of instructing others in the arts of cortegiania. The analogy with the courtesan seems deliberate and pointed, along with the satirical insinuation that the very circulation of Castiglione's text threatens the distinction between courtier and commoner through which courtly identity maintains itself. Aretino's depiction of the artist as impersonator might also lead us to explore the converse possibility: that artists at court may have been disinclined to impersonate the courtier, that they may have experienced and enacted a kind of discongruity from this role, even in ways tl1at might be manifest in artistic performance. In fact, Mantegna, deplored by fellow artists for his "arrogance and rule of Mantua," with his famous irascibility amply documented in years of belligerent correspondence with his Gonzaga employers, seems like the very opposite of Castiglione's courtier. Like other figures, such as Ercole de' Roberti, Lorenzo Costa, Rosso Fiorentino, Michelangelo, and Pontormo, Mantegna was referred to as bizarre, melancholy, or "difficult," in other words as not fully conforming in his behavior to the mores of the court. Maintaining an identity as artist may indeed have given such figures a license or outri quality, an exotic distinction, which may have been enabling or imprisoning- what John Berger, following Ortega y Gasset, once called the "vertical invader" in elite society. 3 Beyond a mere license to act differently, can we see in such behaviors an assertion of outsider or subaltern status, an embrace of the exotic, the eccentric, or the strange? Rebecca Zorach's scholarship on Italian artists working at the sixteenth-century French court has drawn attention to the way style might explicitly be an expression of foreignness, a performance in accordance with French perceptions of Italy.2 4 Imported Italian styles, in art, fashion, or other behaviors, were seen as a threat to French "naturalness" and, especially in polemics against the half-Italian Henry III, regarded in terms of a dangerous foreign contamination. The foreign style was all tl1e more menacing in its very translatability, in its affinit:y with the native forms of French Gothic. But even in Italy itself, the artist might play the part of the dissident, the nonconformist, the underling who creates a persona based on irony 2

and perversity. We find the contours of a deeply transgressive artistic persona above all in artists' literary enterprises: we might think here of Cellini's autobiography, or the scandalous capitoii of Bronzino, or even some of the more grotesque forms of literary self-presentation assumed by Michelangelo. Some contributors here seek to address the defining experiences that make the artist at court finally different from a courtier; they do this by recourse to the artist as he is figured in his works, in particular through the devices of sry!e. The examination of the court artist, as well as the court itself, as partly a product of representation and of style is a crucial move, in that Warnke gives curiously scant attention to the appearance or meaning of works of art themselves in the negotiation of identity at court. Style is approached by the contributors in two related ways. In the case of Leonardo da Vinci in Luke Syson's essay, style is the mark of a celebrated artistic identity, and thus a quality sought by Leonardo's employers at the Sforza court of Milan. It is also a reproducible effect, a means of extending a court artist's sphere of operation through the collective activity of collaborators and proteges. Syson uses the techniques of the connoisseur to show the multiplication of the "Leonardo effect" by various pupils and collaborators (the so-called L eonardeschz) ; he argues against scholars who have disputed Leonardo's classification as a true court artist on the grounds that he was apparently not required to execute such typical commissions as portraits of the ruler. The production of such works, Syson proposes, was assigned to Leonardo's associates, among them the so-called Master of the Pala Sforzesca, who produced portraits that are likely to reflect models by Leonardo. Evelyn Welch and C. Jean Campbell address style rather as a kind of courtly performance, a response to an audience's expectation of what artistic virtuosity should look like. Welch's essay compares tl1e courtly fortunes of painters with those of other members of a court household who had much greater success in capturing the attention and the favor of a prince: the singers and the jesters. Success at court in her account was a question of devising a strategy to get noticed; she proposes that after r 500, artists increasingly sought to be regarded as performers or entertainers, the virtuoso execution of which became a courtly spectacle in itself. Sofonisba Anguissola was one such artist, her celebrity at the Spanish court enhanced by virtue of her being a woman. For C. Jean Campbell, the court artist is a fiction generated in artistic performance, a poetically fashioned persona that may have little to do with the material facts of the artist's life and real conditions of employment. For Simone Martini at the court of Avignon we have almost no biographical facts; we do however, have a series of works, plus the elements of a powerful poetic myth created by Petrarch, who propagated the notion of Simone's gracious and "courtly" persona. There is a level at which Simone Martini's art makes a claim on Simone's behalf; there is a performative element that a literary commentator like Petrarch interprets with terms such as iocunditas, a synonym for "pleasantness" or even "courtliness." One of the central themes of this book is that such poetic myths may in fact have even more historical consequence than actual lived careers; by idealizing the relation between artists and employer, or between the figurative arts and poetic expression, they may exercise

an important exemplary force for later artists and their patrons. After all, the court artist is a myth for the very reason that the court itself is a myth, at least as produced through the fictions of art and humanist rhetoric. Not only was the court an aristocratic household that assimilated or managed the central offices and institutions of a state; it was also an ethical and aesthetic conception, an ideal of civilized life and of refinement in human conduct (this survives even today in words such as "courtesy" or even "courtship"). Campbell has argued elsewhere that the idea of honorable conduct, of social harmony, of legitimate statehood itself, was inconceivable without the ideal of the court, even in a republican city (we might think here of the "communal court" depicted in Lorenzetti's frescoes for Siena's Palazzo Pubblico in 13 38): "Even in the Imperial and feudal courts of Northern Europe ... 'the court' was something more than a political organization. It was also an imaginative construct, a poetic fiction which defined itself in relation to, but did not share an absolute identity with, the political entity we call the court." 2 5 It is well known that the Medici of Florence, anxious in their public artistic commissions to suggest an identification with the ideals of the Florentine republic, deliberately aspired to more princely modes of self-display in their private patronage: Benozzo Gozzoli's celebrated frescoes of the Medici as the Three Magi in the chapel of the Medici palace is a well-known example. D avid Drogin's essay on the Bentivoglio of Bologna presents an interesting comparison with the tacit princely self-fashioning of the Medici. In Quattrocento Bologna, a private family with no legal title to dynastic rule moved from an emulation of civic models of prestige toward an increasingly princely mode of self-representation in both public and private spheres. The "approximate court" of the Bentivoglio was finally a spectacular effect created through the work of artists, who by the end of the fifteenth century were typically recruited from the court of Ferrara. Giancarlo Fiorenza's essay covers parallel ground to Campbell's in that he examines tl1e court as a forum in which artists and poets acquired mutual self-definition in response to each other's enterprise; what had been a harmonious joining of means and ends with Simone Martini and Petrarch, however, now almost two centuries later appears to be more contentious. Again the emphasis falls on the poetic persona fashioned by D osso rather than the "real" artist and his professional fortunes at court; the former is no less important than the latter in the historical definition of what an artist does, and how an artist might resist characterizations of his art by literary professionals claiming a superior position in a court hierarchy. Several other contributors refer to the importance of artistic reputation established by literary means, where tl1e artist in his work actively participates in the shaping of an identity through tropes and figures of authorial authority. Kim Butler and Elena Calvillo both deal with the social networks and institutional sites in which artists and men of letters would have encountered each other in sixteenth-century Rome. For Butler, the question of Raphael as a literary painter is integral to the question of Raphael as a court painter. In the case of Raphael, the Roman Academy defined the cultural aesthetics of the papal court under Leo X, the poetic and rhetorical norms that established the centrality and eternity of Rome and negotiated between its past pagan glories and its modern destiny. Butler shows how several features of Raphael's late style can be understood through their striking correspondence with 16

the antiquarian and Virgilian preoccupations of the neo-Latin poetic circle around Johan Goritz and Angelo Colocci. So too for Giulio Clovio as examined here by Calvillo; it was Clovio's contact with the academies under Farnese patronage that fostered the witty and erudite approach underlying his spectacular illuminations for the Farnese Hottrs. Calvillo demonstrates the degree to which Clovio's illuminations make their own contribution to the experience of a princely reader, balancing the epicene tastes of a connoisseur with the concerns of a prelate committed to reform. Once again we might wonder about the actual promise offered by court employment as opposed to academic affiliation, and the increasingly important role of the academy in furthering an artist's social ambitions following the foundation of the Accademia del Disegno in Florence in r 562. Other contributors show the effects of the courtly interaction of artistic and literary culture in other ways - through the consequences of its absence. Frederic Elsig surveys the cosmopolitan artistic culture of the court of Savoy over several generations, showing the contributions of image makers in different media drawn from Italy, Burgundy, France, the Rhineland, and elsewhere. For the most part, Elsig is tracing the slender archival record of once-formidable artistic reputations that turned out to be as fragile as their works. Like the Burgundian artists discussed by Sherry Lindquist, who were able to enter the ranks of the upwardly mobile ducal administrators, several of the court craftsmen active at Chambery were able to greatly enhance their status in the craft and mercantile society of Geneva before tl1e Reformation. The loss of these reputations is not simply a consequence, however, of dispersal, decay, or willful destruction. Figures such as Jean Bapteur or Hans Witz may have attained substantial bourgeois status, but it is arguable that their relative independence from the court (if we compare them with Mantegna or Raphael) may have had consequences for their reputation in posterity: they do not figure in the literary eulogies of the Savoyard princes and their circle of men of talent, they lack a Giovanni Santi, a Sandrart, or a Vasari. The situation contrasts too with that of Albrecht Durer, examined here by Larry Silver, whose enormous celebrity was at least in part achieved through a decisive command of one particular medium, which also brought access to the definitive channel of publicity: the print workshop. If Durer's courtly production had continued in the vein of his early tempera paintings for Frederick the Wise of Saxony, it is doubtful that he would have attained the distinction he continues to enjoy. A courtly commission such as the Triumphal Arch and Triumphal Procession of Emperor Maximilian I, even if executed in collaboration with a network of court bureaucrats and fellow craftsmen, remained more effective in broadcasting the reputation and artistic identity of an artist like Durer, who, to use Warnke's terms, was decidedly more "of the city" than "of the court." The court of Savoy is again the locus for E. Matt Kavaler's account of one of its most stupendous monuments: the great church and tombs of Saint Nicholas of Tolentino at Brou. The work provides a key example of the collaborative and bureaucratic nature of courtly "grand projects," and involved artists of considerable reputation with a record of distinguished service at the courts of the emperor, of Frederick the \Vise of Saxony, and of Spain: the painter Jan van Roome, the architect and "geometrician" Loys van Boghem, and the r7

sculptor Conrad Meit. Notwithstanding the importance of the individual members of this team, who clearly meet Warnke's criteria for courtly success, their professional identity has little correlative in terms of distinguishable style. The constant variety of sculptural and architectural form so lavishly displayed at Brou seems to override distinctions of artistic identity; if anything these were subordinate to an overall use of decorative tracery motifs employed "as signs of [the patron's] identity and a means of organization." This further shows how the broader history of the transformation of artistic identity in the Renaissance needs to be inflected; in Margaret of Austria's patronage at Brou the social and professional distinction of artists is already a given, and it is not established or advertised through their "personal style,'' monograms, or distinguishing marks. The question remains: How we can discuss such collaborative works as having in any sense to do with the identities of the artists who made them? Pointing out that the problem may have more to do with the impoverished nature of our own methodologies for dealing with collaborative authorship, Rebecca Zorach recovers the strong effect of a controlling and even willful authorial intelligence in the decorative arts of the court of Fontainebleau. This is specially evident in reproductive printmaking, through which the Italianate decorations of the Galerie Frarn,;:ois Premier were disseminated by engravers such as Leonard Thiry, often involving witty and ingenious recombinations of motifs from the original project. Zorach makes the important observation that we should pursue the agency of the court artist as a stylistic effect, "to redescribe works in terms of a style - and the meanings embedded in .. .style - rather than as the products of an individual author." It is true that in Mantegna, the subject of my own essay, we see an implicit attempt by an artist to secure authorial control of a style, to dominate the production of the a!!'antica, or antiquarian effect, in the art of the late Quattrocento: the Triumphs ef Caesar is insistently about the reputation of Mantegna as much as it is about that of his patrons. The large claims of the Triumphs are of particular interest, however, in that they also point to their own illusory, fictive status, and call attention to the court as an enterprise of myth making. Like the faces in clouds, like the phantasmically animated cuirasses carried by laboring trophy-bearers, they are a spectacular simulacrum, a painted veil mystifying a state of affairs which is far more prosaic. ot only are these the often unedifying activities and milieu of a Renaissance mercenary warlord, they are the documented accounts of the real business of being a court artist: a culture of jockeying, of envy, of physical violence exercised against rivals, of petty litigation, of unpaid salaries, of much-vaunted disappointment and recrimination. Reputation is finally, perhaps, the main compensation for a discrepancy between the promise of distinction and fame offered by success at court and the less-than-glamorous rewards and working conditions that princes were really able to provide.

[1]

Tainting as Teiformance in the Italian ~naissance Court *** EVELYN WELCH

INms doctoral dissertation, first written in the 1960s and eventually published in 1985, German art historian Martin \Varnke proposed a new interpretation for the rise of the status of the artist during the Italian Renaissance: the enlightened support of princely rulers who were able to recognize individual creative talents. 1 Heretically for the period in which he was first writing, Warnke argued that great artists had been more effectively nurtured and rewarded in the despotic courts of Mantua, Iviilan, and Naples than in the republican regimes of Florence and Venice. Post-war Germany was hardly an environment conducive to the suggestion that the rule of a single individual brought cultural benefits superior to those of a republic, and the argument has only recently received a much wider scholarly circulation. It has, however, often been accepted without a full debate. This is problematic as \Varnke's work and methodology raise as many questions as they answer. Above all, his thesis depended on a very unclear definition of what constituted the "court artist." For Warnke, as for many other scholars considering the notion of a Renaissance "rise of the artist," the figure under discussion was almost always a painter even though art and artists were rarely so narrowly defined witlun the period itself. 2 Yet wlllie excluding other court employees such as goldsmiths, embroiders, tapestry makers, and ceramists from the term "artist," Warnke was willing to include all painters who had ever worked for the court regardless of their precise contractual conditions and whether or not they had a long- or short-term engagement. But the title pittore da carte is not common in Renaissance documentation. When it does appear, it is often used as a casual term with little legal consequence.3 Thus, if we are to take the terminology of the period itself seriously, "court painter" should only be considered as a professional category once it appears as part of the bureaucratic mechanisms governing the day-to-day functioning of payments and privileges. To formally become a member of even a minor court, one needed an appointment and a regular salary or benefits that were paid, at least in principle, on a monthly basis. Although we can find artists employed under tl1ese terms, many of the painters who were unequivocally members of the court, for example, Raphael, Giulio Romano, and Giorgio Vasari, were paid not for their work with the brush but as overseers of works or as engineers and architects. These are not simply problems of semantics but fundamental distinctions between contemporary myths surrounding the concept of the elite court painter and the negotiations that obtaining and maintaining such positions actually entailed. This essay attempts to reopen tl1e

debate by exploring the economic and social structures that underpinned the relationship of a painter to his or her court environment. It does so by comparing artists, not with their predecessors, but with other cultural performers, specifically musicians and jesters. This allows us to examine the changing category of "court painter" as it developed within the growing complexities of Renaissance court cultures.

The CoNrt as Social Theater Renaissance courts were highly contested social arenas whose participants had an acute awareness of protocol and standing.4 Food, drink, housing, and salaries were as stratified as the people who enjoyed them. One's place in the social group was measured in terms of seating, in terms of how far hosts went up or down the stairs to greet their guests, types of food and clothing, and even the quality of the mattress that was provided.5 There were, for example, eight kinds of bread served in the Este household in the sixteenth century, ranging from the softest white loaf to dog biscuits. 6 There were four qualities of wine, meat, and fish, as well as a strict ranking of the types of fabric used to make courtiers' liveries. 7 Visibly siting oneself in the hierarchy was simple as one rose from a sack stuffed with leaves to a feather bolster, put on a different grade of shirt, and sat down to either black bread or fine wines and meat. For example, in early fifteenth-century Padua, a would-be humanist trying his fortune at the Da Carrara court, Giovanni Conversini da Ravenna, left a despairing record of his declining favor. 8 When he first arrived, wine, firewood, bread, and meat had been sent to his home on a daily basis. As his influence waned, and as first his meat and sauce, and then his bread disappeared from his daily provisions, he knew it was time to seek alternative employment. In his treatise, he recorded the saying of a fellow court physician, "Nothing so ill befits a prince as cheating his followers of accustomed victuals,'' emphasizing how the outward physical treatment of courtiers was regarded as a critical sign of their position at court. 9 Conversini blamed the court secretary for his downfall and was careful to stress that the lord of Padua himself, Francesco II da Carrara, would have been unaware of how badly he had been treated. Such descriptions of malice and favoritism were common in court rhetoric and stem from assumptions regarding the capricious nature of princely service. Lords could do as they pleased for they were not bound by the social conventions and guild regulations of civic life. This ability to overturn traditional hierarchies informed Warnke's belief in the possibilities of social mobility in the Renaissance court. But a closer investigation of the management of court households during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries suggests that the reward of talent was a more complex affair. Although rhetoricians and poets might praise painters as a new Apelles and encourage their princely masters to behave like Alexander, household administrators saw these aspiring artisans as mouths to feed, horses to stable, and bodies to clothe. Feeding, housing, clothing, moving, and entertaining the signorial household took a great deal of organization. 10 Given the sensitivity with which all these aspects were measured, it is not surprising to find these officials working with meticulous attention to protocol to ensure that everyone was accorded to their precise place in the court struc20

ture. 11 As courts increased dramatically in size and scale in the sixteenth century, such planning grew even more complex, resulting in greater competition for position and above all for intimacy and access to the signorial ruler and those in his favor. Employing courtiers was a highly politicized act and the choice of servants and type of roles they played was carefully observed by onlookers. Tasks would be multiplied and subdivided in order to ensure a higher level of employment. For example, a letter from the court doctor to the duchess of Milan explained why her son, the six-year-old Galeazzo Maria needed a full complement of servants: Three chamberlains will never suffice in dressing our lord: two are needed to hold him when he is being buttoned, one needs to hold the stockings, another the shoes and another the dress. And Gentile is always used in the morning to bring in and hold the undergarments in which he is dressed. It would not be fair to take his usual office from him and indeed from messer Gaspare and the others who will be excluded. They are camerie1"i da camera and as such will not stand for it. 12 As this letter suggests, service, however menial, was not always performed by those most skilled at a particular task, but by those with a high level of political or social connections. A task that brought one into close physical contact with the ruler or his family, such as those involving dressing and dining, might bring higher status and income than one requiring greater competency at a distance. This meant that the typical Italian system of patronage and clientage functioned at court as it did elsewhere on the peninsula, involving multiple layers or intermediaries and obligatory introductions and recommendations. 1 3 Although a number of rulers, such as Borso d'Este and the Sforza emphasized their willingness to hold an open court where petitions could be presented to the ruler directly, the ability to influence a judgment or petition usually depended on access to the sovereign and his favorites. 1 4 The closer the petitioner could get to the ruler, his wife, and their retainers, the greater the chance of acbieving wealth and recognition. Leonardo da Vinci once lamented in a highly rhetorical letter to the fabbrica of the Cathedral of Piacenza concerning the casting of a set of bronze doors for the church in the 1490s that without court contacts, talent would be overlooked: Thus I cannot but be troubled when I recall what manner of men have spoken with me about their intention to enter into such an undertaking without heed to their capability, to say the least. One is a potter, another an armourer, another a bell-ringer, one is a maker of bells for harnesses, and there is even a bombardier. Also among them is one of the D uke's household who boasts that he is a familiar of messer Ambrogio Ferere who is a man of some influence and from whom he has fair expectations. And if this does not carry it, he would go on horseback to the D uke and entreat from him for such letters of recommendation that you will never be able to refuse work of this calibre. 0 consider to what point are the impoverished and conscientious who are qualified to do such work reduced when they are to compete with such men. With 21

what hope can they look for a reward for their merit? Open your eyes and look well to it that your money is not spent purchasing your own shame. I can assure you that from this region you will only procure indifferent works by cheap and coarse Masters. 1 5 In this letter, Leonardo attempted to situate himself as a man of genuine merit, reducing his competitors to mere artisans with good connections: potters, makers of small harness bells, a bombardier. They succeeded, he argued, because of their capacity to obtain influential recommendations, and not because of their intrinsic abilities. Andrea Mantegna's Camera Picta, completed in 1472 for the Marchese of Mantua, Ludovico Gonzaga, is a similarly dramatic visual evocation of the concept of intimacy and favor.1 6 Ludovico was very precise about the status of those who could enter his room, rules which were varied according to the time of day and activity taking place. For example, when he promoted one of his pages, Cottino Cotta, to the status of cameriere da guardaroba, or chamberlain of the wardrobe, in 1461, the boy was no longer allowed to enter the signorial bedroom at will. But Ludovico did grant him the privilege of attending while he dressed and undressed, a favor Cotta failed to take up. Thus in January 1462, the marquis wrote directly to the boy's father warning him of his displeasure: When we put someone out of our room, he can only come with permission at the appointed hours, and he [Cottino Cotta] was allowed to come in the morning and in the evening when we dress and undress. Although we gave him this permission, I think I can say in truth that until now he has not even come four times, except at the hour when it was open to all. But at the hour, when, as we have said, he was permitted to come and no one entered except our companions and a few of our courtiers who sleep in the room, I don't believe he has come more than four times. 1 7 \""V'hile Mantegna's frescoed chamber, the Camera Picta, was not the lord's actual bedroom, it did form part of the Marquis's personal apartments. Inclusion and exclusion are the central themes of the court scene shown over the fireplace (fig. l). Here "insiders" are shown clustered around the seignorial family. A devoted dog and the loyal secretary are closest to their lord. 1 s The women are surrounded by children, attendant ladies, and an elaborately dressed female dwarf. But to the right, the young men who are shown trying to push their way into this decorous court scene are barred from entering by swaggering footmen. Above, additional ladies-in-waiting and slaves alike are also kept at bay, their disorderly roles emphasized by their jocular interaction with a potted orange tree, which might tumble into the room below at any moment. 1 9 Viewers looking at these frescoes were, by definition, insiders. In admiring the images of those refused entry, their own sense of access would have been reinforced. But while Mantegna may have been the deus ex machina of this lavish room, how often would he have been permitted to enter himself once the scaffolding had been removed? There is consider22

able evidence to show that Mantegna, like his predecessor Pisanello and successor Giulio Romano, did enjoy economic success, prestige, and social standing in Mantua. He followed a long tradition of employed painters on salary lists in smaller courts such as Mantua and Ferrara. Such generous terms may have been needed to keep the loyalty of talented individuals who could have moved elsewhere. This was in contrast with larger courts centered in large urban communities, such as that of Milan, whose rulers tended to either turn to the local artistic community or order items from abroad. However, even Mantegna may have been excluded from the Gonzaga private apartments and in regularly comparing the status of painters in different cities or across time, we may not obtain a complete idea of how the artist was viewed within the court community as a whole. To gain a better sense of the value placed on the creators of pictorial imagery, we need to compare painters using a different set of parameters. On the Horatian model of utpictttra poesis, painters regularly wanted to site themselves next to poets. Nonetheless, they might be better seen as competing with other cultural performers, allowing us to observe how they tried to manipulate the hierarchies at court in their favor. If Warnke is right, we should see a rise in the painter's status compared to that of other courtiers, not simply rising against the lowly standing they had once held in previous centuries.

Access and Status As suggested above, managing the court was a complex business that generated a large bureaucracy and detailed paperwork. In fifteenth-century Milan the sescaicho, or seneschal, was expected to put up dining lists, indicating who was to be fed and where, and to keep track of which courtiers were allowed into which rooms. 20 Doormen, uscieri, stood at the entrances to signorial apartments, barring access to the lord without permission. This meant that the possibilities of chance encounters with the ruling family and the consequent opportunities to seek favor were often limited. As Mantegna's fresco indicates, courtiers could not simply enter any room at will; they had to wait to be called for. We need therefore to explore how and why artists and other performers were summoned and what happened when they arrived. \"\!hat type of access to high-level officials, dignitaries, and rulers could they enjoy and what rewards could they expect as a consequence? In the long lists of Galeazzo Maria Sforza's traveling court of 1472, it is clear that of the many entertainers he employed, only his musicians, above all his singers, occupied a prime position.21 This corresponds with a growing demand for musical performance in the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Italian courts, a phenomenon that has been well studied by musicologists such as Iain Fenlon, Louis Lockwood, and Paul and Laura Merkley." The inducements needed to hire the best of these performers usually involved a high salary and the promise of job security based on clerical benefices. Thus in writing to his ambassador in Milan in 1479, Ercole d'Este tried to be very clear about what the singers he was recruiting could expect:

We are glad to give them the ten ducats every month for twelve months a year, as they request, and fifty ducats a year in benefices, senza mra, for each one when they fall vacant in our dominions and which we can give them. Thus we will not be lacking in providing for them, and if it should happen that they lose their voices then it will be understood that they will be allowed to exchange these benefices, but with our approval, as they may request . .. Also we are happy to give them ten ducats each to enable them to purchase a horse ... As for their horses, we are not going to pay for their expenses, either in our stables or elsewhere. We will give them clothing as we are accustomed to do. But they will have to find the housing that they ask for at their own expense. 2 3 These rewards were far greater than those given to Ercole's painters and illuminators of the same time and only represented the minimum a good singer could command. To obtain the best soloists, the duke of Ferrara and his competitors offered even greater sums. Given their ease of mobility, the competition was international; as these singers from Flanders, France, and England often had few family links with Italy, they were free to travel from place to place seeking the best arrangements. In return for his services in the NWanese choir, a famed tenor such as Jean Cordier could expect a salary of at least l,ooo ducats a year and, more importantly, tl1e rights to the income of one of the city's most prestigious abbeys. The poaching of Cordier from the choir of Ferrante of Naples by Galeazzo Maria Sforza in 1473 caused such an international incident that the duke of Burgundy had to be called in to adjudicate between the two rulers over their rights to the singer. Singer Antonio Guinati, who was himself poached from the duchess of Savoy's chapel, was awarded a mining concession in the ducal territories, which he and his brother promptly exploited by setting up a silver business alongside his singing business. 2 4 The new emphasis placed on the female voice in the sixteenth century permitted women to take advantage of similar rewards as sopranos, and all-female chapel choirs became prominent in Ferrara and Mantua. Women such as Lucrezia Bendidio in Ferrara, Tarquinia Molza in Parma, and Laura Peverara in Mantua achieved rapid social mobility through their talents. Because they could not be easily appointed as salaried professional singers, they were hired as court attendants and eventually provided with wealthy noble spouses. 2 5 Musical ability allowed for such dramatic social and economic mobility in part because these musicians were not observed passively. Instead their listeners were themselves active participants. The singers described above played an important role in liturgical events but they were also invited to sing per piacere as part of the leisure and recreation that was considered both decorous and essential for the aristocracy. As part of a wider group of leisure activities focused around the dinner table, the singers often blurred boundaries with storytellers. For example, when the younger brothers of D uke Galeazzo Maria Sforza came to Ferrara in 1468, they noted, "While we were dining, we had various amusements, of playing of harpsichords and lutes, and by jesters and by Master

i.1 Andrea Mantegna, Calllera Piela, detail of court scene with courtiers barring entry on far right, ca. i472, fresco, Castello di San Giorgio, Mantua.

1 .2 Francesco Laurana, j\ifedal of the Court Jester, Triboulet, 1461, bronze, Bibliotheque ationale, Paris.

I. 3 Leonardo da Vinci, Po1trait of Isabella d'Este, ca. i 500--1, charcoal and pastel, Musee du Louvre, Paris.

Giovanni Orbo, who recited in a marvellous manner, quite out of the ordinary." 2 6 Giovanni Orbo's highly regarded skills as an improviser meant that he enjoyed a high level of contemporary fame and an annual salary. His regular appearances at the signorial table led to additional tips and favors, particularly gifts of clothing, which could prove similarly lucrative. 2 7 Traveling, talking, playing, and singing with members of the signorial family offered a chance to develop networks for the provision of mutual favors and pleasure. A description of a late fifteenth-century outing with Beatrice d'Este and her jester/ dwarf, Dioda, written by the Milanese courtier, Galeazzo da San Severino, gives some sense of the intimacy that such relationships involved: This morning I started out on horseback with the Duchess and all her ladies for Cusago, and in order that your Highness may be freely understanding of our amusements, I will tell you that I was required to ride in a carriage with the Duchess and Dioda, and as we rolled along we sang more than twenty-five songs arranged for three voices, that Dioda took the tenor part, and the Duchess the soprano, whilst I sometimes sang bass and sometimes soprano and so many tricks that I really think I was more foolish than Dioda. 2 8 In this example, Dioda was both a singer and a clown or jester, a bttffone whose primary function was to provide amusement. In the late sixteenth century, Giulio Landi defined the biiffo11e as one who in things that are ridiculous and pleasurable exceeds reason, both in saying and in hearing them. He has not respect at all either for the person, the time or the saying, nor for when it is appropriate to cease ridiculous things, either saying them or hearing them. Thus the btiflone, even in serious and grave matters, as in the silliest, always laughs and tries to get others to laugh, and he always studies how to raise laughter in others, just as he has one always at his lips. 2 9

Bttffoni did have a more serious side to their employment. Their role as jesters gave them the authority of the witless, and they were often kept as a reminder of Saint Paul's injunction that "whoever among you thinks himself wisest, let him first become foolish, that he may thence become wise."3째 Thus, Francesco Laurana's portrait medal of Triboulet, the court jester of the king of France, emphasized the juxtaposition of the king as fool and the fool as king (fig. 2). Like tl1e singers and improvisers described above, the btiflone had much greater access to tl1e intimate spaces of signorial rulers and the rewards that resulted. Renowned figures included the pope's most favored clown, the famed Fra Mariano Petti, who was given the office of the Lead Seal worth 700 ducats as his reward, a prize that had belonged first to Bramante and would eventually go to the painter Sebastiano del Piombo.31 Although more closely associated with medieval courts, clowns and jesters could be found in most of the North Italian courts by the end of the fifteenth century and through-

out the sixteenth century. There are many examples of their services and popularity, particularly in the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In 1480, for example, Eleanora of Aragon apologized to Bona of Savoy for keeping her jester, Cacagno, for longer than expected, "for our recreation.'' F Isabella d'Este dispatched her buffone, il Matello, to her brother Alfonso at Ferrara when he fell ill in 1498.33 Isabella was particularly fond of dwarfs and jesters and considered them a troupe, not simply individual performers. They wore the full outfit associated with fools in the English and French courts. When one of her jesters, Symone, did not receive his uniform he lamented that "your ladyship gives the clotbing with ears to others and not to him, and that your highness should remember that he is also a bu/Jone and that you should give him dresses with ears like the other buffoons.''34 D espite the odd costume, effective jesting and joking provoked respect as well as laughter. When Isabella's fool, il Matello, died, he was the recipient of numerous epitaphs including the following poem from the poet Antonio Cammelli, "Il Pistoia": Lifeless his body lies: if he is blest Even now, I think his parted soul set free Is making all Paradise laugh heartily But if he is in Hell, then, verily He cheers and quiets Cerberus with a jest For nature made of him so odd a fellow So touched his brain even from his earliest years That all who knew him, called him il Matello To both the Marquis and his wife most dear And not to them alone; all joyed to hear His jokes, whether in the country of the court With him even D eath made sport And during the transit laughed with him awhile And then, still jesting, killed him with a smile35 This vogue for court entertainers and their rapid social advancements was not always welcomed, leading to a number of jaundiced observations. 36 In the late sixteenth century, the Venetian satirist, Tomaso Garzoni noted with some bitterness: ow in our modern times, buffoonery has risen so high in status that princely tables are more stuffed with clowns than with any other type of virtuoso. There is no court so small or mean where one does not hear or see a Carafalla, a Gonnella, a Boccafresca enthroned that treats the table and the honourable audience seated around it to mottoes, pleasantries, tales and jokes .. .These are the excellencies and greatness of the clowns that live happily at the shoulders of gentlemen and lords, and triumph at the tables of princes while the learned poet, the orator and the philosopher take up residence in the most lowly pantries. n 27

Garzoni's obvious exaggerations should not undermine his genuine concern. Because of their abilities to tell jokes and witticisms, the buffoni were welcome at the prince's table where they would be rewarded with tips and gifts. The scholars, neglected and abused, sat in the pantry, eating lower-guality foods and lacking access to favor and promotion. In considering the place of painters in this hierarchy of tenors, sopranos, dwarfs, and clowns, it could be argued that painters preferred the intellectually elite status of poets and philosophers even if it meant that they too were reduced to eating in the pantry. But this disguises a more critical difference. The common thread between the well-rewarded singers and b;,iffoni whom Garzoni so resented was the ephemeral nature of their work. While poets and humanists might recite or explicate their work to potential patrons, their texts could easily be distributed and read in their absence. A singer's voice or a clown's actions could not be recorded and circulated without a dramatic change in sensory experience. But if musical notation or printed jokes could never replace the experience of the performance itself, it was perfectly possible to purchase a painting without acguiring the painter. Here, the image, not the performance, was the commodity; the exchange between painter and patron could be carried out at a distance without any personal interaction. This posed problems for painters who wished for the status of the poet alongside the close contacts with signorial families that would provide the access reguired for social advancement that were enjoyed by jesters. Until painting was acknowledged as a transitory act that reguired their physical presence, Renaissance painters would find it difficult to gain access to the interior rooms and tables as court familiars. The solution that emerged during the late Quattrocento was a concerted attempt by artists at court to transform painting into ephemera, a moment that merged entertainment with artistry.

Painting as Peiformance In 1493, the Ferrarese courtier Siveri Siverio described Duke Ercole d'Este's evening entertainment in Belriguardo, a villa on the outskirts of Ferrara that was undergoing significant refurbishment: After dinner, his lordship spent part of his time in playing and watching others play chess, and part of his time going to see his painters at work, who were about fifteen masters and included the best of Ferrara. And they are indeed, my ladyship, doing lovely work and creating a worthy and attractive piece, which I am sure will please your Ladyship because amongst other things there are a good guantity of most beautiful ladies painted there ... 38 It was probably not coincidental that Ercole was interested in watching the emergence of a fresco cycle that depicted members of the court as part of his after-dinner entertainment. The act of portraiture, a skill tl1at brought both patron and artist into direct contact, was the painterly activity that came closest to the fleeting sights and sounds of musicians and 28

clowns. Although there is a long and well-documented tradition of court portraiture, the ability to provide a quick sketch became increasingly in demand among late fifteenth- and sixteenth-century aristocrats, both in and outside Italy. In 1493, for example, the Sforza portraitist Ambrogio Preda took only two hours to portray the Caterina, the daughter of Albert of Saxony: The Duchess Caterina came to the Queen dressed in red-gold brocade tailored, ala antica in the German style with her hair curled down over her shoulders ... she told the Queen that His Majesty intended to have her portrayed by Giovan Ambrogio Preda in order to send the picture to the D uchess of Bari and that she didn't want it sent unless she was portrayed well. And Giovan Ambrogio was called for who came in to take her portrait and she had the patience to sit for about two hours until the portrait was done, and then she had one of her most beautiful ladies painted and then as Her Excellency was with us, Giovan Ambrogio, with no little pleasure took her portrait with another of her ladies-in-waiting.39 The charcoal sketches of Isabella d'Este (fig. 3) and Isabella of Aragon attributed to Leonardo da Vinci and Boltraffio respectively are probably surviving examples of this increasingly popular practice. But the role of the court portraitist was not exclusive to courts operating at this international level. Giorgio Vasari described how "Francesco Turbido, called il Moro a painter of Verona ... while living in the service of those noblemen always carried a pencil in his pouch, and wherever he went if only he had time, he would draw a head or something else on the walls ... il Moro executed many portraits." Similarly, Vasari drew attention to Giovan Francesco Caroto: who being invited by Guglielmo, Marquis of Monferrato, went willingly to serve him . .. On his arrival a fine provision was assigned to him ... Giovan Francesco acquitted himself so well, that he was rightly rewarded with honourable gifts by the liberality of his patron, who also favoured him by making him one of his own chamberlains, as may be seen from an instrument that is in the possession of his heirs at Verona. He made portraits of tl1at lord and of his wife, with many pictures that they sent to France, and also the portrait of Guglielmo, their eldest child, who was then a boy and likewise portraits of their daughters and of all the ladies who were in the service of the Marchioness.4째 Caroto's image of a small child with a stick figure emphasizes the talent that was required to make an effective likeness (fig. 4). Transforming the sketch into a full-scale painting, in turn, might require even greater access and intimacy between painter and patron if further sittings were permitted. As Jennifer Fletcher has recently pointed out, it was Titian's role as a portraitist to the Habsburgs that gained him his knighthood and other social and financial benefits from the Holy Roman Emperor.41

'(';

t t_ I

r.4 Giovan Francesco Carota, Child )})ifh Dra)})ing, oil, Museo di Castel Vecchio, Verona. Anguissola, Girl )})ifh Crayfish, ca. r 562, charcoal, Museo di Capodimonte, aples.

1. 5 Sofonisba

r.6 Sofonisba Anguissola, Fe111ale Portrait, ca. 562, drawing, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, D resden. 1

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QNei!a Cremonese che depinge Male painters who hoped for court advancement faced competition from all sides. They needed a distinctive skill, artistic or social, to gain and retain entry to aristocratic society. While their female counterparts faced enormous challenges in the professional world of practicing painters, they (like dwarfs) were unusual enough to attract the attention of even the most senior European courts. This chapter finishes with the Cremonese artist Sofonisba Anguissola (figs. 5 and 6) who was arguably one of the most successful sixteenth-century exemplars of the court painter, gaining through her virtuosity as a portraitist the access and advancement that were the envy of her contemporaries. As one contemporary noted, "She portrays from life in charcoal in a manner that one immediately recognizes the person whom she is portraying." 42 Born into an impoverished family with a noble name, Sofonisba gained her initial reputation through her father's careful manipulation of his aristocratic network across Lombardy. The gift of a set of portraits by the adolescent artist to a Cremonese nobleman serving at the court of Ferrara brought the young woman to the attention of Ercole II d'Este. Amilcare Anguissola also tried to interest the Gonzaga of Mantua in his daughter's work and his success in placing Sofonisba in the service of the wife of the king of Spain and duke of Milan, Philip II, was the culmination of this campaign. The appointment of Elisabeth of Valois's ladies-in-waiting, who would eventually number eight Spaniards and eight Frenchwomen, was the focus of considerable political debate. Sofonisba's role was first to represent Philip's Italian provinces and second to act as a tutor in painting to the fourteen-year-old queen. Her salary of one hundred ducats a year, expenses for herself and a servant, and the award of the wine tax of Cremona to her father were, like those to a soprano at the Mantuan court, on the surface, payments for her services as a courtier rather than for her work as a painter. In consequence, she never signed the many portraits she created for the royal family, nor were they paid for directly in cash.43 Instead, she received valuable "gifts" that allowed the painter and her mistress to maintain the important impression that Sofonisba was not exchanging her services for cash but out of loyalty and friendship. These gifts were often impressive. The completion of a full-length portrait of D on Carlos, was marked with the gift of a four-faceted diamond whose estimated worth was r ,ooo ducats. The list of goods that Sofonis ba eventually brought back from Spain included a gown embroidered with pearls reputed to be worth 900 scudi given to her by the queen. But when outsiders commented on Sofonisba, they did not subscribe to the fiction of her status as a courtier or tutor. They described her primarily as a painter and only secondly as a would-be aristocrat or lady-in-waiting. For example, when Sofonisba's presence at the wedding feast of Philip II and Elisabeth of Valois was noted, her standing as a Cremonese aristocrat was ignored. Instead she was described initially in terms of her nationality and pictorial abilities. The Mantuan ambassador described how, "the evening of the wedding, His Majesty having said that all should dance, a/fa gag!iarda, none wanted to start. Il Signor

Ferrante Gonzaga was the first to begin and he went to take that Cremonese woman who paints who has come to stay with the Queen and they started the way for the many others who danced after them."44 Here, Ferrante Gonzaga chose to dance with a fellow Italian who was present at the ball in her capacity as a lady-in-waiting to the new queen. But for the commentator, the Mantuan ambassador, Girolamo eri, Sofonisba was simply "that Cremonese woman that paints," q11ella Cremonese che depinge) rather than an elite member of the European aristocracy. Nor in official Spanish records and correspondence was Sofonisba given an honorific title. Unlike her French and Spanish counterparts who were always referred to as "dona," she seems to have simply been referred to as "Sofonisba Cremonese" or q11ella dama italiana. But even if she was not called "Lady," Sofonisba's skill, allied to her sex, did allow access to parts of the Spanish court that were denied to her male counterparts. She built upon this intimacy to ensure her continued success at court until her departure in r 573. At tlus point, again in the tradition of how courts treated retiring female singers, her faithful service was rewarded with marriage to a Sicilian nobleman, D on Fabrizio Moncada, a dowry of 3,000 ducats, and the gift of 3,ooo ducats willed to her by Elisabeth, who had died a few years before. In addition to this capital sum, Philip awarded Sofonisba an annual income of r,ooo ducats from the taxes raised in Palermo and Messina. Sofonisba's case is indicative of how the ability to create a bravura performance in charcoal, one that would have an immediate effect on one's audience, may have been the key to the court contacts tlut painters would need to raise the status of painting itself (figs. 5, 6). \V'hile poets celebrated the ability of artists to create a lasting memorial, the rapid-fire drawing may have been the temporary, ephemeral creation that reconstructed the painter as an entertainer. This narrative does not contradict Martin Warnke's intuition that the Renaissance court was a place of opportunity for painters, but it does provide a very different nuance to the narrative of artistic success. By the end of the sixteenth century, it was the performance of artistry as much as the artistic product itself that proved the key to success as a Renaissance court artist.

[2] "Symoni nostro senensi nuper iocundissima"

cr'he Court c:..Artist: Hear0 C. j EA

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*** CAMPBELL

Simone Martini's tenure in Avignon as the basis for a definition of the court artist is to tread on highly unstable ground. In fact, Simone Martini is both a familiar and a remarkably elusive figure. As became evident in the debates over the authorship and dating of the now infamous Gttidoriccio fresco in Siena, the line between Simone and non-Simone is hardly clear. 1 Even less clear are the documentable facts of his life, particularly his later life in Avignon. What we do have for Simone, however, in addition to a continuous if mutable understanding of his artistic personality, are the foundations of a fictional persona, foundations that were laid in the interaction of Simone's art with that of his more famous contemporary, the great Florentine poet Francesco Petrarca. \While we know very little about the circumstances of the Sienese painter's sojourn in Avignon, the fictional Simone who emerges from Petrarch's writings corresponds in some important ways to the actual presence of both artist and poet in the orbit of the papal court. From the point of view of Tuscan expatriates like Simone Martini and Francesco Petrarca, the city of Avignon was potentially the perfect court and the perfect anti-court. On the one hand, being removed from the contingent politics of Rome, Avignon represented the possibility of being a place like the longed-for curia of D ante's D e vu!gari eioqttentia: belonging to everyone because it was, in a sense, no-man's land - and there is no doubt that the Provenc;al city became a cosmopolitan center. On the other hand, as Petrarch so vividly described in the sonnets figuring Avignon as Babylon, Avignon, as a contingent reality, turned out to be anything but the perfect court. In Petrarch's experience, as in that of many commentators of the time, the papal court at Avignon, while being the source of the protective patronage under which he was able to compose his poetry, was also very much an anticourt, a place from which to flee for one's life. It was in such terms that he described the city in one of the so-called Babylonian sonnets: PROPOSE

D e l'empia Babilonia ond'e fuggita ogni vergogna, ond' ogni bene e fori, alb ergo di dolor, madre d' errori, son fuggito io per allungar la vita. 2 \Vriting in a tradition inaugurated by Dante in the thirty-second canto of Pttrgatorio, here and elsewhere in the Ca11zo11iere Petrarch portrayed Avignon as a place of luxury and corruption: 33

"wicked Babylon," "nest of betrayal,'' "fountain of sorrow." ot surprisingly, no similar written recollections of Simone Martini's experience at the papal court have come down to us. The evidence of his presence in the papal city is scant, to say the least. \'\!hat we do know is that sometime between I 335 and I 336 the Sienese painter left his home city for the papal court in Avignon, where he died in August 1344.4 Simone left behind an established workshop, which had dominated the official commissions of the commune for about two decades. There is some evidence that Simone the Sienese citizen was expected to be able to make inroads at court, but the missions undertaken on behalf of the rector of Sant'Angelo in Montone and the Ospedale della Scala were surely not the initial motive for the move. 5 Why he moved to Avignon and what precisely became of him at the papal court remain matters of speculation. No records of either formal employment or commissions in the papal city have yet been uncovered. This silence, in and of itself, may constitute evidence that Simone had moved from the world of the city- a world in which he operated on a contractual basis as a craftsman - to the protected world of the court where such contracts were not necessary. Since the early sixteenth century, when the Sienese chronicler Sigismondo Tizio claimed that Simone was enticed to move to Avignon by a cardinal passing through Siena on his way to France, it has been presumed, probably correctly, that the pretext for Simone's move must have been an invitation and offer of financial benefits as a familiar of some wealthy member of the papal curia.G Two likely candidates are Cardinal Jacopo Stefaneschi, the patron of the frescoes painted by Simone for the north portal of the Church of Notre D ame des D omes in Avignon, and Cardinal apoleone Orsini, whose portrait Simone reputedly painted and whose family arms appear on a splendid little polyptych the parts of which are now distributed among various European museums.7 While it is possible that Simone's move to Avignon, which coincided chronologically with Benedict XII's initiative to build a new papal palace, was precipitated by that circumstance, the Sienese painter does not appear to have been employed, as Giotto had been in Naples, in the decoration of the princely palace. 8 Benedict's palace was begun in I 336, yet it is only after Simone's death in I 344, in conjunction with Clement VI's efforts to aggrandize the modest palace of his predecessor, that we find another central-Italian painter, a cleric named Matteo di Giovanetti da Viterbo, identified as pictor papae and charged with the organization of an international group of artists employed in the decoration of the papal palace.9 Furthermore, although attempts have been made to find in Simone's art the foundation for the "new naturalism" of the paintings of the so-called chambre du ceif in Clement VI's Tour de la Guarderobe, in the end there simply isn't much evidence for the impact of Simone's art on the official art produced for this new capital of Christendom. 1 0 With the exception of the frescoes for the north portal of Notre D ame des D omes, the works Simone produced during his sojourn in Avignon are small in scale and apparently personal in nature.11 As Martindale observed, the novel appearance of di.is sort of object from Simone's hand may, in fact, be indicative of a new place he had found for himself at court, not as the maestro of an urban workshop in charge of relatively large-scale public commissions, but rather as the maker of a few precious objects destined for elite ownership and 34

exchange. The Orsini polyptych would seem to be a prime example of such an object (fig. r). \'\!hen fully folded, the ornate and elaborately gilded polyptych would have taken the form of a precious golden box with its owner's arms emblazoned on top and bottom. Thus configured, the polyptych would have resembled nothing so much as a beautiful little container for precious secrets, an object much like the splendid leaf-shaped capsuia in enameled gold, likewise emblazoned with its owners' arms, made ca. r 300 by a Parisian goldsmith working at the Angevin court in aples (fig. 2). The Orsini polyptych may be likened to this and other objects of material value and virtuous artifice that were destined to become part of the economy of personal display and exchange that characterized court societies of the time. 12 Even if, as seems likely, the polyptych was produced for an Orsini cardinal just before Simone's trip to Avignon, it may nevertheless stand as a marker of a shift in production patterns, and perhaps the most tangible evidence for Simone's emerging identity as a court artist. 1 3 On its own, however, this evidence amounts to very little. In spite of the paucity of documentation, scholars have managed to forge a remarkably coherent understanding of Simone's Avignon period. With only the Virgil frontispiece and the Liverpool panel securely attributable to the Avignon period, this understanding is founded, in no small part, on a set of expectations that essentially predetermines its value. Even Andrew Martindale, while reluctant to embrace the view of Simone's move to Avignon as marking, in the manner of a "Hollywood contract,'' his ultimate arrival as an artist, determined his assessment of the Avignon years using as a notion of freedom (renamed as retirement) the ideologically loaded concept that is intrinsically bound to debates concerning the origins of the classic moment on the one hand, and the rise of the modern artist on the other.14 Thus, for all the care he took in sorting through and weighing the historical evidence, Martindale fell into the predicament that awaits the historian who is also a highly accomplished connoisseur. Freedom becomes the explanation under which a remarkably heterogeneous group of works take on a coherent aesthetic value. In its very language the prevailing characterization of the works generally ascribed to the Avignon period amounts to a description of the classical/Renaissance and post-classical/ mannerist moments in Simone's art. The remarkable frontispiece painted by Simone for Petrarch's Virgil manuscript becomes an example of the artist's engagement with classical antiquity, both in its subject matter and in aspects of its form, where Martindale found echoes of the fifth-century Roman Virgil (fig. 3) .1 5 The portraits of Petrarch's Laura and apoleone Orsini, which are known only through literary sources, are lent material form through analogy to such recognized fourteenth-century portraits as the Louvre panel of Jean le Bon. 1 6 They thus become evidence of the emergence of the individual tl1rough the medium of a topographical likeness. The wonderful Liverpool panel depicting a truculent Christchild confronting his parents after the episode of his preaching in the temple becomes an example of the type of idiosyncratic subject that is only explicable as a result of the personal history of its owners (fig. 4). 1 7 Finally, the Orsini polyptych, particularly its frenetic and crowded little rendition of the Entombment, comes to stand for a post-classical or mannerist moment, in its sheer exuberance of expression (fig. 5). 18 While there is nothing inherent35

2.1. Simone Martini, r l11111111ciatio11, panels from the Orsini Polyptych, ca. 13 3 5, I oninkbjk i\Iuseum voor Schone Kuns ten, Antwerp.

2.2. France, Caps11/a, ca. 1300, enameled gold, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Cividale.

z..3. Simone J\Iartini, Virgil manuscript frontispiece, ca. r 336-40, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, J\Iilan, J\Is. S.P. rc/27, fol. r verso.

i.+ Simone J\Iartini, The Ho6 Fa111i61, \X'alker Art Gallery, Liverpool. 1

1342,

panel,

z.6. Simone J\Iartini, Saini Jero111e Tra11slati1zf!, the Bible, detail of the 11Jaesta, ca. 131 5, fresco, Palazzo Pubblico, Sala de! J\Iappamondo, Siena.

2. . 5. Simone 1 'vlartini, E11to111b111e11t, panel from the Orsini Polyptych, ca. r 335, Staatliche J\Iuseen, Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Gemaldegalerie, Berlin.

ly wrong with any of these characterizations, taken as a whole they push the evidence in a potentially distorting direction. The most radical shaping of one of the Avignon works to conform to a classical norm came in Joel Brink's discovery of a rational geometry - "the divina proportione of later Renaissance theorists" - underlying the Virgil frontispiece. 1 9 Martindale, who was generally very leery of such ambitious interpretations of individual paintings, attempted instead to consolidate the visual evidence under the rubric "intensely personal," calling the Orsini polyptych, for instance, "a true connoisseur's piece." 20 The assimilation of these works to each other as evidence of the classical and/ or modern moment in the artist's career places them, finally, beyond the realm of interpretation by making them primarily aesthetic objects. Interpretation, when it is not entirely silenced in the face of "intensely personal" works of art, becomes a matter for connoisseurs. A consideration of Petrarch's poetic portrayal of Simone Martini opens an alternative path for the historian, one that invites, rather than forecloses, interpretation of the works produced during the Avignon sojourn. One of the few extant indications of Simone's status as a court artist is to be found in an otherwise unremarkable inscription in the margin of Petrarch's Pliny manuscript. Here, in response to Pliny's claim that Apelles was a familiar of Alexander the Great, and that the emperor frequented the artist's workshop, Petrarch made a corresponding claim for Simone. Beside the passage in Pliny's text that begins "fuit enim et comitas illi" (and, indeed, he was so possessed of courtesy) we find a marginal notation in Petrarch's lucid hand: "Haec [sc. comitas] fuit et Symoni nostro senensi nuper iocundissima."21 This note, which can be generally translated to read ''And our most delightful Simone of Siena recently received such favor" apparently provides a glimpse of the artist's character. The various ways this gloss has been interpreted in art-historical scholarship indicate a difference between tl1e synthesizing tendencies of intellectual history and the ostensibly more objective bent of an art history devoted to reconstructing, through reliable documentary evidence, the circumstances of an artist's life. In the case of Simone Martini, Martin Warnke and Andrew Martindale may be taken respectively as representatives of the two tendencies. Both Warnke and Martindale admitted Petrarch as witness to Simone's position in Avignon, but they did so in very different ways. \,"'\!arnke was less interested in retrieving the facts of Simone's life than he was in recovering Simone as an emblematic figure for a developing idea of the court artist, as the precursor of the modern artist.zz He was also less interested in Simone per se tl1an he was in Petrarch as a spokesman for the elevated status of the artist/ poet, a status that is part and parcel of any definition of the modern artist. Martindale, who elsewhere acknowledged the literary context of the passage, read Petrarch's characterization of Simone as ioettndissima rather too literally as evidence of a particular aspect of Simone's character - as opposed to his art - that might have made him welcome at court. As Martindale said, "It sounds as if Simone was an agreeable person."z3 In this uncharacteristically off-handed comment, he breached the bounds of his own carefully defined position as historian. For Martindale there was a distinction to be drawn between an artist's "qualities as a painter" - qualities which, tellingly, did not include his intellect - and his "personality."'4 Whereas he believed it possible to discover Simone's qualities as a painter, he insisted that the

artist's personality was fundamentally unknowable. While comprehensible as an expression of the historian's desire for objectivity, this distinction paradoxically made it possible for fartindale, in assessing what he called "Simone's qualities as a painter," to substitute his own subjectivity, itself powerfully circumscribed by the aesthetic and ideological values of classical art history, for the artist's unknowable personality. While it is surely the case that in referring to Simone as iocundissima Petrarch was describing some part of his own unknowable experience of Simone's personality, he was also representing the artist's personality within an identifiable frame of reference: that of the artist/courtier. In fact, the term iucunditas probably translates an aspect of Petrarch's understanding of the word comitas, which, in Pliny's text, designates courtesy of manners. Modern translators of Petrarch's commentary have read the demonstrative pronoun "haec" as a reference to comitas, implicitly translating comitas not precisely as courtesy of manners, but rather, according to the late-medieval usage of the term to designate the result of those manners, as the membership in a court society.2 5 Iucunditas, broadly translatable as delightfulness, is among the most common of the Latin terms used in the late Middle Ages to characterize a courtly or curial individual. 2 6 Although ultimately dependent upon Ciceronian definitions of the qualities that make a man of status lovable, both ittcunditas and the associated term hilaritas had specific associations with descriptions of the ideal courtier at the time. There can be little doubt that in describing Simone as iomndissima Petrarch was assimilating the artist's personality to that of an ideal court artist. The use of the term in a gloss on the example of Apelles and Alexander makes it clear, furthermore, that Petrarch had no interest in separating the artist's qualities as a painter from his amiable and specifically courtly personality, as Martindale suggested we should do. 2 7 In fact, the description of Apelles's ingratiating manners is preceded in Pliny's text by the description of the grace and facility of his art. The graceful quality of Apelles's art, on the one hand, and his courtesy of manners on the other, appear as interrelated aspects of a personality that made the artist lovable to Alexander the Great. As the story proceeds and Pliny recounts the well-known episode of Apelles's and Alexander's favorite mistress, Campaspe, we learn that Apelles was not just lovable but was himself a lover. In the process of painting a nude portrait of Campaspe for the emperor, Apelles is said to have fallen in love with her. Having observed the development of this love, Alexander, in an act of great affection and generosity, for the painter if not for his mistress, reportedly presented Campaspe as a gift to Apelles. In the end, both the painting and the mistress became the precious objects that were the signs of the exchange, rather than the objects of love per se. Thus, through a process that allied the act of painting with that of falling in love, tl1e painter and the emperor forged a leveling bond of love and friendship. The notion is one that would have been highly relevant in a society, like that of the late-medieval courts, wherein the forging of such relationships through personal exchange both constituted and maintained the court. The suggestion tl1at all of these implications are somehow bound up in a seemingly incidental portrayal of Simone's delightful character needs some justification. The gloss is, in fact, only part of larger picture in which Petrarch allies his own love for Laura/ poetry with 39

Simone's practice as a painter. 2 8 This alliance is, of course, most significantly forged in his portrayal of Simone in tl1e two sonnets dealing with the portrait of Laura. In the first sonnet, "Per mirar Policleto a prova fiso," Simone is a traveler and the translator in carte of the beautiful face of Petrarch's lady, a face he could only have seen in heaven; in the second, "Quando giunse a Simon l'alto concetto," he is the agent of the high concept that places the pen (lo stile) in his hand in Petrarch's name. 2 9 Michael Baxandall noted a similar exchange of the figures of artist and poet in Petrarch's annotations to Pliny's account of the accomplishments of ancient painters, observing that the marginal notations, as a whole, show Petrarch using Apelles's graceful art as a model for his own poetic production. So, for example, earlier on the same page where Petrarch made reference to Simone's pleasing character, beside the passage in which Pliny described Apelles's criticism of Protogenes's tendency to overwork his paintings, Petrarch drew an index hand and made a marginal note reminding himself to avoid this tendency when writing. 3째 The verbal image of Simone as iornndissima, which appears in the midst of an ongoing conversation between Petrarch and his ancient exemplars, thus mediates a comparison between Petrarch's art and that of tl1e prototypical courtly artist, Apelles. \Xie might wonder, therefore, what, if anything, either Simone Martini or his art had to do with Petrarch's image of himself as the courtly artist. In fact, there is pictorial evidence that Simone was consciously involved in the fabrication of his own image as painter/poet. Martindale hinted at Simone's participation in such a project when he pointed out that the figure of Saint John with his face covered in the Orsini polyptych Entombment (fig. 5) must have been inspired by Pliny's account of a similar device, the veiling of a face, used by Timanthes to represent grief beyond expression in a painting of the Sacrifice of Iphigenia.31 Simone's use of this motif is surely more than just a generalized gesture to the authority of antiquity. It is quite possibly a pictorial emblem or signature for his aspiration as a painter. Significantly, the veil also appears, centrally located, in the one work in which both Simone and Petrarch quite literally had a hand, namely the frontispiece for Petrarch's treasured Virgil manuscript (fig. 3) . It is here that we find irrefutable evidence not of a monologue by Petrarch about his art, but rather of a conversation between the poet Petrarch and the painter Simone on the topic of pictorial and poetic artificeY The Virgil manuscript, now one of the treasures of the Biblioteca Ambrosiana in Milan, is prefaced by a series of inscriptions in Petrarch's hand, including one, appearing at the very top of the folio attached to the inside cover, in which the poet recorded the recovery of the precious possession that had been lost to him since 1326: "Liber hie furto mihi subreptus fuerat, anno Domini 1326 in kalendis Novembris ac deinde res ti tutus anno 13 38 die 27 Aprilis, apud Avinionem." 33 As the inscription explains, the manuscript came back into Petrarch's possession in April 13 38 in Avignon. The frontispiece, therefore, dates sometime between the recovery of the manuscript in 133 8 and Simone's death in 1344. It probably dates before the beginning of 1341, when Petrarch left Avignon and the Vaucluse for Naples and then Rome, where he was finally crowned poet laureate by K.ing Robert I of Naples. It is more than likely that Petrarch engaged Simone to paint the frontispiece both to commemorate the return of the manuscript and, as Joel Brink has suggested, to anticipate his coronation. 34

Interpretations of the imagery of Simone's exquisitely painted miniature are generally, and quite rightly, keyed to the two Latin epigrams, presumably composed by Petrarch, which appear on the banderoles held by winged hands in the center of the composition.35 From top to bottom, these inscriptions, in rhyming hexameter, read: "Ytala praeclaros tellus alis alma poetas / Sed tibi graecorum dedit hie attingere metas" (Oh bountiful Italian soil you have nourished many great poets, but this man allowed you to attain the aims of the Greeks); and "Servius altiloqui retegens archana maronis / ut pateant ducibus pastoribus atque colonis" (Servius, speaking here above, uncovers the secrets of Maro, that they may be revealed to leaders, shepherds and farmers). While the first epigram locates the origins of great Latin poetry in Italy's soil and particularly in the effort of one man, Maro (Virgil), to raise it to the level of the Greeks (Homer), it is the second couplet that appears to offer the key to Simone's imagery. In its uppermost register the miniature shows the reclining figure of a laurelcrowned poet, Virgil, holding aloft his pen. To the left, the standing figure of a man, identifiable through the inscription and his corresponding action as Servius, draws back a transparent curtain to reveal a reclining poet. A second figure, identified by his sword and spear as a soldier, stands beside the figure of Servius, and may be taken as representative of the leaders or dNces mentioned in Petrarch's inscription as one of the three constituent parts of the audience for which Servius unveils Virgil's secrets. The soldier, the shepherd, and the farmer also stand for the three estates of man represented in Virgil's poetry: the soldier, indicating the Aeneid; the shepherd, the Ec!og;,1es; and the farmer, the Georgics. And so, the surface meaning of the imagery is clear. It goes unmentioned in such a description of Simone's miniature that this beautifully painted page not only includes a veil as part of a pictorial allegory, but also presents itself as a veil. In material terms, the page on which the miniature is painted is a veil, concealing the poetry contained in the manuscript, principally, but not only the works of Virgil.36 In turning over the manuscript's first page, the reader is immediately confronted with an image wherein the drawing back of a curtain invites comparison with the action of reading, prompting conscious reflection on what it means to peel away the layers. As Brink observed, the illuminated page appears within the manuscript as a pendant to the opening text page of the Servian commentary, suggesting that the miniature, like the commentary, serves an explanatory function.37 This is certainly true, but as Petrarch indicated in the final couplet that is now only barely legible in the bottom margin of the page, there is a great deal more to the picture than its surface. This final couplet reads: "Mantua Virgilium qui talia carmina finxit / Sena tulit Symonem digito qui talia pinxit" (Mantua made Virgil who composed such verses, Siena Symone whose hand [literally, finger] painted such.) In these two lines Petrarch effectively blurred the distinction between the results of Virgil's poetic activity and those of Simone's painting. Talia, which explicitly refers to carmina in the first line, is left hanging in the second line, leaving the reader to wonder whether Simone's hand painted pictures or composed poetry. The implication is that it did both. In fact, the inscription inscribes Simone, the painter, into the genealogy of the poets who had sprung from Italy's soil. Since the owner of the manuscript, and the unnamed inheritor of this tradition, was, of course, Petrarch him41

self, there is some reason to think that Simone was simply named as a mirror image for Petrarch, and that the artist had little stake in the claim that Petrarch makes on his behalf. The painting and its inscriptions do not, however, support such a one-sided interpretation. In fact, Simone both answered and reinforced the claim for his own place in a genealogy of poets through the painting of the miniature, which treads a subtle line between inscription witl1 a pen and painting with a brush. The figures are rendered in delicate and nearly monochromatic drawing and wash, which assimilates them, in both effect and coloration, to brown ink on parchment. Furthermore, the use of bright blue and red as the primary keynote colors mimics the decorative effect of a typical manuscript page wherein initials would be highlighted in blue and/ or red, often in alternation. In fact, just such initials, painted in blue, open each of the three couplets inscribed on the manuscript page. Two of these inscriptions appear, as part of the picture, on the fictive parchment banderoles held by winged hands. In their coloring these winged hands summarize the dominant hues - red, blue, parchment, and brown - of the painted page which, in turn, takes its coloristic cues from a manuscript page. Completing the transition from inscribed painting, to painted inscription, to inscription, the epigram in the bottom margin of the page, while repeating the format and color of the inscriptions within the painted image, is precisely what it appears to be: an inscription, written in brown ink on a parchment page and decorated with a painted initial. There is no doubt that Simone was capable of such sophisticated manipulation or blurring of the line between painting and writing, independently of any association with the famous poet who was his patron and collaborator in this instance. Indeed, the elaborate surface of Simone's Maesta of r 3r 5 for the great council hall of the Palazzo Pubblico in Siena includes passages that testify very vividly to the artist's attention to this line and its permeability. For example, in the border medallion representing Saint Jerome translating the Bible, the words of Jerome's book, unlike those of the Hebrew Bible he translates, are not fully integrated into the frescoed illusion (fig. 6). They are rather presented in the guise of what they represent, that is, as words written with a pen, in ink, on a page that is glued to the surface of the fresco. 38 While it is readable as part of the painted representation - to which it is partially assimilated by a rubricated initial "U" that overlaps the boundary between the illusionistic page and the real one - the manuscript page is also really present in facsimile. By both displaying and fictively bridging the gap between illusion and presence the image constitutes a dazzling commentary on the status of painting as artifice. Here, as in the Virgil frontispiece, furthermore, the difference between painting and inscription is contested, as Simone the painter offers up both painted writing and written painting. In the Virgil frontispiece, much more clearly than in the annotated Pliny, Simone emerges not only as the mirror image of Petrarch's desire for poetry, but also as the Sienese painter whose hand knowingly inscribed and/ or painted both the page and his own desire. Returning to Simone's miniature with this understanding, we might ask whether it is possible to make something more of the pulling back of the veil, something that has to do with Simone, not only with Petrarch. Putting aside the directions provided in the inscriptions, just for a moment, it becomes evident that what is most presently unveiled in this action is not, 42

after all, the figure of Virgil: it is a tree, and not just any tree. Viewed as part of the narrative explication of the contents of the manuscript, this tree appears as one of a group of three that define a pastoral space. Unlike the tree that both shades and provides support for the reclining poet, and thus appears as the attribute of his vocation, this central tree takes on an iconic status within the miniature. It is not only centrally located, it is also the only one of the three trees with foliage rendered predominantly in green. The trees that flank it are both predominantly blue. While dlis coloristic differentiation was surely meant to designate, as clearly as possible, tl1e evergreen laurel, and may even have been an attempt on Simone's part to distinguish between two species of tree associated with the pastoral genre - the blue-green myrtle and the evergreen laurel - it also contributed to the optical effect established by the lighter tonality of tl1e central green tree.39 While the two lateral trees fade into the blue background, the central tree, which is predominantly green but shaded in the blue of the background, emerges in relief from tl1at background, as if into the present. Its iconic status witl1in the miniature is further emphasized by the superimposition of the pointing hand of the commentator. In dlis sense, Brink's observation that "the pointing hand of Servius is the focal point of the painting" is right on the mark. This hand is, however, something more than "the vehicle of the Commentary, the significant gesture that reveals the secrets of Virgil's eloquence."40 It is identifiable as the digitus: an embodied version of the familiar pointing hand that appears in the margins of so many manuscripts including Petrarch's Pliny, where it stands for the consciousness of the reader/ poet, marking a place of identification widlin the text. However, as the inscription in the bottom margin of the page implies, the digitus in this particular instance also represents the tactile consciousness of the painter Simone, a consciousness made manifest through his hand in the act of painting "such [poetry]" (talia [carmina]) . Viewed in this light, the miniature is not just a diagrammatic illustration of the contents of the manuscript as Martindale would have it. or is it simply an invitation to interpret the text, altl1ough, as Annabel Patterson so eloquently explains, it is most certainly also that.41 Simone's painting is, finally, also an iconic portrayal of the absent beloved, who is both Petrarch's Laura and, more generally, the laurel. In fact, in the superimposed figures of tree, veil, and hand, Simone constructed a species of portrait. To a modern viewer who looks for an individual likeness as the defining feature a portrait, this aspect of the miniature is far from obvious. As a sort of pictorial matrix, or point of origin, for a later tradition of portraits of beautiful women, it is, however, no less important to the understanding of the history of Renaissance portraiture than are sonnets in which Petrarch described Simone's portrait of Laura.4 2 While the dating of the frontispiece between I338 and I340 precludes its identification as the portrait in carte mentioned in Petrarch's sonnets (which date before the end of I 336), Simone's miniature may be the closest thing that we have to that "lost" portrait of Laura.43 It was surely no accident, in this regard, that Petrarch chose to record tl1e deatl1 of the earthly Laura on the flyleaf of the same manuscript, thus interpreting the miniature and adumbrating, after the fact, the commemorative aspect of tl1e painted image that would appear as he turned the page.

Laura, illustrious through her own virtues, and long famed through my verses, first appeared to my eyes in my youth, in the year of our Lord I 32 7, on the sixth day of April, in the church of St. Clare in Avignon, at matins; and in the same city, also on the sixth day of April, at the same first hour, but in the year I 348, the light of her life was withdrawn from the light of day, while I, as it chanced \Vas in Verona, unaware of my fate. The sad tidings reached me in Parma, in the same year, on the morning of the I 9th day of May, in a letter from my Ludovicus. Her chaste and lovely form was laid to rest at vesper time, on the same day on which she died, in the burial place of the Brothers Minor. I am persuaded that her soul returned to the heaven from which it came, as Seneca says of Africanus. I have thought to write this, in bitter memory, yet with a certain bitter sweetness, here in this place that is so often before my eyes, so that I may be admonished, by the sight of these words and by the consideration of the swift flight of time, that there is nothing in this life in which I should find pleasure and that it is time, now that the strongest tie is broken, to flee from Babylon; and this by the prevenient grace of God, should be very easy for me, if I meditate deeply and manfully on the futile cares, the empty hopes, and the unforeseen events of my past.44 The inscription, which opens as a meditation on death, makes a fitting prologue to Simone's portrait of Laura/ living poetry. Whether or not Simone the painter was ever officially welcomed into the court of Avignon he certainly earned the epithet iocundissima. He did so by defining, through the painting of the Virgil frontispiece, and along with Petrarch, the position of court artist. The frontispiece is arguably a portrait in which Petrarch and Simone are bound, in a reciprocal relationship analogous to that which Pliny claimed existed between Alexander and Apelles.45 To achieve his place at court, so to speak, Simone, like Apelles, both portrayed and fell in love with Petrarch's lady. Following this line of reasoning through to its conclusion, it would seem to make Simone into an Apelles to Petrarch's Alexander, but the configuration of the relation between the artist and his patron/collaborator is a little more complex in this case. Whereas, in Pliny's story, both the real lady and her portrait were ultimately relegated to the sidelines of the central relationship between the painter and the sovereign, for the exclusive court society invented by Petrarch and Simone, the absent lady made present through her portrayal is nothing less than a representation of its sovereignty. If the court thus constituted was definitively not Avignon, it nevertheless depended upon Avignon/Babel as its counterpart. While poetically inventing the shade of the laurel in the making of the Virgil frontispiece, both poet and painter found shade or patronage under the extended branches of the papal court. As indicated in the inscriptions on the Virgil frontispiece, the issue of place is all important to the enterprise, and it has not escaped notice that the geography described in those inscriptions is fundamentally Italian: Italy, which made poets; Mantua, which made Virgil; and finally Siena, which made Simone.46 The identifica44

tion of the genealogy of poetry with the soil of Italy is highly significant within the economy of a poetic relationship bet\veen the Florentine Francesco Petrarca and the Sienese Simone Martini. Both were members of a community of expatriate Italians who found shelter, one way or another, in and around the papal court at Avignon. As one of those expatriates - the son of the exiled Florentine notary, ser Petracca - Petrarch described his own position with the papal court in highly ambivalent terms. Avignon became important in the Florentine poet's imagination as the counter image of Rome, not the Rome of his time, but rather the Rome that had once been and might be again the home of living poetry. It was through reference to these places that Petrarch described both his own position and that of poetry in the Canzoniere: Se'l sasso ond' e piu chiusa questa valle (di che 'l suo proprio nome si deriva) tenesse volto per natura schiva a Roma il viso et a Babel le spalle, i miei sospiri piu benigno calle avrian per gire ove lor spene e viva; . . . or vanno spars1, e pur ciascun arnva la dov' io il mando, che sol un non falle; et son di la si dolcemente accolti, com' io m'accorgo, che nessun mai torna con tal diletto in quelle parti stanno. D e gli occhi e 'l duol, che tosto che s'aggiorna per gran desio de' be' luoghi a lor tolti danno a me pianto et a' pie' lassi affanno.47 The psychological tension described in this sonnet is given geographical coordinates in the directional tension between Avignon, which lay to the west of Petrarch's retreat in the Vaucluse and where the earthly Laura resided, and the hoped-for Rome, which lay to the southeast of the Vaucluse, and where the ideal Laura, and Petrarch's desire, or poetry, lived. Turning finally to the question of Simone Martini's place within such a poetic geography, the point is not that the Sienese artist's experience of the court at Avignon was the same as Petrarch's. \Vhile Petrarch found his shaded repose in the Vaucluse, there is no reason to think that Simone also identified either himself or his painterly enterprise with that place.4s The point is that, in the moment of its making, the Virgil frontispiece represented for both painter and poet the foundation - in the cooperations of heart, mind, and hand - of a new court of poetry. Like both the artist and the poet, that court was rooted with the laurel, not in Avignon, but in Italian soil.

[3]

((The Will of a Prince!J Patronn and cArtists at the Burgundian Court *** SHERRY

c. M. LINDQUIST

This serfdom of a great art controlled by the will of a princely patron is tragic, but is at the same time exalted by the heroic efforts of the great sculptor to shake off his shackles. - Johan Huizinga on Claus Sluter's i~W of iVloses 1

JoHA

Hurzr GA, who famously argued that Northern Europe in the late Middle Ages was a civilization in decline, considers the position of fourteenth-century sculptor Claus Sluter in the court of his patron, Duke Philip the Bold of Burgundy, as tragically subservient. The "will of a princely patron" prevented Claus Sluter from achieving his expressive potential as a self-conscious artist; according to Huizinga, Sluter's sculptures are "too expressive, too personal'' compared to the works of Michelangelo, for example. ' Martin Warnke seems to be saying the opposite about the effect of late-medieval princely courts on artistic quality when he wrote, "The particular form of activity that we call 'art' grew out of the special relationship that the courts cultivated with art and artists." 3 And yet, both of their accounts implicitly subscribe to a teleological theory of development from anonymous medieval craftsmen to self-conscious Renaissance artists and their modern(ist) successors. Poststructuralist scholars, however, have shown that the category of the "author/ artist" is constructed, and that this variable historical construction enfranchises certain groups at the expense of others. Additionally, art historians are finding increasing evidence of self-consciousness among medieval artisans, as well as continuities between medieval and Renaissance workshop practices. 4 Therefore, we should not see the court as a transitional mechanism that enabled one kind of image making to replace another kind, but as one of several spheres in which early modern image makers faced both opportunities and liabilities in shaping their careers and identities.5 Furthermore, as the essays in tlus volume make clear, the court was hardly a monolitluc institution, and different courts defined the roles of image makers differently. The court of the Valois Burgundian dukes was one of the most influential in fifteenth.century Europe. 6 Elsewhere I have shown that art production at the court of the first Valois Burgundian duke, PlUlip the Bold (1363-1404), was governed by a complex administrative structure that mediated between artisans and patrons.7 Unlike Huizinga, who casts Claus Sluter as an ill-fated Michelangelo who did not have the social leverage to choose a patron compatible with lus artistic vision, I characterize Sluter as a highly successful late-medieval image maker who operated skillfully in an important ducal bureaucracy. Indeed, it is very like-

ly that Philip the Bold rewarded Sluter for the seigneurial loyalty that he demonstrated as a trustworthy administrator as much as for his talents as a sculptor. Among the bourgeois administrators who ran the burgeoning late-medieval bureaucracies, it is well known that some, like Chancellor icolas Rolin of Burgundy, were able to take advantage of their position to accumulate wealth and increase their social status. They then attempted to legitimate their success by claiming divine favor and inherent talent - often through commissioning art and architecture. In fact, these ideological tactics were not dissimilar from those of the dukes and kings whom these upwardly mobile officials served. Image makers at the Burgundian court also used their positions to accumulate greater wealth and prestige. At the same time they began to make more pronounced claims to special intellectual skills and divine inspiration, which bolstered the more prominent status that image makers began to achieve in the early modern period.s This article draws on the careers of certain master sculptors and painters who worked under Philip the Bold and his successors in order to explore the status of image makers as well as their relationships to patrons and ducal administrators in the court of Burgundy. As a patron, Philip may have deliberately imitated his father, King John the Good (d. l 364), in conferring special status on his subject artists, and his brother, King Charles V (d. 1380), in commissioning an expansive program of art, architecture, and learning. John the Good bestowed the titles peintre dtt rqy and varlet de chambre on certain favored artisans, notably painter Girard d'Orleans, who is best known as the artist of the Louvre panel that is reputed to portray King John, and tl1us to be the first portrait likeness in the West since classical antiquity.9 Like Philip the Bold, Girard accompanied King John to England and shared his imprisonment following the disastrous Battle of Poitiers (1356).1째 For Philip, this event seems to have been a turning point; it was during this battle that he acquired his sobriquet "the Bold" in defending his father's person, and it was on the basis of loyalty thus proved that John justified the unusual move of granting the important duchy of Burgundy to his youngest son. 11 It is likely that King John similarly rewarded Girard d'Orleans for the painter's loyalty in joining his lord in prison. Thus Girard d'Orleans's status may have derived as much from the king's perception of his loyal service as from his ingenuity and excellence as a painter. Following his father's precedent, John's son and successor, Charles V, also granted titles and high standing to certain artisans: architects Hugues Aubriot and Raimond de Temple rose to prominence, and sculptor Andre Beauneveu and painter Jean d'Orleans were ennobled. 1 z Warnke argues that such royal recognition of these artisans in the fourteenth century was a practice that spread from France throughout Europe. 1 3 Certainly this model influenced the Burgundian court, which became especially imbricated with the French royal court while Philip the Bold functioned as regent during the minority, and later, tl1e mental illness of his nephew, King Charles VI. 1 4 A growing nostalgia for the reign of Charles V arose during this difficult period for the French monarchy, and Philip linked himself with his deceased brotl1er in a number of ways. 1 5 These included commissioning art and architecture on a decidedly royal scale. In doing so, Philip publically identified himself as a fitting successor to his broth47

er. 16 He was not alone in using art as an important means of staking out his position amid the notorious factional maneuvering that characterized the court of Charles VI. 17 Indeed, art historians have long noted Charles V's brothers as significant patrons of the arts. 1 8 Philip the Bold established the especial importance of art and architecture in constructing Valois Burgundian identity by founding, with his consort, Margaret of Flanders, an extravagant new monastic foundation and dynastic mausoleum on the outskirts of Dij on, the Chartreuse de Champmol (figs. r-5). 1 9 This Carthusian Charterhouse, alongside the significant building projects that the Burgundian sovereigns also undertook in D ijon and nearby Rouvres, created a thriving regional artistic center. Although scholars have attempted to see Philip as an involved patron who encouraged - or, in Huizinga's opinion, hampered - the talent of his artists, the political priorities and constant traveling of both duke and duchess meant that more often than not he patronized art and architecture from a distance. 2 0 In the accustomed absences of the rulers, ducal artisans and administrators tried to anticipate the desires of both the duke and duchess with the knowledge that the approval of the patrons could further their own financial and social standing. The duke and duchess favored some of their subject artists with extra gifts and privileges, though these might be read as rewards for loyal service more than for aesthetic successes, as in the treatment of Girard d'Orleans by John the Good. Even so, artists and administrators were invested in imagining what would please the ducal sovereigns. As a result, the rulers might be considered indirect artistic agents of works that they did not even see in their lifetimes. The Burgundian taste for princely spectacle was and is well known, and both duke and duchess demonstrated interest in shaping the works of art they commissioned by visiting artist workshops and construction sites, selecting artisans, and specifying models. Artisans were surely sensitive to the preferences that Philip and Margaret indicated on those occasions. For example, Philip evinced a particular interest in his tomb, visited the workshop, and rewarded the workers there with wine. 21 He made many other such visits across his domains, and it is quite possible that he oversaw progress on a variety of works during informal visits to the atelier, which was located near the ducal palace in Dijon. 22 Margaret involved herself in the production of the portraits of the ducal couple on the portal of the church of Champmol (figs. r, 2, 4) and the decoration of the ducal oratory, authorizing extra payments that the work might be accomplished in time for King Charles VI's visit in 1390. 2 3 She even sent a carpenter from her chateau at Germolles to help ready the ducal oratory. 2 4 Philip specified that the altarpieces he commissioned of Melchior Broederlam for Champmol were to resemble existing altarpieces at Terremonde and Byloke. 2 5 In spite of these and many other examples of direct ducal interventions in the production of art, the huge scale of ducal commissions, especially in Dij on, required the constant supervision of many workers, and this exigency played a role in determining the status of artists in late-medieval Burgundy. Master craftsmen took on supervisory duties in the ducal administration, which provided prospects for greater wealth and social prestige. In keeping with the importance of his charge to fashion the ducal tomb along with the rest of the sculptural program at Champmol, the "master imager,'' or sculptor, was one of the first to benefit. Philip took some care in

3. l . Claus Sluter, lvlargaret of Flanders, detail, ca. 1385-93, Portal of die Church of die Chartreuse de Champmol, D ijon.

3.2. Claus Sluter, Philip the Bold, detail, ca. 1385-93, Portal of the Church of the Chartreuse de Champmol, Dijon.

3-3. Claus Sluter, 117ell of Moses, Moses, ca. l 394-1402, Chartreuse de Champmol, Dijon.

3-4路 Claus Sluter, Portal of the Church of the Chartreuse de Champmol, D ijon, ca. 1385-93.

3-5. Claus Sluter, 117ell of Jl1.oses, Moses and David, ca. 1394-1402, Chartreuse de Champmol, Dijon.

choosing the artisan who was to supervise his effigy; he looked among the sculptors who worked for his brother, Charles V, whose three tomb effigies are extraordinary for incorporating realistic physiognomic details - still a novelty in the fourteenth century. 26 Indeed, because such details created special demands on artists who were trained to work from exemplars, Georgia Summers Wright doubts that very many of the lifelike representations produced in the fourteenth century were actually portrait likenesses, especially in sculpture where she finds little evidence that artists used techniques such as clay models that would have allowed for the planning and control needed to render specific physiognomic features. 2 7 However, documentary evidence at Champmol indicates that the ducal workshop made use of plaster and other materials to make preparatory models. 28 Perhaps Jean de Marville learned such a technique when he worked as a youth alongside Jean de Liege, who chiseled two of Charles V's tomb effigies. 2 9 If, as \Varnke asserts, "the portrait was the most important medium of cultural policy," Marville's rare skills, as well as his responsibilities in directing the large workshop, may have led to special status.3째 At least the higher placed artisans at Champmol - like Jean de Marville and his successor Claus Sluter - could capitalize on their roles in the ducal bureaucracy to improve their financial and social standing. Indeed, the duke granted the master imagier- as he did other master craftsmen and favored servants - the title varlet de chambre) which implied, at least in a broad sense, that the sculptor was a member of the ducal household.31 The duke was known to exempt certain craftsmen from ducal levies, sometimes upon their request, and especially when they were working on important commissions for himself or the duchess.32 In this regard they shared a privilege with the nobility who were customarily exempt from ducal taxes. Master craftsmen and others employed by the court also enjoyed ducal gratuities in the form of money, clothes, housing, medical care, and pensions.33 These often provided temporary financial relief, and, more rarely, they could constitute significant windfalls. Ducal secretaries were normally paid exclusively by such means in what was essentially a gift economy. 34 Ostensibly, they offered their service to the duke out of loyalty, and he rewarded them witl1 gifts. Though mutual obligation was assumed, this form of exchange could be risky, as the duke sometimes suspended expected payments, and ducal servants were known to abscond with advances. 35 Occasional or lower-status workers in the ducal employ were paid for day work that had to be vouched for, though they too sometimes profited from sporadic gifts. Altl1ough master craftsmen received ducal gifts, they were ordinarily paid for continual service. And yet, there is no indication that the Burgundian sovereigns demanded exclusive rights to their services, as was sometimes the case in other courts. 36 With regard to characterizing their status, it is significant to note that master craftsmen appeared to be better compensated than an average ducal secretary, especially when one takes into account ducal gifts and possible income from private commissions.n Jean de Marville's salary was set at eight gros per day, as was that of the next two master sculptors, Claus Sluter and Claus de Werve. Eight gros per day yielded the sculptors approximately 2 50 francs per year.38 Even if he dedicated a large portion of his income to maintaining his shop, the master sculptor would have out-earned most ducal secretaries, who garnered between 50 and 100 50

francs per annum in salary and gifts.39 Claus Sluter accumulated enough wealth to advance his family within the bureaucracy by importing his nephew Claus de Werve from the etherlands. When Sluter retired to St.-Benigne at the end of his life, de Werve took over the family business.4째 Jean Malouel also brought his nephews from the north so that they might join him in the duke's service; the Malouel nephews were illuminators who have come to be known as the Limbourg brothers, most famous for illuminating the Tres Riches H eNres for the duke of Berry after Philip's death.4 1 Jean de Marville was able to leave a rather respectable sum to his daughter Humbelote, who went on to marry a certain Jean Fraignot, a minor official who in 141 5 became the receiver general of Burgundy, "out of the blue," as historian Richard Vaughan puts it.4 2 Humbelote's marriage is one example of how master craftsmen and artisans secured relationships with the socially mobile ducal administrators with whom their work required them to associate.43 Claus Sluter's nephew and successor, Claus de Werve, or "little Claus,'' as he was known in some documents, also seems to have made a good marriage, to Moingine Damy, daughter of the well-heeled bourgeois Quentin Damy, himself married to a niece of Amiot Arnaut, the receiver of accounts for Champmol whom the duke had ennobled.44 Upon Claus de Werve's death, his wife Moingine married bourgeois Jehan Marriot; both she and her new husband achieved ennoblement in 1446, and her stepson, Pierre Marriot, eventually became mayor of Dijon.45 Moingine's daughter (from her second marriage) married another of Philip's ducal officers, one Hugues de Falletans.46 In fact, the income potential of master craftsmen and their families must have made them attractive marriage prospects. This group also showed an inclination to obtain the appurtenances of their increasing social station. Claus de Werve, Jean de Marville, and Colart Joseph all owned some armor, a possession associated with the nobility.47 Several of the master craftsmen, including sculptor Claus Sluter, painters Jean de Beaumetz, Melchior Broederlam, and Jean Malouel, glassmaker Jean de Thiois, and master mason Jean Bourgeois, had their own seals - first associated with the nobility- that they had affixed to certain surviving documents.48 The duke supplied Jean de Beaumetz with a horse as well as clothes that would allow him to be dressed honorably in keeping with his position ("vestire et estre honorablement ou service de monseigneur").49 As increasingly respected members of the community, master craftsmen also frequently appear in municipal records participating in and witnessing all types of transactions. 5째 If social boundaries between artisans and ducal officers began to blur in this period, there is also evidence that distinctions were perceived, and tensions could erupt between the groups. The youthful Claus de Werve was arrested with other artisans in a brawl against a faction led by Maitre Guillaume Chambellan, "clerc, licencie en lois,'' who fought alongside other future leading citizens of the city.5 1 A judicial document of 1448 describes anotl1er particularly telling incident involving de Werve's successor, Jean de la Huerta, who became embroiled in a public row on a street corner with the mayor of Dijon, Philippe Machefoing. s2 De la Huerta apparently demanded payment for a sculpture he was making for Machefoing, who replied he did not owe de la Huerta the balance until the work was finished. s3According to the testimony of witnesses, Jean de la Huerta swore several times on God's death, drew

bis dagger and slashed it in front of Machefoing's throat, addressed the mayor several times using the familiar "tu" form of address, and repeatedly insisted that he was a superior ducal servant to the mayor. Machefoing replied that de la Huerta lied, and that he, the mayor, "had access to Ivfilord at all hours such that de la Huerta wouldn't dare approach him [the duke]." )4 Although the mayor eventually prevailed in the proceedings that followed, de la Huerta's worth could not be denied. After recommending that de la Huerta be forced to beg forgiveness on bis knees before the mayor and other city officers, the document ended by stating that de la Huerta was "a very good worker in bis profession of image making for which he is well known." jj A second document confirms when and where de la Huerta was to ask pardon, and in lieu of a fine of 20 livres, de la Huerta was to sculpt a Virgin for the portal of the town hall, "2 1/2 feet high, on a very nice socle carved with the arms of the city borne by two monkeys." jG Perhaps the city fathers feared that under the circumstances, de la Huerta would not otherwise accept the commission. This incident suggests that even though the duke at the time, Philip the Bold's grandson, Philip the Good, rarely visited Dij on, his subjects there nevertheless vied for bis favor. D e la Huerta's claims of high standing with Philip the Good were indeed probably exaggerated as the mayor's claims of access must also have been. According to Richard Vaughan, Philip the Good's only extended stay in bis southern lands was for a year and a half during 1441 and 1443. n And even though their estimation of his awareness of them as individuals must have been in some large part imaginary, claiming advantageous connections to the duke was clearly a part of the social discourse in the Burgundian polity. )8 D e la Huerta did not seem to achieve the same level of professional success as his predecessors in Dij on who worked under the patronage of Philip the Bold when ducal building there was at its height. In contrast to those who previously held bis position, de la Huerta was not designated a varlet de chambre, and the gens de comptes elected to advance him six gros per day rather than trust him up-front with the large agreed-upon sum for the tomb of John the Fearless and Margaret of Bavaria (recall that Marville, Sluter, and de Werve all received a base salary of eight gros per day). In 1448 Philip the Good did grant de la Huerta mineral rights to the mines in the duchy and county of Burgundy and the county of Charolais, but these had not been historically productive, and never seemed to yield much, if any, income for de la Huerta.)9 Pierre Camp's analysis of the relevant tax records shows that, compared to de Werve (and in spite of de Werve's repeated and successful petitions for remittances), de la Huerta's tax share was low - a reflection of bis lower income. 60 In 14 56, de la Huerta's salary was reduced by the chambre de comptes to the level of bis assistants: two gros per day or five francs per month.61 In contrast to mild language adjuring Sluter's honesty in the document setting out the terms of his employment, de la Huerta's contract for the ducal tomb required him to swear on the saints to fulfill it, put up all of his property and that of his heirs as surety for the sums advanced, and go to prison if the contract were broken; in fact, it includes an almost comically long list of ways in which John was not to break the contract. 62 \Vhile Claus Sluter's letter stipulated that he was exempt from responsibility if the marble slabs for Philip the Bold's tomb were to be broken during transport, de la Huerta's contract 52

3.6. Jean de la Huerta/A ntoine le J\Ioituri er, To111b Musee des Beaux-1\rts, Dijon.

ofJea11 the Fearless a11d iV!argaret of Bavaria, ca. i443- 69,

specified that the sculptor take the risk for carting the alabaster for the gisants from the quarry; thus it is small wonder that when they were damaged in transport Jean de la Huerta fled Dijon for good.63 In spite of his assertions to the mayor, de la Huerta evidently did not count on a subvention from the duke to compensate for the disaster, as master craftsmen who worked for Philip the Bold did in similar circumstances.64 If primary sources suggest that artists in Burgundy made social gains through their connection to the administrative structures of the court, the career of Jean de la Huerta nevertheless demonstrates that working within the bureaucratic system was by no means a guarantee to greater wealth and/ or social elevation. In fact, relatively few were able to achieve the status of master craftsman and then further commute this privileged position into even higher social standing.65 Although it may be that Jean de la Huerta's professional and social decline is attributable to bad luck, a lack of business acumen, or a quick temper, the contrast between the careers of de la Huerta and those of his predecessors may also be due in some part to the differing scale of the projects on which they worked, and a difference in the level of commitment demonstrated by their respective patrons.66 For during the careers of Marville, Sluter, and to a lesser degree, de \Verve, Dij on was a vibrant artistic center fueled by the ducal couple's desire to erect, quickly, a grand dynastic monument; indeed, the Chartreuse de Champmol ranks as one of the largest expenditures in Philip the Bold's extravagant reign. 61 In this context the duke's imagiers operated not only as supervisors of their own workshops, but also as both formal and informal consultants on larger enterprises with other master craftsmen, 53

ducal officials, and Carthusians. The ducal tomb commissioned of de la Huerta was by no means insignificant in fiscal or symbolic terms (fig. 6); nevertheless, by the time Philip the Good succeeded to his grandfather's title, Dijon was not the center, artistic or otherwise, of the Burgundian realm.68 The political and artistic heart of Philip the Good's Burgundy had shifted definitively from France to Flanders. Upon Claus de Werve's death in 1439, Philip the Good leased the former workshop of Marville, Sluter, and de Werve to one of his financial officers, thus closing the long period in which sculptural production in Dijon was dominated by ducal workshops.69 Flemish artists such as Jan van E yck were in a more advantageous position to benefit from opportunities offered by contact with the higher levels of the ducal bureaucracy, and occasionally with the duke or duchess in person. Burgundian artists of the court took on the enormous responsibility of orchestrating the trappings of princely display, involving, as Andrew Martindale puts it, "monstrous orders" of thousands of pennants, harnesses, escutcheons, and banners.7째 Like Huizinga, Martindale views such demands by princes as onerous and limiting.7 1 But the importance of these commissions are much neglected, for they are certainly evidence of ways in which painters in particular could make gains by court patronage.72 For example, Philip the Bold charged Melchior Broederlam with the tremendous task of decorating the ships that he commissioned for the proposed French invasion of England in 1386.73 Broederlam painted an enormous sail with ducal symbols that was surely calculated to proclaim the duke's leadership in this eventually aborted enterprise.74 The rhetoric of chivalry expressed through these symbols was enormously important in this period, and Broederlam's sail entered into the public discourse of the day. 75 Chronicler Cabaret d'Orville hyperbolically compared the impending attack to the siege of Troy, and Froissart noted that the painters profited from such commissions, complaining that "the poor people throughout France paid for all this" (et tout ce paioient les povres gens parmy France). 76 Surely the timely work of painters in so dramatizing the ducal sovereigns' most pressing political and personal causes offered them special access to the rulers that is analogous to commissions of portraits and tombs. The thousands of emblazoned objects required for a battle, an entry, a wedding or funeral made it necessary for master craftsmen to subcontract. These sorts of commissions thus emphasized the supervisory and administrative roles of master craftsmen; they gave them power as employers over lower-ranking artisans in wide court and civic contexts. In this they functioned like Warnke's "purveyors to the court." 77 Their supervisory roles expanded the role of image makers beyond that of manual laborers to the commercial realm, alongside prosperous bourgeois like the Rapondi, who frequently procured precious objects and other supplies at Philip the Bold's behest. 78 Added to this, the income that these prosaic commissions produced for the master craftsmen surely aided in positioning some of them to be ennobled, as Jean de Beaumetz eventually was. 79 One hundred years later we find patrons going to well-known artists with similar expectations: that the artists would procure even modest objects that were not always related to their specialties. William Wallace discusses an instance in which Florentine nobleman Piero Aldobrandini approached Michelangelo through his brother, Buonerroto Buonarroti, to have 54

a bronze dagger made. 80 This commission was not a large order for thousands of objects such as Broederlam and Beaumetz were accustomed to filling. And even though Michelangelo was himself of noble extraction, and complained about the request as a nuisance, he still used it as an opportunity to establish a social relationship with a potentially useful patron. He engaged whom he thought the best armorer in Bologna for the task. When Aldobrandini ungraciously refused the dagger even though it was made to his specifications, .i\!Iichelangelo found him tedious and advised his brother not to associate with him, stipulating that "if he comes for the aforesaid dagger, do not on any account let him have it."81 Certainly Michelangelo had exceptional status and therefore more leverage to dismiss a minor patron than other artisans likely would have had. evertheless, many elements of this transaction recall the kinds of expectations that patrons had of earlier orthern artists like Broederlam and Beaumetz. In fact, Michelangelo's dismissal of Aldobrandini, though certainly expressed differently, recalls de la Huerta's quarrel with his recalcitrant patron, Mayor Machefoing. Perhaps the situations of Claus Sluter and Michelangelo were not as far apart as Huizinga theorizes. William Wallace has demonstrated that .i\!Iichelangelo self-consciously forged an identity not only as an exceptional artist, but also as a gentlemen of noble extraction and tastes. 82 Posterity has accepted and embellished Michelangelo's self-fashioning as an artistic genius, but Wallace has additionally provided us a fascinating look at the more prosaic activities that were essential to the artist's phenomenal success. s3 .i\!Iichelangelo orchestrated huge enterprises and fastidiously managed a large workshop, keeping track of workers, salaries, schedules, and all the other mundane details involved in his many sizeable ventures. In this respect, .i\!Iichelangelo certainly resembled the artists who worked at the Burgundian court, as well as his own contemporaries who engaged in similar tasks. Surely Michelangelo was an example of the type of artist whom Warnke identifies as being able to straddle the worlds "between city and court," but perhaps all successful early modern artists learned to negotiate tl1e overlapping spheres in which they lived and worked. 84 In The Cottrt Artist, Martin Warnke provides a much needed corrective to the long-accepted theory that the modern notion of the artist arose out of the triumph of urban bourgeois culture in the early modern period. 85 He demonstrates that the court was a very important realm in which artists could advance their careers. However, in usefully synthesizing a great deal of wide-ranging material, Warnke had to make generalizations that ended up oversimplifying some of the complex issues involved. Burgundian artists, like those in many other courts, did not hold precisely defined roles; instead they performed some functions associable with courtiers, and others with administrators, entrepreneurs, servants, and skilled laborers. The court was certainly one sphere in which artists attempted to shape their identities, but it was not the only one. Late-medieval and Renaissance artists used a variety of strategies to construct their identities, among which we find self-portraiture, signatures, guild membership, distinctive styles, special claims to memory skills, literary works along the lines of Cennini and Vasari, participation in art markets, specialized workshop practices, as well as social interaction with and emulation of higher social classes. These efforts, in light of the explosion of art production 55

in the expanding economies that characterized this period, raise questions about how to define the "will of a princely patron,'' how to define artistic agency, how to distinguish artists from craftsmen and images from works of art. Such complex questions about the relationship between art and society persist well beyond the Renaissance, and remain, in fact, very much relevant to understanding the production and perception of art and artists in the modern world.

[4]

1\eflections on the c/lrts at the Court of the 7Jukes of Savqy (1416---1536) *** FREDERIC ELSIG

c/JT

of the Middle Ages, the duchy of Savoy comprised a vast territory, situated at the crossroads of a major north-south axis and stretching from Lake Neuchatel to the Mediterranean. Savoy consisted of an "Italian" region centered on Turin along with a "French" part around the administrative capital Chambery, where the spoken language largely consisted of Franco-Provern;al dialects. Savoyard artistic production is unequally preserved, having suffered several waves of destruction (Reformation, Baroque modernization, French Revolution, and the Industrial Revolution) in certain regions. Rediscovered at the end of the nineteenth century largely through archival research, it has given rise to several modern scholarly contributions that can, despite the fragmentary documentation, allow us to sketch an overview of the activity of artists at the Savoy court between 1416, the moment of the transformation of the county into the duchy of Savoy, and l 536, when the territory was invaded by Bernese and French armies.' We can subdivide this long period into four stages that correspond to four very different political-economic contexts. A constant feature of these four periods is the importance of artistic mobility within a courtly network extending from Paris and D ijon to J\!lilan. Equally striking, as will be seen, are the advantages enjoyed by those artists who combined the rewards and prestige of court service with the commercial benefits of serving an urban clientele. THE END

The CoNrt of D uke Amadeus VIII of Savq)I {I4f~I4J4) This period is characterized by the expansion of the duchy, which occupied a strategic situation in the international courtly network. Son of Count Amadeus VII (d. 1391), Amadeus VIII was, through his mother, the grandson of Jean, duke of Berry. In 1401 he married Mary of Burgundy and became the son-in-law of D uke Philip the Bold. He was certainly familiar with the courts of Bourges and Dijon, which provided him witl1 two important models, both inspired by the royal court of Charles V of France (d. 1380) . Those courts influenced his policy of magnificence, that is, the will to demonstrate dynastic legitimacy through manifestations of luxury and munificent spending. Amadeus VIII sought to enrich tl1e symbolic places of power frequented by the itinerant court: the mausoleum church of Hautecombe, the priory of Ripaille, the residence of Thonon, and, above all, the castle of Chambery, which he endowed with a Sainte Chapelle on the Parisian model, begun in 1408 by the architect Nicolet Robert. For the carved decoration of this structure Amadeus naturally turned to his broth57

er-in-law John the Fearless, duke of Burgundy, who had in his service famous sculptors active at the Chartreuse de Champmol. In 1409 he attempted thus to attract Claus de Werve. But designated as the successor of Claus Sluter and occupied with the ducal tombs, Claus seems to have declined the invitation and to have recommended an older sculptor, Jan van Prindal. 2 Documented in Brussels in 1372, theymaginator Jan van Prindal probably followed Claus Sluter in 1385 to Dijon, where he is known to have been from 1390 to 1399 and where he stayed with the exception of a short sojourn in Brussels in 1403. He entered the service of Amadeus VIII, for whom he carried out several commissions in the castle, in the Sainte Chapelle of Chambery (1409-1412, 1417-1420), in the priory of Ripaille (1 420), and in the residence of Thonon (1424). Van Prindal did not work exclusively for the duke, as attested by the tomb and choir stalls carved between 1414 and 1416 in the Chapel of the Maccabees in the cathedral of Geneva for the bishop, Jean de Brogny. However, he seems to have held a kind of monopoly on ducal commissions and to have delegated some works to collaborators in his workshop, such as Janin from Brussels (documented from 1409 to 1426), who was perhaps responsible for several now fragmentary works in Hautecombe linked with the style of Claus de Werve. These include a statue of a deacon saint and a relief depicting the funeral of a Cistercian monk. What can we attribute to Jan van Prindal today? The beautiful Virgin and Child in Chieri Cathedral and the two busts of God the Father and God the Son from the Chapel of the Maccabees probably give us an idea of his style. If Amadeus VIII looked toward the duchy of Burgundy for sculpture, he turned toward Venice for the pictorial decoration of his residences, appointing Gregorio Bono (active at that time in Lombardy and documented until 1440) as his court painter in 1413. Such a choice, which may depend on an association of particular technical competencies with certain geographical zones, was conditioned by the reputation of Venetian painters at the orth Italian courts and by the general allure of Venetian culture; we might recall tl1e presence in Venice around 1410 of such painters as Giovanni da Francia, Gentile da Fabriano, and the Lombard Nlichelino da Besozzo. This cultural orientation of Amadeus VIII finds an explanation in his diplomatic relations with Filippo Maria Visconti, duke of Milan since 1412, who sixteen years later would marry the daughter of Amadeus, Maria of Savoy. According to the 1413 contract, Gregorio Bono received an annual salary of Go florins (completed by monthly payments and various gifts) as well as the title of familiaris servitor et pictor domesticus, which betrays a clear recognition of the painter's status and quality. Bono had to perform different tasks linked with his office. Shortly after his arrival he seems to have painted a portrait of Amadeus VIII, unfortunately lost but almost certainly connected with the numismatic tradition of the profile portrait already well diffused at the North Italian courts. Between 1414 and 1417 he produced for the castle chapel at Chambery an altarpiece devoted to Saint Margaret, for which he bought pigments at Lyon. In 1418 he probably executed the polychrome decoration of a silver head of Saint Victor cast two years earlier by the duke's official goldsmith, the Flemish Goswyn van Bomel; the relation between this work and another reliquary of the same saint given by Amadeus VIII to the abbey of Saint-Maurice around midcentury (fig. l) remains to be defined. One year later Bono was

sent to Avignon to buy materials for the decoration of Hautecombe, where a Crucifixion perhaps by his hand remains in situ.4 These commissions show the intention of Amadeus VIII to construct a magnificent series of court environments on the model of the dukes of Berry, Burgundy, and J\!filan. Such an artistic policy had as its goal the political promotion of Amadeus VIII, who would be made duke by the emperor Sigismund in 1416. Unlike the sculptor Jan van Prindal, the court painter Gregorio Bono, who seems to have resided in Chambery on rue de la Vieille-Monnaie, had to work, according to his contract, exclusively for the duke. The duke, however, engaged other painters, generally recruited in his own territory, for the decoration of his different residences. Of especial note, he employed the two main protagonists of the International Style in Savoy: Giacomo Jaquerio from Turin and Jean Bapteur from Fribourg. The first, documented from 1401 to 14 53, produced in 1411 two images of Saint Maurice for Amadeus VIII, and frescoed the chapel of the castle of Thonon from 1426 to 1429. The second, documented until 1457, undertook in 1427 a long trip to Italy with Manfred of Saluzzo, marshal of Savoy, a mission very different from the functional trips of Gregorio Bono to Lyon and Avignon. It is probable that during this trip Bapteur was commissioned by Duke Amadeus VIII to execute drawings of Rome destined to support the devotional exercise of "mental pilgrimage" as Jan van Eyck is thought to have done for the duke of Burgundy in 1426, and as was done fifty years later by Georges Trubert and Pierre Garnier for Rene d'Anjou.5 To judge by this important mission, Jean Bapteur seems to have progressively supplanted the court painter Gregorio Bono, insofar as his art, adapted to the French taste of the duke, was more technically diverse than that of the Venetian artist, who specialized only in painted altarpieces. For Amadeus VIII, Bapteur illuminated around 1430 a De doctrina dicendi et tacendi by Albertano da Brescia (Brussels, Bibliotheque Royale de Belgique, ms. 10317-18), the frontispiece of which shows an idealized image of the duke as legislator, that is to say as the author of the Statuta SabaNdiae. 6 Bapteur also worked on an important Apocafypse, at first alone (1428-32), and then with the help of a less talented collaborator, Peronet Lamy from Saint-Claude (1432-34). Preserved now at the Escorial, the manuscript, perhaps inspired by an English model of tl1e thirteenth century owned and valued by the duke, is a sumptuous object, intended to be shown to prestigious guests and to express the magnificence of the court. For this reason it represents on folio l4V (fig. 2) the entire ducal family in prayer before Christ, accompanied by emblems of dynastic continuity: the arms of Savoy, the motive of the love-knots and the device "PERT." Although unfinished, it would have enriched the ducal library, which by then included around thirty manuscripts (among them a copy of Des proprietes des choses by the Boucicaut Master workshop purchased in Paris in 1414 and now in the Fitzwilliam Library in Cambridge, ms. 251) and which, in its importance, manifests the persistence of the courtly model provided by Jean de Berry.7 Amadeus VIII certainly took it to his hermitage of Ripaille, when he retired from power and ceded the ducal throne to the twenty-one-year-old Louis.

4.1. Goswyn van Born el (?), Reliq11ao1 B11St of Saini Victor, 1418?, silver with polychrome, Abbey of Saint-Maurice, Switzerland. 4.2. Jean Bapteur, Apocabpse, 1428-34, manuscript page, BibUoteca de El Escorial, MS E. vit. 5, fol. 14v. 4.2. Jean Bapteur, Apocabpse, 1428-34 (detail).

The Court of Dttke Lottis of SaVOJI (1434-1465) In 1434 Louis inherited from his father a powerful duchy. Its position in European politics is shown by the presence of the duke of Savoy among the most important sovereigns in a drawing by a collaborator of Rogier van der Weyden in the series linked with the tomb of Louis de Male at Lille (Rotterdam, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen). During the first part of his reign, Louis took ample advantage of his father's diplomatic network. Amadeus served as arbiter at the Council of Basel and himself became pope in 1439 under the name of Felix V, a position that he abdicated two years before his death in 1449路 He thus continued to give a cosmopolitan dimension to the court he had constructed. \Vhen Louis became duke, the court was truly worthy of an ambitious and prosperous duchy. The ducal entourage, the councillors, and the household staff were organized in a clear hierarchy, as is demonstrated by the scale of monthly salaries. At the bottom of the ladder, the dishwashers received only 3 florins, while the majority of the servitors received an average of 10 florins. The apothecary enjoyed 2 5 florins, while the minstrels and the cantor of the Sainte Chapelle respectively received 40 and 50 florins. At the top of the ladder, these amounts demonstrate the importance of music at the court of Savoy, as confirmed by the presence of Guillaume Dufay who composed a mass for the marriage of Louis with Anne de Lusignan, princess of Cyprus, and who became maistre de la chapelle de JV!onseignettr. But where can we situate the goldsmiths, the sculptors, and the painters in this hierarchy? To judge by the expenses of the general treasury, the painters seem to have occupied a privileged position with regard to the goldsmiths and the sculptors, because they accomplished more diversified tasks, in great part utilitarian works such as shields and standards destined for the different ceremonies of the court. s The pictor et servitor domini Jean Bapteur, who seems to have gradually superseded Gregorio Bono (seldom employed in his last years), received l 5 florins each month on average (completed by payments for various tasks). On the economic ladder, he would thus be situated between the cohort of the servitors and the apothecary, with whom he was directly in contact for obtaining pigments and gold powder necessary for his job Ous apparently modest position is comparable with that of many painters in other courts, including that of Rene d'Anjou). Bapteur's great versatility explains his courtly success. He made illuminations, altarpieces, frescoes, and cartoons for embroidery, as proved by the liturgical vestments of Felix V from 1440, perhaps to be connected with embroideries conserved in the Historisches Museum of Bern.9 He also organized momenes and entremets, masques and dances during banquets, on such occasions as the visit in 1442 of the duke of Bourbon: these feasts were important for the visibility and the prestige of the court. Moreover, Bapteur appears as the head painter for the decoration of the ducal residence, subcontracting to several collaborators. In 1432, when he had to ornament the new room and the chapel of Thonon castle with 28 0 love-knots accompanied by the device "PERT," he worked with a small team whom he would employ again for the funeral of Amadeus, the elder brother of Louis. Among his companions were two Lorrainese painters, Jean de la Roche and Jean de Metz, as well as a certain 61

Domenico from Venice, perhaps recommended by Gregorio Bono, together with the illuminator Peronet Lamy. Peronet Lamy collaborated on the Apoca!ypse with Jean Bapteur who, heavily occupied since 1432, recommended him to the court for illumination work. In 1434 Lamy ornamented 100 letters in a prayer book for Anne de Lusignan (now lost). Two years later he illustrated a Notitia Dignitatum for the bishop of Padua, Pietro D onato, a leader of the Council of Basel and close interlocutor of Amadeus VIII. For the latter, he produced at the beginning of the 1440s two pontifical missals marked by the arms of Felix V (Turin, Biblioteca Reale, ms. Var. 168; Turin, Archivio di Stato, ms. j.b.II.6). In 1442-43 he illuminated an exemplar of the Champion des Dames, dedicated to the duke of Burgundy, Philip the Good, and written by the ducal secretary, Martin le Franc (Brussels, Bibliotheque royale de Belgique, ms. 9466). Lamy seems to have died suddenly in late 14 52 while working on the Hours ef Saiuzzo (London, British Library, add. ms. 27697) for a member of the Savoy ducal family. This manuscript was continued over subsequent years by the Master of the Hours of Louis of Savoy, his probable successor. Named after a sumptuous manuscript conserved in Paris (Bibliotheque Nationale de France, ms. lat. 9473), the Master of the Hours apparently belongs to a generation that, still linked in certain details to the International Style, adopted several formulas of the ars nova (the new post-Eyckian style of the Flemish painters). H e thus elaborated a hybrid manner we find again in the Glasgow Nativity and in the D ijon Crucijixion (D. l 38). In the Paris manuscript he is accompanied by a younger artistic personality who has completely assimilated up-to-date Flemish models (particularly those of Rogier van der Weyden) and who is the author of a magnificent representation of Duke Louis in prayer in front of the Trinity (fig. 3). It is tempting to try to identify these two anonymous artists: the first might be one Galiot from Brussels, formerly painter to the prince of Orange (to move from one court to another is not rare, as we have seen), who appeared in Thonon in 1444 under the direction of Jean Bapteur and was documented as pictor et verreritts (stained glass worker) at the court of Louis of Savoy until 146 3. The second might be his son Pierre Galiot, perhaps also trained in Brussels. 1 2 Be tl1at as it may, the Master of the Hours of Louis of Savoy did not introduce the ars nova to Savoy. He is preceded by the formidable Hans \""Vitz. The latter, coming from Eichstatt in Bavaria, was probably formed in the middle of tl1e 1430s in Basel, where Amadeus VIII spotted him around the time of his controversial election to the schismatic papacy (1 439) and invited him to Savoy. Witz is documented for the first time in 1440 at Chambery as honestus vir magisterJohannes Sapientis pictor et verreritts de Aiemania. It is perhaps at this time that he made the Frick Pietd (fig. 4) for the private devotion of Felix V The panel in fact shows the dead Christ in the arms of his mother in front of an impressive landscape with snow-covered mountains and a Jerusalem composed of alpine edifices: the chapel recalls the Sainte Chapelle of Chambery; the belfry evokes the style of tl1e architect Matthaus Ensinger, author of the wooden model for the church of Ripaille. The composition is copied literally in another panel, which can be ascribed to a painter close to the second Master of tl1e Hours of Louis of Savoy around 1460 and is also today in the Frick Collection in ew York (fig. 5). 10

4.3. Collaborator of the Master of the

Hours of Louis of Savoy (Pierre Galiot?), Lo11is of SaVO)' before the Tri11if)•, ca. 1460, Bibliotheque Nationale de France, Paris, MS lat. 9473, fol. 141. 4-4· Hans Witz, Pietd, ca. 1440, Frick

Collection, Ne'N York. 4. 5. Painter active in Savoy, Pietd, ca. 1460, Frick Collection, lew York.

A donor (totally repainted) is included in the second version; he seems to wear the collar of the Order of Knights-Hermits of Saint Maurice, founded in Ripaille itself by Amadeus VIII (fig. 4). The replica testifies both to the devotional success of the composition and to other artists' appreciation of Hans Witz and his innovative language. All the same, Hans \"'V'itz appears to have remained subordinate to Jean Bapteur, whom he assisted in 1442 during the visit of the duke of Bourbon. He seems to have worked regularly for the court, but settled in Geneva, where he perhaps took part in the installation of Konrad Witz's altarpiece at the cathedral in 1444 and where he was designated as burger in 1454. 1 3 Through its fairs, Geneva became an important center of trade during the reign of D uke Louis. 14 D riven by the influx of numerous merchants and bankers, its corporate structure developed considerably. Professional life was characterized by a mobility between the different craft guilds, the organization of which remains to be clarified. Subject to the tough laws of competition, the city should in theory (and according to Martin Warnke) have presented a less desirable option relative to the more comfortable situation offered by the court. Instead, it seems to have been complementary. Of course, painters like Gregorio Bono and Galliot continued to reside at Chambery. But the case of Hans Witz, who transferred his workshop from Chambery to Geneva (that is, from the "court" to the "city"), is not an isolated one, as proved by the famous example of Jan van Eyck, varlet de chambre of the Burgundy court and leader of a workshop at Bruges. At the same time, Jean Bapteur, who had settled in Thonon during the 1430s, moved to Geneva, where he would paint the FoNr Evangelists in the church of Saint Gervais (ca. 1440-4 5) and where he seems to have collaborated in 144 5 with the sculptor Jean de Vi try. The latter was also in contact with Peronet Lamy who, settled in Thonon, probably introduced de Vitry to the abbots of his native town, Saint-Claude. Lamy's art apparently exerted a strong influence on Genevan production, as attested by two surviving examples: the fragmentary mural paintings (in a bad state of conservation) for the Madeleine parish church and a modest book of hours following the use of Geneva (Bibliotheque Publique et Universitaire, ms. lat. 32a). Conversely, two painters solidly installed in Geneva occasionally worked for the court. On the one hand, Janin Luysel, documented in Geneva from 141 5 to 1471, operated as pictoret verrerius from 1428 for Amadeus VIII, in particular atAnnecy (1429), Ripaille (1436), and Thonon (1 439). In 1444 Janin Luysel took part in the installation of Konrad Witz's altarpiece and fashioned from 14 54-5 5 to 1467 the stained-glass windows of the cathedral. Two fragments of glass from the cathedral (Saint PaNl and Saint AndreuJ, now at the Musee d'art et d'histoire, Geneva) perhaps betray his manner. On the other hand, Guillaume Coquin (d. before 148 l) appears in 1442, when he produced ten shields with the arms of Savoy for the funeral of the cardinal of Cyprus, and prepared the entry of the duke of Bourbon to Annecy under the direction of Jean Bapteur. In 1444 he lent to the latter one of his collaborators, Petreman Despere, to produce (with other painters such as Galliot) twenty-eight shields destined to ornament the torches during the funeral of Aymon, son of Louis. ine years later he received a payment from Jean Bapteur for the lambrequins made for the Count of Geneva (the future Louis II) and for the prince of Piedmont (the future

Amadeus IX). On the basis of this fragile clue, it is tempting to identify Coquin with the inelegant "Master of the Prince of Piedmont," a personality stylistically dependent on the Master of the Hours of Louis of Savoy. 1 5 The interaction between the "court" and the "city" is equally apparent through the records of the taxes levied on the inhabitants of Geneva. In the levee of 1444, designed to collect funds for the city's fortifications, the painters are described as residents of the Madeleine parish. The workshop of Janin Luysel paid the highest tax (4 florins), followed by that of Guillaume Coquin (3 florins). The workshop of Hans Witz, referred to as Magister Sapientis pictor, was taxable for only l 8 sous. In the levee of 1449, raised in order to offer a gift to Felix V, the same distribution can be seen despite the absence of Guillaume Coquin. The workshop of Janin Luysel, settled in the "rue du Perron," had to pay l 8 sous; that of Hans \Vitz, in the Grand-Rue of Rive, was taxed 8 sous; that of Jean Bapteur, recently installed outside the gate of Rive, paid only 4 sous. On the basis of these indications, the workshop of Janin Luysel has been considered to be the most important in terms of quality. 1 6 However, it is more likely to have been a modest but productive workshop, like that of Neri di Bicci in Florence. \Ve could even come to a reverse conclusion and infer that the lowest taxes betray a ducal exemption and, consequently, a much higher level of recognition. In this case, the levies would point out the subtle hierarchy that operated, on the one hand, between two categories of painters working not exclusively for the duke (the "regulars" and tl1e "occasionals"), and on the other hand, between two generations within the first category Gean Bapteur had more privileges than Hans Witz). It remains for us to understand the hierarchic relationship between the "regulars" and the painters exclusively attached to the duke's service, such as Galliot, who succeded in 14 50 the verreritts and familiaris Bartolomeo Christofori. In addition to the painting workshops, Geneva supplied the court with the products of goldsmith's shops. At the time of Duke Louis, such production principally concerned two artists based in the city: Peronet Gruet (active 1410--30) and Hans Ros, perhaps coming from uremberg (active 1449-75). 1 7 The demand for goldsmithery, a constant at all European courts, remains notoriously difficult to evaluate, because practically all the gold was melted down to produce liquid assets during hard times. Nevertl1eless, it can be subdivided into two categories. The first comprises luxury objects that members of the court offered each other for the etrennes of the ew Year: for example, "la sallyere d'or, pesant 9 onces et 3 deniers cl' or, faicte a fas son d'un chyvalier, tenans un diagier" given by Duke Louis in 144 5 to his father, or "le pendant d'or garny d'une grosse perle, d'ung diamant et d'ung rubis" that the duchess Anne offered to her husband on the same occasion. 18 The second category includes cult objects, such as the silver reliquary bust of Saint Victor (fig. 1), given by Felix V to the abbey of Saint Maurice in the middle of the fifteenth century, which seems to show analogies with the art of Jean de Vitry and may have been realized by a Genevan goldsmith, perhaps on the model of the prototype of Goswyn van Bomel (unless it corresponds to the prototype itself!). Apart from artistic commissions and recruitment within the Genevan workshops, the duke and his court found in Geneva a true art market that offered second-hand or ready-

made works, a phenomenon that appears precisely in the middle of the fifteenth century. Let us recall, by way of comparison, that King Alfonso of Aragon purchased on the Valencian market in 1444 a Saint George by Jan van Eyck (who had died three years earlier) and Rene d'Anjou bought a Flemish panel on the Parisian market seven years later. The Savoy court stocked up in this way with luxury objects such as tapestries, as documented in several inventories: there are mythological subjects (the story of Theseus), hunting scenes ("tapesseria nemorum venaciorum et vollayrie" and "tapisseria forestarum cum cervis bichiis et aliis feris"), allegorical themes ("de venacione amorosa") and scenes of everyday life ("ludentes cum sachis et aleis," that is, chess and dice players). 1 9 However, this commercial ebullience was of short duration, due to changes in international politics and the decision of the King of France, Louis XI, to forbid French merchants from frequenting the Geneva fairs. The latter quickly declined to the advantage of those of Lyons, and this would considerably weaken the professional attractions of the Savoy court under the successors of Louis.

The Court from Amadeus IX to Philibert 11 of Savqy (146;-1;04) The son of Louis, Amadeus IX (d. 1472) reigned only seven years. His wife, Yolande de France (d. 1478), sister of King Louis XI, ensured the regency under Philibert I (d. 1482), whose younger brother, Charles I (d. 1490), reigned for only eight years. Charles I's wife, Bianca of Monferrato (d. l 5l 9), thus became the regent during the short life of Charles Amee, who died in 1496. Philip II (d. 1497), younger brother of Amadeus IX, took power for only one year. His first son, Philibert II the Fair (d. l 504), who married Margaret of Austria in l 501, succeeded him for only seven years. The rapid succession of five dukes, who lacked time to construct a coherent policy, weakened the duchy of Savoy. Correspondingly, the dynamic bipolarity between the "city" (Geneva) and the "court" (Chambery, Thonon) ran out of steam, while the economic pole shifted to Turin and the Piedmont. The shift generated a process of cultural dissociation between the Italian part of Savoy, which was enriched by contact with the North Italian courts, and the French part, which resolutely turned toward France. 2 0 This French orientation of the Savoy court is explained by the matrimonial links between the two families. Duke Amadeus IX was the brother-in-law of the I<:..ing of France, Louis XI, whose wife was Charlotte of Savoy (d. 1483). He attested his loyalty in 1468 during a visit to Paris, where he was triumphantly received. Perhaps he ordered on tlus occasion a curious painting of Flemish inspiration wluch, if the coats of arms are original, seems to represent the ducal family in prayer in front of the Virgin and Child (formerly in the collection of Umberto II). His wife, Yolande, received an exemplar of the Rhetonca by Guillaume Fichet (14 71 ), the frontispiece of wluch, probably by a Parisian illurninator, depicts her in a ceremonial room (Cologny, Bibliotheca Bodmeriana, ms. 176). A promoter of French taste at the court, Yolande surrounded herself with D auplunese and Lyonnese artists. For the express purpose of decorating tl1e Sainte Chapelle, she engaged the sculptor Marquet le Mere. Coming from Grenoble and documented in Chambery since 1466, le Mere is men66

tioned in 1470 as "mestre Marquet tallieur dimages." Once positioned in the network of the French aristocracy, he would execute in 1484 in the church of Notre-Dame of Clery the tomb of Franc,;:ois d'Orleans, count of Longueville and Dunois, whose wife, Agnes de Savoie, was the younger sister of Amadeus IX. 21 We could hypothetically identify him with the author of the Entombment of Christ in Lemenc, carved during the 1470s for the Antoniti of Chambery. evertheless, the court maintained the primacy of the more versatile painters. It still employed such former servitors as Galliot and Hans Witz. In 1478 \'V'itz accompanied Branda Castiglione, bishop of Como, to Milan and is documented as "Johannis de Sapientibus sabaudensis pictoris insignis" at the court of Gian Galeazzo Sforza under the regency of Bona of Savoy. 22 He seems to have been well known in the Lombard context and testifies to the reputation of Savoyard painters whose fame may have suffered on account of the absence of a local humanistic tradition. However, new personalities appear at the Savoy court, such as Antoine de Lonhy. Documented in Burgundy at the service of Nicolas Rolin in 1446, Lonhy worked during the 14 50s in Toulouse (Languedoc), in French territory, before moving to Savoy, perhaps at the invitation of Yolande or of Cardinal Guillaume d'Estouteville (bishop of Saint-Jeande-Maurienne from l 4 5l to l 48 3). According to a document now in Barcelona, he had already stayed in Avigliana (Piedmont) in 1462. Four years later, he seems to have frequented the court "mestre Anthoine pintre demon diet seigneur[ ... ] pour illuminer et pinter dor et dasur ung joat deschas dy noyer qui es a ma dicte dame (Yolande)." Probably for the latter, Lonhy completed at this time the Hours of Sah1zzo1 which, begun by Peronet Lamy and the Master of the Hours of Louis of Savoy (Galliot?), includes a sumptuous portrait of the donor in prayer in front of the Virgin and Child, accompanied by two Franciscan saints. In 1477 he illustrated the Breve dicendorttm compendium (Turin, Biblioteca azionale Universitaria, ms. D. VI. 2) for the same Yolande, whose numerous trips to Moncalieri and Ivrea betray the growing attractions of the "Piedmontese pole." Furthermore, Lonhy's activity, which revolved between Turin and Aosta, gave an impetus to local painting represented by the mysterious Amedeo Albini, Gandolfi.no da Roreto, and Giovanni Martino Spanzotti. 2 3 Among the painters recruited in France by Yolande, Nicolas Robert was the most sought after. Coming from Lyon, he seems to have succeeded Galliot in 1465 as "servitor, pictor et verrerius" of Duke Amadeus IX. Like his predecessors, he manifests a wide-ranging proficiency. He produced paintings and stained-glass windows for Chambery castle (1465-67, 1470), Ivrea oratory (1474; under the supervision of Amedeo Albini), and Moncalieri castle (1474-75) . He painted the arms of Savoy for different ceremonies, such as the mass celebrated in Pinerolo in memory of the duke of Burgundy (1467) or the funeral of Duke Amadeus IX in Vercelli (1472). He decorated standards, on which he represented images of saints accompanied by the letters ".N' (Amadeus IX) and "Y" (Yolande), on one occasion for the construction of a boat in Nice (1468). He also carried out one of tl1e most distinctive tasks of a court painter: he organized banquet and festival entertainments, as had Jean Bapteur and as would Leonardo da Vinci at the court of Ludovico il Moro in Milan. In

14 71 Robert collaborated with the German painter Mathieu Paristorne on the banquet given by Yolande to the "dames de ceste ville de Chambery." In 1474 he oversaw the banquet given

at the castle of Ivrea in honor of the ambassadors of the king of France and the duke of :NWan, and another at the castle of Turin for the marchioness of Monferrato, collaborating with Lancellot de Lans, "maistre de cousine," for the decoration of the tablecloths and the table service. One year later he made masks of giants and dwarfs for a momerie in the castle of Moncalieri and he arranged erotic tableaux (castles of love, wild men, and so on) for another banquet at the castle of Turin in honor of the prince of aples. After the death of Yolande, he seems to have been less employed, but remained active at the court of Savoy until his death in l 507 or l 508. 2 4 D espite the profusion of documents, the difficulty of reconstructing artistic production in Lyon forces Nicolas Robert to remain an enigma. For the moment nothing can be attributed to him. evertheless, among the rare relics of painting produced in Chambery at the time of Yolande, a two-sided panel, now conserved in the Musee Savoisien, might give us an idea of his style. It constitutes the left wing of a large triptych, the other elements of which are lost. According to the iconography (on one side, the iVlarriage of the l/ itgin and the An11t1nciatio11, on the other the saints Michael, Francis, George, and Louis from Toulouse), it seems to have come from a Franciscan foundation, probably the local conventual church or tl1at of Sainte-Claire-en-Ville, founded by Yolande in l47I. It could therefore result from a ducal commission. But does its artistic language, mainly Rhenish, indicate a Lyonnese painter influenced by German art or a German painter who had settled in Savoy (such as the Mathieu Paristorne we probably find again as one of the "deux Alamans" mentioned in 1476 in the castle of Chambery)? The same question arises regarding the diptych of Charlotte of Savoy. This painting, on the London art market in July 1993, depicts the Adoration of the Magi and the Nativity, before which Charlotte prays, presented by Saint Francis. Painted about 14 72, it is testimony to an artistic culture that, like the Chambery panel, evokes tl1e mural paintings of the church of Saint Julien in Tournon (Dauphine) around l 500.2 5 Charlotte of Savoy plays a leading part in the history of the ducal library. She favored the workshops of Bourges, where her brother Jean-Louis, bishop of Geneva, appears to have ordered around 1480-1482 a Roman de Nier/in from the Master of Charles de France (Paris, Bibliotheque nationale de France, ms. fr. 91). Shortly before her death in 1483, she bequeathed to her nephew, Duke Charles I of Savoy, the Tres Riches Hettres of the duke of Berry, begun by the Limbourg brothers (around 1410-1416) and continued by Barthelemy d'Eyck (around 1445). Charlotte recommended her protege Jean Colombe for the completion of the manuscript. The latter was paid in August 1485 "pro illuminatura et historiatione certarum orarum canonicarum,'' that is, for the Tres Riches H ettres, in which he represented Charles I with his wife, Bianca of Monferrato, in prayer before the resurrected Christ at folio 75 (fig. 6). In 1486 he received the title of "familiarem et illuminatorem librorum" from the duke. Four years later, he completed for a significant sum an Apoca/ypse, which can be identified with the prestigious manuscript begun by Jean Bapteur (fig. 2). Colombe's Savoyard activity demonstrated the will of the duke to affirm his dynastic identity, drawing on the mag68

4.6. Jean Colo mbe, Charles I of SatJO)' and Bianca of Monftrrafo in pra)'er before the R esnrrected Chris/, i485, fro m Tres Riches I-Imres d11 dnc de Berry, Musee Conde, Chantilly, MS 65, fol. 75 .

4.7. Master o f Spencer 6, Charles II of Sa!JO)' and H is Conrt, r 508, fronti spiece, Bibliotheque Na tionale de France, Pari s, MS fr. 7 0 1, fol. 2 r.

nificence of the time of Amadeus VIII. It also helps to explain the presence of another painter from Bourges, Jacquelin de Montlrn:;on, in Chambery between 1496 and 1498, during the short reigns of the dukes Philip II and Philibert II the Fair. Philibert's wife, Margaret of Austria, would bring several manuscripts including the Tres Riches H eNres with her to Mechelen in l 504. 2 6

The Court of the Duke Charles II of Savqy (1504-1536) After the quick succession of five dukes over only thirty-nine years, Philibert's younger brother, Charles II the Good, who married Beatrice of Portugal in l 521, reigned from r 504 until his death in r 553. However, he inherited a duchy on the wane, which, disputed by the emperor and the lung of France, was invaded in l 536 by Bernese and French armies. He nevertheless attempted to pursue the artistic policy of Charles I and continued to employ Bourges painters. Thus in r 508 he commissioned the illustration of a French Xenophon (in the translation of Claude de Seyssel) from the Master of Spencer 6 with a frontispiece (fig. 7) showing him in the midst of his court on a throne ornamented with love-knots and the device "FERT". 2 7 However, he preferred to recruit his court artists in Lyon. When Charles II became duke, the pinctre et verrier de monseigneNr icolas Robert was still active at the castle of Chambery, where he is documented until r 507. He was followed by Jean Baudichon. The latter, documented as a painter in Lyon in 1494, was invited one year later to Aosta by

Georges de Challant, canon of the cathedral of Lyon. Mentioned in Chambery in 1497 working on the funeral of Philip II, he was paid in l 5l 2 for the stained glass windows in the ducal castle. At that time he was probably responsible for the fragmentary mural paintings in the crypt of Lemenc. Ten years later, he took the place of his compatriot Blaise of Lyon as verreritts in the Sainte Chapelle. Probably dead by l 52 5, he is followed for two years by one who seems to have been the most important local painter, the GenevanJean de l'Arpe. 28 Jean de l'Arpe, also called Jean le Mere, became a burger of Geneva in 1499路 He worked in yon in 1517- l 518 and completed in 15 2l an altarpiece for the church of Sainte-Mariel'Egyptienne in Chambery. A member of the Genevan Conseil des Cinquante from l 5l 9 to l 526, he openly supported Charles II in the conflict in Geneva between the duke's partisans (mammeltts) and the supporters of the Helvetic confederation (eidguenots). After the defeat of the mammeh1s, which preceded the beginning of the Calvinist Reformation in Geneva (1533), he was exiled and became in l 53l the pictor et verrenus of the duke at Chambery, where he worked on the decoration of the castle. Documented until l 537, he performed different tasks linked with his office, such as fashioning shields for the funeral of Monseigneur of emours in Annecy (15 33). On the basis of certain details in the stained-glass windows of the Sainte Chapelle, I have recently attributed to him two wings of a large triptych ordered by Louis de Seyssel around l 5l 5 for the Carmelite church of La Rochette, as well as a representation of Saint Bernard of Menthon produced during the l 520s and now conserved in the castle of Menthon, and finally the cartoons for the stained glass windows of the church of Dingy-Saint-Clair, dated l 53I. If this reconstruction is correct, Jean de l'Arpe presents a Franco-German formation, onto which are grafted certain Piedmontese elements. In his modest quality, he represents thus the process of cultural dissociation that henceforth would constrain "French" Savoy to import from Piedmontese workshops.29 Charles II asked Giovanni Martino Spanzotti to copy a Vii-gin i:vith the Child by Raphael he had recently purchased (the Orleans Virgin conserved in the Musee Conde at Chantilly), as attested by a letter addressed by the painter to the duke: "mando il tabuleto con la ymagine de la Madona supra picto ala similitudine di quella fiorentina che Vestra Signoria me remise in le mane, la quale sta a preso di me iusta il mandato di Vostra Signoria. Credo che Vostra Signoria trovera questa ve mando equale et in quache parte di meglio de laltra." (I send you the small panel with the image of the Madonna painted after the model of tl1e Florentine panel that You [Duke Charles II] remitted me. I believe that You will find my painting better in certain parts than the other one.) 2 9 The replica by Spanzotti is unfortunately lost. But we can have an idea of it through several other derivations of the same composition, by Gerolamo Giovenone and Defendente Ferrari, which betray the duke's strong interest in Italian art. Charles II was probably portrayed during the l 520s by two painters linked with Piedmontese culture: in a panel in the Metropolitan fuseum in New York by an artist (French or Flemish?) close to Macrina d'Alba and in a panel in the Galleria Sabauda at Turin by one closer to Defendente Ferrari. 3掳 The taste for the Piedmontese Renaissance is shared by the duke's counselors, such as Claude d'Estavayer. The latter, commendatory abbot of Hautecombe and dean of the Romont col70

legiate church, played a leading role in Savoyard politics, and in l 5l 2 would participate in the Lateran Council. A confidant of Charles II, he became chancellor of the Annunciade military order, whose statutes were reformed in l 5l 8 in a gesture of domination of the Savoyard aristocracy by the duke himself. Perhaps on that occasion, he ordered altarpieces for Hautecombe and Romont from a painter who, formed in Turin around l 500 under Giovanni Martino Spanzotti and in parallel with Defendente Ferrari, seems to have been active only in the "French" part of the duchy around l 51 5 to l 520. He can be called the Master of Claude d'Estavayer.3 1 Such different indications of a prevailing Savoyard taste for the Italian Renaissance become more general during the l 5 30s, while "Raphaelism," amply diffused in France, was adopted by local painters such as Gaspard Masery. The latter, documented in Chambery from l 5 3l to l 565, conducted the greater part of his career during the French occupation (15 36-1559) . In l 541 he restored a Christ Carrying the Cross by Sodoma (formerly in the collection Costa de Beauregard), a composition he paraphrased seven years later during the repair of the Sainte Chapelle's stained-glass windows. Perhaps at the same time he completed a F!age!!ation (Luxemburg, Musee National d'Histoire et d'Art) that is also inspired by a Oost) composition by Sodoma and would also be reinterpreted in the Sainte Chapelle. His style, parallel to that of Simon de Chalon, includes German elements that appeared more clearly, many years later, in the two wings of the Musee Savoisien with the self-portrait of the painter in the company of Death.F

Co11c/11sio11 The four periods we have analyzed correspond to four stages of ducal power and to four well-defined stages in the artistic policy elaborated by the court. The first is characterized by the will of Amadeus VIII to construct a court identity through manifestations of magnificence according to the model of Jean of Berry. The second, the golden age of the duchy, is defined by a double-headed sovereignty (Louis and his father) and by the complementary reciprocity between the court, modeled on that of Burgundy, and the city of Geneva. The third, which sees the decline of the duchy, is dominated by the will of Charles I to recapture the magnificent and glorious epoch of Amadeus VIII through the enrichment of the ducal library. The fourth stage is characterized by the accentuation of this phenomenon, as attested by the works undertaken by Charles II in the Sainte Chapelle and at Hautecombe. The progressive transfer of power from the "French" to the "Italian" part of the duchy ends, after the interval of the French occupation and the reconquest by Duke EmmanuelPhilibert, with the l 563 establishment of Turin as capital of a restructured duchy destined to live a new chapter of its political and artistic history, emblematized henceforth by spectacular architectural projects.3 3

[5]

~olognaJ ~entivoglio

f ami!J and its Q/l_rtists:

Overview of a ~attrocento Court in the c:Jl;faking *** D AVID]. D ROGIN

JNCecilia Ady's text on the Bentivoglio family in Bologna, the author declares that the history of the fifteenth-century city was the history of its dominant family. 1 The implication for the art historian is that the history of fifteenth-century Bolognese art is the history of Bentivoglio artistic patronage, an assumption that is commonly made. aturally, Ady's statement is a generalization, as is its implication for art history; a cursory investigation of Bolognese history reveals a polyphony of historical currents, protagonists, and related art production. It is undeniable, however, that the Bentivoglio were the most significant local figures of the period and that they had a profound impact on Bologna's cultural and political landscape. These pages explore the family's role in the Quattrocento city, first establishing historical contexts, then questioning to what extent the Bentivoglio had a court and whether one can speak of Bentivoglio court artists. The period's protagonists are Sante Bentivoglio and, more importantly, Giovanni II. These t\vo men controlled Bologna from 1446 until 1 506, when Pope Julius II expelled the family from the city in his reconquest of papal territory. Building on the achievements of predecessors but mostly capitalizing on the favors of foreign potentates, Sante and Giovanni dominated a theoretically republican city, jointly governed by a senate and papally appointed legate. In short, Bentivoglio hegemony was unwarranted. To counter this, to build and maintain power in the city without jeopardizing their security, the Bentivoglio constructed an aura of legitimacy that was simultaneously aggrandizing and within the boundaries of republican decorum. They attempted to present an authoritative image within and beyond Bologna through at least the appearance of a thriving court. The attractive, exemplary cities of northern and central Italy presented potential models for emulation, "how-to" examples of comportment for powerful leaders. For Sante, who was born in Tuscany and raised in Medici circles, late-fifteenth-century Florence under Cosimo de' Medici offered a paradigm for a dominant citizen in a hypothetical republic; for Giovanni II, close familial and military ties to the Sforza and Este families amplified the Milanese and Ferrarese courts' significance. Most important for this discussion is that the visual arts, part of the mechanics of power in Bologna's neighboring cities, were also elements in Bentivoglio strategies of authoritative self-fashioning. Yet Quattrocento Bologna was a problematic site for even an approximate court, and hence a difficult location in which to define a court style in the arts: its particular power structure was not conducive to practices that were employed successfully elsewhere and limited 72

the vitality of a courtly artistic program. Another factor was Bologna's geographic location, on Italy's central north-south route and roughly in the center of a triangle marked by the apexes of NWan, Venice, and Florence. Situated in the papal states, between territories of Ferrara, Venice, Milan, Mantua, Florence, and the various minor lords of the Romagna, its territory carried important weight in the Italian wars of the Quattrocento. While its location often encouraged potentates to support (or at least claim to support) the Bentivoglio, it also led the city to become a pawn in the games of more powerful states. The Bentivoglio tried to manipulate these circumstances to their advantage, and much of their authority came from their recognition as rulers by foreign potentates, including favors and titles from these foreign powers. This catalyzed and supported the vitality of a Bentivoglio court but also eventually deflated that vitality, as Bologna became a minor player in international events in which the more mighty protagonists were princes, popes, and kings increasingly indifferent to the Bentivoglio's fate. A delineation of the history of the late-medieval family and city will explain the context in which the Bentivoglio emerged as Bologna's most important citizens. Initially, the Bentivoglio's wealth came from their land holdings. 2 Politically, they were well established by the dawn of the Quattrocento, as family members were frequently in civic offices by the fourteenth century.3 In the last years of that century, Giovanni I became Gonfaloniere di Giustizia and eventually took control of the Palazzo del Comune, as described below. At first, Bologna was theoretically a republic under the suzerainty of the papacy. By the thirteenth century, there were several legislative bodies, ranking from the Anziani, Colleggio dei Magistrati, and Podesta at the top, to the Consiglio Maggiore and Consiglio Generale, which, at six-hundred strong, was the largest, albeit least important, body. The fourteenth century brought rapid changes: in l 350, the Pepoli-dominated Anziani sold the city to Archbishop Giovanni Visconti of Milan; in l 360, Visconti's governor broke from his patron and declared Bologna autonomous; when Visconti mounted an offensive, the governor fled, ceding power to Cardinal Egidio d'Albornoz, who it turn sold Bologna to Pope Innocent VI. This began the papacy's direct control of Bologna through a legate, d'Albornoz himself. In l 376, Bologna's wealthiest families expelled the legate and formed a new government concentrated in the office of Gonfaloniere di Giustizia, a member of the Anziani. In July l 377, Bologna and the papacy agreed to shared control by the legate and Anziani. In l 393, power shifted toward the Bolognese when they established the Sedici Riformatori dello Stato di Liberta (or the Sedici), self-selecting members of the Anziani who claimed precedence over all other civic offices. The Sedici remained the most powerful office tl1roughout the Quattrocento and Bentivoglio domination, until Julius II abolished it in January 1507 .4 It was in this context, rife with local feuding and foreign sway, that Giovanni I obtained control of the city and was killed fifteen months later. He was Gonfaloniere in l 382 and l 392, and a member of the Sedici in 1399路 With his allies, he took control of the Comune on February 24, 14or. Several weeks later he declared himself "Gonfaloniere perpetuo" and "Conservatore della pace e della giustizia." On March 17, 1401, the legislatures confirmed these titles and declared him "Signore di Bologna." It was thus that an official Bentivoglio 73

signoria began, and Giovanni's rule was recognized such that the Palazzo del Comune became known as the "Palazzo di Giovanni" and coins were minted with the Bentivoglio stemma of the five-toothed saw.5 Civically funded salaries were paid in his name, he appointed vicars in the contado, and he issued decrees normally delivered by the Podesta.6 Although Giovanni solidified his power through local political benefaction and force, much of his authority came from abroad: Giangaleazzo Visconti initially pledged his military and financial support, and nearby Milanese arms provided assurances at the outset of the signoria. This alliance became a threat, however, and Giovanni allied himself with less-menacing Florence in the spring of 1402. This led to war with Milan, allied with Mantua, Ravenna, Rimini, and locally with anti-Bentivoglio factions. They quickly defeated Giovanni and the Bentivoleschi, and on June 26, 1402, Giovanni was defenestrated from the Palazzo del Comune, the seat of power he once controlled, and was stabbed to death by the angry crowd below.7 Giovanni I's reign, although brief, brought the Bentivoglio gains in monetary and political capital. This capital, which accumulated further under the succeeding Bentivoglio, formed the foundation upon which Sante and Giovanni II constructed the appearance of a court. Under Giovanni I's rule, the family accumulated funds from local dazi, gabeiie, and other taxes. s Furthermore, the Bentivoglio name became inextricably linked to Bologna's rulership, as Giovanni had irrevocably introduced the notion of a Bentivoglio ruler. Little is known of the cultivation of the arts by Giovanni I, and there is no evidence that he developed an artistic circle around himself and his allies. Realistically, his signoria's duration was too short and his hold on power too tenuous to allow establishment of a court standard in the arts. On the other hand, the first, tentative steps toward Bentivoglio hegemony provided momentum, when other Bentivoglio patriarchs inherited the wealth and prestige that Giovanni I had begun to accumulate. At that time, Giovanni I's role could be reshaped and celebrated as that of founder of a Bentivoglio dynasty, contributing further to the image of an established court. Giovanni I's son Antongaleazzo fused the status of the Bentivoglio name, his prestigious role as university professor, and foreign honors to eventually claim power himself. In 1412, Pope John XXIII granted Antongaleazzo the income from the moneylenders' tax, an act renewed by the Sedici in 1416,9 demonstrating an early recognition of his standing and the family's resurgence in the city where his father had been assassinated. Antongaleazzo's first grasps at power were nevertheless premature, when, in January 1420, he occupied tl1e Palazzo del Comune. In April of that year, Pope Martin V excommunicated the city, whereupon under the internal military threat of the Canetoli, Antongaleazzo fled Bologna in July. Antongaleazzo's conflict with the Church was not entirely antagonistic, however; Martin V's priority was maintaining papal control of the city, not eliminating Antongaleazzo. Indeed, the papacy favored Antongaleazzo while he remained outside Bologna, as documented in offices, land, and rights that the pope granted him in the early l420s. 12 Antongaleazzo eventually reentered Bologna in 1435, supported by Pope Eugenius IV and Cosimo de' Medici, who had emerged as Florence's de facto ruler the year before. Unfortunately, Antongaleazzo was 10

5.1. Jaco po deUa Quercia and workshop, To111b San Giacomo Maggiore, Bologna.

of Antongaleazzo Bentivoglio, ca.

14 30-3 5,

assassinated one month after reentering the city, as he was solidifying control. 1 i Despite his short tenure, the Bentivoglio's control of Bologna was again facilitated by more powerful foreign figures hoping to hold influence over the city and its key geographic position. Although Antongaleazzo's university career was brief, and his other honors numerous, it is nonetheless the vocation of university professor that is commemorated on his sarcophagus, located outside the Bentivoglio Chapel in San Giacomo Maggiore (fig. l). \V'hile seemingly curious, this tomb type is strategically savvy: it aggrandizes Antongaleazzo's past by drawing on a medieval tradition of politically dominant professors and their tombs. It taps into a local iconography of civic authority and associates Antongaleazzo with medieval rulers of the city while ostensibly commemorating his academic service to a local institution, thereby maintaining proper humility in a republic subordinate to the pope. This is accomplished through the iconography of the tomb's relief, which represents the deceased in cathedra, flanked by students at rows of desks on either side. As a professor (doctores iNris civiles) active at the University of Bologna between 1418 and 1420, Antongaleazzo was paid one of the highest salaries of the time, 300 lire. 14 This indicates his local prestige, as university professors had constituted one of the most elite classes in Bologna since the thirteenth century. At that time, Rolandino Passeggeri, a professor of civil law, accumulated enough power to effectively control the city. 1 5 Passeggeri's power ultimately came from his profession: as the leading interpreter of Roman law, Passeggeri was able to define the city's civic and juridical system (and, in theory, the validity of the Holy Roman Emperor's office). After his death, his role as professor was celebrated on his tomb (ca. 1300), a towering exterior monument on columnar supports below a pyramidal roof. The sarcophagus is carved on one side with a schematic lecture scene in low relief: three students seated at desks in profile, hunched over books before the larger and elevated figure of the professor in cathedra, gesturing to his students. 1 6 It is an iconographic display of power through knowledge, with ramifications not only for the hierarchy of the classroom, but also for Bologna's political realm. The presence of books, the authoritative gesture of address, and the hierarchical ordering of figures carry connotations appropriate for one who controlled the city thanks to his dependence on, and manipulation of, texts. Tombs with lecture reliefs multiplied quickly in Bologna through l 350, as professors tapped into a tradition that not only commemorated academic careers, but also carried connotations of civic authority and prestige - the central theme in the importance of Antongaleazzo's tomb. The reliefs shifted to a presentation in which two groups of students at desks flanked a centrally seated professor, all presented frontally; nevertheless, the basic iconography remained static through the period. 1 1 The regularized iconography allowed other professors who wielded power in late-medieval Bologna to partake in the tradition established by Passeggeri's monument - the tombs' iconographic fixity facilitated their use as a signifier of authority. Other important examples include the tombs for Giovanni d'Andrea (d. 1348) and Giovanni da Legnano (d. 1383). Both men dominated university and civic affairs, and their tombs display reliefs identical in type to Antongaleazzo's. 18 This tradition was useful to the Bentivoglio in their efforts to assert local legitimacy

without audacity. \X!hen Antongaleazzo was killed, his body was placed in the small church of San Cristofaro and later moved to the tomb in San Giacomo Maggiore. The tomb was begun by Jacopo della Quercia for another university professor, Jacopo Vari, as recorded in documents dated 143 3, 1439, and 1442 (these documents are related to Quercia's work on the portal reliefs of San Petronio). These show that Quercia had worked on the tomb by 143 3 and that, after his death in 143 8, the tomb was held by the Fabbrica di San Petronio in lieu of the artist's debts. 1 9 They also reveal that the Bentivoglio were not associated with the tomb as late as 1442. In fact, as discussed below, Antongaleazzo's heir Annibale I did not attain power locally until the following year, when he returned from exile. It is likely that as Annibale I established himself as a Bentivoglio patriarch, he obtained the tomb from San Petronio for use as his father's monument. Since Antongaleazzo had been a professor, the tomb's intended use for another presented no obstacle. 20 But it was more than a matter of convenience; it was, rather, a strategic appropriation that both associated the Bentivoglio with the most famous artist in Bologna at the time and aligned Antongaleazzo with a long - and easily recognizable - tradition of professor-rulers of Bologna, stretching back to Rolandino Passeggeri two hundred years earlier. 21 In this light, the monument articulated an important statement of the local, historical legitimacy of Bentivoglio authority. From another perspective - one that allowed the Bentivoglio to avoid charges of indecorous over-glorification - the tomb was "merely" a monument to a deceased academic. This analysis points to important conclusions regarding the existence of a Bentivoglio court by midcentury. Antongaleazzo's monument, with its professionally and humility-veiled glorification, demonstrates that the Bentivoglio could not publicly present themselves as Signori. The artistic evidence underlines a political situation that prevented any one person from officially becoming the city's ruler - unless a coup was attempted, as the Bentivoglio did (disastrously) twice. Indeed, after two family members had declared themselves Signori but had been expelled and eventually murdered, their descendants were learning to respect propriety. As the Bentivoglio consolidated power through the Quattrocento, this was a hallmark of their patronage. Given the absence of a court, there were no identifiable court artists. As Martin Warnke has demonstrated, "the special position accorded to artists at court resulted from the tasks that the arts were required to perform in the sphere of princely representation . .. the artist was involved in the visible projection of the princely aura ... "zz At this time, no artist projected a1ry Bentivoglio aura, even the compromised one of Antongaleazzo's tomb. Although Quercia is affiliated with the tomb, the Bentivoglio connection arises after his death - he did not work for the Bentivoglio in any capacity. It is telling that the first surviving Bentivoglio monument is associated with a prestigious artist, but only after his death and after the Bentivoglio usurped the monument from a deceased professor's powerless family. Antongaleazzo's son Annibale I auspiciously began his political ascendancy as the pope and Anziani granted him the tax benefits and rights previously awarded to his father. 2 3 Soon, however, the Milanese captains Nicolo and Francesco Piccinino, invited in 143 8 to liberate Bologna from the papacy's yoke and to reinstall the Bentivoglio, claimed power themselves 77

by 1441-42. 2 4 Annibale and his friends murdered a Piccinino ally, whereupon Annibale fled but was imprisoned by Francesco near Parma. He remained there until the Bentivoleschi forcibly brought him back to Bologna in June 1443, whereupon he imprisoned Francesco, his former captor. 2 5 Later that summer, he led Bolognese forces allied with those of Florence and Venice against Nicolo Piccinino and the Nlilanese. Annibale defeated them on August 14, l 44 3. 26 Annibale and his allies then consolidated control of the city, taking seats in the Sedici; this control was short-lived, however, as on June 24, 144 5, a local rival stabbed Annibale to death. 2 7 The years in which Annibale I dominated Bologna's republic, from 1443 to 1445, were too brief and too delicate in their political nascency to sustain a socio-political body capable of constructing a program of artistic patronage, regardless of whether that program was a courtly one. evertheless, Annibale took the first steps toward establishing a Bentivoglio artistic presence: he purchased tl1e site of the Bentivoglio Chapel, in the ambulatory of San Giacomo Maggiore, and he installed his father's monument across from that space.28 He sowed seeds that might have developed had he not been killed, but that served as the basis for his successors' progress. At Annibale's death, his son Giovanni II was three years old, too young to inherit his father's control of Bologna. In Florence, however, Sante Bentivoglio, the twenty-year-old, illegitimate son of Antongaleazzo's brother, was being raised as a wool merchant by Neri Capponi, an ally of Cosimo de' Medici. 2 9 After Anni bale's death, a Bentivoglio secretary wrote to Capponi, explaining Sante's pedigree and requesting his return to Bologna. Toward the same end, Bolognese ambassadors also met with Sante in Florence. Sante was reluctant to go, as it involved admitting his mother's shame and put him at a deadly political risk. 3째 Cosimo de' Medici and eri Capponi were nevertheless anxious to install a Florentine son as Bologna's effective head of state, and Cosimo convinced Sante to depart for Bologna. 31 The purported meeting between Sante and Cosimo is the subject of Vasari's ceiling fresco in the apartments of Leo X in the Palazzo Vecchio, Florence. Sante, like his predecessors, depended on foreigners for his entrance and continuing legitimacy and security in Bologna. In addition to having close ties to the Medici, Sante was friendly with the Sforza - he married Ginevra Sforza, niece of Francesco Sforza and daughter of Alessandro Sforza, Lord of Pesaro. This cemented security with Nlilan and with a powerful Marchese lord. He also had ties to the Este family in Ferrara.32 He was favored by nonItalian powers as well: in 1461, Emperor Frederick III granted Sante the right to create knights. 33 Sante's most important achievement procured him unquestionable authority in Bologna and abroad: in 144 7, he negotiated accords with Pope icholas V that secured Bologna's relative autonomy. This agreement formed the basis of the city's government until Pope Julius II's revisions in 1507. It instituted checks and balances between the Sedici and the legate, though essentially in favor of the Bolognese. It established that no papal representative could make any law without the consent of the local magistrates and deputies, and vice versa. It called for the confirmation of existing local statutes, the possibility of maintaining relations

with foreign powers, the availability of all local redditi, and the right to hire condottieri and to maintain a standing army. The full recognition of the city's local powers was balanced by the presence and recognition of the papal representatives, at least in theory. \Vith the legates frequently absent and occupied with extra-Bologense affairs, however, the Sedici often rejected the legates' rulings, considerably weakening tl1e legates' role in Bologna's political infrastructure.34 Locally, Sante did much to consolidate his power through local offices and rights. He was a member of the Sedici from 1446, filling that and other civic bodies with Bentivoleschi. In 14 53, the co1m111e established a fund to facilitate Sante's living according to his rank and stature, and in 1454 it granted him an annual salary of 3,000 lire.35 In 1461, the legate ordered Sante exempt from "every tariff, tribute, imposition and [tax] burden on land or personal holdings" (ogni dazio, gabella, imposizione, e pesi tan to reali che personali) ." iG Political stability allowed Sante to proceed where his predecessors had not, notably in establishing an architectural presence: his two main projects were the new Bentivoglio Palace and the Bentivoglio Chapel across Strada San Donato at San Giacomo Maggiore. There is disagreement over when and by whom the present Bentivoglio Chapel was built, yet there is some consensus that its design - a square, domed space with an extension for the altar, similar to Brunelleschi's Old Sacristy in San Lorenzo - points to initiation in the 14 50s under Pagno di Lapo Portigiani.37 \Vork on the palace was contemporaneous with that of tl1e chapel. Ground was broken in 1460, leading to a complex covering two acres, with three stories and two courtyards, and able to accommodate 250 beds. 38 Sante died in 1463, and did not see the project completed. Nevertheless, his initiation of the chapel and palace provided the literal foundations upon which his successor Giovanni II constructed the appearance of a court. The relationship between Sante and Pagno di Lapo Portigiani holds great significance. By the 14 50s, Sante's position as Bologna's leader demanded that the family have a worthy residence and religious focal point. Furthermore, given the tenuous political climate in the 14 50s, it was important to project at least the fiction of stability and luxuriant wealth. 39 These were catalysts behind the building projects in which Sante followed the lead of his mentor, Cosimo de' Medici, celebrated by Florentine humanists as a new Augustus. Indeed, as Sante was well connected to the Medici family and was in Florence until the mid-144os, he was undoubtedly familiar with Cosimo's plans for a palace and for San Lorenzo.4째 Pagno was a Fiesole-born stone cutter conversant with Brunelleschian aesthetics after his partnership with l\/Iichelozzo in the 1440s at San Lorenzo and at tl1e Medici Palace.4 1 In 1448 he carved the Tabernacle of the Annunciation, commissioned by Piero de' Medici for Santissima Annunziata, Florence. In 145 3, Pagno requested residence in Bologna as a stone cutter.4' In Bologna, his documented works include window carvings at San Petronio; column capitals and bases for the Palazzo Bolognini portico; and column capitals and bases for the portico of San Pietro, Bologna's cathedral.43 Although Pagno is associated with projects for various sites, the scale and importance of his work for Sante make him an approximation of a palace architect, though no evidence suggests that he was a general artistic director, Land 79

Architect, or official city architect, as these terms are discussed by Warnke. Also, though Sante was Bologna's leading citizen, he was officially no more than that - this ultimately limited whatever role Pagno might have had as a "court architect." Pagno's association with Sante after previous work for Cosimo de' Medici is indicative of Florentine overtones in midcentury Bolognese culture and politics. Warnke suggests that Cosimo placed his artists in foreign courts to promulgate the Florentine manner and to aid political alliances.44 It is likely that Pagno's presence in Bologna is parallel to that of Filarete and Nlichelozzo in Nlilan, working on the Castello Sforzesco and the Medici Bank, respectively. In Milan as in Bologna, Florentine artists worked in the service of, and articulated the power structures of, rulers installed with Cosimo de' Medici as aide or sponsor.45 A strong Tuscan presence existed in painting and sculpture in mid-fifteenth-century Bologna. Prior to Pagno's arrival, the Sienese Jacopo della Quercia was the major sculptor in Bologna, working on the portal reliefs of San Petronio and smaller commissions through the 1430s, such as Antonio da Budrio's tomb and a small sculpted altarpiece. In painting, Paolo Uccello worked in Bologna in the same period (a frescoed Nativity, San Martino), and Piero della Francesca perhaps visited around 14 50, followed by his student Galasso, to whom a l 4 55 Funeral of the Virgin is attributed (San Michele in Monte, destroyed l 83 l ). Local Tuscan painting resonates beyond the presence of the region's artists, however. Marco Zoppo's contemporary work in Bologna, such as the Collegio di Spagna triptych, demonstrates an interest in Piero-like, Tuscan emphases on light and volume - elements balanced with others from midcentury Paduan painting of Squarcione and Mantegna.46 We cannot know whether the influx of Tuscan artists and styles was part of Sante's or Cosimo's concentrated program; more likely, Bologna was enveloped in the tide of Tuscan art that spread throughout the peninsula in this period. Sante died of natural causes in 1463, whereupon Giovanni II took the reins of power, continuing to gather titles and money from abroad. As papal legates rotated and as Giovanni packed legislatures, it was in the latter's person that the republican state was represented, echoing patterns recognizable from studies of the Quattrocento Medici.47 Giovanni's continuation of Sante's politics is evident in his personal life too - months after Sante's deatl1, Giovanni married his predecessor's widow, Ginevra. Giovanni's honors came from throughout Italy and Europe, including condotte from Florence, Naples and, most frequently, Nlilan, for whom he became captain general in 1488.48 From his accession in 1463, major favors included the following: In 1465, Paul II named Giovanni "president for life" of the Sedici;49 in 1480, the Sforza named Giovanni count of lands near Cremona, whereupon he adopted the title "signore";5째 in 1483, Giovanni's secondborn son, Antongaleazzo, became an apostolic protonotary, advancing Giovanni's hopes for a Bentivoglio cardinal; and, in 1494, Emperor Maximilian granted Giovanni the right to coin money and to use the black imperial eagle in his stemmaY Bolstered by these favors, Giovanni progressively saw himself as signore of Bologna rather than as a citizen in an oligarchic pool. Marriages tied the Bentivoglio to major courts in Italy, though often through secondtier branches. Giovanni's wife, Ginevra, had blood ties to Sforza lords in northern and cenSo

tral Italy, and her half-sister Battista was the wife of Federico da Montefeltro. Giovanni's son Annibale II married Ercole d'Este's natural daughter Lucrezia, half-sister and confidante of Isabella and Beatrice d'Este. Giovanni's daughter Violante married Ludovico Sforza's natural son, and other of Giovanni's eleven children married into the Gonzaga, Malatesta, Orsini, and Borgia families. This pattern clarifies to which circle Giovanni envisioned he belonged. Indeed, after Sante, it is notable how few connections there were to Florence and to the Medici. With Giovanni's greater pretensions to a Bentivoglio signoria with autonomous authority, the Medici - another case of primtts inter pares - offered little benefit in this light. Giovanni's dependence on powerful foreigners required a delicate balancing act. Giovanni attempted to steer a neutral course, widely promising allegiance or nonaggression, hoping to offend no one but ultimately pleasing just as manyY For instance, Giovanni's initial support of Ludovico Sforza against King Louis XII in 1499 resulted, the next year, in a payment of 40,000 ducats to the victorious French. 53 Further weakness abroad came with the death of his friend Ercole d'Este in l 505; Ercole's son Alfonso was generally uninterested in Giovanni's longevity. 54 In l 506, Ferrarese and French indifference along with the absence of the Medici proved disastrous, when the papacy turned from granting power to demanding its restitution. That year, Julius II began his reconquest of papal territories including Bologna, and those who had empowered Giovanni now left him to flounder. All he could garner was safe passage for his family, who spent their final days in Milan and Ferrara after fleeing Bologna and Julius's troops on November l, l 506.55 Giovanni's dependence on foreigners stemmed from over-inflation of his local legitimacy. Within the family, Sante's son Ercole sued repeatedly for appropriated money and land.56 Ludovico and Andrea Bentivoglio's families were increasingly celebrated for their elegant, peaceful demeanor - elements whose absence from Giovanni's persona were frequently lamented. 57 Internecine tensions paled in comparison to civic ones: in 1488 Giovanni barely escaped the Malvezzi's assassination attempt and, in l 501, the previously allied Marescotti were massacred on the rumor of another plot.5 8 Bentivoglio reprisals were exceedingly violent, which made Giovanni momentarily more secure, but also more frangible in his severity. When Julius II approached in l 506, there were ultimately few families that would stand as Giovanni's allies. To counter core weaknesses, Giovanni created the appearance of a flourishing, secure leader. He continued to build the enormous palace begun by Sante in 1460, and cosponsored other building projects, such as the Palazzo del Podesta, canals, and porticoes on entrance roads. 59 Giovanni's topographical registering of family presence was visible and astute, as by the late Quattrocento the practice was accepted as a virtuous demonstration of magnificenza.6째 Giovanni also manifested his omnipotence on a small scale: after l 494, he coined money with the Bentivoglio stemma, though he had earlier commissioned medals, such as the 14 78 example by Sperandio, which, with its classicizing bust and stemma, fits within the princely medal type.

Giovanni also invested in ephemeral demonstrations of Good Rule, sponsoring feasts, jousts, and tournaments. Inspiration came from similar affairs in Medici Florence, Este 81

Ferrara, and Sforza Milan, where court and pseudo-republican feste expressed dominant political ideologies.61 Sante began the tradition locally in his wedding to Ginevra Sforza - so opulent that there was conflict with sumptuary laws.62 Quasi-public events appealed to all levels of the populace, including visiting dignitaries. Furthermore, they were eventually associated with Giovanni exclusively, as opposed to the polyphonic nature of urban development. Indeed, the 14 70 feast day of Bologna's patron saint, San Petronio, was the occasion for Giovanni's first major tournament, when he marked his appropriation of civic ritual and demonstrated his ceremonial glory in his leadership of the victorious team.63 The sixteenthcentury chronicler Ghirardacci wrote that this festival "was the principal reason that Giovanni grew [in] ... opinion not only among the Bolognese people, but also among the princes and signori of Italy; and for this ... he was reputed, as time went on, ii primo huomo not only in Italy, but also in all of Europe" (fu principal cagione che Giovanni accrebbe di .. .opinione non solo appresso il popolo bolognese, ma anco di tutti i principi et signori d'Italia; et per questo ... fu riputato viepiu di tempo in tempo il primo huomo non solamente di Italia, ma anche di tutta Europa) .64 By the late Quattrocento, festivals were wholly associated with Giovanni, particularly because Bologna lacked the confraternity system of Florence or the scuole of Venice.65 Civic, ecclesiastical affairs morphed into demonstrations of Bentivoglio magnificence and ludic rites that showed legitimacy through spectacles in which Giovanni was the focal point as spectator or participant. In this respect, they were entirely courtly, celebrating the individual's glory rather than that of the city. This was the case in the 1487 wedding of Giovanni's son Annibale II and Ercole d'Este's natural daughter Lucrezia,66 which also affirmed an alignment with signorili courts, demonstrating to guests (including ambassadors and princes) that tl1e Bentivoglio could don courtly robes and transform an entire city for personal celebrations. As Giovanni's rule became more fragile, however, the feste became merely a safe haven of repeated rituals: after l 500 they were no longer celebrations of a growing court, but empty spectacles of a deflating one.61 First, the San Petronio festival of 1490 artfully articulated Bentivoglio domination over the state. In a spectacle that involved Petrarchan allusion, popular entertainment, and military deftness, and before the eyes of visiting dignitaries and all strata of Bologna's populace, Giovanni's son Annibale II became a symbol of erudite and stalwart leadership.Gs In June 1490, while strolling in Bentivoglio gardens, Giovanni and friends debated whether Fortune or Knowledge held more sway over humankind. Giovanni decided to structure the San Petronio tournament on the debate and assigned leadership of the teams to Annibale II for Fortuna and to Niccolo Rangone for Sapienza. That October, the teams entered Piazza Maggiore in ornate processions, led by allegorical figures of Knowledge and Fortune seated in chariots, accompanied by players representing warriors and personifications of wisdom, such as Plato and Augustus. The richly armored team leaders on elaborately bedecked horseback led each team. After the processional entrance, there was an inconclusive debate, in rima, before an aged professor. This was followed by capture the flag, won (not surprisingly) by Annibale II, who thereby demonstrated his intellectual erudition and military capacities. The 82

captain of the defeated team was significantly the captain of the Bolognese militia; Annibale's allegorical victory was thereby a barely veiled sign of Bentivoglio domination, notably marking the separation from the festival's civic and ecclesiastical origins. As with processions and tournaments in other cities and courts, these events helped cultivate an image of virtue as an exterior sign of inherited nobility. But, whereas in Ferrara and Nlilan it was truly a question of inherited noble titles, in Bologna it was a delicate veneer that depended on the favor of outsiders. This made successful appearance all the more important, and as such, Giovanni disseminated the signs of his authority as widely as possible. In this light, one can analyze his patronage of painting, including in the Bentivoglio Chapel. Painting in late-Quattrocento Bologna was marked by its heterogeneity. Bologna was a late stronghold for the International Gothic, as its foremost local practitioner, Giovanni da Modena, was active until the 14 50s. As addressed above, Central Italian painting dominated Sante's Bologna. From the 1460s to the 148os, Ferrarese artists and styles predominated.69 This was due to the acclaim and proximity of Ferrarese artists at the time, and to Giovanni's friendship with Ferrara's leaders. One can say that the Bologna-Florence axis under Sante was replaced by a Ferrarese one under Giovanni II. In this regard, as the latter gathered honors as Bologna's leader and as the city gained prestige outside its walls, Ferrarese court art represented a positive model for emulation. One questions whether, in this context, Bologna was drawn to what has been defined as Ferrara's anti-Florentine, anti-republican style: was what Joseph Manca calls the "artful mannerism" of midcentury Ferrara more appealing in its emphasis on lively line and color?1째 This is problematic because it perhaps overdetermines the parallels between politics and style; nevertheless, it is a question that deserves measured consideration. The Ferrarese artists Francesco del Cossa and Ercole de' Roberti dominated Bolognese painting in the 1470s and 1480s. Yet, despite occasional work for the Bentivoglio, they were not court artists; they worked for a range of patrons and there is no evidence that they had any official title. Indeed, perhaps Cossa came to Bologna to escape the hegemonic nature of a court, as in Ferrara he was overshadowed by Cosme Tura.7' Cossa's most significant work in Bologna included the OsservanzaAltarpiece (ca. 14 70), the Pala dei iVlercanti (14 74; fig. 2), and the Griffoni Altarpiece (1473). His greatest patron was Domenico Garganelli, for whom, in 1478, he painted the vault of the Garganelli Chapel (San Pietro), an enormous project completed by Roberti, but destroyed in the early seventeenth century. His work there included the vault and cupola, representing the Evangelists, Doctors of the Church, and the Annunciation. He designed Garganelli's tomb slab as well, dated 1478 .12 Cossa also received Giovanni's first known painting commission in 1472, immediately after the artist had been active in the Salone dei Mesi for Borso d'Este. This established Giovanni's connection to artists from princely courts and emphasized a Bentivoglio dynasty. The painting (now deteriorated) is a reworking of a miraculous image of the Virgin first marked as an important site by Giovanni I.n For Giovanni II, Cossa painted his great-grandfather as the kneeling donor, above the inscription "Iohannes Bentivolus Bononaie Dominus." Ercole spent most of his career in Ferrara after becoming the official court artist in

5. 2 . Francesco de! Cossa, Pala dei Nferca11ti, 1474, tempera on canvas, Pinacoteca

Nazionale, Bologna. 5. 3. Ercole de' Roberti, }Vf.iracles of San Vi11cenzo Ferrer (predella, Griffoni Altarpiece), 1473, tempera on canvas, Pinacoteca, Vatican.

1487, but previously he made significant contributions to Bolognese art alongside Cossa. His predella and side-panel saints for the GriffoniAltarpiece in 1473 exemplify his early style, characterized by a narrative vitality and liveliness of forms that place him firmly within Ferrarese tradition (fig. 3).74 He then painted the expansive frescoes in the Garganelli Chapel: these covered over one hundred square meters, representing the Death of the Virgin and the Crucifixion on opposite walls. Although only a tiny fragment remains, at the time they were among the most impressive paintings of the period. Their excellence was lauded by writers and artists of the day through Michelangelo, celebrating Ercole's masterful contrast between dramatic foreshortening and freneticism in the Crucifixion, and stoic balance in the Death of the Virgin.75 Notably, this landmark work was not associated with the Bentivoglio. Around 1475, Ercole possibly painted a double portrait of Giovanni II and Ginevra, and here one may speak of a courtly tendency.16 Stern profiles before windows opening onto the ruler's territory was a familiar topos in court portraiture, here with close parallels to Piero della Francesca's portraits of Federico da Montefeltro and Battista Sforza, Ginevra's half-sister. Ercole painted a later portrait of Giovanni alone; nevertheless, one cannot say that he served as a court artist during his brief tenure in Bologna.

The next generation of artists is most closely associated with Bentivoglio attempts to fashion a court. Lorenzo Costa (a Ferrarese), Francesco Francia, and Amico Aspertini (both Bolognese) worked extensively for Giovanni II at the Bentivoglio Palace, the Bentivoglio Chapel, and the adjacent Oratory of Santa Cecilia. Before analyzing these sites, however, we must recognize that none of these artists was an official household artist. Nevertheless, they dominated Giovanni II's commissions, and they, more than others, presented Giovanni as a sophisticated ruler in a tidy dynastic line. They also had close familial ties : Aspertini named his children after Annibale and Antongaleazzo, Giovanni's eldest sons who served as the children's godfathers.77 \X!arnke and others posit familial ties and the construction of the image of the Good Prince as defining elements of the court artist, and thus Costa, Francia, and Aspertini partly conform to the definition. Judgment must be tempered, however, by the lacunae in evidence: the Bentivoglio palace and many documents were destroyed in l 507. Papers removed from Bologna were dispersed and some lost, though many remain in the Archivio di Stato di Ferrara.7 8 None of these names any artist in a privileged manner. A 1497 document lists household employees, but there are no names of recognizable artists among them.79 The most likely reference comes in a list of Bentivoglio creditors at the time of their flight. Here, ''Amicus Pictor" and "Fran. Aurifex" are owed ro and 36 lire, respectively. so These are likely Aspertini and Francia, who was trained as a goldsmith and often signed his paintings as "aurifex." From this evidence, and for lack of other, we are precluded from assigning al'!JI artist a court household role - a problem that complements the fact that Giovanni's privileges still did not qualify his household as a court. evertheless, one site where these artists fashioned the image of a prince was the family palace, which Costa and Francia decorated through the 1490s. Here, Costa painted The Fa!! of Trq)I (of which a fragment of two heads remains in tl1e Pinacoteca Nazionale, Bologna) and Francia painted jttdith and Ho!ofernes, as well as fictive bronze reliefs of philosophical disputes. 81 earby, the barracks' and stables' exteriors were painted with scenes of the paladin counts and the life of Charlemagne. 82 Inside and out, the richness of the palace's decorative program added to the splendor of its architecture to create a palace that Paolo Giovio wrote rivaled that of Urbino in its magnificence.s3 At San Giacomo Maggiore, Giovanni II decorated the Bentivoglio Chapel after its consecration in 1487.84 Here, Giovanni created a space that articulated a linear, dynastic continuity and his connections to other courts. 85 As the family's main devotional site, the chapel was important for the dissemination of the useful imagery: it was here that Giovanni brought visiting dignitaries and created knights after he received the privilege, broadcasting his princely glory. 86 On this subject and the chapel's decoration, Ghirardacci wrote that the chapel "not only for a private gentleman, but also for an emperor, would have been appropriate" (non solo ad un gentilhuomo privato, ma ad un imperatore sarebbe bastevole). s1 Its importance is underlined by the apparent absence of a chapel inside the palace; this required papal dispensation, which the Medici received, but the Bentivoglio did not. ss Costa is the chapel's most significant presence, although Francia painted the altarpiece of 1494 (fig. 4). Costa's portrait (dated 1488) of Giovanni II, Ginevra, and children before a

5+ Francesco Francia, Virgin and Child J1Jith Saints, 1494, tempera on canvas, Bentivoglio Chapel, San Giacomo Maggiore, Bologna. 5.6 . Lorenzo Costa, Tri11111ph of Death, 1490, tempera on canvas, Bentivoglio Chapel, San Giacomo i'vlaggiore, Bologna.

5. 5. Lorenzo Costa, Virgin and Child J1Jith Giovanni JI Bentivoglio, Ginevra Sforza, and Children, 1488, tempera on canvas, Bentivoglio Chapel, San Giacomo Maggiore, Bologna. 5.7. Lorenzo Costa, Tri11111ph of Fame (and Fort1111e), 1490, tempera on canvas, Bentivoglio Chapel, San Giacomo Maggiore, Bologna.

Virgin and Child is informative in several respects (fig. 5). Costa's synthesis of Ferrarese art, mastered while Roberti's student, is evident in the rendering of the ornamental throne and the severity of the architecture. 89 This, integrated with the figures' earnest quietude, forges an image that articulates the family's refinement and its princely solemnity and devotion. As Paul Nieuwenhuizen noted, in some respects the painting is more a group portrait than a devotional image (note the hats on Giovanni's and sons' heads), despite the inscription that declares it as such. 9째 More importantly, the portrait defines membership: during tensions with Sante's descendants, it delimits the dynasty, picturing Giovanni's heirs adjacent to another Costa painting of his ancestors. The latter was destroyed soon after its creation, by the installation of the equestrian relief of Annibale I, addressed below.91 A sense of linear, dynastic continuity is emphasized by the tomb of Giovanni's grandfather Antongaleazzo opposite tl1e chapel entrance. Across from the family portrait, Costa painted two allegorical processions dated 1490: the Triumph of D eath and the Tri11mph of Fame (and Fort11ne) (figs. 6, 7), subjects provided by Petrarch's Tri11mphi. These verses recount the procession of six allegorical figures, each triumphant over the last, from the Triumphbts Cttpidinis to the Tri11mphus Eter11itatis, including Fame following Death between them. Parallels between Petrarch's text and Costa's images are scarce; Petrarch's verses were likely an inspirational source, rather than a specific textual one. Nevertheless, there are some correspondences. In the Trimnphus Mortis, for instance, Petrarch wrote: "Here were those that were called happy, popes, rulers, emperors; now they are nude, miserable and mendicant. \Vhere now are their riches? Where are their honors?" (Ivi eran quei che fur detti felici, pontefici, regnanti, imperadori; or sono ignudi, miseri e mendici. U' sono or le richezze? u' son gli onori?)9 2 In Costa's painting, behind the carriage of Death appear a pope, a bishop, a cardinal, and others in courtly and military dress. Naked figures follow, expressing in spatial arrangement the chronology of Petrarch's verse ("now they are nude ... where are their riches?"). Elsewhere, Petrarch wrote of living, virtuous women and a noble company who come to witness if Death is kind.93 In the painting, there are portraits of Bentivoglio daughters standing before the procession as onlookers, representing these virtuous women. 94 Recall too that the family, using the chapel and gathered before these paintings, brought into being Petrarch's witnesses of noble company. \Vhen physically absent, they were (and are) nonetheless present in painted form, opposite in Costa's portrait of the family. The group portrait also helps the viewer identify the Bentivoglio family members represented in the Triumph paintings. The Triumph of Fame (and Fortune) appears to have fewer correspondences between text and image. Warriors and scholars are enumerated in Petrarch's text, however the image yields few clues that permit definitive identification. The painting's most enigmatic feature is the sky-borne tabe!!one. Here, small figures interact in abbreviated, enigmatic narratives. Deciphering these, Wendy Wegener suggested that the painting conflates a Triumph of Fame the natural partner to the Triumph of Death in a Petrarchan framework - and a Triumph of Fortune, in which the roundel represents a Wheel of Fortune. In it, historical and literary events around its circumference mark degrees of fortune's favor according to the position

5.8. A ttributed to Pagno di Lapo Portigiani, Eq11estria11 i'Vlo1111111enl of A1111ibale I Bentivoglio, 14 58, l strian ston e wi th pigment, Bentivoglio Chapel, San Giacomo Maggiore, Bologna.

on the wheel.95 The Bentivoglio's interest in Fortune is demonstrated by the tournament in 1490, the same year that Costa painted these scenes. There is a general parallel between these scenes and ones enacted in Bolognese piazze, supported by similarities between festivals and the ceremonial splendor in the paintings. There is also a specific parallel to the 1490 celebrations, as in the painting, Giovanni II, Annibale II, and others appear in Fame/ Fortune's entourage, aligning Bentivoglio leaders with Fortune's favors, just as occurred in the spectacle itself. In the Bentivoglio Chapel, as in Petrarch's poem, fame and its immortality come not only to warriors (as Annibale I and Giovanni II are represented), but also to famous thinkers. Petrarch wrote that, contemplating the warriors in Fame's entourage, he could not take his eyes from them, until a voice encouraged him to look to the side, where he saw renowned philosophers. 96 Standing before the painting, one sees on the left Antongaleazzo's professor tomb. This is, perhaps, a spatial-artistic parallel that demonstrates the range of Bentivoglio 88

success under Fame and Fortune's (and Knowledge's) aegis. This conflation also appears with Giovanni II's figure in the TriNmj>h of Fame (and Fortune), as he is addressed by two figures, one in robe and turban, the other armored with a sword. Nieuwenhuizen suggested that they represent Giovanni's equal interest in the active and contemplative life, or litterae and arma, qualities combined in the ideal prince. 97 Opposite, the painting of Giovanni's a11te11ati was destroyed by the reinstallation of Annibale I's equestrian relief (fig. 8). As recorded in its inscription, the monument represents Giovanni II's father Annibale I, commemorating the battle victory that liberated Bologna from Piccinino control. The relief is dated 14 58 and is identified as a sarcophagal monument ("bentivole gentis hanibal hie situs est"). It may have been commissioned by Sante in his plans for the chapel, although there is no evidence that it presently marks Annibale I's tomb. Although it is unsigned, some attribute it to Pagno because of Tuscan overtones in its anatomies and architecture, and because Pagno is the best-known Tuscan sculptor in Bologna in 14 58.9 8 The figure's rigidity and ornamental detail lead others to believe it is by a Paduan artist who had worked with Donatello in Padua from 1444 to 145 3.99 Although the relief is dated 14 58, it cannot have been installed in its present location until after 148 8, the date of Costa's paintings on that wall. Furthermore, it is unlikely this is its intended site: the mounted figure faces out of the chapel, contrary to funereal monuments' traditional orientation, in which effigies face the altar. No one has suggested plausible motives or dates for the relief's reinstallation, but I suggest that it too is related to the events of 1490, in a transhistorical name-game that glorifies one family member's past while prefiguring another's future. I suggest that Giovanni II installed the relief contemporaneously with, or just after, Costa's Triumphs in 1490. Positioning it across from the TriNmph of Fame and Fortune, he articulated parallels between his father Annibale I's real military victory and his son Annibale II's allegorical one, in the tournament in which the latter led Fortune to victory. The connections between the two are supported by Annibale II's portrait in Costa's painting (behind Giovanni II), looking out at the viewer in the chapel, and across the room at his grandfather and namesake. The emphasis on direct lineage is part of Giovanni's effort to define the dynasty and to emphasize its role as Bologna's leaders and protectors. This tactic was catalyzed by rivalries with other branches of the family. Recall that it was Sante who firmly established Bentivoglio control of Bologna and began building the palace and chapel. Nevertheless, there is no presence here of Sante or his descendants; instead, the chapel is inhabited by references to Antongaleazzo, Annibale I, Giovanni II, and Annibale II. This erases the importance of a figure whose local impact was enormous, and without whom later Bentivoglio protagonists likely would have been irrelevant. After the reconstruction of the Oratory of Santa Cecilia in the late Quattrocento, Giovanni II commissioned its decoration in l 506, just prior to fleeing the city. 100 Here Bolognese art approximates a recognizable style - one that late-sixteenth- and seventeenthcentury artists and writers, such as the Carracci and Malvasia, identified as a dolce stile nNovo rhetorically opposed to Tuscan painting. 101 In the oratory, Francia, Costa, Aspertini, and

workshops painted scenes from the lives of Saints Cecilia and Valerian. Each artist painted scenes paired across the room, in a format recalling the Sistine Chapel walls. Although there is a harmony in the artists' coordinated program, the cycle is also marked by variation. For instance, Francia's balanced elegance blends well with Costa's tempered refinement, in which one sees traces of Ferrarese interest in the vitality of the line. Both are in some contrast to Aspertini's more fantastical and dynamic style, partly attributable to his scenes' dynamic narrative, the martyrdom of Cecilia and Valerian. It is hypothesized that these styles result from Tuscan and Umbrian influence: Perugino and young Raphael in the case of Costa and Francia, and Filippino Lippi and Pinturicchio in the case of Aspertini. 1 0 2 Undoubtedly the Bolognese artists were familiar with these artists' work; however, hunting for (more famous) stylistic sources is symptomatic of considering Bologna a backwater where artists were unable to forge autonomous styles, which here they appear to do. Furthermore, the integrated heterogeneity of styles visible here is characteristic of Bologna itself. Neither court nor republic, neither princely nor popular, an admixture of extremes is evident throughout its cultural production. Historians indicate that in Bologna's festivals and literature, there is frequently a juxtaposition of refinement and "qualcosa di grezzo,'' polished elegance and simmering violence, or, as Bruno Basile wrote, "marmo bentivolesco" alongside "mattone bolognese." 1 0 3 An aesthetic appreciated by Bologna's elite cultural circles, this is embodied in the Oratory paintings too, in degrees ranging from Francia's most polished passages to Aspertini's rudest ones. The Santa Cecilia project was Giovanni II's last statement in the guise of an aspiring prince, in the grand scale and style of the paintings and in their wholesale affiliation with his magnificenza (in correspondence, Giovanni's son referred to the Oratory as "his [Giovanni's] chapel"). 1 0 4 By this time, however, Bologna's vitality as a court - as well as its nascent artistic style -was on the brink. Within a short time, both were smothered by historical events: Pope Julius II conquered Bologna and expunged almost all things Bentivoglio, and in painting, Bologna was overtaken by the classicizing hegemony of sixteenth-century central Italian painting. Here we should remember Vasari's anecdote, in which around r 5r 6 Francia unpacked Raphael's Saint Cecilia Altarpiece and soon died, overcome by its beauty and by his own futility as an artist in the age of Raphael. 10 5 Although apocryphal, this tale speaks accurately to a sudden passing, an extinguishing of a courtly flame that had - in its own way surged and faltered through decades of political and cultural ambiguities.

[6]

c:.JVlantegna:r Triumph: 'The Cultural Politics of Imitation <<all'antica" at the Court of c:.JVlantua I490-IJJO *** STEPHEN ]. CAMPBELL T HE SERIES of nine canvases known as the Triumphs of Caesar, painted by Andrea Mantegna between 1486 and l 501, was for several centuries the most famous work by the artist and one of the most celebrated works of art in Italy before its removal from Mantua to England in 1629. 1 The cycle was a monumental undertaking, which well into the sixteenth century would have stood on a par with the Sistine Ceiling and the stanze of Raphael. The eclipse of its fame in more recent times is not only a result of its disastrous physical deterioration and ruinous restoration attempts, but an illustration of the rather large discrepancy between the cultural values of Latin humanism, with its demanding cult of the antique, and what we might call the "post-humanist" values of our own time. It is harder for modern viewers to grasp the excitement originally created by such a work: Mantegna has effectively restaged a classical triumph - a great festive movement of warriors, prisoners, weapons, and plundered treasure - in order to signify the unrelenting and annihilating progress of Roman imperialism. From the vantage point of the early twenty-first century, this all might appear as a deeply disturbing display of the obliteration of one civilization by another. The glittering vestiges of that vanquished culture - that is, its works of art - are borne in procession as spoils of war, and the bloody spectacle of defeat is displayed through a striking meta-pictorial device: in the first canvas, a series of paintings-within-the-painting, showing the destruction of doomed cities (fig. l). What cities are these? Mantegna leaves it ambiguous. Anthony Halliday, in a re-evaluation of the artist's use of textual materials, proposes that Mantegna drew on several classical accounts of at least two triumphs of Julius Caesar, while also incorporating material from earlier triumphs of generals under the Roman republic. Halliday convincingly argues that the artist has drawn most heavily upon Greek sources, on Appian's Roman History and Plutarch's L ife of Aemilitts Paulus. While a preparatory drawing for the first canvas, now in the Louvre, shows a tabula ansata inscribed GALIA CAPTA, and while the second canvas (fig. 2) bears an inscription referring to the conquest of Gaul (IMP. IULIO CAESARI OB GALLIAM DEVICT MILITARI POTE CIA TRIUMPHUS DECRETUS I VIDIA SPRETA SUPERATA), the seventh in the series depicts prisoners who are identifiable as Greeks rather than Gauls, closely corresponding to Plutarch's description of the defeated King 91

6.1 Andrea J\Iantegna, Tti11111phs of Caesa1; Canvas L Ttw1;peters, Bearers of Standards and Banners, ca. 1490--9 5, tempera on canvas, The Royal Collection, I lampton Court.

6.2 Andrea J\Ianregna, Tti1111;phs of Caesa1; Canvas IL The Tti11111phal Car, ca. 1490--95, tempera on canvas, The Royal Collection, Hampton Court.

Perseus of Macedon with his family, in a passage that emphasizes the pathos and cruelty of defeat (fig. 7).2 There is thus a historically panoramic dimension to the Tri/;/mphs, as if Mantegna had wanted to epitomize the course of Empire itself. There also appears to be a calculated lack of specificity in the depiction of the setting of Caesar's triumphal procession. Rome is unambiguously, if discreetly, signaled by topographical means in only one canvas. The climax of the series, which was also the first to be executed, is the canvas showing the chariot of Caesar against a triumphal arch surmounted by the partly visible horse-trainers of the Quirinal (fig. 9). 3However, the later canvases, which depict the head and middle course of the procession, appear to depart from the city of Rome altogether, and to take place against hilly landscapes with ruins and open skies (figs. 1, 3, 4, 5, 8). The urban landscape that appears in the background of the second canvas is pointedly figured as an illusion, a miniature city of model buildings, carried as trophies in the triumphal ovation (fig. 2). This departure from tl1e city is particularly curious in that Mantegna had abundant information available to him about the route of Roman triumphal processions and could easily have evoked the surviving monuments of the ancient city.4 Flavia Biondo's Roma f/7./;/171pham, a source available in Mantua even before its publication there in 1472, provided a digest of useful particulars from a host of ancient authors. Yet Halliday has shown convincingly that Mantegna's debt to Biondo, widely assumed in previous scholarship, has been exaggerated and is probably negligible.l Such an avoidance of the easy and the familiar relates to another question, concerning textual sources. Instead of turning to Biondo, and unquestionably with the help of a professional scholar, Mantegna drew directly on unabridged original texts, some available only in manuscript: from the Greeks Plutarch and Appian, from the 92

6. 3 Andrea lantegna, Tri11111phs of Caesa1; Canvas III The Bearers of Trophies and 811//ion, ca. 1490--9 5, tempera on canvas, The Royal Collection, H ampton Court.

6.4 Andrea Mantegna, Tri11111phs of Caesar, Canvas IV The T/ase Bearers, ca. 149 5-1500, tempera on canvas, The Royal Collection, [-lampton Court.

Romans Suetonius and Livy. I will return to the question of texts, and will propose another that can be considered even more fundamental to the invention of Mantegna's Triumphs, not least because it affords a particular insight into Mantegna's own role as author and inventor. These questions are precisely those that have preoccupied scholars of the Triumphs. First is the search for sources, both textual, as we have just seen, and visual. As regards the latter, scholars have been frustrated by the artist's apparent combination of erudition with free invention; just as Mantegna did not derive literary and historical material from conveniently available modern handbooks, so too he resisted the surviving examples of triumphal art in the city of Rome itself. Mantegna's work on the series was interrupted by a two-year sojourn in Rome, from 1488 to 1490; there he would certainly have seen the triumphal reliefs on the Arch of Titus, already an important iconographic source for Flavio Biondo. A drawing now in Vienna shows that his interest was engaged by the Trajanic reliefs on the Arch of Constantine.6 As in many other instances of this artist's work, Mantegna's decision in the Triumphs not to follow obvious and easily available models through borrowing or imitation is striking.1 In its independent approach to textual and visual sources, this is Mantegna's antiquity; by drawing on Greek texts, and by favoring accounts of early triumphs from the period of the Roman Republic (such as the triumph of Aemilius Paulus), Mantegna is not just displaying an archeological predisposition to privilege the prisces fontes, the pure origins; he could also be said to claim such a status for himself - as a "classic" on the order of the ancients, of Apelles and his cohorts. A similar claim is implicit in Mantegna's prints. In the extravagant Dionysiac fantasies of the Bacchanals or Battle of the Sea Gods) Mantegna appears to singlehandedly constitute a surrogate antiquity, a modern canon of all'antica design, always visibly 93

6. 5 A ndrea Mantegna, Tti11111phs of Caesa1; Canvas V The Elephants, ca. 1495-1 500, tempera o n canvas, The Royal Collection, Hampto n Court.

6.6 Andrea Mantegna, Tri11111phs of Caesat; Canvas I,Z路 The Corse/et Bearers, ca . 1 500, tempera o n canvas, The Royal Collectio n, H ampto n Court.

his invention even when imitated by others. s Second is the question of patronage and dating. Who commissioned and paid for the series of canvases? Was it the Marchese Ludovico, who died in 1478, or his son Federico, who ruled from 14 78 to 1484, or was it Federico's son Francesco, marchese from 1484 until 1519?9 With the rise of patronage studies in rnid-1:\ventieth-century art history, we are accustomed to seeing works of art as instruments by which Renaissance elites negotiated status; the intentions of patrons are seen as more historically verifiable, and hence as more worthy of scholarly attention, than the intentions of artists. It becomes as important to establish the "patron's oeuvre,'' in D ale Kent's words, as the painter's oeuvre.10 Yet such a perspective only allows us a limited access to the world defined by Mantegna's Triumphs. Perhaps it is finally significant that we do not know which Gonzaga prince commissioned the cycle. The series bears none of the standard markers - coats of arms, portraits, inscriptions - of a Renaissance patron's self-imaging. It is rather as if the imagery of Caesar was conceived to be equivocal: Caesar could stand both for the modern emperor whose feudal dependents the Gonzaga were, or he could designate the imperial fantasies of the Gonzaga themselves, and thus stand as a symbolic displacement of feudal authority. Certainly, from 149 5 the Marchese Francesco Gonzaga was compared with Julius and with Augustus Caesar; the courtier-poet Paride da Ceresara referred to him as "nostro invictissimo imperatore" ("our undefeated general," or our "undefeated emperor"); Battista Fiera dedicated poems ''Ad Divum Franciscem Gonzagem Caesarem suum" (To his divine Caesar Francesco Gonzaga).1 1 In that year Francesco won a dubious victory against the French at the Battle of Fornovo, the chief success of which was the seizure of most of the French bag94

6.7 A ndrea l\Iantegna, Tri11111phs of Caesa1; Canvas T?JI The Captives, ca. 1 500, tempera o n ca nvas, Th e Royal Collectio n, Hampton Co urt.

6.8 Andrea l\Iantegna, T!i11mphs of Caesa1; Canvas VIII The 1l111siciam, ca. 1485-88, tempera on canvas, The Royal Collection, H amp to n Court.

gage train. It is conceivable that at this point Mantegna designed the first canvas in the series, which has been dated to 1490-1495, 1 2 with the inscription GALLIA CAPTA, and included an inscription referring to GALLIAM D EVICTAM in the second. Such a gesture would finally have turned what had been an unspecific triumph for the earlier canvases (figs. 7-9), into a Gallic triumph for the remainder (this might also be signaled by the inclusion of torchbearing elephants at this point, which Suetonius had referred to in his sparse account of Julius Caesar's Gallic triumph; see fig. 5).1 3 The inscriptions would have invested the imagery with a quality of topicality or applicability, making it available for those who wanted to celebrate Francesco as the new Caesar, yet the painting itself makes no such explicit identification. While we certainly know that such a triumph was held for Julius Caesar in 46 BC, as part of an elaborate quadruple triumph celebrating victories over Gaul, Pontus, Africa, and Egypt, the sources tell very little about what it looked like. If anything, the greater specificity of historical reference - to a certain triumph of Caesar - gave Mantegna greater license to invent, to become tl1e source in the absence of any other that could claim greater authority. At this point, it is hard to avoid the insinuation that the subject of Mantegna's triumphs is Mantegna's triumph. Art historians are understandably wary of interpretations that would be seen to perpetuate a hagiography of artistic genius they might rather seek to exorcize; yet the normal recourse to the will of the patron offers no escape in this particular case. If the paintings enlarged the fame of the Gonzagas, they did so because of their court artist's status as a highly valued cultural property, as the greatest living painter, as the peer of those ancient craftsmen whose art could only be envisioned through Mantegna's reenvisioning. The dilemma points, perhaps, to a methodological deficiency, a lack of interpretative models 95

6.9 Andrea Mantegna, Tri11111phs of Caesa1; Canvas f)(: Caesar 011 l1is Chariot, ca. 1485 -88, tempera on canvas, The Royal Collection, Hampton Court.

6. r o . Impression of Mantegna's personal seal showing the head of Caesar, J\.rchivio di Stato Mantua, Autograft, 7, c.123" (1489) .

through which the agency of artists as well as patrons (and more basically, of works of art themselves and their audience) can be seen to be negotiated in relation to and in terms of the other, how artists "use" patrons and are "used" by them. The remainder of this essay will explore how Mantegna's artistic self or persona assumes the form that it does in response to parallel but distinct ideological imperatives on the part of artist and patron. Both Mantegna's art and Gonzaga soveriegnty can be defined as a project of creative emulation defined in relation to Rome, an enterprise of translation, as it were, between past and present and between political center and a peripheral rival. 1 4 These canvases can be seen to proclaim "Mantegna" in several ways. The artist, following his investiture with feudal titles by emperor and pope, used the image of Julius Caesar on his personal seal (fig. ro) .1 5 Then, there are the two references to Envy in the inscriptions on the Triumphs: the second canvas has an inscription declaring that the triumphs were decreed GALLIAM D EVICTAM !NVIDIA SPRETA SUPERATA. A sixteenth-century source recorded another inscription, now lost: "The twofold victory of Divus Julius Caesar, in his constant overcoming of envy and his bold overcoming of the enemy." Envy was one of Mantegna's signature themes, amounting to something of an obsession. 1 6 His Battle of the Sea Gods is also to be understood as an invention on the theme of Envy, one of the ruling tropes of a courtier's existence and one with a particular bearing on the figure of a court artist.17 Finally, there is something about the imagery of the Triumphs that points to the extremely ambitious role Mantegna is claiming for an artist in the service of a prince. Mantegna is, in fact, claiming a status on a par with that of the great Mantuan poet Virgil: not only by virtue of being propagandist for a regime, but as propagandist for himself. In Georgics III Virgil pro-

vided a program for the kind of cultural transiatio, or relocation, that Mantegna depicts in the canvases of the Triumph. The third Georgie begins with the poet's declaration that he "must essay a path whereby I, too, may rise from earth and fly victorious on the lips of men." He will do this, he declares, by celebrating the triumphs of Caesar: I first, if life but remain, will return to my country, bringing the Muses with me in triumph from the Aonian peak; first I will bring back to you, Mantua, the palms of Idumaea, and on the green plain will set up a temple beside the water, where great Mincius wanders in lazy windings and fringes his banks with slender reeds. In the midst I will have Caesar, and he shall possess the shrine. In his honour I, a victor resplendent in Tyrian purple, will drive a hundred four-horse chariots beside the stream ... Even now I long to escort the stately procession to the shrine and witness the slaughter of the steers; and see how the scene changes as the sets revolve, and how Britons raise the crimson curtain they are woven into ... It is also noteworthy that the ekphrasis of Caesar's triumph is then presented as a series of images on the temple: On the temple doors I have sculptured in solid gold and ivory the battle of Gange's hordes and the arms of conquering Querites; there too, the Nile in flood and billowing with war, and lofty columns clad with the bronze prows of hostile fleets. I will add Asia's vanquished cities, the routed Niphates, and the Parthian relying on his flight and arrows launched behind him; two trophies snatched by force from far-sundered foes, and the two nations that yielded a double triumph from Ocean's either shore. Here in Parian marble shall stand statues breathing life (spirantia signa) . .. 18 The example of Virgil celebrating a Triumph of Caesar in Mantua goes a long way in explaining why Mantegna embarked on a Triumphs ef Caesar in the first place. Specific details in Virgil are picked up in Mantegna's series: the representation of the violence of conquest through inset paintings, even a reference to Envy overcome: "Wretched Envy shall cower before the Furies ... (37-38)." Virgil's spirantia signa had become commonplace in the Renaissance, but it might be significant that a 1492 Latin decree issued by Francesco Gonzaga in favor of Mantegna applies similar terms of adulation to the Triumphs: "et gue modo Iulij Caesaris triumphum prope vivis et spirantibus adhuc imaginibus nobis pingit adeo ut nee repraesentari sed fieri res videatur." 1 9 The passage in Georgics also helps to resolve a number of problems with the image of Caesar in the earliest canvas; scholars have long been perplexed as to why Caesar should hold a palm branch, yet Virgil refers to the bringing of Idumaen palms to Mantua. Here we need to forestall a possible objection, in that Virgil's Caesar is not Julius Caesar - whom Mantegna is always thought to have depicted - but his successor Augustus. Yet to fully understand Mantegna's intentions in this canvas we should accept that just as he supplemented his rep97

6. 11 Roman, .rlllg11stm E11thro11ed 011 Chariot Dral/Jll bj1Elepha11ts, sestertiu s, AD 79-8 1, Private collection.

6.1 3 Andrea Mantegna, Tri111J1phs of Caesa1; Canvas JI!路 Bearers of Trophies and B11/lio11, ca. 1490--9 5. D etail of rape.

6. 12 Andrea Mantegna, The Trial of Sai11t j a1J1es, ca. r4 50, fresco, Church of the E remitani, Ovetari Chapel, Padu a.

resentation of Caesar's triumph by referring to triumphs of the pre-Imperial era, so he could draw upon Augustan as well as Julian triumphal iconography.20 Scholars have complained that Mantegna did not adopt the triumphal car of the Flavian reliefs on the Arch of Titus, and that Caesar's vehicle is much closer to Quattrocento formulas for representing the "parade float" of a victorious ruler, such as the relief of King Alfonso of Aragon entering aples on the Aragonese Arch. Yet it is very probable that Mantegna knew that this Quattrocento formula corresponded to numismatic imagery of victorious Roman emperors, including Augustus. A sestertius issued about AD 79 shows Augustus drawn upon a raised triumphal car very similar to the one depicted by Mantegna or on the Aragonese arch (fig. l l).21 Mantegna had already drawn upon this type, probably in direct evocation of the numismatic source, in his Trial of Saint James in Padua (fig. 12), so the borrowing in the TriNmphs has additionally the quality of a self-quotation, in which the artist treats his own celebrated earlier work as a canonical source. Mantegna, like Virgil, relocates Caesar's triumph from Rome to Mantua. This is finally like an act of translatio imperii; a symbolic displacement by means of which a "new Rome," Mantua, displaces the old Rome. 22 Such a cultural relocation was also implicit in Isabella d'Este's 1499 scheme to erect a statue of Virgil in Mantua, designed by Mantegna and with scholarly advice from the humanist Pontano.2 3 The Triumphs participates in such a cultural relocation by alluding, in a more literal fashion, to the relocation of material culture. The

antiquity represented by Mantegna is emphatically a material antiquity, one susceptible to fragmentation, dispersal, and appropriation; we are thus reminded that the classical world of Mantegna's own day was known most tangibly in the form of objects, often borne away from Rome as exportable fragments, many now being accumulated in these years by the Gonzaga. It is strongly explicit in Mantegna's final work that Rome is identical with its material remains, its disiecti membra - and that these can be appropriated, removed, reassembled elsewhere, in Mantua, for instance. The exhibition of spoils speaks to the collector mentality of the Gonzaga, of Mantegna himself, and provides the accumulation of antiquities with a strongly ideological framing: Rome declines, Mantua rises, reclaiming its Virgilian birthright as a fountainhead of cultural and political authority. It was commonplace at the time to observe that the original Rome, the destroyer of other ancient rivals, had been ruined in its turn, to the extent that it had long been a symbol of the revolutions of Fortune's wheel. Mantegna's paintings thus also signify the workings of Fortune: they represent the ruin of another culture and its removal in the form of spoils. Yet the civilization that does this may be proleptically acting out a similar fate at the hands of others; what Rome takes - the mere material trappings of sovereignty and glory - might be taken from it in turn, just as the Triumphs themselves, in the following century, will be borne off to England. As medieval and more contemporary writers on Fortuna, from Hildebert de Lavardin to Manuel Chrysoloras to Poggio Bracciolini, had written, Rome now triumphs over no one except itself: the ancient city is consumed as the moderns recycle its marbles and carry off its works of art. Like the vanquished ruler Perseus in Plutarch, Rome becomes "part of its own spoils." 2 4 Manuel Chrysolora's 141 l letter, The Comparison of Old and Neu; Rome, which the Gonzaga owned in a Latin translation of 1454, states: For whoever, seeing these things, ponders on the empire of Rome, on the power and dignity of those men, their works and their efforts, will see what a death all these things have died. And not only the men themselves have died, but also their dominion, hegemony, and almost their city itself (for as someone said somewhere, cities also die) ... Often, as I walk along streets on which triumphal processions passed, I think of the captive kings and rulers and other prisoners who were led along them. I think about the generals who defeated them, of their rejoicing and pleasure in their victory, and about the downcast spirits of their captives. I imagine the crowds of Romans surrounding them on all sides and the spectators watching from the windows of their houses; I hear the harmonies of musical instruments, the noise of the crowd, the shouts of praise and applause. I think about their pleasure at the victory, at victory in places so far away; and then I think of the sorrow of the prisoners and their families back home about the defeat and about a procession of this kind. How different the customs of those times were: to themselves and to others, the defeated seemed thrice miserable, the victors happy and blessed. But now all these things have been equalized; all lies in the dust, and no one knows the fate of Pompey or Lucullus any better than that of Mithridates' or Tigranes. 'j 99

It is small wonder, given the habit of understanding Rome's former triumphs as presaging Rome's own downfall, that in 1 501 we find Mantegna's paintings being used as a stage set for a moralizing theater of Fortune, dominated by the goddess with her wheel inscribed "Regno, regnam, regnabo." 2 6 In this theatrical setting, the Triumphs of Caesar were paired with another lost series of canvases showing the Trionfi of Petrarch, the literary work that most fully manifests a humanist ambivalence regarding the cult of earthly fame and glory, even on the exemplary status of the ancients. Petrarch's Triumph of Fame explicitly characterizes the ancient military spectacle as an image of the confusion and distraction attendant on the pursuit of worldly glory itself: "Filled with amazement endless and profound/ At the sight of these heroic men of Rome - /Ne'er in the world was such anotl1er Host - I turned to the records of the olden age / \Xlherein great names and virtues are inscribed / And found much that was lacking to my tale .... . . .I cannot rightly and in order tell / \Vhere twas, or when, I saw this man or that, / Or who came first and who came afterward. / For, thinking of innumerable things /And gazing at the great and noble throng / My eyes and thoughts were straying constantly . .. ''z7

In this Petrarchan key, the very motion of Mantegna's triumphal procession now suggests the rotation of Fortune's wheel. 2 8 It is, after all, such a circular motion that enables later triumphs - those of Mantua over Rome, of Mantegna over the ancients. And Mantegna's triumphal imagery contains more than one insinuation that such spectacles of power are nothing but illusions. In some passages the Triumphs point to their own illusory, fictive status : like the faces in clouds, like the phantasmatically animated cuirasses, they are a spectacular simulacrum, a painted veil mystifying an imperium grounded in violence and rapacity. In one of the several vignettes that act as a kind of marginal metacommentary on the series, Mantegna invites us to consider the spectacle as a scene of rape (fig. 3). 2 9 Triumph is revealed to be an illusion covering a less than glorious reality; the only honor to be retrieved in this case is that of the artist who makes, and then unmakes, the illusion of glory. It is finally the self-reflexivity, even self-absorption, of Mantegna's enterprise that enables his work to remain distinct from the ambitions of his employers. Culture, or rather a tragic and moralized view of history and culture, is driving politics in the Triumphs, and not the reverse. That Mantegna proclaimed his status in this poetic and fictive form, however, as a relocator of origins, was in large measure facilitated by an ideology of decentering and displacement, an imperialism in the realm of culture, that increasingly had come to inform artistic and literary expressions of Gonzaga rule. Mantegna's Camera Picta had already cast Mantua as a "New Rome" in its idealized landscape of Roman mirabiiia and in its portraits of the Twelve Caesars rendered in simulated stucco relief in the vault. While conventionally explained as a declaration of fealty to the emperor, whose portrait appears in the frescoes, such imagery also betokens an emulation of the Roman Imperial model by the Gonzaga 100

6. i4 Correggio, r lllego91 of Philosopi?J1, i 529, oil on canvas, i\Iusee du Louvre, Paris (photo: Alinari/Art Resource).

6. i 5 Raphael, Allego91ofJ11stice, I 51 1, oil on canvas, Vatican Palace, Room of the Signature (photo: Alinari/J\rt Resource) .

themselves. Rome is both a literal place, a modern city, and a transhistorical paradigm or symbol. The Gonzaga regarded Rome, in both of these senses, as a source from which power and prestige could flow into their own hands. Being feudatories of the Holy Roman Emperor, however, modern Rome was not a center of authority to which the Gonzaga willingly committed their deference or obedience. Modern Rome represented the possibility of ecclesiastical honors for a series of junior Gonzaga princes, from Marchese Ludovico's younger son Francesco in 1461, to Marchese Francesco's brother Sigismondo in 1504, and to Ercole, second son of Francesco and Isabella d'Este, in 1 s2 7. Through the agency of these and other well-disposed members of the curia, Rome offered lucrative benefices for Gonzaga supporters; the princes of Mantua - both Francesco and his heir Federico enjoyed the prestige and political advantages of captaincy of the Church, but successfully managed to evade most of the obligations when they threatened to undermine other alliances - with France, or Ferrara, or the emperor. I would now like to consider the ways in which Mantegna's conception of being an artist serving princes opens possibilities for those who came after him. Antonio Allegri, better known as Correggio, was an artist associated with Mantua and the Gonzaga for only a small part of his career, but had early professional connections to Mantegna's heirs; his first works appear to have included a share of the decoration of Mantegna's funerary chapel in Sant'Andrea in Mantua.3째 By 1 s 30 (the dating is somewhat conjectural but there is considerable scholarly consensus), when Correggio had just completed two sets of mythological pieIOI

tures for Isabella d'Este (figs. 14, l 6) and for her son the marchese Federico Gonzaga, the artist was engaged in an enterprise of self-definition in relation to Rome that both continues and departs from that of Mantegna. Mantegna only had to strive with the art of antiquity; Correggio was faced with the rise of the new Renaissance modern manner of the papal court, epitomized by the art of Raphael. Correggio created a powerful regional style, founded on Mantegna among others, that was later seen as a regional challenge to the modern manner of Rome and Florence.31 This was especially the case in the wake of Vasari's characterization of Correggio as an isolated provincial who was denied the benefits of contact with the centerY Yet in the second half of the sixteenth century one of Vasari's most skepticial orth Italian readers, the great Bolognese painter Ludovico Carracci, would have found in Correggio a vindication of his own proud decision not to go to Rome. 33 Yet 6 .1 6 Correggio, Allegoo' of the whether or not Correggio himself ever went to Rome, the Passions, r 529, oil on canvas, J\IIusee city exercises a constant gravitational pull in Correggio's du Louvre, Pari s (photo: Alinari/Art Resource) . work- or at least a sense of its distance. Antique themes in the Camera di San Paolo look strangely detached and decontextualized, alienated from their original (Roman) context. The A llegory ef Phiiosopl?Jt, painted for the studiolo of Isabella d'Este in l 529, reads like a transformation of Raphael, and not without an element of satire (fig. 14) . The putto who turns to look at the viewer is a quotation from Raphael's A llegory ef]11stice in the Stanza deila Segnatura in the Vatican (fig. l 5). One of the child's forelegs, obscured in Raphael's fresco, has here been visually completed through juxtaposition with the leg of a goat, making him into a satirino. 34 \Ve shall see that the pendant image (fig. 16) also manifests a transgressive relation to a canonical Roman work of art, and one that can be seen to be informed by recent cataclysmic historical events. When Correggio worked in Mantua for the Gonzaga in l 529, the family's emulation of the center, reinforced by an increasingly antipapal stance in Gonzaga foreign policy, had reached a crisis point, with threatening consequences. Mantegna's Tri11111phs may have played with the notion of plundering Rome, but in the summer of l 527 Rome really was sacked, with appalling violence and loss of life, by armies acting in the name of a modern Caesar, the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V The Gonzaga themselves, as Imperial clients, were deeply and scandalously implicated in the Sack of Rome.35 ot only did the marchese of Mantua, Federico Gonzaga, deliberately refrain from fulfilling his obviously conflicting obligations as Captain of the Church; his brother Ferrante served as an officer with the Imperial forces who occupied the city. Their mother, Isabella d'Este, was in Rome during the early days of the Sack; following her safe arrival back in Mantua, it was alleged that she and other Gonzaga agents had enriched themselves at the expense of those captured or slaughtered, that they 10 2

had extracted protection money from fugitives, 36 and had spoiled the city of works of art among them two of the Raphael tapestries from the Sistine Chapel. Although the claim that she removed the tapestries for safe keeping seems a little suspicious, in the case of Isabella such allegations are likely to be no more than slander. With regard to Federico, however, at that time engaged in building the sumptuous suburban folly know as the Palazzo Te, it is a matter of record that he asked agents such as Fabrizio Marmaraldo to collect antiquities, "whether heads or limbs or busts or complete statues, whether of metal or marble" that were now available "in tl1e plunder of Rome," and on October 7, r 52 7, he advised Marchese del Guasto that the latter, given the present circumstances, had abundant means of pleasing Federico by satisfying his need for statues and fine bronzes.37 Such a disposition did little for the honor and reputation of the Gonzaga, normally so carefully managed and maintained. At the same time, several Gonzaga partisans, among them Pietro Aretino, the ambassador Francesco Gonzaga, and the bishop of Mantua, Ambrogio Flandino, took it upon themselves to justify the Sack of Rome, claiming that the papacy had brought it upon its own head, and tl1at the Imperial forces were an agent of God's will.38 Even in the years before the Sack, this vein of antipapal invective had been characteristic of the Mantuan poet and occasional Gonzaga protege Teofila Folengo, who wrote mock epic poems in a deliberately corrupted or "vulgarized" Latin style known as macaronic. In an important study of Folengo and the development of heterodox artistic styles in Emilia and Lombardy, chiefly that of Romanino, Alessandro ova has posited that Federico's support of Folengo suggests a taking of positions in the controversy on Italian literary language known as the qNestione def/a lingNa.39 Nova suggests that the Gonzaga court's interest in Folengo in the early r 52os is paralleled by its interest in figures such as the "eccentric" Romanino: "in their attempt to undermine or at least challenge the High Renaissance canon, as best represented in the north of Italy by Bembo and Titian, with their heterodox experiments both Folengo and Romanino shared the same intellectual goals." This goal was a resistance to the hegemony of Rome, which, according to Nova, became fully established with "the brief return of Castiglione [to Mantua] in r 52 3, the arrival of Giulio Romano in r 524, and the publication of Bembo's Prose [def/a vo!gar lingua] in 1525 ."Yet it could be argued that such resistance to Rome is further sustained in Federico's fashioning of an alternative Rome at Mantua. The young marchese may have seen the macaronic idiom as having a bearing on a cultural policy of his own, one that finds expression in the spectacular and grotesque "alternative Rome" of the Palazzo Te, itself created by the Roman exile Giulio Romano in the immediate aftermath of the Sack. We might think of Giulio's facetious play with the canonical forms of Bramantesque architecture in the "decaying" doric order of the courtyard, or the collapsing Titanic (or Michelangelesque?) bodies and masonry of the Sala dei Giganti a tl1rilling and horrifying debacle presided over by Jupiter and a distinctly Imperial-looking eagle.4째 Just as before in the case of Mantegna, so now the circumstances of the Gonzaga facilitated the propagation of artistic identities - especially in forms of imitation, or parody, through which identity is articulated in an antagonistic relation to Rome. Turning to

6. r 7 H ellenistic, Laocoon Group, marble, Vatican Palace, Belvedere Courtyard.

Correggio's contemporary Allegoiy of Vice (or more properly, Allegory of the Passions; fig. r 6)4 1 for Isabella's studiolo, we find Correggio offering a fitting conclusion to a series of mythologies that had been begun by Mantegna more than thirty years before. As in the case of Mantegna's Triumphs, so now Correggio dons the mantle of Virgil: this time it is the sixth Eclogue, in which a group of Arcadians come upon the sleeping Silenus, and by binding his limbs with garlands, force him to sing. Yet Correggio goes beyond the generally playful tone of the Eclogue; this satyr is being subjected by the Furies to the mental agonies of panic terror (the blast of a pipe at his ear) and the physical tortures of Marsyas - his skin is being flayed from his leg. He is also modeled on what had become the great exemplum doloris, and one that had by that time come to personify the afflicted state of Rome in the throes of the Sack - the L aocoon (fig. 17).4 2 From the moment of its discovery, the L aocoon had been the focus of Gonzaga emulative desire with regard to Rome. More than one correspondent had informed Isabella d'Este that the celebrated sculpture group rightfully belonged in her studiolo, rather than in so commonplace a location as the Vatican Belvedere; she would later acquire two small-scale replicas for her studiolo.43 Her son Federico adopted the figure of L aocoon as a personal device, in the form of a hat badge, during the period he spent as hostage at the court of Julius II; in r 52 5, as marchese, Federico commissioned a full-scale replica of the statue from Jacopo Sansovino. The completion of Sansovino's replica was reported to Federico by none other 10 4

than Pietro Aretino, who in 1 527 arrived at Mantua in the hope of becoming a more permanent adherent of the Gonzaga family. Through Aretino's particular handling of the theme of Laocoon we can understand its quotation, both humorous and sadistic, by Allegri. On July 7, I 52 7, Aretino sent the marchese two remarkable poetic compositions on the recent terrible events in Rome: the first, D eh) havess'io quella terribil tromba, recasts the episode as the fall of Troy, and ingeniously uses the figure of Laocoon in the Belvedere to strengthen the parallel with the Aeneid: "the pious ghosts of Fabricius and Cato lament the fate of Rome with resounding voice, by other blows brought to an end without end; its ruin is so great and so grave, of all the pages recording the passing of the centuries, that Laocoon finally forgets his old woe with new grief (forgetting) Minerva, the serpents and this or that son of his ... " 44 Yet clearly the tragic and epic similes of Virgil were insufficient to express the full horror of the recent events, which could only be understood as a convulsion or inversion in natural order. Aretino's more potent account is the second poem, written in the satirical idiom of the pasqttinade; that is, of the popular poetry of protest and ridicule that for several decades had been posted on the truncated torso of a statue near the Piazza avona. The crudity, verbal violence, and iconoclastic parody of pasqNino, with its macaronic mixing of Latin with Italian, seemed more apt to a rendering of the chaos of the Sack, an event that itself struck contemporaries as a vast iconoclasm, a monumental blasphemy. ow, in the mutilated condition of Roman statues and of Pasquino himself comes to stand for the depredations of the Spanish and the landsknechten: Pasquino's mutilated features and truncated torso are pronounced to be the result of the tortures he has undergone. Following Pasquino, Aretino introduces other famous statues, "And Apollo lies in a thousand pieces at the Sistine bridge, and the children are dragged away from Laocoon."4j Massimo Firpo has commented on the carnivalesque character of even purported eyewitness accounts of the Sack, for whom the unimaginable happening came to have a fantastic, darkly humorous, and parodic aspect.46 As formulas of pathos had become exhausted, now parody and the imagery of burlesque inversion became the effective means of conveying sacrilege and the annihilation of old hierarchies. It is precisely in terms of such a collision of modes, of the parodic with the atrocious, that we can approach Correggio's painting - an ambivalent work that combines levity and cruelty in a particularly jarring way. Beyond the psychological dimension - the need to invent a new representational idiom in which to convey unimaginable disaster - in the case of the Gonzaga there was also an ideological dimension: the exoneration of the family for their part in what still amounted to a monstrous blasphemy. But such a gesture becomes particularly charged when examining an artist who would become the rallying point for a polemical assertion of the emergence of an Emilian modern manner, one that develops independently of Rome. Did Correggio go to Rome or did he remake Rome in Mantua? In tl1eir playful or aggressive reference to Raphael and antiquity, the two Louvre Allegories seem designed to stir up such controversies. But above all, Correggio's performance of counter-Romanism is in significant part owing to the cultural politics of the Gonzaga, to a project of decentering Rome, which had begun in the previous century in the art of Mantegna.

Leonardo and Leonardism in Sforza

~ilan

*** LUKE SYSON

a revisionist approach to issues of artists and authorship that has led many art historians to question old myths, often carefully promoted by the artists themselves, of painters and sculptors as inspired and isolated geniuses, Leonardo da Vinci is still frequently discussed as sui generis. 1 Even his master, Andrea del Verrocchio, is sometimes presented as someone for him merely to outdo. Studies of his supposed pupils or followers are therefore mainly focused on establishing a distinction between fully autograph expressions of his brilliance and second-rate imitations of his style, for which, it is usually implied, he was never responsible. 2 Such distinctions, however, are not always appropriate; on the contrary, an analysis of the way in which these two categories were, in fact, integrated will allow a better understanding of how Leonardo was employed during his eighteen-year period as court artist in Sforza Milan. Even this last designation - "court artist" - is problematic (not least because it is a problematic term).3 Evelyn Welch, for example, has challenged both the category and Leonardo's place within it, emphasizing the fact that Leonardo accepted commissions from outside the court as a means of supplementing his income. She demonstrates this by the famous letter he wrote to D uke Lodovico Sforza - il Moro - at the end of the 1490s: "I very much regret that the need to earn my living has forced me to break off from pursuing the work which your lordship has entrusted to me. But I hope in a short time to have earned enough to be able with renewed heart to satisfy your Excellency, to whom I commend myself. If your lordship believed I had money, then your lordship was deceived, because I have had six mouths to feed for 36 months and have had fifty ducats .. ." 4 \Velch is surely right to think that the salary of 2,000 ducats a year claimed by Bandello in his nove!!e is likely to be exaggerated.5 But does this piece of hyperbole entitle us to challenge Leonardo's "actual standing" as a court artist? The answer to this question slightly depends on definitions. One does not, for example, need to agree with Francis Ames-Lewis when he stated recently that "in the 1490s, Leonardo da Vinci was probably more highly regarded as a courtier than as a painter in Ludovico Sforza's Milan." G Indeed Martin Kemp has rightly emphasized the fact that, though the duke housed him, there is no evidence for Leonardo as a courtier as such, as a daily member of Lodovico il Moro's entourage.7 On the other hand, Kemp has republished literary evidence - poems by Bellincioni and Gaspare Visconti, and prose by Luca Pacioli that explicitly posits Leonardo as an ornament of Lodovico's court, suggesting that the artist had developed a publically recognized, mutually rewarding pact with his employer of much the same kind that Mantegna had forged with the Gonzaga family.8 Moreover, as we know LJJESPITE

106

from the case of Mantegna, the irregular payment of salary did not affect the general perception of a highly talented artist as the reflection of the talents of his employer. It can thus be argued that it is on!J by understanding Leonardo as a court artist - albeit one within the very specific circumstances of NWan - that one can explain his output in the l48os and 1490s, and that of the many so-called "Leonardeschi." How Leonardo might have worked within, or even exploited a very specific Milanese mode of art production needs to be understood. As Janice Shell, Evelyn Welch, and others have shown, painters working for the Sforza - and for other patrons - traditionally formed ad hoc teams to undertake particular projects, for which they would bid as a team.9 One or two practitioners, like the portraitist Zanetto Bugatto in the 1460s and 1470s, may have had prized specializations, but all were expected to execute works that would form visually harmonious wholes; painters' individual styles were therefore apparently suppressed to create a kind of lavish "no-style." 1 0 There were no Mantegnas or Turas in mid-Quattrocento Lombardy - and this was not simply a matter of bad luck. The Sforza did not, for example, choose to exploit the considerable fame and powers of Vincenzo Poppa, except as part of a larger group. 11 Most of the artists employed on such projects survive only as names in documents. However, their resolute anonymity is again not necessarily a matter of chance. By eliminating the authorial voices of these individual painters, credit for the magnificence of these works would fall squarely on the shoulders of the patron. And, by working in these groups, one Lombard painter might adopt the motifs and working methods from another, without that latter artist having necessarily been his master, thus forging a common stylistic language - one that might be dubbed a/fa Sforzesca. The adoption of this system by Duke Gian Galeazzo Sforza, the sickly and underage heir of the assassinated Galeazzo Maria, is exemplified by the work of Bergognone and his eqNipe at the Certosa of Pavia. Bergognone is first recorded there in 1489 and executed his first two chapel altarpieces in 1490 (dated) and 1491 (documented), 12 one of which contains the initials of Gian Galeazzo Sforza (IO.G3) on the throne of Saint Syrus. These paintings, and Bergognone's slightly later pale, were all made while Gian Galeazzo remained, at least nominally, duke, and while he was setting up with his consort, Isabella of Aragon, a rival court at Pavia to that of il Moro in Milan and Vigevano. This building therefore, was intended to present and represent both his individual and his familial glory; and indeed, in part because his role as patron has been much underestimated, it has gone unnoticed that his is the only sculpted portrait of a contemporary to adorn the facade. 1 3 The paintings at the Certosa adhere to a long tradition of Lombard painting. It might legitimately be argued that their style was deliberately shaped to be continuous with the pan-peninsular courtly style associated with the regimes of Naples and North Italy before the midcentury. 1 4 This stylistic conservatism can hardly be deemed surprising; it can be associated, for example, with the much longer use of the profile formula for portraits than elsewhere in Italy. It is well known that both Francesco Sforza and his eldest son and successor were keen to emphasize a dubious continuity with the earlier Visconti regime, and it seems that there was to be no major rejection of the style of, for instance, late Trecento and Quattrocento Visconti wall painting

at the caste/lo in Pavia. 1 s Indeed, there may even have been attempts to revive it. Gian Galeazzo, in the years around 1490, would have been equally keen to sustain his faltering claim to ducal power by stressing dynastic continuity. At the Certosa, Bergognone's facial and figural types, developed from earlier generations of Lombard painters, become somewhat schematic, rather repetitive. And, in contrast to Bergognone's small devotional works in which his use of paint is gestural and vivid, his technique in the large-scale Certosa paintings is calculatedly smooth: the junctions between light and shade are less marked; individual highlights are painted with great care; the surfaces of the pictures have an enameled quality, the draperies harder and the color saturated. It is known that Bergognone was not working alone at the Certosa. His brother Bernardino was a constant collaborator, and other names appear in the documents as part of the Certosa company. 1 6 Although a close examination of the pictures that remain there, altarpieces and frescoes, certainly reveals a variety of hands at work, similarity is much more evident than difference and none of the individual styles of Bergognone's collaborators can - or should - be properly defined. Bergognone's Certosa style was conceived deliberately to enable easier collaboration, developing motifs and a method of execution that could be copied more or less mechanically by others.

Leonardo da l/tnci This, then, was the context into which Leonardo arrived when he traveled to IYWan in late 1482 or early the next year, following his eventually successful appeal to Lodovico il Moro for employment. In 1480, Lodovico had grabbed the regency of Milan from his sister-in-law, Bona of Savoy, the mother of his nephew, Gian Galeazzo Sforza, and he made little secret of his political ambitions. With no legal right to succeed, he based his claim to tl1e IYWanese dukedom on his particular and individual virtues as a ruler. 1 7 These were expressed in a variety of ways, not least, apparently, in his employment of painters. Lodovico il Moro as regent sought out artists with clearly defined and recognizably individual talents. He needed such artists, it might be argued, both to distinguish his activities as a patron from those of his nephew, Gian Galeazzo, and because he seems to have been adopting tl1e model provided by earlier rulers of neighboring city-states, whereby the innate talents of an artist were to be identified with the singularity of the ruler himself. The first years of the last decade of the Quattrocento saw the climax of the struggle for power between Lodovico and his nephew. In 1492 Ludovico defied the demand of the king of aples, the father of Isabella of Aragon, to hand over the reins of government to Gian Galeazzo. Moreover, by brokering the marriage of his niece, Bianca Maria, to future Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I, Lodovico ensured that when his nephew died in 1494 (perhaps a little prematurely), Maximilian supported il Moro's illegal claim to the dukedom. He easily supplanted the legitimate heir, Francesco, il Duchetto, the infant son of Gian Galeazzo. A now celebrated letter of ca. 1490, written by the Milanese ambassador in Florence to Lodovico, demonstrates the regent's unequivocal interest in the distinctive individuality of 108

artists' styles: those of Sandro Botticelli, Filippino Lippi, Perugino, and Domenico Ghirlandaio. 18 Perugino's altarpiece for the Certosa, the only one installed (though it was not completed by Perugino) by any of these painters, was clearly intended to stand out against the Bergognesque house style, a style that stood for Gian Galeazzo's emphasis on dynastic continuity. 1 9 This can be read as a deliberate interpolation by Lodovico - a statement of his own individualism. And it is likely that at about this time he realized, albeit perhaps only gradually, that he could make much the same points using artists already in his employ. He had previously secured the services of Ambrogio Preda (or de Predis), who specialized in part as a portraitist, and by doing so he was equipping himself in the traditional mold of a Nfilanese ruler. However, it was upon Leonardo that he came to rely, a "star" who, partly in his service, had established an Italy-wide reputation. The nature and extent of the relationship between this patron and his artist during the 1480s is not absolutely clear, and it seems likely that Leonardo was mostly employed in slow progress on the equestrian monument to Lodovico's father, Francesco: the famous cavailo. The traditional biography of Leonardo in Sforza service lays great stress on his great, individual virtuoso projects primarily from the 1490s; and indeed, from i49 5 to 1497, he executed what can be regarded as almost a manifesto of his artistic philosophy in the Last Sipper at Santa Maria delle Grazie. These individualist achievements justified Leonardo's place at the top of the Milanese artistic tree, and it should be remembered that the refectory at Santa Maria was treated as an extension of court space, decorated with Sforza arms, where Lodovico dined twice a week. 20 Insufficient emphasis, however, has been laid on the other kinds of works that he did for the duke: great mural decorations at the caste/lo, the planning of festivities, acting as an architectural adviser, all part of the established repertoire of a court artist. And two otl1er primary activities appear to be missing. \Vhere, it has been asked, are his portraits of il Moro and his family? 21 And where is the evidence that he made designs for others to follow - in paint or other media? Leonardo certainly painted portraits of Lodovico's mistresses, Cecilia Gallerani and Lucrezia Crivelli, the former correctly identified with the famous picture in Krakow, probably painted at the same time as the first, Louvre version of the Virgin of the Rocks, in the midto late i48os or very early in the i49os.22 This image establishes a model for the Leonardesque portrait. His so-called Belie Ferroniere in the Louvre, painted on the same wood as the portrait of Cecilia, has had, rather unreasonably, its share of doubters, and skeptics have questioned, again surely unnecessarily, the autograph status of his unfinished Ambrosiana J\lfusician. Âť The style and format of these pictures were much imitated, and they seem to have established a local idiom for the portrait in Milan. There survives a whole series of works in which elements of Leonardo's Nfilanese portraits were imitated by other artists to achieve a particular end result, pictures which, above all, set out to be convincing, both psychologically and, through the use of light and shade, volumetrically. However, it remains to be asked how actively Leonardo and his patron promoted this language of likeness. This question may be answered in part by the proposition that at least some of these portraits may have been regarded as the product of Leonardo. Indeed, in the years just before and after his

usurpation of the dukedom, as his ultimate success became more assured, it appears that Lodovico il Moro was able to exploit the long-held expectation that Lombard artists should work together in teams so as to establish the Leonardesque as a new Sforza house style, one that could be identified with his rule and that could be adopted for works commissioned by his courtiers and supporters. Indeed it is at precisely this period, in the 1490s rather than the 1480s, that the Leonardesque takes off in Nlilan; an individual style was transformed into a collective one, and the artist himself became a kind of multiple. It remains to be decided to what extent Leonardo's painting style was a language that deliberately incorporated the authorial voices of others and to what extent it was seen as his alone, and if those adopting his style should be classified as imitators, rather than as collaborators whose own individual craft and talent were absorbed within the famous master's artistic personality.

L eonardo Multiplied Martin Kemp, chipping a little at Leonardo's pedestal, has written apropos of the different versions of the Nf.ado1111a of the Yarmvinder composition: "I should like to propose that we consider the possibility of two more or less distinct levels of pictures which may be called

7.1 Attributed to Amb rogio Preda, A11gel i11 Red Pla)'i11g a L 11te, ca. 1483- 9 2, oil o n po plar, The Na tio nal Gallery, Lo nd on.

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7.2 Leo nard o collabora tor (Marco d'Oggio no?), r Jngel in Green Plq)'ing the Tle/le, ca. 149 1-9 2, oil on poplar, The Na tio nal Gallery, London.

'Leonardos.' One level comprises a handful of fully autograph, intensely personal, slowly executed masterpieces which either stood from the first or moved outside the normal process of commission and payment: while the other level consists of high-quality products, generally small in scale, which were made with varying degrees of participation by the master and emerged from the studio as saleable objects." 2 4 This is a sensible suggestion, albeit one that depends on a rather traditional, Florentine view of the functioning of a workshop: a master supported hierarchically by apprentices and assistants rather than working within a Lombard team. As Kemp and others before him have recognized, such divisions of labor - between Leonardo and his assistants - is suggested by Fra Pietro da Novellara's much-quoted letter to Isabella d'Este, describing Leonardo's workshop in Florence. He mentions two garzoni making copies: "dui suoi garzoni fano retrati [not here portraits, despite many erroneous translations] et lui ale volte i alcuno mette mano." 2 s Leonardo would thus sometimes correct or "finish" them. However, his working relationship with Ambrogio Preda shows that the system was rather different in Milan. Leonardo seems to have had very few pupils (indeed an early source identifies Giovanni Francesco Boltraffio as his only student), 2 6 instead the Florentine followed Milanese practice through his collaboration with established painters. In this way, rather than through the establishment of a workshop as such, his style was disseminated in the Sforza dominions. 2 7 Given Leonardo's notoriously slow rate of production, this alone explains Bandello's characterization of the typical Milanese palace as having a painting by Leonardo hanging within it, paintings which might not have been executed by him, but which could nonetheless be treated as "his." 2 8 Although it was not, of course, a Sforza commission, the story of the l/irgin of the Rocks is especially useful in determining how Leonardo collaborated. The project was initiated in March 1483 when Leonardo, working and lodging with Ambrogio Preda and his brother Evangelista (who died in 1491), received the commission from the Confraternity of the Conception, at San Francesco Grande in .Nlilan, for a group of painted panels, including a version of the picture now called the Virgin of the Rocks, to complete Giacomo del Maino's carved altarpiece. 2 9 The exact history of this commission has become rather muddled, and the precise relationship bet\veen the Louvre and National Gallery versions of the l/irgin remains controversial. However it seems likely that Leonardo's first version was executed in Milan in the 1480s and early 1490s, and was sold when Leonardo and Ambrogio Preda considered that the confraternity had significantly undervalued it. It was purchased, perhaps, by Lodovico il Moro himself, to whom was addressed a petition of about 1492 that demanded a formal estimate for this work and two accompanying panels of angels, making it clear that all three were then complete. Unless they too were substituted, which seems very unlikely, these are very probably the two panels in the National Gallery, the Angel in Red PfqJ1ing a Lute (fig. l) and the A11ge! in Gree11 P!qyi11g the l/ie!!e (fig. 2), the document giving these two pictures a terminus ante quem. Leonardo and his collaborator evidently patched up their quarrel with the confraternity and some time after that date he started to paint a substitute, the picture that is now in London (fig. 3). Work on this new panel did not, as is well known, proceed smoothly and in one of the many documents recording the long-running dispute over payment in I II

7. 3 Leonardo da Vinci and collaborator, The Virgin of the R ocks, ca. 1493-99 and 1 506-08, oil on poplar, The lational Gallery, London.

April l 506 it becomes clear that, thanks in part to the long-term absences of Leonardo, the central panel was unfinished (as the London panel remains to this day).

Ambrogio Preda It would be logical to assume that either the Preda brothers or Leonardo executed the three National Gallery paintings. However the issue of who did what is far from simple, and the list of suggested collaborators includes not only both Preda brothers but other painters defined as "Leonardeschi": Boltraffio, Marco d'Oggiono, and Francesco apoletano.3째 Piecing this collaboration together is essential to understanding how Leonardo's talents and style were rendered normative. One can begin by attempting to reconstruct the artistic personality of his documented primary collaborator, Ambrogio Preda. Since Preda has become something of a catch-all for a certain brand of Leonardesque portraiture, it is worth restating the facts of his career, as Shell has recently done. He is thought to have been born in about 145 5, some three years after Leonardo, and is first recorded as a miniaturist in 1472 in the Borromeo family account books.31 In 14 79, he was to be found among the employees of 112

the Milanese zecca, in company with another brother, Bernardino. Crucially in this context, in a letter of q82, he was called the "painter of his illustrious lordship Lodovico Sforza." Although we do not know what this designation implied, Preda is likely therefore to have been in continual contact with the Milanese regent from that date, and was perhaps even salaried. Certainly when, in July I494, Ambrogio suffered a nasty accident (he had been kicked by a horse) Lodovico cared sufficiently about his well-being to order the attentions of his own surgeon. In I492 the emperor Maximilian was looking for a second wife. As we have seen, Lodovico il Moro could be found actively promoting the chances of his niece, Bianca Maria Sforza, daughter of the assassinated Galeazzo Maria. "Uno dissegno di carbone" of the emperor's prospective bride was requested, from which a painting, "uno retracto colorito" was executed, certainly the picture now in the ational Gallery of Art in Washington (fig. 4). In I493, Preda accompanied the Sforza princess to Innsbruck. He had in his possession a drawing of Lodovico il Moro shown off to Bianca Maria as a species of after-dinner entertainment. Thereafter, he traveled back and forth between .i\ililan and the Tyrol. His work for Maximilian included a spell at the Mint in I494, and the design for tapestries in I498 and of the uniform of the emperor's bodyguard in I 506. D uring this period he executed the signed and dated I 502 painting of the emperor now in Vienna (fig. 5).F Its similarity in technique and physiognomical approach to the Bianca M aria confirms Preda's authorship of the 7-4 J\m brogio Preda, Portrait of Bianca iVlaria

Sforzp, r492-93, oil on wood, lational Gallery of Art, Was hington.

7. 5 A mbrogio Preda, Portrait of the E111peror Jl!laxi111ilia11, r 502, oil on wood, Kunsthjstorisches Museum, Vienna.

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Washington picture. Moreover its reduction as a coin design, a drawing now in the Accademia in Venice, stands as Preda's only certain work on paper, the touchstone for his style as a draftsman. B \"'\!hat then are the common characteristics of the two paintings? One should first note that there is little change between them in either style or execution. It is true that the Jl!faximilian is rather less flattened in its torso (although the perspective could be said to be botched), an increased three-dimensionality inspired perhaps by the need to show off the chain and pendant order. Giulio Bora has called Preda's style "calligraphic," and it is true that the sense of volume in both portraits is limited, the artist seemingly more interested in the linear patterns to be found within the faces and hair, in the decorative scope of the costume, and in tl1e shape of the profiles against the ground. At best, the flesh painting might be said to aim at a simplification of forms . In a more critical mood, one might say that its modeling was flat and schematic, witl1 little regard for naturalistic color and texture. To achieve his likenesses, he relied on the accurate placement of the features and shape of the profile, rather than on close attention to the individual parts of the face. Thus tl1e eyes, for example, are painted in much the same way. The lashes are a single brushstroke and the whole eye has been geometricized, parallel lines indicating creases in the upper lids, the lower lid turned into a more-or-less regular oblong, with a standardized, strong, enlivening highlight at the corner of the eye. These are characteristics to be found in two illuminated portraits of Lodovico and his son Massimiliano on full pages in Elio D onato's Grammatica (now in the Biblioteca Trivulziana in Milan, inv. no. 2167).34 Thus, despite the fact that he is so often dubbed the "pupil" of Leonardo, Preda was not, on this evidence, a Leonardesque painter of any kind at all. Only the highlighted individual hairs in the Maximilian might reveal a lesson learned from the Florentine. So does this definition of his style help with identifying Ambrogio's precise role in the San Francesco Grande altarpiece? It has long been recognized that there are two different hands in tl1e accompanying Angel panels, which has even caused them be dated differently from one another. These pictures should now be reexamined.35 And, in doing so, one can be more certain that the Angel in Red (fig. 1), often attributed to Preda, is indeed his work. The mechanical repetition of highlights in the hair can, for example, be paralleled in the faximilian. The trademark rectangular lower eyelid and the strong light at the corner of the eye are both present. The modeling is more assured - and more Leonardesque - than in the portraits of the emperor and his wife-to-be, with more attempt to establish the volume of the head. It has been plausibly suggested that the Angel in Red was designed by Leonardo; the head in particular conforms to types that can be recognized from his drawings, but one might argue in addition that when the execution of the Angel in Red panel was assigned to Preda, he was required to give it a more self-consciously Leonardesque appearance than was common in his own, independent works. As we shall see, this circumstance would be repeated in another instance.

Boltrajfio and iVlarco d'Oggiono And what of the other angel? Here we must turn to the records of another collaboration. Giovanni Antonio Boltraffio and Marco d'Oggiono, both close associates of Leonardo, to a great extent subsumed their own styles at the beginning of their careers within the artistic personality of Leonardo himself. It is possible that these artists were perceived as having such an intimate connection with Leonardo that their works could be received as the equivalents of paintings by the master - even when Leonardo had no direct input. Boltraffio, an illegitimate aristocrat, was born in 1467 and has perhaps the best claim of the painters of his generation to be called a pupil of Leonardo. Nevertheless the several paintings by the so-called Pseudo-Boltraffio are sometimes identified as his pre-Leonardo oeuvre and, though the low quality of the work is worrying, it is not impossible that he had a career before 1490-91, when he was to be found living and working with Leonardo, by which time he was already twenty-three, rather old, it might be thought, to have been at the beginning of his training.3 6 o birth date for Marco has yet been traced. He was, however, sufficiently established by 1487 to be able to take on his own apprentices, when he undertook to teach Protasio Crivelli the art of painting miniatures. 37 Like Preda, he was perhaps primarily an illuminator before his contact with Leonardo. Like Boltraffio, he lived with Leonardo in the early 1490s. Neither therefore was necessarily a pupil as such, and their shared accommodation might be viewed in the same way as Leonardo's with the Preda brothers when he first arrived in NWan. However, when Marco and Boltraffio worked apparently independently of Leonardo, they nevertheless produced an entirely Leonardesque product. In June 1491 they were contracted to paint an altarpiece, now in Berlin, which would be placed in the Griffi family chapel dedicated to San Leonardo in San Giovanni sul Muro, Milan (fig. 6). They are described as "companion painters,'' demonstrating that they were employing the system of partnership so common in Lombardy. Although this commission may not have involved Leonardo in the execution, which was somewhat delayed, it had certainly come at precisely the period of their closest association with Leonardo. The Griffi family, close to il Moro, cannot have been unaware of this relationship. Boltraffio's painting style is well established by works made after Leonardo's (and his own) departure from Milan with the fall of Lodovico, and his portion of the altarpiece is therefore identifiable. Janice Shell has written that "the bulk and breadth of the figures [of Saints Lucy and Leonard] are typical of his early style."38 These are features that they have in common with the protagonists in his Casio altarpiece, now in the Louvre, which was painted in Bologna in l 500, and with the documented, though damaged, l 502 Saint Barbara, also in Berlin, which has the additional virtue of furnishing a specimen of Boltraffio's graphic style: a study for her head in colored chalks, now in the Ambrosiana in NWan. 39 Though the head of Saint Leonard has been related to a Leonardo drawing made in Florence in the late 1470s, and although Saint Lucy's hands are arranged in a manner that recalls Leonardo's Cecilia Gallerani, these figures have a freshness and energy that is entirely Boltraffio's own, givI I

7 .6 G iovanni Antoni o Bolttaffio and Marco d'O ggio no, Res11rrection JJJith Saint L eonard and Saini L llC)', oil and tempera o n po plar, r49 1-94, Staa tliche Museen zu Berlin, Preussischer Kulturb esitz, G emfildegalerie, Berlin.

7.7 Maes tro della Pala Sforzes ca, Virgin and Child 1vith Saints a11d Donor Portraits of L11dovico ii L11foro, Beatrice d'Este, 1llfassi111ilia110 and Francesco Sfo1z.a (Pala Sfo1z.esca), oil and tempera on poplar, 1494- ca. 1495, Pinaco teca di Brera, rv1ilan.

ing the impression that the artist had his subjects in front of him while he painted. Since such a use of models is certainly impossible at this date, it becomes clear that, even in this early work, this painter already understood enough about both color and the fall of light to render convincingly both the texture of the skin and the bone structures of bodies and heads. It was a method he could have learned only in part from Leonardo (although it remains notably more indebted to Leonardo than any other artist), and its application to a large number of portraits and other small paintings, mostly devotional works, confirms their attribution to Boltraffio and suggests their probable dating in the 149os.4째 By default, therefore, the upper part of the Berlin Resurrection - the Christ and the rocky landscape behind - reveals Marco d'Oggiono's early painting style, useful since the bulk of his signed and/ or documented works belong to a period beginning only in the mid-1 51os. The recent discovery of his signature in Greek on the reverse of a copy of the Louvre version of the Virgin of the Rocks in the Castello Sforzesco has further defined Marco's 1490s output, since it is unlikely that it was executed much after the mid-decade.41 Despite these benchmarks, secure attributions of Marco's Quattrocento paintings have so far proved elusive. The Christ as Saivator Mundi in the Borghese collection should be judged an exception.4 2 He has the rather oversize forehead, large, bulging, slightly thyrodic eyes, set within a small face - all typical of Marco's later physiognomies. The painting technique seems intended to arrive at the smooth, glossy surfaces that are a consistent feature of many of Leonardo's "followers"; II 6

however, the shadows are stronger and more logical, and the paint less evenly applied, than in pictures by other associates of Leonardo. Around the eyes in particular, the lids are heavy with paint. The rocks in the background of the National Gallery Virgin of the Rocks, clearly not painted by Leonardo himself, are however strikingly similar to those of both the Berlin Rm1rrection and the Milan copy.43 It might, moreover, be possible to suggest, though perhaps more speculatively, a further intervention by Marco; the Angel in Green (fig. 2) compares - in the treatment of the eyes, in the dramatic use of shadow - with Marco's Borghese Christ. Although on a different scale, its head is also treated similarly to the Madonna's in the Castello Sforzesco Virgin of the Rocks. These additional parallels suggest that at some stage, probably at exactly the moment they shared premises, and despite the silence of the documents, Leonardo used Marco as his assistant on this project.

The Maestro def/a Pala Sfo1~zesca This double collaboration provides important clues as to how Leonardo was employed and what might have constituted a "Leonardo" in Milan. The reexamination of another celebrated altarpiece, even more closely associated with il Moro, suggests that it too may well have been regarded as a "Leonardo." The Pala Sforzesca (fig. 7) in the Brera is first mentioned in a letter to il Moro from his secretary Marchesino Stanga, indicating that it was planned by January 22, 1494 (the year when Lodovico finally usurped the Milanese dukedom) for the church of Sant'Ambrogio ad emus on the basis of what are likely to have been fairly detailed instructions by the duke himself: "Per satisfare ala commissione quale me ha fatta la Ex.tia Vostra circha l'Ancona de Santo Ambroso ad emus ho mandato per lo pictore quale me ha dato la nota inclusa per chiareza de quello e tractato circa cio, quale mando a la Ex.tia V ... " (To meet the commission which Your Excellency has given me with regard to the altarpiece of Sant'Ambrogio ad emus, I have sent the enclosed note from the painter which he has given me to clarify [the image] that he has drawn, which I send on to your excellency ... " 44 The resulting, perhaps rather deliberately conservative, altarpiece includes donor portraits of Lodovico, his wife, Beatrice d'Este, and their sons, Massimiliano and baby Francesco (confusingly with the same name as the so-called "Duchetto,'' the son of Gian Galeazzo).45 The latter was born only in February 1495, so it is probable that the execution of the work was somewhat delayed. The combination of very obvious quotations from Leonardo's work (the types and poses of the Virgin and Child, for example) and tl1e presence of these donor portraits might be argued to suggest a quite explicit link between the altarpiece and Leonardo's responsibilities as court painter. On June 29, 1497, Marchesino Stanga received instructions from the duke. He was to instruct Leonardo to finish the Last SNpper so that he could begin work on the opposite wall of the refectory: " oy ti hauemo dato la cura de mandare ad executione le cose che se contengono in la introclusa lista ... Item de solicitate Leonardo Fior[enti]no perche finischa lopera de Refittorio delle gratie principiata, per attendere poi ad altra fazada d'esso Refitorio ... " 0YJe give you the task of bringing the things contained in the enclosed list to I

completion ... Item: to push Leonardo the Florentine to finish the work which he has begun in the refectory of the Grazie, so that he can then attend to the other principal wall of the said refectory ... )46 Although it has been proposed that this was to be a second wall painting by the master, the fact that Montorfano's huge fresco of the Crncifixion, opposite Leonardo's Last Sttpper, dates from 149 5, only t:\vo years before, renders this theory implausible. Instead, these instructions apparently refer to the painting of kneeling figures of the ducal family added a secco to Montorfano's Crttciflxion, confirming the attribution of the portraits by Vasari and Lomazzo to Leonardo.47 However, insofar as their ruined condition will allow one to judge, what remains of the Refectory portraits - primarily underdrawing - does not seem to have been executed by Leonardo himself. It is probable therefore that he delegated the work to an associate in much the same way as he assigned the rocks and flanking angels of the San Francesco Grande altarpiece to collaborators. The portraits are moreover remarkably close to the Pala Sforzesca images. Despite Pietro Marani's recently posited view that the painter of the Pala Sforzesca copied Leonardo's models, it seems very unlikely indeed that the Sant'Ambrogio altarpiece postdates this intervention, not least because the infant Francesco is evidently so young.+ 8 Chronologically, it can only work the opposite way. However, Leonardo was clearly able to redeploy these images. The damage to the Refectory portraits precludes any definitive conclusion, but this repetition might be explained by more than the need for iconographic consistency. By their repetition, it is arguable that we can see Leonardo exercising control over the portrait images of the ruling family; that here indeed are "Leonardo's" portraits of the Sforza, of precisely the kind that are sometimes thought to be missing. They conform certainly to a conservative formula, but nevertheless they precisely state the desirable connection between great artist and great patron. This might in turn support a view that the mysterious "painter" of Stanga's 1494 letter was none other than Leonardo himself. The Pala Sforz,esca was a highly important commission, of enormous political significance at the moment of Lodovico's succession. Given the stress on individuality that seems to have been a plank of the duke's artistic policy, it is unlikely that he would have wanted just "another" painter to paint the altarpiece. Here, surely, was a moment when he would have turned to one or another of his court painters. Preda was then away from the city (and anyway the work has little to do with rum stylistically or technically). Leonardo tlrns becomes the obvious candidate. This work was therefore in all likelihood delegated to an associate, as in the other examples examined in this essay, though in this instance in its entirety, rather than in parts. Leonardo's executor dubbed the Maestro della Pala Sforzesca by Francesco Malaguzzi Valeri - though he has a clearly distinguishable approach and technique, has remained nameless. Perhaps it was not intended that he should be separately identifiable. Although it would be foolish to claim the Pala Sforzesca as a neglected masterpiece, its author does not deserve the series of predominantly miserable and extremely diverse pictures that are currently attributed to him - largely on the basis of typological similarities that are mostly ratl1er superficial.49 If, however, the group of works currently bearing bis "name" is rejected, the relationship between Leonardo and the Maestro della Pala Sforzesca becomes II8

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7 .8 l\laes tro dell a Pala Sfo rzesca, Cartoon for the Donor Portrait of iVlassi1J1i!ia110 Sjotza, rn etaJ point on blue-gray prepared pap er, i494-ca. 1495, Biblio teca Ambrosiana, l\lilan.

0.<::f

i.\ili:1

7.9 A ttributed to the j\fa es tro della Pala Sforzesca, St11dy for a Portrait ofFrancesco Sfarz,a, "! ! D11chetto," rn etaJ point o n blue prepared paper, ca. 1494, Biblio teca Arnb rosiana, lVWan.

more apparent through the reexamination and reattribution of another group of paintings and drawings. Most of these are traditionally attributed to Preda, but it should be asked whether they might not be better associated with the Maestro della Pala Sforzesca. In the Ambrosiana, there is, for example, a drawing of the profile head of the young Massimiliano Sforza (fig. 8).5째 This is, in fact, the pricked-through cartoon for his votive portrait in the Pala Sforzesca. The attributional problems attached to this drawing have been vigorously debated, and indeed part of the problem of determining its authorship - and that of the Pala itself is caused by an accretion of contradictory op.inion. It is therefore important to make the most of stylistic connections, especially between drawings and finished paintings, where they can be traced with any certainty. These are mostly instances where it may be assumed that a drawing made for a finished painting may reasonably be attributed to the painter himself (though the point is not necessarily negated if some were made to be worked up by another hand). The drawing of the young Massimiliano can be related to other sheets, almost certainly by the same hand. A sketch in metalpoint on prepared paper in the Ambrosiana for the head of a little boy (a study for a portrait in Bristol of .il Duchetto) is barely more than the outline of his face (fig. 9)Y A drawing in the Uffizi of the head of a youth52 might be seen as an intermediary point between this and the profile of Massimiliano. All three have key features in common: parallel hatching is used to establish both shadow and the ground; this careful shading is drawn over loose, energetic flourishes in, for example, the hair; small difficulties in establishing the contour have been partially disguised by the use of reinforced contour

7.1 0 A ttributed to th e Maes tro della Pala Sforzesca, Portrait of Francesco di Barto/0111eo A rchi11to, oil on walnut, 1494, The I ati o nal Gallery, Lond on.

7 .1 r Leonardo collaborato r (Ambrogio Preda?), Portrait of a l ~111a11 in Profile, oil on walnut, ca. 1490--1499, The ational G allery, Lond on.

lines. This is an artist who creates form through carefully deliberated areas of light and shade, rather than through volumetric line, and the light areas appear rather shiny. The technique copies Leonardo almost exactly but it is tighter, less fluent. The treatment of the eye in the Massimiliano profile is closely comparable to Leonardo's drawing of an elderly man at Windsor. 53 The sketch of il Duchetto was executed, as we have seen, for a work now in Bristol. 54 The picture belongs to the group generally and erroneously given to Ambrogio Preda, a group at the center of which is a portrait in the National Gallery thought to represent Francesco di Bartolomeo Archinto, another Moro courtier (fig. ro). This portrait was called by Martin D avies "the only other picture assignable to him [Preda] alone on objective evidence." 55 D ated r494, the sitter's age is given as twenty on the scroll in his hand. His identity is suggested by the early provenance of the piece. On the same scroll is a controversial monogram that has been interpreted as ''Al\11. PR. F.," Ambrogio Preda Fecit. This is much more likely, however, to be a votive MARIA monogram and Wilhelm Suida rightly believed that it was "almost impossible" that this picture should be by the same artist as the author of the Vienna Maximilian I and called him the Master of the Archinto Portrait.56 The painter's style is plainly dependent on that of Leonardo. However, some aspects of Leonardo's style and even technique have become exaggerated. The painting of the hair, for instance, has been blocked in bands of color, then enlivened and unified by the careful painting of individual hairs to give it waves. The shadows on the face are skilfully painted, the paint blended to achieve particularly smooth transitions and the effect of an enameled surface. These fea120

tures, and the lack of warm tones, give the flesh a rather hard, marblelike quality. The eyes are reflectively moist. It is tempting to call this portrait waxy, not so much because of the texture of the paint, but because the subject has something of the chilly lifelessness of a waxwork. It also gives a wa:xwork's impression of bonelessness. D espite the care with which they are painted, the shadows sit on the surface of the face rather than defining the structure underneath. And they do not always appear consistent with the ostensible light source. This does not help the artist in achieving a convincing volume for the face. It is not unusual for a portraitist to change his viewpoint as he works, but he will often disguise it by the use of light on the strongest planes of the head. Here we worry about being able to see slightly too much of the far cheek. It is unfortunate that this picture has been used as the springboard for the range of other attributions to Ambrogio Preda - a group of works that does however appear to be coherent and that shares many or most of the characteristics identified as key to the Archinto Portrait. Freda's responsibility for these works has in fact been questioned, in particular by Alessandro Ballarin and Jean-Christophe Baudequin in recent years, who respectively have assigned them to Boltraffio 57 and Marco d'Oggiono; 58 the analysis above of works by these painters shows, however, that these attributions are also untenable. The group, as delineated by Baudequin, consists of a Saint Sebastian now in Cleveland, the Girl lvith a Boivl ef Frnit in the Metropolitan, the Getty Christ Canying the Cross, and a Young Christ in the Museu Lazaro Galdiano, Madrid. To these David Alan Brown correctly adds the Brera Portrait ef a Young Man with the legend VITA SI SCIAS VTI LO GA EST. 59 The connection of this last picture to Leonardo is suggested by the fact that the phrase appears in Italian on a page of the Trivulziana manuscript: "le vita bene spesa lunga e." Ballarin's group takes in this work and throws in the Bristol portrait, 60 a work that can be dated to about 1494, on the basis of the subject's age.6 1 A metalpoint study, also in the Ambrosiana, for the hand of the Saint Sebastian in Cleveland, another painting in the Archinto Master group, links the paintings to the drawings once again.6 2 The study of the hand has been sensibly attributed to the Maestro della Pala Sforzesca by virtue of its undeniable similarity to the drawn head of Massimiliano.63 If the Massimiliano cartoon and these other drawings by the same hand suggest that tl1e anonymous Archinto master and the Maestro della Pala Sforzesca are one and the same, then one needs to find similar parallels between the Pala and the group of painted works listed above. They are assuredly present (and it should be stated at this point that the Pala ~rzesca is certainly by only one hand) and some are very apparent. The palette used for describing flesh in tl1e Pala, as in the Archinto portrait and the pictures grouped around it, is cool and grey (only partly because of the fading of a particularly fugitive red lake), and the artist also makes very similar use of smootl1ly modulated chiaroscuro and rather pointless shadowing. The figures therefore have the same wa:h.'Work quality. The hair of the Sforza donors is blocked in, with individual hairs painted in careful disarray on top - albeit lacking the Leonardesque highlights. The Maestro della Pala Sforzesca has the same problems as the Archinto master in achieving the convincing foreshortening of certain details, partly because of over-ambitious choices of pose. The cheek of the child has the same wisdom tooth 121

7. r 2. Leonardo da Vinci, Portrait

of a Yo1111g

lf::01J1a11 i11

Profile, silverpo int on pinkish prepared paper, ca. r490, Tbe Royal Co llection, Windsor.

appearance as the Bristol Dttchetto. The hands of the saints have the bonelessness, that is not in this instance explained merely by the fact of their wearing gloves. Some of these details seem to have been adopted from Leonardo's prototypes and combined rather like a patchwork quilt. Thus the hand of the Child, where all the fingers seem to be pointing in the wrong direction, is taken from the Nfadonna Litta, where, although it does not actually work particularly well, the pose is justified.64 By proposing therefore that the Sforza altarpiece is by the same hand as those pictures attributed to the Archinto Master, we can identify a single artist whose skills may actually have been rather limited but who could reasonably stand in for Leonardo himself. Indeed, this single artist's drawings from the Codice Atlantico copy in almost every way the particular graphic style of Leonardo. Thus our anonymous Maestro looks likely to have originally supplied the models for Leonardo when he (or another of his associates, perhaps even the Maestro della Pala Sforzesca himself) was called upon to paint the Santa Maria delle Grazie portraits. It might therefore be possible to argue more strongly that some or all of the works described above may have functioned when they were first painted as "Leonardos." 122

A further indication that portraits by Leonardo need not have been painted by Leonardo himself exists in a recently restored painting of a woman in profile in the National Gallery in London, which, once again, is usually attributed to Preda (fig. u). 65 The highlights in this portrait are scraped over the shadow, which has already established the form and volume, a technique some way removed from the careful blending of dark and light in the Archinto portrait, or the flat and schematic modeling of Preda's Bianca Maria Sforza. It is, in fact, just the technique tl1at Leonardo almost always employed.66 The belt was painted in great detail so that the device of the Moor's Head and the letters L 0 on its buckle are clearly visible. This has the virtue of making the close connection of this woman to il Moro explicit. It would be nice to give the picture, very simply, to Leonardo. Indeed the presence of the Moor's Head has suggested to various commentators that the picture might be identified as Leonardo's highly praised portrait of Lodovico's second principal mistress, Lucrezia Crivelli. But there is something mechanical about the adoption of his technique that makes one hesitate to assign the portrait to Leonardo himself, and the costume and shape of the torso are conventional (with the exception of the buckle). These are aspects that bring one closer to the \V'ashington portrait of Bianca Maria Sforza. Moreover the method of flesh-painting is connected to the Angel in Red of the Immaculate Conception altarpiece, although the tonal range in the portrait is less hot. Thus it begins to look more likely that, as with the Angel in Red, here again we have a picture executed by Preda to Leonardo's design (some of the finishing touches may even have been Leonardo's own, a "finishing" akin to that of the London Virgin of the Rocks). Indeed, there is a portrait drawing by Leonardo at Windsor (fig. r 2), which seems to be related to the National Gallery picture: a profile of a woman, very beautifully drawn, though not startlingly innovative in its format.67 It is often dangerous to play the game of "likenesses" between different portraits, especially when they are in different media, but in this case it seems possible to claim with some conviction that the woman portrayed by Leonardo is the same person as the subject of the painting in the ational Gallery. Not only are the general proportions of the face similar, the forehead with its two slight bulges (at which both draftsman and painter have worked hard to achieve), the shape of tl1e nose and the suggestion of a double chin are very close indeed. If Leonardo's contribution is agreed, the Crivelli identification might be deemed less fanciful. These working methods imply an attitude to authorship and the individual styles of different artists that seems, to a modern way of thinking, somewhat cavalier. Leonardo's individual merits were inescapable and it was not possible or desirable that his talents should be subsumed under the blanket of a preexistent and prevalent style for Lombard painting. But encouraged by the political situation, and partly as a response to the pressure of work on Leonardo himself, painters already working in Milan learned Leonardo's technique, going on to reemploy his motifs in their own works to create a new, identifiably Lombard school of painting, a style that significantly originated with Leonardo and Lodovico il Moro. Leonardo was multiplied to serve political ends.

[8]

c!J\llargaret of c/lustria) Ornamen0 and the Court Style of 'Brou *** ETHAN MATT KAVALER

crHROUGHOUT the second half of her life, Margaret of Austria (1480-I 5 30), the regent of the Netherlands, maintained extraordinarily close control over the building of her church and tombs in the town of Brou by Bourg-en-Bresse, some sixty kilometers northeast of Lyon. Although located in the duchy of Savoy, the domain of Margaret's husband, Philibert, the ensemble at Brou must rate as a chief product of Netherlandish court art from the early sixteenth century. The artists principally responsible for the design were Jan van Roome, a painter, and Loys van Boghem, an established architect, both from Brussels, who were favored by the Habsburgs and their circle. This essay discusses the programmatic use of ornament at Brou, the presentation of decorative devices as signs of identity and a means of organization. Distinctive tracery patterns there can be understood as geometric signatures, easily recognized and recalled much like melodic passages in musical composition. As we shall see, the ornament invokes a mode of perception that is critical to an experience of the church. It does not communicate specific information but signals, rather, a way of understanding the structure it inhabits. It inflects the idiom of its carriers - facades, tombs, choir screens, etc. - and might be considered in this sense a meta-language, concerned with the primary language of architectural iconography. Recently a renewed interest in ornament has led to a serious discussion of its functions and cultural significance. 1 But conspicuous decoration has long seemed extraneous to the essential properties of an edifice, if not a corruption of its potential value. Even writers on Netherlands art have been slow to grant legitimacy to this aesthetic. For Jan Steppe, the Late Gothic meant that "beauty and architectonic unity" had been "replaced by splendor and richness," a curious antithesis that betrays an essentially modernist distrust of ornament.2 As Ann-Marie Sankovitch and others have recently discussed, the polemical distinction between structure and decoration is securely rooted in our tradition of architectural analysis and continues to guide our understanding of earlier monuments.3 Margaret of Austria's remarkable church at Brou has long suffered a crisis of identity. It has been seen as a paradigm of a Gothic more than fashionably late, as a relic of a moribund artistic style. Designed as Italianate forms were being assimilated at the French royal court, the church and its tombs have seemed curiosities, out of step with the significant monuments 124

of their time. Recently, Alexandra Carpino has sought to account for Margaret's use of the Gothic as a means to broadcast her legacy as heir to the dukes of Burgundy from her seat deep in French territory.4 It is not particularly helpful, however, to view the church at Brou as either an outdated remnant of the .l\ fiddle Ages or as a defiant standard of the Burgundian dynasty. An elaborate Gothic remained current for funeral chapels of the high nobility, a mode that Margaret chose to emulate. The regent looked beyond the Netherlands to great families elsewhere in Europe, and her plans make better sense when seen in the context of their mortuary chapels - in France, but also in Spain, a country with which she enjoyed close personal ties. Yet the church at Brou stands out even in this august company. Drawing upon European traditions of courtly magnificence, van Roome and van Boghem wielded ornament into a system of communication tl1at marked identity and established coherence throughout a varied architectural environment. Such an application of Gothic design successfully vied with the earliest Renaissance projects in northern Europe. Margaret of Austria, herself, was not averse to Italianate ideas and actively endorsed them in her early planning, yet the antique mode was overwhelmingly rejected in the end. She chose instead to build consistently in a dynamic Gothic idiom that had arisen only around r 5oo. Let us begin with a brief examination of the choir (fig. r). The tomb of Margaret of Austria is the majestic structure on the right (fig. 2). The tomb of her husband, Philibert of Savoy, stands in the center (fig. 3), and the tomb of her mother-in-law, Margaret of Bourbon, is set into the left wall of the choir (fig. 4). At the rear, we see the back of the ju bi and the stalls that line both the left and right walls. The eye is immediately struck by the richness of the delicate carving: fields of blind tracery, intricate baldachins on the tombs, elaborate balustrades to the double galleries, and complex moldings. It is an expression of wealth and power, a prerogative of the high nobility, who alone could afford the cost of creating such a sumptuous environment. 5 But tl1ere is more at Brou tl1an courtly splendor and dynastic display. The decorative carving helps order the space of the church and orient the visitor, especially to its east end, where it creates a surprisingly unified interior; the intricate balustrade of the jNbe, for example, continues unbroken about the enclosing wall while seeming to merge with the crest of Margaret of Austria's tomb. At the center of this ornamental scheme are distinctive tracery figures, like the monumental ogival trefoil arch that dominates the impressive canopy of the tomb of Margaret of Austria (fig. 2). The trefoil motif, crowned by a fleuron, is set against a field of blind tracery - counter-curves around the central cusp with flanking figures that resemble heraldic shields. This pattern, with the complex openwork crest, immediately sets the monument apart announces it in the space of the choir. The giant motif and its enveloping tracery act as a marker, a particular utterance in a language of geometric construction that imparts an identity to the tomb, a unique character. It also provides a conspicuous frame for the effigies of the deceased, while displaying a coat of arms within its central cusp. The abstract design thus I 25

8.1 Saint Nicholas of Tolentino, View of the choir,

1 513- 32, Brou (Bo urg en Bresse) . 8.z Jan van Roo me and Loys van Boghem, Tomb of i'vlargaret of Austria, 1 516-32 , Brou (Bo urg en Bresse), Saint licholas o f Tolentino.

comes to stand for Margaret of Austria herself, both as a sign of her person and as a badge of her authority over the church-while simultaneously signaling the role of the artist, in this case, Jan van Roome. The memorable composition of interrelated geometric shapes is easily fixed in memory and echoes like a familiar tune as the visitor encounters similar configurations around the church. Indeed, music practice of the period offers a useful model for understanding the decorative syntax at Brou. Tracery patterns that recur in an ornamental program can be compared to musical melody, to melodic phrases repeated throughout a composition. As Paul Zumthor and Jonathan Beck have shown, we find such an emphasis on discrete motifs in the literature and music of the period. The writings of the rhetoriqueurs like Lemaire and Jean Molinet show a reliance on patterns of repeated sounds or phrases, establishing a perceptible structure, visual and aural, that often supercedes the representational function of their texts. 6 Around r 500, composers adopted the practice of paired imitation and through imitation, the

8+ Tomb of Philibert of Savoy, 1 516-32, Brou (Bourg en Bresse), Saint Nicholas of Tolentino.

8-4 Jan van Roome and Loys van Boghem, Tomb of Margaret of Bourbon, r 516-32, Brou (Bourg en Bresse), Saint Nicholas of Tolentino.

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8.7 Brou, Saint

icholas of Tolentino,

orth Portal, I 513-32 .

repetition of short melodic passages in two voices or in all parts. These truncated melodies became almost independent elements; novel invention and clever variation were judged primary criteria of professional competence or "artfulness." Ghiselin D anckerts's riddle canon of r 549 (fig. 6) is an extreme example, a matrix of pairings of words and musical phrases that can be reconstituted into twenty different four-part canons preserving rhythmic and harmonic relationships.7 Melody, easily remembered and recognized, offered an effective means of calling attention to particular moments while unifying longer musical pieces. This shared practice in music, literature, and architectural ornament implies habits of perception and ordering deeply rooted in the culture. At Brou, the principal decorative designs recur at important sites. Across the choir, the wall tomb of Margaret of Bourbon is likewise identified by its related tracery composition (fig. 4) . Another ogival trefoil arch - this time, much shallower - frames the effigy and contains a coat of arms. The figure is set against a different pattern of filler tracery sporting secondary motifs - notably the four-lobed bell figure, which is repeated on the side tabernacles and in the basement. And just to the left of Margaret of Bourbon's tomb, a third large trefoil arch - bare and isolated - frames the door to the sacristy. This motif, in turn, recalls the giant trefoils that span the west and north portals (fig. 7) of the church and prepare the visitor for the play of geometric forms inside. These notable designs are repeated with variation about the tombs, the walls of the church, the stalls, and the alabaster altarpiece.8 Individually, they grant distinction and attract the eye as singular artistic creations. Cumulatively, they comprise a system, imparting a family resemblance to different elements. 128

fargaret of Austria came to endorse the elaborate Gothic program only after considering other approaches. She first undertook to found a monastery at Brou in r 504, a year after the death of her husband, Philibert of Savoy; fulfilling a vow made twenty years earlier by Philibert's mother. The original plans, which provided for a modest church housing tombs of her husband and mother-in-law, were greatly revised when she decided that she, too, would be buried at Brou. D uring the following two decades, the regent closely oversaw construction, corresponded frequently with her artists and advisors, and insisted on personally inspecting all relevant drawings. Initially she considered a more pervasive Renaissance program and in r 509 engaged the French court artist Jean Perreal as designer. Perreal assured Margaret that his plans were conceived in the spirit of "choses antiques" that he had seen in Italy: "Sy me suis mis apres ... et ay revyr .. . mes pourtraitures au moien des choses antiques que j'ay veu es parties d'Italie pour faire de touttes belles fleurs ung trousse bouquet, dont j'ay monstre le jet audit Le Maire, et maintenent fait les patrons que j'espere arez en bref" (I made and reworked my designs in the manner of things antique that I had seen in Italy in order to fashion a bundled bouquet of all beautiful flowers, which I showed to Lemaire, and I now make the patterns, which I hope will soon be finished).9 Perreal, who had visited Italy three times, proposed that the eminent sculptor Michel Colombe carve the tombs. The French designer had collaborated with Colombe only a few years earlier on the tomb of Francis II of Brittany at antes, a work that conspicuously featured Italianate architectural details around its base. This monument of instant European renown had clearly recommended its authors to the regent. 1 째 Colombe was careful to write Margaret that he had been assisted by two sculptors specializing in Renaissance carving, and Perreal went so far as to present his plans of the tomb at Nantes as reference. In evaluating Perreal's designs, the regent further sought tl1e advice of Italian sculptor Pietro Torrigiano, then resident at Antwerp. Margaret knew of the tomb that Louis XII had built, largely in an antique mode, for his ancestors, the dukes of Orleans. This monument, begun in r 502, was constructed by Girolamo Viscardi and other Italians most likely in Genoa and, upon completion, was shipped north to Paris, where it was prominently displayed in the church of the Celestines before being moved to Saint Denis. One should also mention the grand tomb of Louis XII, begun around r 515 and thus contemporary with Jan van Roome's designs for the tombs at Brou.' 1 Yet Margaret soon opted for a unified Late Gothic manner, replacing Perreal with Jan van Roome and Loys van Boghem, highly esteemed etherlanders. Van Roome submitted detailed drawings for the three tombs in r 516, and van Boghem assumed control over the entire project, which included the design of the ju bi, the stalls, and the stained glass around the choir. The regent had largely abandoned Renaissance decoration for the furnishing of the church, a change of plans that was not simply dictated by her choice of new designers. Jan

van Roome was one of several artists then practicing in both a Gothic and an "antique" mode; the tapestry depicting the history of Herkenbald that he designed, for example, shows a dedicated if naive interest in Italianate forms, one that Margaret, however, restricted to a few instances of figural sculpture. A Netherlandish newcomer, Jan van Roome is documented from 1498 to J52I, principally as a painter and often in collaboration with other prestigious talents. Like the architect Loys van Boghem, also a newcomer, he was a member of the Brussels chamber of rhetoric de Leiiebroeders, along with the notable sculptor Jan Borreman and glass painter Niklaas Rombouts. In l 509-10 he worked for the city of Brussels, making designs for statues of dukes and duchesses adorning the pillars of the old Balienhof, which was destroyed during the eighteenth century. 12 Van Roome's designs were to be carved in wood by Jan Borreman, conceded to be "the best master carver" and then to be cast in bronze by the illustrious Reinier van Thienen. Jan van Roome, along with the architect Anton I eldermans, seems to have taken the lead in the artistic planning of the project. D ocuments of l 5l 3 connect van Roome with the design of the ambitious Herkenbald tapestry, now in Brussels. 1 3 Several other tapestries attributed to Jan van Roome show marked similarities to the tombs at Brou. The series of hangings illustrating the story of D avid and Bathsheba, now in the Chateau of Ecouen, includes several Gothic portals and pavilions sporting intricate tracery designs that closely recall the decorative figures on the tombs of Margaret of ustria and Margaret of Bourbon.'4 Jan van Roome was also offered prestigious projects in stained glass. In l 516, the emperor Maximilian and his grandson Charles commissioned the painter to design the south transept window of Saint Rombouts in Mechelen. The glass does not survive but van Roome's preserved drawing shows, much like the Herkenbald tapestry, and particularly like the D avid and Bathsheba series, an ability to use both Gothic and Italianate species of ornament according to circumstance. 1 i Jan van Roome stood on the cusp of both traditions and was able to import either as a mode, as a manner of choice according to his wishes. Apart from the work at Brou, van Roome also designed seals on behalf of the young King Charles of Spain, soon to be Charles V Jan van Roome, described consistently as peintre or schi/der, most likely compiled an oeuvre on panel that has either not survived or failed to be identified. It is clear, however, that he had a thriving practice, that he designed for several media, and that he had already established relations as a master artist with tl1e Habsburgs before Margaret of Austria chose him as designer for her tombs at Brou. Louis van Boghem is an interesting case. Two years before he assumed control at Brou he was appointed court architect: "maitre ouvrier des mas:onneries de Monseigneur le Roi." He received 20 livres per year in this office, a sizeable sum, but only one third of that paid to Rombout II Keldermans as "maitre general des mas:onneries de . M. l'Empereur en Brabant" from r 527 to l 5 3r. Born in Brussels around 1460, van Boghem's early work is intimately tied up with what is often called "Netherlands commercial gothic," the network of specialists designing, ordering, and cutting stone for numerous building projects, usually in collaboration, so that individual responsibility is difficult to assign if not meaningless in a contemporary sense. In l 502 he contributed to the building of Saint Jan in 's-Hertogenbosch 130

and in 1 504 to Saint Gommarus in Lier, dealing in different kinds of stone and in the fashioning of pillars and other architectural features. Van Boghem's work for the court of the Habsburgs and other nobles was substantial. \Vith the prorninent Henri van Pede he contributed to the Hoflrnpelle in Brussels, praised for its fine and delicate carving. Margaret's apologist Antoine du Saix speaks of him as "praestantissimo illi geometrae nee inferiori architecto Ludovico." 1 6 Van Boghem might consequently be thought of first as a "geometrician" or a designer and only second, though not least, as an architect. Unfortunately, structures planned by van Boghem are now hard to recover. In 1 503 he undertook with Henri van Pede and Laurent Keldermans certain projects at the Palace of the Count of assau in Brussels, but with the near-total destruction of this palace, there is little that can now be learned from this collaboration. There remains the west portal from the Church of Saint Guido at Anderlecht from 1505 to 1 506, a modest Late Gothic enterprise but definitely with a personal stamp. It is clear that van Boghem had not reached the standing of Rombout II Keldermans and D omein de Waghemakere, who had planned the Ghent Town Hall and the north tower of the Church of Our Lady at Antwerp, but he was well enough appreciated for his inventions to be placed in charge of Margaret's church at Brou. At first van Boghem was made director of the architectural construction, but he was soon placed in charge of the furnishing, and to oversee implementation of van Roome's designs for the tombs and for the altarpieces, as well for the other works of carving throughout the interior. Louis van Boghem did not work precisely in the larger style of the Keldermans and the Waghermakeres. Marcus H0rsch believes that Margaret of Austria wished to avoid tl1e impersonal Netherlands workshops in place of an independent master, attached to her court, who might guarantee more original qualities. Whether this criticism is really accurate of Rombout II Keldermans and his later designs is another matter, for his plans of the Ghent Town Hall (in collaboration) and the Grote Raad in Mechelen certainly betray a personal inflection on a communal style. At any rate, H0rsch further holds that Margaret was first drawn to a painter-architect like the court artist Jean Pem~al, who had arisen in an entirely different artistic and intellectual sphere from his etherlands colleagues, one where ingenuity and individuality were paramount. But she was forced to release him because of his overweening artistic self-consciousness and general lack of respect for his patroness.1 7 Van Boghem remained in place at Brou and usually traveled twice yearly back to Mechelen, where he reported to the regent. 1 B The larger figural sculpture pertaining to the tombs was carved principally by another specialist whom Margaret imported from court circles. In 1 526 Conrad Meit came to Brou with the highest reputation. Originally from Worms, he had worked for the court of Frederick the Wise at Wittenberg and had been associated with the workshop of Lucas Cranach the Elder. By 1512 Meit had left Germany for the Netherlands. Initially he joined the court of Philip of Burgundy in Middelburg, tl1ough he soon moved to Mechelen as court sculptor under Margaret of Austria. His art was principally of portrait busts and small-scale figurines, often of mythological character, though Meit later proved himself capable of monumental design and execution. The life-size Pieta now in Besarn;:on and datable to ca. 1531-34

8.9. E ffi gy o f Margaret of Austria (detail), i 526-32, Brou (Bourg en Bresse), Saint 1 icholas of Tolentino.

8.1 0 Toledo, San Juan de Jos Reyes, Transept, 1478-95 .

is an impressive work, as must have been the giant tabernacle for Tongerlo of 1540, known only from documents. In 1534 Meit moved to Antwerp, where he remained active as a sculptor for the city throughout the 1 540s. 1 9 Margaret of Austria thus assembled a team of highly talented artists, all of whom had experience at court. Pem~al had been invited from service to French nobles and rulers, and Conrad Meit was brought to the project after service to Frederick the Wise. Van Roome and van Boghem, charged with the principal designs and furnishing of the church at Brou, had a more varied background, enjoying both civic and courtly patronage. Margaret and her advisers were able to select their artists from diverse professional circuits within and outside the Netherlands. At Brou the antique manner is principally evident in the six putti atop the tomb of Margaret's husband (fig. 3).20 In fact, these statues may have been carved by an Italian assisting Conrad feit, the principal artist who produced the effigies. The putti, however, contrast sharply with the architectural housing of Philibert's monument, an ornate Gothic arcade tl1at contains a second effigy and is punctuated by six elaborately carved tabernacles framing statuettes (fig. 8). That Jan van Roome's tomb designs were designated as moderne in the contractual documents of i 5r 6 is probably a pointed endorsement of his virtuoso Gothic manner and a statement that an Italianate mode, at least for the architectural aspects, was no longer desired. 2 1 A much more subtle acknowledgement of Italianate design is found on the tomb of fargaret of Austria. The headdress on the upper effigy is conspicuously antique (fig. 9); her

8. 1 2 Segovia, J\Io nas tery of E l Parral, Portal to Sacristy, 1486-89. 8. 11 Toledo, San Juan de Jos Reyes, Transept, Po rtal to Clo ister, 1478-95 .

crown and its trappings are adorned with a fanciful grotesque and candelabra motif, a discrete indication of Margaret's awareness and appreciation of Renaissance forms. 22 The regent thus paid tribute to the fashionable antique mode but prevented it from conflicting with her larger program. Tombs built consistently in a Renaissance manner would have disrupted van Boghem's conception of the choir, with its system of relationships between constituent parts. Existing structures in the etherlands could offer Margaret only limited guidance, for there were no counterparts to the richly decorated choir and tombs at Brou in Brabant or Flanders. 2 3 or did the older Burgundian dynasty offer much in the way of models. 2 4 For inspiration, the regent looked not to the Netherlands but rather to the courts of Europe. Margaret was surely attentive to the Bourbons and their family chapel in the cathedral of Lyon, as Marcus Hbrsch reminds us. 2 5 But examples in Spain are even more relevant to our discussion of Gothic design, for Iberian ornament features a love of geometric invention and thematic repetition that so strongly characterize the work at Brou. Margaret of Austria lived in Spain from 1497 to 1499 after her ill-fated marriage to Juan of Castil. There, she would have observed that ornate Late Gothic decoration had been embraced by the high nobility for their chapels. The church of San Juan de los Reyes at Toledo, for instance, provided a splendid setting for the tomb of Isabella of Castile and Ferdinand of Aragon, even though the Spanish monarchs were subsequently interred in Granada. 2 6 At Toledo, the program of decoration, completed by l 500, focused attention on the crossing (fig. 10).2 1 The transepts were richly clad with blind tracery

and equipped with a pair of galleries faced with an elaborate pattern in openwork. 28 There is an imposing heraldic display: both side walls carry five large coats of arms, supplemented by familial emblems and by the royal couple's initials on the base of the galleries. Harsch ultimately discounts the relevance of Spanish models for Brou in favor of French examples, yet he is inattentive to the function of ornament, to the importance of geometric design, even though the particular Spanish forms differ from those at Brou. 2 9 The abundant decoration at Toledo is organized around distinctive and varied tracery motifs. Giant ogival trefoils, linked by tabernacles, shelter the heraldic devices in the transepts, while beneath, a blind arcade of ogival arches filled with intricate tracery runs across the transept arms and continues into the choir. The entrance to the cloister is crowned by an idiosyncratic geometric shape, a tympanum defined by a broken or "mixtalinear" arch of vaguely Islamic character, that contains the "arma Christi,'' supported by angels (fig. r r ). 3째 These prominent motifs and patterns catch the eye as areas of interest, glorifying the cloister doorway, the arms of Christ and of the royal patrons. A number of Spanish buildings erected by Queen Isabella call attention to their portals through remarkable tracery figures. The sacristy portal at the Monastery of El Parral at Segovia is one of the most spectacular (fig. r 2); designed by Juan Guas, the architect of the church of San Juan de los Reyes in Toledo, it most likely dates from the late 1480s. An inverted pointed arch is superimposed above the entranceway and closed at the top by a broad trefoil arch, all of which are flanked by two tall pinnacles. Inside the upper field is a teardropshaped motif, culminating in a fleuron that rises to the top of the assembly. The tracery, notable in itself, organizes the attendant figural sculpture; the teardrop holds carvings of the Virgin and God the Father, while the outer fields are relegated to angels supporting coats of arms. This inventive composition, in the middle of the south transept, functions as a central visual event within the church.31 The sacristy doorway at Segovia is the most elaborate of several decorative configurations and is privileged within a system of related forms that, once again, imparts a coherence to the complex.32 No less imaginative are certain Spanish tombs from this period. That of Inigo Lopez de Mendoza at Guadalajara (fig. r 3), dating from the end of the fifteenth century, presents a striking design of florid tracery created by moldings that rise above the niche to support a statue of the Virgin and Child (not shown in illustration). 33 The lines that curve inward toward the center form the letter M, which stands for the famous Mendoza family, while the lower reserves are filled with heavy cusping. The whole is a theatrical frame for the effigy, a brilliant display of geometric invention that arrests the visitor to the church, who would find the composition employed again nearby on the tomb of Mendoza's wife. As at Brou, the pattern of adornment comes to represent the family of the deceased, to function as a sign of identity. This penchant for distinctive tracery design and for the repetition and variation of individual motifs is particularly common in Iberia and likely owes something to a renewed interest in the geometric patterning of Islamic art during the second half of the fifteenth century. Spanish designers like Juan Guas were quick to imitate certain Islamic decorative features,

8.1 3 Guadalajara, San Gines, Tomb of l nigo Lopez de J\Iendoza, r49os.

8.14 Buvrinnes, Wall tabernacle, ca. 1525.

and, indeed, Moorish craftsmen were directly employed by Christian patrons, for whom they adapted local practices. But Spanish Late Gothic clearly represents a synthesis of disparate traditions. A taste for Islamic pattern seems to have tempered decorative conventions imported into Spain from orthern Europe, for conspicuous among the leading designers are etherlanders like Juan of Brussels and Frenchmen like Guas. The decades shortly before r 500 witnessed in Spain the genesis of a distinctive manner of Gothic decoration that may well have been one source of inspiration for Jan van Roome, Loys van Boghem, and their etherlandish contemporaries. In the Low Countries, the use of distinctive tracery designs to signal important sites becomes fully domesticated, divorced from high noble patronage, and applied to a variety of circumstances. By the 1 530s, for example, we find it in the village church of Buvrinnes, where it is used to celebrate the tabernacle in the choir, to set it apart from the plain wall in which it is embedded (fig. 14). The doors to the cupboard containing the Host stand beneath a narrative relief of Christ's Agony in the Garden, yet far more striking is the ornate surround, the trefoil arch with subsidiary lines of tracery that form an elaborate winged figure between the flanking pinnacles. This geometric configuration, more than the scene of Christ and the Apostles, privileges the site of the Eucharist.

8.1 5 Ro mbo ut II Keldermans and D o mein de W'aghema kere, Ghent Town Hall, 1517-36 .

The fullest embodiment of this system of ornament in the etherlands is found not on courtly edifices but on those architectural organs of powerful cities, the town halls. In 1 516 Ghent commissioned the corner wing of its town hall in a conspicuously rich decorative manner (fig. r 5). Rombout II Keldermans and Dome.in de Waghemakere submitted their detailed plans for the building in r 517, shortly after Jan van Roome had completed drawings of the tombs for Margaret of Austria. At Ghent, as at Brou, the lavish ornament captivates passersby and regulates response. The fullness of the decoration, a municipal version of courtly magnificence, makes possible the exacting program of the design, which includes an array of striking ornamental motifs. The surface above the ground-floor windows carries an elaborate and self-contained composition in blind tracery, repeated in each of the bays. The central motif in th.is pattern is a bell arch, surrounded by recessed mouchettes and capped by a fleuron. On the second story, the heads of the window openings themselves are shaped as trefoils and are likewise encased 136

in a field of blind tracery. Throughout the fa<_;:ade, bells and trefoil arches occur in various sizes, alternately inverted, flattened, or set at an angle, thereby confirming differences between parts, but also helping to confer a sense of overall unity and complex order to the structure. The elaborate portal of the Ghent Town Hall, a memorable conceit, is related to the rest of the building by the decorative system. The main entrance, which disrupts the rhythm of the bays on the ground story, is naturalized by the appearance of familiar tracery motifs bells and round arches - but these geometric figures have been modified and enlarged, indicating the portal's significance. The Ghent Town Hall represents the most complete demonstration of this sophisticated manner of Gothic design on etherlands soil. The church that fargaret of Austria erected at Brou more than fulfilled the vow she assumed from her mother-in-law while helping to fashion an identity for herself before an elite European audience. Rather than look to the patrons of Italianate design or back to Burgundian glory, Margaret sought comparison with other leaders of her day. The Bourbons and the Spanish monarchs were judged more appropriate models, and their magnificent Late Gothic creations established a discourse on dynastic greatness.34 The church and its furnishings at Brou partake of an opulent Gothic manner identified by its approach to ornament. Rich and abundant, it creates an atmosphere of wealth and power, while allowing for a new means of orientation. Distinctive tracery motifs, which register from afar, act as markers of identity, geometrical signatures and multivalent signs of the church, the patron, and the artist. Memorable like musical melody, they comprised a system of ordering that acknowledged a hierarchy of locations. Values like these were much more difficult to express through the relatively uniform and simple patterns of most fifteenth-century Gothic design, and were only consistently communicated near the turn of the sixteenth century. The church, the tombs, and the other furnishings at Brou should be seen in this context, as an authoritative statement in a vital mode of design, one that arose in leading court circles and that situated Margaret of Austria at the forefront of artistic and political life in Europe.

137

lux est)): 1\qphael and the Pursuit of Sacred eloquence in L eonine 1\q,me <<~ddita

*** KrM

~ COURT

BuTLER

artist uniquely positioned both "of the city," to adopt Martin Warnke's valuable formulation, and as de facto official court artist and familiar of Leo X, Raphael Santi enjoyed at once liberal financial rewards and domestic freedom. 1 Yet the rbinate's success was contingent upon his participation in, and contribution to, the cultural ideologies of his courtly patrons, who comprised Roman academicians as well as high ecclesiastics, including of course the pope himself. Having recovered from its history of persecution, the Roman Academy enjoyed considerable protection during the papacies of Julius II and, above all, Leo X, who employed many of its leaders and participants in the highest curial positions. 2 John D 'Amico has shown that the academies, and related sodalities, constituted an informal and flexible haven for the sort of humanist intellectual exploration (in ancient oratory for instance) that the papacy recognized could well serve its own ideological goals.3 The Academy developed the intellectual and cultural apparatus for the political and theological establishment represented by the Curia. D'Amico also notes that, in contrast to the controversial intellectual speculation of the first Roman Academy under Pomponio Leto in tl1e late Quattrocento, subsequent iterations were characterized by both a marked blending of secular and sacred interests and an especially fervent dedication to neo-Latin studies.4 Under Leo X, the social and cultural boundaries between the academies and the papal court were increasingly fluid, with both dedicated to the promotion of a new aesthetic of romanitas, one rooted in the powerful image of a Rome reborn, at heart an intellectual ideal, but one that was swiftly appropriated in the service of a rhetoric of papal identity as well. 5 Humanist poetry lamenting Raphael's death in r 520, which especially mourned his inability to complete his project to provide a detailed model of the monuments of ancient Rome, both lends insight into the nature of the value ascribed to his artistic production at the Leonine court, and explains the major stylistic shift marking the artist's late manner.6 In the light of preoccupations with sacred eloquence, and specifically romanitas, at the papal court, poems written by Baldassare Castiglione and otl1ers articulated the significant cultural stake in the fallen artist's "superhuman" ability to restore ancient models.7 Employing dramatic Senecan analogies governed by the Petrarchan conceit of rimembrare, bringing togeth-

er scattered limbs in an invocation of poetic memory and the rhetorical trope of prosopopeia, calling absence into presence, the poems contextualize Raphael's late classical, and indeed explicitly Roman, style. Illuminating the moral-ethical framework that permeates the prevailing discourse of romanitas, the texts connect recurring tropes of Virgilian piety to an ideal of Leonine cultural recovery of lost antique eloquence, its very success thematized by its own sophisticated formal diction. Raphael's Leonine paintings exhibit precisely the same themes, which clarify a number of iconographical peculiarities in works such as the Fire in the Borgo and the JV!adonna of the Oak. These works place in the forefront the unique powers of artistic invention to revivify the disiecta membra of the ancient past, recasting them into a new mode of pictorial eloquence serving the cultural and political ideologies of the Leonine court. Even before the artist' death, the Ferrarese humanist Celio Calcagnini wrote an epigram, Raphaefis Urbinatis IndNstria, honoring Raphael's "divine" efforts in recovering the Roman past: It took many illustrious men long ages to construct Rome; and it took an equal number of enemies as many centuries to destroy it. Now Raphael searches for Rome in Rome and finds it. To search is worthy of a great man, but to find is worthy of God. s And Castiglione's beautiful elegy, which was recorded by Angelo Colocci, reads: Forth from the waters of the Styx, once came Hippolytus, summoned that his torn body might be healed by the physician's art. One of Asclepius's snakes sank in the Stygian billows; That was the price of new life, paid by the life-giver's death. You, also, Raphael, patient, with wonderful talent, gathered the scattered limbs of your parent and set them to rights. You restored Rome's broken corpse, victim of blade, fire, and ages, bringing it back to life, back to the splendor of old. D eath was outraged at your skill in summoning souls long departed Therefore you died, to appease the jealousy of the gods. How could you make rise again what long slow ruin had accomplished? Only by open contempt for the force of mortality's laws. So now, poor friend, you fall, cut off in youth's early blossom; Shall we then also be slain - we and all that is ours?9 Similar metaphors of gathering together the broken limbs of Rome and restoring her to her former glory are employed in Francesco Maria Molza's !11 mortem Raphaeiis Nrbinatis pictons et architecti ad L eonem X Pl\lf Canzone:

But first of all the honored and noble Rome, which he, with his great and super-human talent was prepared to return to greatness ... to demonstrate her beauty and brightness, so that she returns at last to the greatness that Honorius let fall, from which defect the road was opened to a thousand other ruins, to which he would have put an end, he whom no architect equalled: he who in seeing only a small vestige of tl1ese antique structures would fashion them so completely, that I often said he would make them present, born truly by his hand in his drawing. ow bitter old age succeeds in extinguishing the beautiful and famous places, the like of which cannot be seen in this world, and eternal night covers steadily the infinite and divine works ... memory of which in every hour that passes is yet more lost ... on the sixth day of April in r 520, for you [Rome] bitter and mournful, since your glory fell with him, his beautiful limbs torn many times, now one sees them become safe and immortal, and removed from every injury of time and fortune. 10 The metaphors consistently featured, such as broken Rome "figured" whole by tl1e talented artist and thus reborn, the "memory" of her beautiful limbs brought forth again to the light of day from the shadows (inflected by the inverted image of the artist's own "scattered" limbs in death), supply a valuable interpretive matrix for assessing the shift in pictorial syntax evident in Raphael's late paintings. 11 And indeed, the same sentiments, and similar imagery, are employed in the famous letter to Leo X, written collaboratively by the artist himself and Castiglione, with the assistance of Angelo Colocci, lamenting "la miseria de le ruine antiche," 12 \Vherefore, if everyone is obligated to have piety towards parents and country, I hold myself obliged to exhibit all of my small abilities so that, as much as possible, there might remain alive a little of the image - the shadow as it were - of that which, in trutl1, is the universal homeland of all Christians, and which for a time was so noble and powerful that men were at the point of beginning to believe that she alone beneath heaven superceded fortune, and, against the course of nature, was exempted from death, to endure perpetually ... But it appears that time, as if envious of mortal Glory, not trusting fully in its abilities alone, has aligned itself with fortune and with the profane and wicked barbarians,

who have added impious fury to the the hungry file and the poisoned bite of time, and the iron and smoke and all the methods that were needed to ruin her. Wherefore those famous works that today, more than ever, would seem flourishing and beautiful, are instead wild, burned and destroyed, due to the wicked rage and cruel violence of evil men: but not, however, to the extent that there does not remain almost the basic structure of it all, but without ornaments, the bones of the body, so to speak, without the flesh ... Therefore I have so ordered the drawing of ancient Rome, in which one might recognize that which still remains to be seen today, so that we can force what little tl1at remains to show both the present state as well as what these ruins might allow us to deduce about their former state, making those "limbs" which one cannot see correspond to those which one can see. 1 3 As indicated by the letter, the formal and ethical a/l'antica framework was tightly integrated in Leonine humanist thought. Furthermore, the collaborative effort in itself established a hermeneutics of response predicated on the active, reciprocal judgment of artist and humanist both, a critical point explicitly expressed in the equally famous idea letter.1 4 Both were implicated in one of the most common topoi mobilized in Leonine humanist circles, an idea of devotional piety wedded to the moral-ethical ideal of Virgilian pietas, which is directly invoked in the letter ("Onde, se ad ognuno e debita la pietate verso li parenti e la patria ... "). This passage from the letter represents the act of recovering antique eloquence specifically as an act of filial piety, demanded of Christian men of letters who, regardless of nationality, fittingly view Rome as their proper homeland. The currency of the assimilation of an ethical model of antique piety to a Christian one is expressed in the conception of Raphael's Fire in the Borgo fresco of ca. r 514 (fig. r ) , part of the fresco cycle commissioned by Leo X for tl1e room in the Vatican now known as the Stanza dell'incendio. The fresco has had a troubled critical fortune, owing to perceptions of its allegedly disjointed narrative structure (with the verba, or ornamental secondary episodes, i.e., the Aeneas and Water Carrier motifs, apparently overwhelming the res, or primary subject matter, e.g., the miraculous papal blessing), and of significant workshop assistance in its execution. cholars such as Kurt Badt and Ingrid Rowland, however, have contributed to a revival of critical appreciation of the fresco. 1 5 Rowland, in particular, emphasizes the need to contextualize the Fire in the Borgo within tl1e stylistic and antiquarian milieu of the Roman court, elucidating, for instance, the clear formal analogies between the inventively designed antique architectural "members" and vessels, and the idealized male and female bodies.1 6 Still puzzling, however, is the expressive intent underlying the emblem of filial piety of Aeneas carrying his father Anchises out of Troy, which engages strong compositional interest to tl1e left. Yet as Raphael's (and Castiglione's and Colocci's) letter to Leo X indicates, the Aeneas motif itself expresses the ostensible subject of the scene, the miraculous salvation of tl1e revered parent Rome through papal agency, which is depicted as an almost subsidiary episode placed in the far background. For, building on Rowland's argument, the true theme of the fresco is the

9. 1. Raphael and workshop, Fire in the Borgo, fresco, 1514-1 5, Stanza dell'incendio, Vatican Museums.

pious and "miraculous" restoration of Rome and of antique eloquence, enacted by artistic ingegno and grace in conjunction with papal can'ta, the latter symbolized by the emblematic women and children in the foreground.11 The aesthetic argument, placed in a clear framework of moral-ethical piety, points reciprocally to the ideals of grace and charity essential to papal restoration of the apostolic holiness of the church, an idea that, as Hermann Hettner has discussed in relation to the fresco, recurred in Fifth Lateran Council orations.18 Consistent with the conceptual framework established in the letter to Leo X and in the Fire in the Borgo fresco, Raphael's late Madonnas, which are little discussed otl1er than witl1 respect to problems of attribution, similarly invoke this discourse on the antique and the pious effort to rimembrare ancient Rome in Christian terms. 1 9 They constitute a discourse in which tl1e mutual participation of the artist and humanists is beyond doubt, but which specially privileges the revivifying powers of the "divine" artist. D eeply engaged witl1 humanist efforts to formulate an authentic classical aesthetic, it seems clear that the artist-appointed superintendent of antiquities and architect of aint Peter's by Leo X adopted the imitative strategy of Pietro Bembo and his followers, the polished imitation of Cicero that was emerging as the dominant model of eloquence in Leonine Rome. 20 No longer syncretically imitating both ancients and moderns, Raphael turned exclusively to the antique as his model, apparent not simply in his compositional choices and figural motifs, but, more subtly, in the

formulation of a new expressive "diction" in the late paintings as well. Conveying an implicit message comparable to the Fire i11 the Borgo, paintings such as the Madonna of the Oak (fig. 2) construct a semantically rich and visually elegant rhetoric of place, evoking the classical rhetoric of place in literary discourse, where carefully observed extant monuments are imaginatively fashioned into a perfected whole formed according to the model of Vitruvius. 21 The represented monuments are presented as analogues to the idealized all'antica Madonna figures, both constructed according to the rules of measure and good diction. " Displaying an overtly classicized vernacular ideal of beauty, and employing an explicitly rhetorical style, the late Virgin and Child groups have found less historiographical favor than the pre-Leonine Madonnas, but they would certainly have been understood by their humanist owners as more classicizing, and therefore deeply relevant to their own critical project of restoring lost Roman eloquence in normative terms.2 3 The shift in settings of Raphael's late Madonnas, from sunlit meadows to shady grottoes exhibiting remains of antiquity, makes particular sense in the context of the immensely popular poetic sodalities fostered in Leonine Rome, most prominently by the artist's humanist patrons Jan Goritz and Angelo Colocci, and attended by nearly all of the artist's other patrons, including Castiglione, Bernardo da Bibbiena, and Pietro Bembo. 2 4 The sodalities, conceived as heirs to the Roman Academy of Pomponio Leto and modeled upon ancient literary descriptions, held poetic competitions in outdoor artificial grottoes in which antiquities 9.2. Raphael and workshop, Marlo1111a of the Oak, 1 517- 19, oil on wood, Museo del Prado, Madrid.

1 43

were displayed; the setting itself expressed the dialogue between art and nature that was a constant theme in classical writers on art, notably Pliny's Nat11rai Histo1y. tructured around imaginative reenactments of ancient Roman literary sodalities and the emulation of antique eloquence, the groups promoted their members to honorary Roman citizenship. 2 5 Their literary speculation was rooted in a particularly Medicean goal of elevating the vernacular language to standards of neo-Latin eloquence, together with the pursuit of Latin eloquence per se (this agenda was logically favored by Leo X, the son of Lorenzo il Magnifico). 26 Sacred poetics was attended to with the utmost seriousness, as might be expected in sodalities with strong links to the ecclesiastical hierarchy, and which included members such as Egidio da Viterbo and Cardinal Bernardo D ovizi da Bibbiena. Such was famously the case in the sodalit:y of Goritz, which was dedicated to the cult of Saint Anne and the Virgin. The Goritz sociality met annually on the feast of Saint Anne in the church of Sant'Agostino in Rome, before the sculptural group commissioned from Andrea Sansovino, over which Raphael painted his Isaiah fresco. 2 7 The participants then retired to Goritz's grotto, where they would feast and recite sacred poems and sermons in manifestly antique spirit, praising the return of the golden age and the modern spirits of Virgil and Cicero. 28 The contemporary humanist belief that, as Maffeo Vegio had written, "when a man of Aeneas's piety prays, the gods respond" recurs throughout the sacred poems of the Goritz sociality. These were collected in the Coryciana anthology, which in keeping with its overall bembismo, is dominated by the poetic model of Virgil. 2 9 This was also the period in which Jacopo Sannazaro was composing his De Part11 Virginis, a poem that was itself informed by the general of the Augustinian order Egidio da Viterbo's Virgilian Incarnationist eclogues (modeled on the famous "messianic" fourth Eclogue of Virgil), and in which Zaccarias Ferreri was commissioned to reform tl1e Roman breviary hymns, the HJ1m11i Novi Ecdesiastici, according to the rules of good Latin diction. 3째 And, as Vincenzo D e Caprio has pointed out, notwithstanding intense polemics on imitation - such as the famous 1 513 debate, around which humanists such as Castiglione, Bembo, and Colocci held opposing opinions - they remained united on the position of Roman cultural hegemony, an idea that pervades the poetry produced by the Roman sodalities.3' The Virgilian "mode" of the Coo1ciana, its title already resonant with the Corycian gardner of the ancient author's Georgics through Goritz's Latinized name, is signaled by the editor Blosio Palladio's recurring Virgilian citations in the dedicatory letter.32 For example, Palladio claimed to have stolen the poems from Goritz while he slept, thus appealing to the famous theft and emblem of poetic inventiveness in Virgil's sixth Eciog11e. 33 And, neatly intersecting with the ethical framework articulated by Raphael and Castiglione in the letter to Leo X and visualized in the Fire in the Bargo, the conjunction of intellectual and artistic ingegno with Virgilian/ Roman/Augustan pietas is a dominant topos employed throughout the poems. 34 The formal character of a late painting like the i\1-adonna of the Oak indicates that it was conceived in this festive context of pious efforts to recover the golden age of antique eloquence. Arnold esselrath has remarked that the Madonna of the Oak is the most "archeological" of Raphael's Madonnas, a comment lent precision by Tilman Buddensieg's identifi144

9-4路 Pieter Saenredam, Chapel of Santa 11Iaria de/la Febhre, Ro111e, 1629, oil on wood, National Gallery of Art, Washington.

9.3. Roman, Candelabrum base, AD rst century, l\Iuseo Archeologico, Venice.

cation of its additional antique sources.35 The painting features carefully observed antique remains, including pieces such as the Grimani candelabrum base adorned with ecstatic maenads that Raphael had probably studied during his famous 15 r 6 excursion to Tivoli with Bembo, Castiglione, Beazzano, and avagero (fig. 3).36 The column base, as Buddenseig has demonstrated, belonged to the Cella of the Temple of Mars Ultor on the Forum of Augustus.n Oskar Fischel identified the circular ruin at the top left as the so-called Temple of Minerva Medica, which Raphael represented in a meticulous drawing now in Kassel, and the ruin at the top right as the antique mausoleum that had been refashioned into a funerary chapel attached to Old St. Peter's, known as the Chapel of Santa Maria della Febbre (fig. 4).38 In addition to the deliberate exhibition of carefully studied antiquities, the design of the Madonna specifically conforms to an antique ideal. Her body, dressed in elegant clinging drapery that reveals navel and nipples, girded high beneath her breasts, and her posture, seated with extended right arm and bent left arm supported and elevated, derive from close study of the GemmaA;,rgustea, which was widely known through copies (fig. 5).39 The artist, characteristically interested in devising a mutually absorptive interaction of his figures, simply turned the female figure's head to direct her gaze toward the children. The specifically Virgilian character of the painting is suggested by both setting and diction. First, the painting figures the traditional setting of the Virgilian pastoral, with the protagonists placed beneath the cool shade of a tree.4掳 Also consistent is Raphael's famous syntactical shift in featuring bold antitheses, particularly with respect to the treatment of light, which, as an instance of the ornatus demanded in epideictic rhetoric (the classical rhetoric of ceremonial display, of praise and blame), represents a choice that lends an overtly rhetorical character to the late paintings.41 The expert contrasts in light and dark in a late painting like the Mado1111a of the Oak further correspond to an aspect of Virgilian diction typically explored 145

9. j . Roman, Ce111111a .A11g11slea, ca. AD Kunsthistorisches l\Iuseum, Vienna.

12,

Arabian sardonyx,

9.6. Francisco de Hollanda, Escorial Sketchbook, fol. 8" Belvedere installation of Cleopatra, ca. 1 j 39, Biblioteca de! Monasterio de El Escorial.

in Renaissance pastoral poetry. This formal device had assumed a popularity that supplies a close context for Raphael's stylistic shift, and which likely supercedes even the generally presumed homage to Leonardo da Vinci.4 2 It constitutes, for example, one of the most common formal motifs of the Co1ycia11a poems, where illumination in darkness is employed as a metaphor for the divinely sanctioned contemporary repristination of ancient Rome (inflected at times by the beauty of the statues' candida 17/e/7/bra, or white/shining limbs).43 For example, one of many possible excerpts, from a hymn by Ianus Vitalis Panhormitanus, praising the return of sweet eloquence (eloquentia dulcis), reads: ''And so our father the fixed, fair-haired sun will gleam with this new light, and exulting will shine down upon the surface of the empty earth, and will raise up the almighty lights, thrice greater in appearance, thrice more splendid than any known light, and the clouds fall away beneath the heavenly image; they gather together the subdued lands, they close off the northern gate, dragging away the shadows and the dense night ... gentle Peace!"44 Raphael's precise use of light and dark contrasts in the Mado1111a of the Oak replicates this metaphorical usage. A strong raking light directed down from the upper left to the lower right specifically highlights the all'antica figure of the Virgin Mary and the antique Chapel of Santa Maria della Febbre, which is shown imaginatively placed atop one of the hills of Rome rather than literally as it existed, as part of the Old St. Peter's complex. The fadonna and the reformed antique mausoleum are presented as closely analogous, and in contrast to the

so-called Temple of Nlinerva Medica and the fragments grouped to the right, which are ruined and shadowed (indeed, judging from its current appearance in the Museo Archeologico di Venezia, the artist appears to have deliberately "broken" the Grimani candelabrum base). The formal opposition, rooted in the light-dark contrasts, underscores the all'a11tica sacred figures' status as ca11dida membra revivified, made into (and preserved as) perfected wholes. With antique eloquence placed in the service of Christian piety, they have been called back from the dark shadows of the past and animated by the simultaneously rigorous and imaginative painter's art; as one Coryciana author exclaims, "reddita lux est!"45The context of peace and joy for this endeavor is denoted by the figurative use of light as well as by the placid and stately fadonna herself, whose elegant left hand makes a deliberately (and dialectically) inverted gesture to that of the ecstatic maenad figured on the base, which is cloaked in shadows.46 Although figuring a neo-Latin, and Virgilian, ideal of eloquence, the blonde Madonna manifests an intersection with vernacular poetics as well. This is not surprising given the importance of contemporary peculation on the Italian vernacular, for instance in famous polemics such as Bembo's Prose de/la voigar lingua, Castiglione's II !ibro de! cortegia110, and in the wedding of neo-Latin models with Petrarchism in the vernacular pastoral poetry of Colocci, avagero, and Tebaldeo.47 The Christianizing of Latin models, however, did not remain unconilicted for long; for example, the younger fare Antonio Flaminio (b. 1498) in the 1 530s rejected the sacred poems that he had written in elegant and subtle Latin in imitation of Navagero as res inanes, advocating imitation of the Psalms instead of classical Latin models.48 Colocci was specifically praised for bringing the glory of both Latin and vernacular expression "back from the Stygian waters." +9 His little-known vernacular poetry employs all the familiar topoi of Petrarchan lyric: the poetic remembrance of the beautiful fair beloved with blond hair gently wafted by the breeze in a spring meadow, who shines like the sun in the dark woods, and so on, but with a new elegance of expression due to his careful study of antique aulic (courtly), Provenc;al, and Latin poetic models. 5째 Whether sacred or secular in application, the syntax differs little, for instance when he calls upon the Madonna to warm him with the rays of her starry sun ("Vergine bella . . .riscaldomi coi raggi di tua Stella").51 At times it is not immediately clear which orientation, sacred or secular, a poem is meant to have.52 Aside from the general proximity in formal concerns, there is in fact a Virgilian epigram written by Colocci and admired by Pontano that suggests a direct connection to the Nfadonna of the Oak. The key line reads: Subnascentem hederam trabeati in Colle Quirini Nutrierat densis Quercus opoca cornis ... 53 (On the stately Quirinal the shady oak nurtures the up-girding vine with its dense foliage ... ) Apparently a favored poetic invention given its citation in multiple manuscripts, the central Virgilian pastoral image is also exactly the central image in the painting, the shady oak with 147

dense foliage and clinging vine. The setting, as was noted, is imaginary and therefore impossible to pinpoint, but the hill imagery might suggest the Quirinal, which was also known for one of Colocci's grottoes adorned with antique fragments in which the poetic sodalities would meet. 54 Indeed, the Virgin is cast as the veritable geniNs loci and compared to the virgin waters of poetic inspiration shown behind her, as is suggested by the close modeling of the fountain flowing into the sarcophagus upon the Belvedere Cleopatra fountain installation (fig. 6). 55 Possible direct references to Colocci are also intimated by the triangular and circular fragments in the right foreground of the locus a171oem1s, which might suggest the principles of classical measurement of particular interest to the humanist. 56 Furthermore, the Latin both for the column and candelabrum bases, basis, would make a fitting pun on Colocci's poetic name, Bamts. However, it is clear that, if the Madonna of the Oak was not designed for Colocci himself, it certainly was designed for an intimate poetic soda/is, one who would have recognized the unique power of the artist to "remember" the lost eloquence of the ancients. Late paintings like the Madonna of the Oak, which have been afforded less historiographical favor than the pre-Leonine works due largely to questions of attribution, are Raphael's most complex. Informed by a nexus of ideas in which the mutual participation of artist and humanists is beyond doubt, and artistic talent (ingegno) explicitly privileged in the collaborative enterprise of formulating an expressive aesthetic of romanitas, they complicate the traditional linear and binary humanist-artist model and call for a more nuanced account of patronage at the Leonine court grounded in an intersection of social ambitions and cultural values, political ideologies, and intellectual and artistic exchange.

148

[ro]

Civic Courtship: c_Afbrecht 7Jiire~ the Saxon 7Juke) and the emperor *** LARRY SILVER

JFItalian Renaissance painters

resident at court (especially Andrea Mantegna with the Gonzagas at Mantua) are the defining paradigm of the court artist - and the very opposite of the civic guild artist - then the career of Albrecht D l'1rer in his native city of Nuremberg is an exception. 1 D i.irer never had to move to a court and worked on and off for several princes over the course of his career. Indeed, like van Eyck before him in Bruges and Rubens after him in Antwerp, D urer seems to have enjoyed the best of both worlds: major commissions and an eventual pension (in the form of remitted tax revenues in uremberg by order of the emperor) along with personal freedom to pursue his independent arti tic projects, notably commercial print production, marked with his distinctive monogram. 2 Principally, D urer (1471-1 528) worked for a pair of princely patrons. First, he served the duke of Saxony, Frederick the Wise, over the course of his entire career, capping his series of dispatched paintings with a sturdy portrait engraving as a memorial in l 524. But his most concerted and sustained effort as a court artist came in service to Maximilian I, Holy Roman Emperor from l 508 to l 5l 9. Here, too, the artist's ultimate tribute to his patron included several portraits, this time in the form of both paintings and prints. As we shall see, the different kinds of products, made by the same peerless artist for these two demanding and discerning princes, defined not only their own distinctive forms of court life but also their opposing personal and historical roles. Long before he ever encountered Maximilian I, D t'trer received commissions from Frederick the Wise (ruled 1486-1525), of the Ernestine line of Saxon dukes, whose capital was newly established at Wittenberg.3 Frederick was known first for the sophisticated intellectual climate of his court, which promoted both the new humanist learning as well as progressive, Italy-oriented works of art. A deeply religious man, who had undertaken a pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 149 3, he was chiefly renowned for his vast collection of religious relics. These were housed in the Wittenberg castle church and accompanied by an illustrated guidebook of l 509 with woodcuts by Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472-15 53), his official court artist from l 505 .4 D urer's first known commission from Frederick the Wise resulted from a visit by the duke and his brother, Johann, to uremberg (April 14-18, 1496); according to the Saxon court records later that year, the artist was paid the munificent sum of loo florins for his

io.1. (center) Albrecht Di.irer, f lrgi1uldori11g the Christ Child, from the Dresden Triptych, ca. 1496, tempera on canvas, StaatLiche Kunstsammlungen, Dresden.

ro .2.

Qeft) Albrecht Di.irer, Saint ..d11tho11Jâ&#x20AC;˘fibbot, from the Dresden Triptych, ca. 1496.

10. 3.

(right) Albrecht D ii rer, Saint Sebastian, from the Dresden Triptych, ca. 1496.

work. 5 The first outcome of that contact was a tempera on canvas portrait of Frederick the \"X!ise by Durer (Berlin, Staatliche Museen). This half-length presentation is not unusual and even stems from a prior 1493 self-portrait by the artist (Paris, Louvre), its strong pyramidal structure built on the visible arms and hands set against a monochrome background. The canvas support also is not unusual in itself, although it is rare for portraits and was usually a cheaper, more portable substitute for oils on panel, almost a separate medium, hence not likely to be the basis for the high payment to the artist.6 Around the same time the artist also provided another canvas, the "Dresden Triptych," with a central scene of the Virgin adoring the infant Jesus (fig. r) and side panels (possibly added later; figs. 2, 3) of the main plague saints, Anthony and Sebastian.7 The unusual Virgin and Child of the canvas have been associated by Panofsky with strong models from Venice, especially Bellini and Mantegna, admixed with etherlanclish domesticity, which is perhaps also the source of the canvas support. 8 From the point of view of Frederick's spiritual orientation, this emphasis on Mary as a caring mother can be compared to several works, both paintings and prints, made by Lucas Cranach for the same duke a decade later. For example, the Princes' Altarpiece (Dessau, around r p o) shows both Frederick and John on wing panels with patron saints adoring the Virgin and Child with Saints Catherine and Barbara in the center.9 Around the same time Cranach also produced a woodcut of the duke in prayer adoring the seated Virgin and Christ Child, also within a domestic interior with a view out a window. 10

Thus, for all the distinctive, youthful Durer pictorial synthesis of various models, we can assume that his Marian imagery and presentation of anti-plague saints responded to a conventional commission on the part of his ducal patron. Later Cranach would continue to produce works in the same vein for the same patron. 1 1 The principal payment of 1496 to Durer by Frederick the Wise, however, was for still another work, this time on panel and appropriately a religious work: an altarpiece dedicated to the Seven Sorrows of the Virgin (now divided between Dresden and Munich). 12 The Seven Sorro1vs centerpiece, the JVlater Do!orosa, shows a standing fadonna with the symbolic sword of her suffering at her breast. This composite subject offered an emotive engagement with the mournful Virgin within the unfolding Gospel narrative, especially the Passion, plus a connection to the growing cult of the rosary in the late fifteenth century, with its cycles of meditations on the Joys, Sorrows, and Glories of the Virgin. Thus this court commission by Frederick, clearly more expensive and elaborate than the "Dresden Altarpiece," offered a more contemporary, late-medieval expression of Marian devotion. If Diirer's first artworks for Frederick the Wise responded to his patron's unmatched professions of piety, his contributions at the turn of the new century responded more to the worldly sophistication of the Saxon court. In particular, his monogrammed work of 1 500, H emt!es KiJ!ing the StJ1mphalian Birds (fig. 4), another work on canvas, fulfilled a taste for classical mythology and glorification of a hero's deeds that would have had special resonance for a prince. 13 \Vhile documentation is indirect, based upon a description of \'V'ittenberg castle by Andreas Meinhard (1507), Panofsky surmised that this picture originally hung in the aestNariNm (or heatable space) in the living rooms of the castle, one of four Hercules subjects there. 1 4 Frederick's splendidly decorated castle, complementing the castle church and his relic collections as a showpiece of his pious aspirations, embodied instead the worldly indulgence and personal tastes of the duke. This good-versus-evil subject, drawn from the Labors of Hercules, is a time-honored allegory of the restoration of order over chaos. 1 5 Of course this painting reminds us of Di.irer's early absorption of both the forms and the themes of Italian Renaissance art. 16 Clearly Frederick the \Vise played a role in this artistic process, though with the destruction of the original Wittenberg Castle decorations the extent of his ducal intervention remains tantalizingly obscure. 17 One is tempted to conclude that Durer himself, creator of an engraved Choice of H erm!es (B. 73) at the end of the fifteenth century, might have had a formative influence on the classical subjects of the pictorial decoration. 1 s A few years later Cranach would pose another mythic hero, the Trojan prince Paris, lying in elaborate armor alongside the messenger god Mercury, in his 1 508 woodcut Judgment of Paris (fig. 5). This scene again poses a princely choice between intelligence and sensual pleasure, rather than relying upon the traditional (brute) physical strength of the hero Hercules as he subdues monstrous evil. 1 9 The princely significance of these two heroes is akin to the role assigned to Hercules, as presented on an anonymous contemporary woodcut of "Hercules Germanicus," which equates the mythic hero directly with the young emperorelect, Maximilian I. 20 The Latin inscription there credits Hercules as "victorissimus invictissimus monstrarum / regum terror et domitor" (the invincible and most victorious tamer of Ij I

monsters and terror of Icings), and "pacator orbis mundi / salvator sientiarum virtutumque instaurator musageticus heroum maximus gloriosissimus decimator orbis" (bringer of peace and savior of the world, promoter of knowledge and virtues, leader of the muses, greatest of heroes and most renowned destroyer in the world). For our purposes, the Durer H erc;,tles and its cycle is suggestive in that, formulated with a similar didactic message of virtue in both wisdom and strength, which was usually associated with princely patrons, it was located inside \Vittenberg Castle. 21 Much firmer documentation secures the association of Frederick the \Xlise with D urer for the production of the dated l 504 Adoration of the Nfagi (Florence, ffizi).22 This painting exemplifies Durer's artistic accomplishments on the eve of his second trip to Italy. Painted in the same year as his consummate engraving, Adam and Eve (1504), this painting also combines a keen awareness of Italian pictorial conventions (there nudes, here perspective) along with the vivid verisimilitude of the natural world, gained tl1rm1gh the artist's painstalcing series of watercolors of both fauna and flora as well as landscape settings. 2 3 For example, the fortified hillside in the right distance is composed like his celebrated Vien; of Arco (Paris, Louvre, W 94), but with the Germanic structures already seen in the background settings employed in his recent engravings, Sea Monster (f3. 71) and St. Et1stace (f3. 57) . The fancy apple Poka! cup stems from Durer's father's training as a goldsmith, as does the capped goblet in the center, held by a magus whose features and flowing locks closely resemble D urer's own self-portraits.z+ In this Adoration, the artist seems most fully to have embraced the variety and beauty of the world in all of its divine plenitude, including different races or cultures of the human species, ranging from the black magus to the retinue of Turks. 2 s In effect, Frederick the Wise obtained from Durer the latest synthe is of Renaissance art malcing from one of its leading practitioners but he also got a religious image of royal devotion, suitable to his own noble status and piety. Frederick had already hired Jacopo de' Barbari (1504-1505 /G) then Lucas Cranach (1505) to be his official court painter. 26 Durer at this time returned to Italy in late summer 1505, returning only in January 1507. Moreover, Cranach, unlike Durer, lived in Wittenberg near the castle and the court. In the meantime D urer, extremely busy with painting and design commissions, was willing to delegate to workshop associates like Hans Schaufelein; one work commissioned by Frederick the Wise around l 505 was completed in l 508 by chaufelein after Durer's elaborate preparatory drawings (f3asel and Frankfurt; W 3l 9-2 3). ow known as the Ober Saint Veit Altarpiece (Vienna, Diocesan Museum), this work again shows plague saints (Sebastian and Roch) on its exterior and features Passion scenes within a high horizon across its interior: a central Crucifixion, flanked by Christ Carrying the Cross and Noli iV!e Tangere. 2 7 D urer's final painted work for Frederick the Wise in l 508 (Vienna, Kunsthist:orisches Museum) 28 offered a far less conventional subject, one that he had previously made the theme of a large woodcut, The Martyrdom of the Ten Thousand Christians (ca. 1496, B. l 17). 2 9 The story, recorded in the Golden L egend, a thirteenth-century compendium by Jacobus da Voragine, is of a company of Roman soldiers, led by St. Achatius in the Euphrates region,

1 0 -4 . .t\Jbrecht Di.irer, J-lerc11/es /{j//ing the SIJ'11phalia11 Birds, 1 500, oil o n canvas, G ennanisches ationalmuse um, 1 uremb erg.

o. 5. Lucas Cra nac h,}11dg111e11t of Pans,

1 508, woodcu t, loca ti o n un known.

who were converted to Christianity by an angel on the eve of a battle and then won a great victory as a result; however, their conversion was soon cruelly punished by Emperor Hadrian with King Sapor of Persia, who first tortured them and then had them crucified on Mt. Ararat. For this work, Frederick contracted one last time from the master of uremberg for his relic chamber in the Castle Church. Presumably this image reinforced the general importance of all martyrs for the faith as well as the particulars of their individual relics for a collector like Frederick the Wise. Cranach's guidebook to the Wittenberg relics even mentions these very martyrs: two whole bones and twenty-three particles of the "ro,ooo knights [Rittern] ." Additionally, in memorial to their mutual friend and as a final, personal epitaph of his own association with the Saxon court, D urer places his self-portrait, accompanied by poet laureate Conrad Celtis, at the very heart of the picture, with his inscribed signature and monogram on a small pennant ("Iste faciebat anno Domini 1 508 / Albertus Dl.1rer alemanus I D"). This assertive self-portrait and proud signature echo other painted works in which D l.1rer included himself, produced in the wake of his trip to Italy: his Feast of the Rose Garlands (15 06; Prague, National Gallery) , Heller Altarpiece, the Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin ( r 509; lost), and Adoration of the Trinity ( r 5r r; Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum).3째 These patrons were not noblemen but instead urban men of means: the Rose Garlands was painted in Venice for a German trading confraternity; Jacob Heller was a Frankfurt merchant; and

uremberg patrician Jakob Landauer headed a charitable foundation at the "Twelve Brothers House." Hence it is not the status and power of Frederick the Great that accounts for the artist's "German" self-promotion in this lvfarl)irdom; instead what is seen is the artist's emerging international renown and confidence, affirmed after his visit to Venice, where he famously declaimed in a letter to his friend Pirckheimer that he could now "silence those who said that I was good as an engraver but did not know how to handle the colors in painting" and that "here I am a gentleman, at home I am a parasite."31 Yet this picture had special significance for Frederick as well. Further confirmation of its location, as well as its deep significance for the Saxon dukes, was a request in 1 549 by Johann Friedrich the Magnanimous to have the picture sent from the \"'{!ittenberg Castle Church to accompany him in Brussels during his period there as a political prisoner of the religious wars. Here, too, the Turkish costume marks this scene geographically in the Levant, which strongly suggests the contemporary conflicts between the Ottoman Turks and Christian Europe, especially with the commands from a mounted, turbaned sultan.32 Martyrdom is further associated with Christ's crucifixion: the painting (more than the earlier woodcut) presents a new emphasis on crosses; a standing victim is shown crowned with thorns. j\fore than just an "imitation of Christ," this painting now uses the distant legend of saintly martyrs in order to present the current religious strife with Islam as if it were an allout conflict of good versus evil, stirring a call for crusade from Frederick the \"'{iise, former pilgrim to the Holy Land. Crusades, in fact, were the perennial battle cry of Emperor Maximilian, who was officially crowned as the leader of Christendom in Trent in that same year, 1 508. To commemorate his new role and to reinforce his role as the commander of Christian crusade forces, Maximilian issued a pair of woodcuts, by Hans Burgkmair of Augsburg, which featured an armored equestrian portrait of the new emperor under a Roman triumphal arch, complemented by a second woodcut of one of his patron saints, the knightly embodiment of crusader valor, Saint George.33 As if in a changing of the guard of courtly patronage for D urer, Maximilian soon came to supplant Frederick the Wise (who would also become his chief political rival and adversary, even seeking to succeed him as emperor after the death of Maximilian in I 519).34 The commissions by these two princes to the same artist were also complementary: while Frederick chiefly requested large-scale paintings with religious themes, Maximilian mainly sponsored woodcut ensembles with political messages. Both men used art to reinforce their personal aspirations, in Frederick's case to glorify his own piety and his impressive collection of saints' relics, in Maximilian's to commemorate both his political accomplishments and princely virtues, as we shall see. Durer never visited either man at his court center; indeed, he met Frederick only during the 1496 visit by the elector to Nuremberg, and he met Maximilian in person for the first time during the emperor's last visit in Nuremberg after February 4, 151 2. His last personal contact with Maximilian came when he went to the D iet of Augsburg in June 1 518 to sketch the emperor for a series of portraits, both painted and printed, which appeared only posthumously in the following year. 35 We know, however, that I

Durer's own predilection were shifting at just this point, as he experienced increasing frustration with both the time it took to paint and the lack of profit he gained compared to the steady income and relative ease of producing print multiples. Thus the commissions from Maximilian for woodcuts, which could be delegated to workshop assistants as well as to professional cutters, were much more to the artist's liking later in his career than the costly and time-consuming paintings he had once produced single-handedly for Frederick the Wise (except for the Obe Saint Veit Altarpiece). Di.irer's shift of priorities and working method coincided perfectly with the demands imposed by Maximilian, who micromanaged vast projects through his agents, both in the court as well as in the local centers, in this case Nuremberg, where his artistic (and literary) projects took shape, only to be subject to strict review once again by the emperor himself. 36 Inevitably such work involved intensive collaboration, which permitted Durer the principal role of making designs and supervising his own workshop productions. The proofs of the prints could then be scrutinized by both the emperor and his supervising agents. Maximilian centered most of his artistic projects around the city of Augsburg, site of the Imperial Diet and a locality that had developed a special relationship with the emperor; moreover, Augsburg had its own roster of talented artists, led in the field of woodcut by Hans Burgkmair.37 faximilian's projects involving Durer started slowly and initially focused on more private interests, such as the collaboration between the artist and his humanist friend, Pirckheimer, on illustrated manuscripts: a Latin translation of Horapollo's rlierogjyphs, presented to the emperor in I 514, and a smaller, incomplete project for a "fencing-book" with Pirckheimer's texu s The primary Maximilian project for which Di.'trer accepted responsibility is the Arch of rlonor, usually known at the "Triumphal Arch."39 Comprising I 98 woodcuts assembled into a composite image, measuring almost three meters square, this Arch remains one of the largest-ever printed images. Scholars have wrestled with attributions to its parts; most follow Meder and Dodgson in seeing considerable workshop design of the parts, largely attributed to the mysterious Hans Springinklee as well as to Wolf Traut.+0 The design for the Arch stemmed directly from the emperor; indeed, for the related but uncompleted project of the TriN111pha! Procession, we can follow dictations of the entire program from Maximilian to his private secretary, Marx Treitzsaurwein, as early as I 5I 2 (with first sketches appearing around I 507).4 1 Ultimately, the TriN11;phal Procession as well as the Arch of Ho11orwere being produced simultaneously, the former in Augsburg (but with a substantial Di.'trer workshop contribution) and the Arch with Durer & Co. in uremberg (but with a substantial contribution by Albrecht Altdorfer at its margins).42 The supervisor of both projects, which Maximilian sometimes conflates under the name "Triumphwagen," was Johannes Stabius (1462-1 522), trained as a mathematician but active too as the emperor's court historian, working in particular on Habsburg genealogy.43 A preliminary, possibly full-size, design for the Arch was drafted by Maximilian's court artist, Jarg Kolderer, and dispatched to Nuremberg to be supervised by Stabius after I 5I 5, presumably after the completion of initial designs by the artist's workshop by that stage.44 Indeed, at the lower right of the comI

pleted Arch three coats-of-arms stand in order of descending size: Stabius, Kolderer, and only in the last - and least - position, Di.frer himself. Both the figural blocks and the elaborate calligraphic program text of Stabius (based on letter fonts designed by the local calligrapher, Johann eudbrffer) were cut by the uremberg block-carver, Hieronymus Andreae, who received an honorarium from the emperor in r 5r 5. The Arch serves as a summa of the claims and accomplishments of Maximilian I, starting from a central image of the parents and the descendants of the emperor as well as a genealogical tree. Stabius's program divides the portions of the imaginary commemoration into three gates: of Honor (family and genealogy and territorial claims), of Praise (the previous roster of emperors), and of obility (the royal and princely relatives by birth or marriage). Together the side portals are adorned with the (24) major events of Maximilian's reign, both battles and dynastic marriage alliances. Altdorfer's side columns articulate the emperor's personal skills, interests, and avocational pastimes. Amidst all of these distinct programmatic portions appear classical ornament and heraldry of rank and princely orders (especially the Order of the Golden Fleece). Based on Durer's earlier hieroglyphic investigations, a rebuslike "mystical tabernacle" in praise of Maximilian crowns the structure. Obviously Durer took responsibility for the overall presentation of the ensemble as well as its ornamental details. His personal emendations of the model received from Kolderer appear in sketchy ink drawings, including the winged Victory with crown above the main doorway (London, British Museum). These surviving contributions reinforce the connoisseurs' judgment that D urer produced the decorations of the principal gate, marked by this same Victory, as well as the flanking columns. Di.irer seems to have generated the model, presumably on the block prior to cutting, for the right side of the Arch, to be replicated in reverse on the left by his workshop. The inner and outer columns witl1 saintly ancestors and griffins on top are also ascribed to Durer, along with a small number of ceremonial historical scenes (the Burgundian and Spanish Betrothals, and the Vienna Congress) . Clearly, D i.irer took particular care with these scenes, commemorating the emperor's dynastic marriage arrangements, which (more than his battles, often unsuccessful, inconclusive, or eventually reversed) secured Habsburg hegemony over the largest empire in Europe, inherited by his grandson and heir, Charles V D urer also took charge of commemorating these most important events within the carts of tl1e Triumphal Procession, but he delegated the execution of those carts to his workshop, presumably Hans Springinklee. By process of elimination, the remaining majority of the Arch (other than the flanking columns of Altdorfer), especially the history scenes, is assigned to the workshop assistants, chiefly Springinklee and Traut. There were two control designs, one in the possession of Stabius, the other still held by Maximilian, whose careful editorial scrutiny and final approval is clear from a r 5r 7 exchange of letters. The completed ensemble bears the date r 5r 5, but it is apparent from the correspondence that revisions were still being made on its content up to r 5r 8. In striking contrast to the Triumphal Procession, which remains a fragment of its planned two-hundred-woodcut frieze, this imposing composite became one of the few Maximilian woodcut projects to be completed.

In a letter of around r 515, Diirer wrote to Christoph Kress (1484-15 35), the junior burgomeister of the Juremberg city council, to complain that he had worked for Maximilian for three years until then without pay (hardly unusual for creditors of the perennially impecunious emperor). In response, Maximilian first exempted Durer from his own tax debt (r )I 2) but later directed the uremberg city council to pay the artist from its own revenues for the emperor (r )I 5), on account of his "art, skill, and understanding."45The resulting "pension" of roo Rl1enish florins still was paid only sporadically, and its renewal after Maximilian's death in r 5r 9 was surely a strong motivation for Durer's subsequent trip to the etherlands to petition Margaret of Austria for a continuation of that grant.46 This is a very different form of patronage from the repeated commission work requested by Frederick the Wise, and it amounts to something closer to a pension in the modern sense of the word, or a professional's retainer fee, albeit irregular in payment. Dl.irer had numerous other assignments for Maximilian that never achieved completion. Of his designs (ca. r p3-14) for full-scale bronze figures of the ancestors of the emperor for the planned Tomb of Maximilian, only one, Albrecht Count of Habsburg, survives in extant drawings; however, presumed lost models for both King Arthur and Theoderic the Ostrogoth were provided for the foundry of Peter Vischer in uremberg, and a Oost) design for the important figure of Charlemagne was never cast.47 Connected to the emperor's keen interest in tournaments and festive armor, Durer also performed some of the more traditional - and to modern eyes, mundane - activities associated with the court artist in making numerous designs (ca. r p7) for Maximilian for armor decorations (W. 678-84).4 8 We recall here Durer's own familiarity with his father's goldsmith designs. A saddle design ew York, Pierpont Morgan Library) shows both hieroglyphic and classical motifs as its ornamental schemes, like the ornament scheme on the Arch. In addition, more vernacular figures of vain pleasure, such as a peasant bagpiper and a naked woman with a mirror, are paired with a mighty, monstrous unicorn, a traditional emblem of strength suited to this proposed piece of imperial armor. Of all the commitments by Durer and his workshop to Maximilian, the largest was the complement to the Arch of J-lonor, the unfinished woodcut frieze, Triumphal Procession. This complex ensemble was based like the Arch on current knowledge of ancient Roman precedents that celebrated renowned military victories; however, in addition, this Procession adds numerous extra components to celebrate the family, territories, courtly entourage, and manifold princely interests, such as hunts, jousts, and music.49 Again, Stabius supervised the project completion from a uremberg base, following presumed, lost, Kolderer models; like Maximilian's contemporary Prayerbook project with its marginal drawings, a much more diverse roster of designing artists, divided between Nuremberg and Augsburg, took part: Hans Burgkmair (who produced more than half of the extant woodcuts, sixty-seven in all), Hans Leonhard Schaufelein, Leonhard Beck, plus Albrecht Altdorfer (thirty-eight woodcuts), in addition to D urer and his workshop protege, Hans Springinklee. 5째 A total of 138 woodcuts out of an estimated planned two hundred woodcuts were executed (es timated in part from the dictated program, in part from the executed miniatures and their pair of sur-

viving copies in Vienna and fadrid), but most of them were only printed posthumously in r 526, at the request of faximilian's grandson and successor as ruler of Austria, Ferdinand. D iirer's involvement with the Procession only developed after his designs for armor and the basic completion of the Arch ef Ho11or in r 5r 7. His own woodcut contributions were few in number but major in significance. As in the Arch1 D urer assumed responsibility for the key dynastic event of succession in Maximilian's career, a float depicting The Smail Bttrgu11dian JV!.arriage (or the "Small Triumphal Car"). Composed of two sheets, the figure group on its cart at left is drawn at right by a team of four horses, driven by Victory. The figures consist of Maximilian in his archducal hat, standing under a wedding canopy 01eld up by a quartet of cupids with torches) beside his first wife, Mary of Burgundy, holding the shield of Burgundy between them. This scene follows a suite of equestrian woodcuts by Altdorfer, which present the banners first of Maximilian's Austrian heartlands, then (after a trio of mounted images of Burgundian wind musicians) the banners of Burgundian lands acquired through this very marriage.5' In front of the couple stands a vase of pomegranates, the personal emblem of Maximilian, and on the side of the float stand groups of ladies and courtiers, presumably the retinue and wedding party of the two principals. These details do not emerge from the terse dictated Processio11 program. D urer's workshop, presumably Springinklee, also produced a companion scene, which follows the floats commemorating Maximilian's many battles and precedes floats of his (claimed) ancestors. The scene, basically replicating the earlier version (also ascribed to Springinklee) from the Arch, is the betrothal of his son, Philip tl1e Fair, to the heiress of the kingdom of Spain, Juana, with Maximilian presiding in imperial regalia behind his son. As in the case of tl1e Arch, once again the D urer pattern has been closely imitated by his workshop to retain consistency but also to free the master for other, major portions of the Processio11 project. For the all-important family tree, at the prominent top center of the Arch, Springinklee also seems to have been the final producer of the complex image, in part surely because of the protracted dissatisfactions and revisions imposed by the emperor upon Stabius during the crucial period of r 517 . This central role of D urer in the core Processio11 images for Maximilian in these latter years of his reign focused especially on the emperor's succession and his heirs. As a result, the key drawing image of the Processio11 designs was an ink and watercolor of an even more extended chariot ("The Large Triumphal Carriage") on four sheets, dated r 5r 8 (Vienna, Albertina, WI. 685). This more definitive image was, in turn, based upon an earlier D urer design (ca. 1512, Albertina, W 671), probably his first for the emperor, as well as an intervening illumination of almost identical content (presumably based upon a common Kolderer prototype from the court) by the Altdorfer workshop. 52 In the original drawing Maximilian is flanked at the back of the chariot (already shown under a canopy) by Mary of Burgundy, and just in front of them sits Philip the Fair and his wife, Juana of Castile, as well as his sister (regent of the etherlands), Margaret of Austria. The six grandchildren, led by Charles and Ferdinand, sit up front. However, by the time that the Arch was nearing completion - and in the wake of his 158

Albrecht Di.irer, The Great Tri11111phal 'hariot of the E 111peror Jlfaxi111ilia11 I (first panel), Iuseum o f f\rt, New York, gifr of th e Roebling Society.

10 .6 .

1 522 ,

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complex and shifting researches into genealogy - Maximilian increasingly turned to Durer's learned friend in Nuremberg, Pirckheimer, to produce a more timeless allegory of the imperial office rather than a specific outline of family succession, since Philip had clied in the meantime and the actual succession remain unsettled. Indeed, the letter from Pirckheimer to Maximilian (1 51 8) describes this triumph as "not an orclinary triumph, but one of philosophy and morality." He notes that the elaborate construction of allegorical virtues pertains "not only to this present perishable life but also well and truly to adorn such a man after his mortal departure, being lasting and permanent." 53 In the later Vienna drawing of 1)I8 the imperial family is still present and in the same order, with the portrait of Maximilian updated on the basis of Durer's careful chalk drawing in Augsburg of June 28, 1)I8. However, now the chariot is accompanied by Pirckl1eimer's panoply of female personifications upon wheels of princely virtues, and it bears a lion and an eagle, kings of beasts, as well as the personal symbol of the pomegranate. Eventually, in 1 )22 Durer clid issue The Tritmpha/ Chariot ef Nfaximi/ian I (fig. 6) as a completed allegory, with its Pirckheimer program, eight blocks in woodcut form, as a posthumous tribute to Maximilian, hence depicting the emperor alone without his heirs. In part, the

10.7. Albrecht Durer, Portrait of 1\faxi111ilia11 I, 1 51 9, oil on canvas, G ermani sch es atio nalmuseum, uremberg.

10 .8 . Albrecht Di.irer, Po11rait of 111axi111ilia11I,1 519, woodcut, ati o nal Gallery of Art, \'\fashington.

artist might have published this work to recoup his considerable investment of time and trouble, like the three years' effort (mit and fleiss) i.e., income and effort) he referred to in his letter of complaint for nonpayment in I 5I 5 to Christoph Kress about imperial commissions; this remuneration would have been especially significant in light of his continuing insecurities about the always uncertain pension promised to him by the emperor from uremberg from imperial taxes. Eventually Durer's TriNmpha! Chariot, seen as a separate and distinct element, was eliminated from the I 526 publication of the Procession by Emperor Ferdinand. Yet this same contribution by two local uremberg figures - Durer as well as Pirckheimer - was further recognized and underscored in that proud imperial city when a version of the Triumphal Chariot was painted upon the walls of the great hall in the City Hall - the very chamber that hosted the imperial Diet. 54 The remaining images of his two great princely patrons consisted of portraits. As noted, Durer's I 518 chalk portrait drawing of Emperor Maximilian served him on several occasions: first for the profile of the emperor in the TriN171jJha! Chariot, both in the I 5I 8 multisheet Vienna drawing as well as in the eventual woodcut publication of I 522. It also served as the 160

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traced source of one woodcut portrait and two painted portraits, one on canvas (fig. 7), the other on panel (Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum).55 For the painted portraits a second chalk drawing of hands holding a pomegranate (Vienna, Albertina; W 635) served to augment the bust study of the head in the production of a true half-length. 56 The two portraits differ further in their orthography, which is tied to the decorum of the language used for panegyric: for its Latin lcurdatio (.potentissimus, maxi111Ns, et invictissimtts) the Vienna panel offers dazzling Roman block letters in gold, whereas the uremberg canvas instead extols the emperor in German (A!lergros!7lechtigist, umrbenvind/ichist) by means of his beloved Fraktur Gothic script, employed for his printed projects, ranging from the Arch colophon to his printed romance, Teuerdank, and the text of his PrqJ1erbook. The emperor's imperial double eagle appears in both paintings, framed as heraldic arms within the princely Order of the Golden Fleece and capped by the "bicuspid" imperial crown, often worn by Maximilian for "official" portraits (usually by Bernhard Strigel of Memmingen) during his lifetime. The woodcut portrait of Maximilian (fig. 8) also includes a brief Latin inscription, modeled upon the precedents of ancient Roman coins, which features the term div11s, usually r6r

applied only posthumously for deceased Roman emperors in tribute to their deification after death. In at least one surviving instance, this woodcut was enhanced by gold printing from a second block for the hat medallion, chain, and brocade. 57 In similar fashion, Dl.'trer crafted a final memorial in print to his older patron, Frederick the Wise, an engraving dated r 524 (fig. 9), his first work for the Saxon duke since the r 508 painting, l\lfarryrdom of the Ten Thousand. Here, too, a preliminary drawing (Paris, Ecole des Beaux-Arts, \Y/. 897), carefully delineated from life in silverpoint over charcoal, prepared the print.5 8 The inscription is revealing, clearly coming after Durer's celebrated conversion to Luther's Reformation and declaring the duke to be "Dedicated to Christ. He loved the word of God with great piety, worthy to be revered by posterity." The framed stone tablet for the inscription before the sitter derives from Roman grave monuments, including the initials B. 1.F.VV (B[ene] l\lf[erenti] F[ecit] V[iw1s] V[ivo], or "For the man of great merit, made as a living man for a living man"). Since the artist also produced another, similar engraving of Pirckheimer (B. r 06) in this same year, as well as a similar stone tablet in r 526 for his portrait engraving of the arch-reformer Philip Melanchthon (B. 105), we can surmise that this image of Frederick the Wise was at least as much an elective tribute by the artist to an admired patron and protector of Luther as it was a final commission from the prince. Thus did Durer come full circle. He produced a portrait late in life for the same Frederick for whom he had begun his work with a youthful portrait (on canvas, like the late image of Maximilian in Nuremberg). Now, however, at his own discretion he portrayed his patron instead through engraving, for wider distribution as well as a personal tribute, just as he had recently been commissioned to celebrate the deeds and fame of Maximilian through prints, albeit woodcuts, for even larger editions. Unlike many court artists, even in Germany (such as Cranach), Diirer never relocated to the palace, but instead produced his portraits in a city environment, on commission, expecting (though finding some real disappointment from Maximilian) to be paid in the same fashion as from non-noble patrons. He consorted with the loftiest lords of his era and lived to hear his work praised by them (Maximilian in r 5r 5 to the uremberg Council: 'We declare to all that we have regarded and considered the art, skill, and understanding for which Albrecht Durer, a dear and loyal subject of ourself and the Empire is renowned.") . Yet D urer always remained an artist for hire as well as a free citizen of his native Nuremberg.

(II]

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at the Court of Cardinal c../l_lessandro :farnese *** ELENA CALVILLO

in r 88 r Antonino Bertolotti published the will and inventory of the sixteenth-century miniaturist Giulio Clovio, he perceived a need to distinguish the artistic virtuosity of his subject from the miniature painting of monks and gentlewomen whose tools might be found "in the most elegant study of a great lady." 2 Yet, a century later, in his introduction to Maria Cionini Visani's monograph on Clovio, Grgo Gamulin could still write, "as the walls of tradition crumbled and collapsed around him, Clovio remained in his small workshop in a monastery or in tl1e Farnese Palace keeping firmly to his paragons."3 Gamulin, whose conception of the period was influenced by the ideas of D vorak and Friedlander, was searching for Clovio's place in the history of mannerism, trying to reconcile his use of High Renaissance models with his mannerist style. His statement was partially justified by Vasari's remarks about Clovio's monastic life, his medium and imitative practice, all of which suggested to Gamulin a solitary life, safe from crisis and stylistic degeneration.4 My premise is that Clovio flourished not in isolation but in the sophisticated and politically charged atmosphere of his patrons' households. The best proof of this is Clovio's masterpiece, the Farnese Hours (ms. 69, Pierpont forgan Library, Tew York), which represents the culmination of all of his knowledge and experience as a court artist in Rome. Schooled in the studio of Cardinal D omenico Grimani, protected and guided by his patron Marino Grimani, Clovio made his first masters the antique medals of the Grimani. 5 According to Vasari, it was only after he had developed his disegno and an awareness of his talent for small scale, that he learned from Giulio Romano the rudiments of painting in gum arabic and tempera. 6 Clovio's next instruction derived from the compositions of prints by Albrecht Durer and, I believe, Marcantonio Raimondi's engravings after Raphael's designs. Having mastered design, color, and composition, Clovio left Marino Grimani's patronage an artist trained in the maniera moderna and entered the service of the Icing and queen of Hungary. In r 527, he returned to Rome a survivor of the Battle of Mohafis, entered the service of Cardinal Lorenzo Campeggio and devoted himself, according to Vasari, to the study of Niichelangelo before the Sack of the city in May of that year. By this point, Clovio had absorbed the lessons of antiquity, Raphael (through Giulio Romano and Marcantonio Raimondi), Durer, and Niichelangelo. He was thus a mature artist when he learned the art of book illumination from Girolamo dai Libri, two years later in a monastery at Candiana.7

Having fulfilled a vow made during the Sack, Clovio had joined the Canons Regular of Saint Augustine after fleeing to Mantua sometime before 1528. 8 Clovio's monastic life was short lived and, by 1 5 34, he had rejoined the household of his former patron Cardinal Marino Grimani. 9 Clovio's works from this period, especially his illuminations for the Cardinal's Commentarii in Epistolam Pa111i, reveal the sophistication of his imitative practice and his ability to respond meaningfully to the texts that his works illuminate.10 When Clovio appears as an interlocutor in Francisco de Holanda' Roman dialogues, his place in Cardinal Grimani's household is that of a gentleman courtier, eager to recreate the sort of conversations that de Holanda had enjoyed with Vittoria Colonna and :Michelangelo and able to discuss Pliny's account of art patronage in his Natural History. 11 D e Holanda's presentation of Clovio as a learned artist well versed in Pliny at the moment immediately preceding his move to Cardinal Farnese's household is confirmed by Clovio's collaboration with the poet Eurialo d'Ascoli and his membership in the Accademia dello Sdegno. Clovio's frontispiece (fig. 1) for Eurialo's Stanze sorra /'lmpresa de !'Aquila did not simply illustrate Eurialo's verse or the Plinian legend that formed the central metaphor of the poem but devised a composition that would both recognizably represent the subject matter and relate it to Rome. 1 2 Clovio's ability to match pictorially the figural language of Eurialo's text would have made him a welcome candidate for the Accademia dello Sdegno, if he were not already a member when he painted the frontispiece.

Clovio and the Accademia dello Sdegno If Francisco de Holanda's dialogues provide an informative mise-en-scene for Clovio's activity as a court artist, the fragrnentary history of sixteenth-century Roman academies supplies us with part of the cast of poets and scribes whose company Clovio enjoyed around 1540, including Francesco Monterchi, the scribe of the Farnese Hours. ' 3 Clovio's membership in the Accademia dello Sdegno also provides a possible backdrop for his collaboration with Eurialo d'Ascoli, whose vernacular verse in classical meter fits the interests of some the academicians composing according to the rules of the NHova poesia toscana.'4 Closely connected to the Accademia della Virt:U which is best known for its ambition to produce a new edition of Vitruvius, many of the Sdegnati were familiari of one or another of the Farnese households. Claudio Tolomei, Annibale Caro, and Monterchi were secretaries of Pier Luigi. Trifone Benci was a secretary and an indispensable cryptographer for Paul III. 5 Marcello Cervini, Francesco Maria Molza, and Bernardino Maffei were members of Cardinal Alessandro's household. Such connections, however, did not necessarily render the two academies extensions of the Farnese court. Like the Roman academies tl1at preceded them, these informal organizations provided a venue for intellectual discourse away from the households that the members served. 6 The fact that Cardinal Alessandro became the protector of Accademia dello Sdegno complicates the relationship between his court and that academy, but it is unlikely that he intervened in its agenda. The dynamic of exchange nurtured in the academies, on the other hand, and the memberships that many of Cardinal Alessandro's courtiers had in com1

mon probably worked in his favor when he had a project that demanded collaborative intellects, such as the Farnese Ho11rs. Clovio's artistic virtuosity, breadth of knowledge, and predilection for conversation rendered him a suitable candidate for both environments. His development in a cardinal's household, moreover, and his experience of Leonine Rome and the ack would have made him sympathetic company for many of the academicians. Like most scholars, I assume a significant degree of interaction between the members of the Accademia della Virtt\ and Accademia dello Sdegno. 1 7 An example of their collaboration may be found in a letter that Tolomei wrote to Monterchi on D ecember 5, 1543. In it, Tolomei asks the scribe to copy two letters to be sent to "two great Princes of Christians" (dm (Jran Principi de Christiam). Feigning modesty, Tolomei writes that he is like a builder who not having known how to make a beautiful house has it painted with beautiful figures. Next comparing himself to the student of Apelles who covered the figure of Helen in golden drapery and jewels because he had not been able to paint her beauty, Tolomei explains that he would at least like to satisfy the eye of the recipients if he cannot satisfy their intellects. 1 s Since Tolomei's letter to Monterchi is dated two days later than a letter to the King of France seeking patronage for the noble "undertaking of the (Virtruvius's) Architec!Nre," it is possible to connect the two endeavors and to see in Monterchi's work for Tolomei a fellow academician (a Sdegnatz) helping to further the project proposed by the Accademia della Virt:U.1 9 Tolomei's architectural metaphor in his letter to Monterchi, then, assumes a more specific application, likening his plan for the Vitruvian project to an edifice that needs the beautiful ornament of Monterchi's script. 20 The Accademia del Sdegno's particular interest in the relationship between word and image is attested to by its members and their works. In addition to Clovio's and Monterchi's collaboration on the Farnese HoNrs, its founder Gerolamo Ruscelli wrote about il77prese, and its secretary Giovanni Battista Palatino included a sonnetto fig11rato in his writing treatise Libro l\T11ovo d'i171parare a scrivere t11tte sorte lettere . .. (Rome, I 540), for which the melding of the written letter and visual image approximate the making of imprese and emblems. 21 Produced for their protector, the Sdegnati must have been especially interested in the Farnese HoNrs, whose script and illumination inventively address the overlap of word and image and the power and place of ornament. 22 A series of poems written during this period underscores Clovio's close association with this society and their activities. In addition to sonnets by Molza and Varchi, three poems were written by minor poets in praise of Clovio's portrait of the Roman beauty Faustina Mancina.2 3 The central theme of these sonnets is the familiar rivalry between nature and art. Alessandro Contarini writes, for instance, "Giulio ... with the beauty and spirit that you give to miniature painting, you render the Heavens amazed and Nature shamed." 2 4 Antonio Allegretti, like Molza, emphasizes Clovio's learned manner, praising his "learned hand." 2 5 Of course, neither the tribute to "la Mancina" nor the poets' praise of an artist is a new development in the sixteenth century, but Clovio's participation in such an enterprise is noteworthy for the contrast that it provides to the notion of him as an isolated monk. Clovio's portrait is especially interesting because Clovio included the likenesses of Mancina and another

r r .1. Giulio Clovio, The Eagle and the Maiden of Sestos, frontispiece for Sta11ze d'E11rialo d'Ascoli sovra l'i111presa de /'aq11ila, ca. i 539, on parchment, Osterreicb.iscbe ationalbibliotbek, Vienna, MS 2660, fol. lv.

Roman gentlewoman named Settimia in the Farnese Hours. In a letter published by Clare Robertson, he reports to Cardinal Farnese in April I 543 that he has been taken to see "la Mancina." 2 6 In terms demonstrating the extent to which Clovio was conversant with courtly language, he describes the charming manner of the lady's response to his request to portray her, writing, "donda la fece resistenza con un parlare tanto grazioso di maniera che a me mi parse vedere un miraculo di tanta grazia" (whence she resisted it with gracious words in a manner that seemed to me a miracle of such grace). 2 7 When Clovio entered Cardinal Alessandro's service, he was already quite capable of composing imagery to suit the needs and interests of his patron. 2 8 His interaction with the academicians of the Farnese households, however, would have further indoctrinated him in the cultural policy of Paul III and strengthened his grasp of figural language and the ornate style utilized for the cardinal's commissions. Atanagi's remarks in the index of Rime diversi unequivocally link the Roman academies with Paul Ill's pontificate. Relating the security enjoyed during that period, described as a new Golden Age, to the flourishing of arts and letters, Atanagi records the founding of new academies and of the Accademia dello Sdegno, whose protector was in the "first flower of his manhood,'' "the ornament of his House and the benefactor of the Church and the Republica Christiana." 2 9 Without denying the acade166

mie a certain intellectual independence, one may imagine a reciprocity between the cardinal and the academicians; while he protected the organization and maintained many of the members, they equipped him, while still quite young, with the intellectual resources to be the sort of cultural patron prescribed by Paolo Cortesi. 3째 Recent scholarship attests to both the cardinal's love of learned conversation and the creative interaction between humanists and artists at his court.3 1 It is important to remember that the environment that generated Vasari's T/ite also produced the Farnese Hours, itself a record of the canon of the maniera 1JJoder11a and a sort of visual primer for Cardinal Alessandro. In addition to the profane interests of the academies and Clovio's interaction with them, his personal piety, theological experience, and clerical status were undoubtedly contributing factors to his success in Rome.F As a cleric, Clovio could receive payment in the form of benefices and thus fully participate in the economy of the papal court.3 3 D escribed by a contemporary source as wanting to be a "huomo di Chiesa," Clovio had already received a benefice when working for Cardinal Grimani and was apparently promised one at the beginrung of his service to Cardinal Farnese.34 \Xlarnke's model for the court artist, while generally applicable to Clovio's career, fails in this particular sense because he does not consider the ecclesiastical opportunities available to artists like Clovio. 35 The miniaturist's access to Church property, however, was only one benefit of his religious status. Clovio's theological training makes itself apparent in every pair of facing pages in the Farnese Hottrs, so that his work prompts not only the memory of artistic monuments in Rome but also the scriptural and patristic sources needed to interpret the typology of the illuminations.

"II Gra11 Cardi11afe" a11d the Farmse HoNrs Though Alessandro Farnese had already shown the promise that would earn him the epithet "Il Gran Cardinale," he wa still under the tutelage of several men when Clovio entered his service around r 540. \"Xii th his grandfather's election to the papacy in October r 5 34, the fourteen-year-old Alessandro sacrificed his rights of primogeniture to become a cardinal in D ecember of that yeat.3 6 The death of Cardinal Ippolito de' Medici the following summer resulted in Alessandro's elevation to vice chancellor of the Church. In addition to adding to his enormous responsibilities, this position endowed him with the Palazzo della Cancelleria, which would receive extensive decoration during the next fifteen years of Paul Ill's pontificate. n Though recent evaluations of Paul Ill's and Cardinal Alessandro's patronage have questioned tl1eir interest in painting, I believe that the Farnese J-loNrs provided a foundation for the cardinal's knowledge and patronage of painting. 3s Evaluated by Vasari according to the criteria of modern painting, the twenty-six full-page miniatures and the countless bas-de-pages illuminations of the manuscript resemble a portable collection or gallery of sacred paintings, landscapes, and antique sculpture. The sources for Clovio's frontispieces and his use of ornament, moreover, reveal the extent to which the work responded and contributed to a body of images produced for the cardinal's needs and interest, whether personal or public. Related

to rhetoric and epic poetry, the disposition and ornament of the Farnese Hours satisfied both the cardinal's personal love of poetry and the classical requirements of language that had been increasingly applied to the liturgy during the sixteenth century. 39 The ornaments of the frames are carefully selected, ordered glosses or i171agines agentes, which direct the reader's memory and interpretation of the central images.4째 In the two examples discussed here, they assume roles intrinsic to the meaning of pictorial cycle, so that in one case, personifications are the subject of a frontispiece providing a figurative analogue to a narrative in the gospels. In the other case, an ornament acquires the identity of a figure central to the narrative of the mam images.

The Place of Ornament in Clovio's Inventions It has long been known that Clovio's choice for the facing page to the Visitation, the figures of .fa1stice and Peace Kissing (fig. 2), derive from verse r r of Psalm 84, "iusitia et pax deosculate sunt,"4 1 yet the exegetical relationship between the two sets of figures has received little comment. A few scholars have considered the beauty of the composition reason enough for the pairing.+2 This mirroring of the figure groups, however, reinforces the typological connection between the two pages, directing the reader to think analogically. Augustine's commentary on Psalm 84 provides a textual precedent, connecting the concepts of Peace and Justice to justification through the incarnation of Christ and the precursory role of John the Baptist.43 Augustine's prayer for the Lord's visitation of the righteous and his reference, following Mattl1ew, to the Baptist's command to the people to repent and to return to righteous living are fairly straightforward in their relation to Clovio's personification of Justice. The key to the figure of Peace lies in the prophecy of Isaiah (40:2-3), cited by both Augustine and Matthew.+4 Verse three is always associated with the Baptist, "a voice cries, 'in the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,'" but verse two is equally important in the context of Psalm 84 and Clovio's invention because Isaiah predicts a new era of righteousness and peace, "speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the Lord's hand double for all her sins." The role of peacemaker was central to Paul Ill's public image and papal mission.45 Aside from representing a virtue consistent with the office of the papacy, the figure of Peace was a locus of poetic and visual invention, reconciling the golden age described by Virgil and Ovid with the themes of renovation and justification found in Psalm 84 and in the cultural and ecclesiastical policy of the Farnese pope.46 Her counterpart in both eclogue and psalm, the figure of Justice or the virgin Astraea, was equally appealing to Cardinal Farnese.47 Vasari painted her figure twice: once in his Allegory of Justice in aples and again in as one of the virtues embellishing the papacy of Paul III in the Sala dei Centi Giorni. In Virgil's Fourth Eclogue, the return of the virgin Astraea coincides with the return of Saturn. The golden age signaled by Astraea's or Justice's return and the birth that initiates her return provide a clear parallel for the Virgin's miraculous conception and delivery of Christ.4 8 Clovio's and Cardinal Farnese's interest in incorporating such classical equivalents to scriptural sources in the Farnese HoNrs is made clear by the pairing of Auptstus and the Tib11rtine Siryl with the 168

Ann11nciatio11 to the Shepherds (fig. 3).49 Since the iconographic significance of Peace and Justice for the Farnese has been well established, my argument here concerns Clovio's engagement of his patron's imagination by transforming an invention attributed to the Cardinal himself 5째 Having appeared on a medal for Julius II and two triumphal cars in processions for Paul III, the image of Justice and Peace kissing, as Julian Kliemann has shown, would not have been unfamiliar to Cardinal Farnes e's court. 52 In his commentary on the psalms dedicated to Cardinal Farnese, Marcantonio Flaminio remarked on the elegance of the figures of verse eleven of Psalm 84. 53 Easily understood as embellishments of the Virgin's character and Christ's incarnation and ministry, Clovio's personifications of Justice and Peace were also, according to my argument, devised to embellish the papacy of Paul III, like the Virtues in the Sala di Costantino or the ala dei Centi Giorni, and to embody his impresaY Together, Justice and Peace represent the concept of the impresa of the lily and rainbow, accompanied by the motto "JEIKHE KPI ON," or "Lily of Justice." Making use of contemporary descriptions of papal imagery, Bernice Davidson's discussion of the lily and the rainbow explains their connection to justice and both Augustan and biblical peace.54 The Farnese lily is, in fact, an iris and thus connected to the homonymous goddess of the rainbow, while the rainbow, since oah, represents a new era of peace and justification, according to God's covenant. 55 Peace's renewed reign, moreover, was marked by the arrival of a virgin in both classical and Judea-Christian tradition. Clovio's two personifications and their relationship to the Visitation therefore encompass all of the meanings of the rainbow and the lily in the Farnese impresa, which itself marks the two conditions necessary for a golden age. Final confirmation of the heraldic significance of these images comes from the presence of unicorns from another Farnese impresa at the base of the pages and the lilies of their coat of arms, sprouting from vases throughout the framework. Girolamo Ruscelli, the founder of the Accademia dello Sdegno and author of a treatise on imprese, attributed the invention of the Lily of Justice i111presa to Cardinal Alessandro and explained the rainbow's relation to the security that Paul III brought to Rome. Emphatically denying Paolo Giovio's claim that Molza invented the impresa, Ruscelli demands that his reader appreciate the precocious genius of the cardinal. 56 With his invention on folio r 8, Clovio engages the "beautiful and ingenius" idea of his patron, transforming it for his delight. It is important to note that the cardinal himself devised imagery to embellish the papacy of his grandfather and patron. 57 Clovio's choice of images in the Farnese 1-loNrs aimed to expand and to test the cardinal's memory, functioning as both a theological and artistic primer. His skillful arrangement and ornamentation of images demanded that the cardinal seek meaning on several levels and relate the goals of Farnese papacy to the larger history and welfare of the Church. Another set of illuminated pages addresses both Cardinal Alessandro's interest in antiquity and his particular devotional needs by employing an ornament referring to a Greek statue type and text, which were probably a source of conversation at his court. Clovio's use of this figure brings to the foreground issues of judgment and idolatry, which, when recognized, provide instruction in the proper uses of art.

11 . 2 G iulio Clovio, The T1sitation and justice and Peace flssing, fro m the ramese l-!011rs, 1 546, Pierpont J\Io rgan Library, New York, 1\1.69, fol. 1 7v- 1 8 .

The subjects of the two frontispieces (fig. 4) are the death of Uriah the Hittite and King D avid in penance. D escribed in Samuel 1 and 2 (1 Sam: 16-18 and 2 Sam: 11-12), D avid's sins of adultery and murder originated in his lust for Bathsheba, whose husband, Uriah, died in the front lines of battle by D avid's command. Clovio's arrangement of the main images and the ornament for these pages is disposed to personalize the experience of his patron. In fact, the role of ornament, in these particular images, assumes its most dominant position in the Farnese Hours, actually moving from the extrinsic place of supplement or gloss to an intrinsic place within the narrative. 58 The clear identity of the D avid figures in the margins of folio 63 verso, one holding the head of Goliath and the other holding his slingshot, the erotic presentation of the young patriarch, in states of dress and undress, and the representation of his sins in the main images are the basis for the identification of the female nudes on folio 64 as Bathsheba. 59 In these roles, the figures transcend the function of marginal ornament to participate in the narrative depicted in the central images, though, as we shall see, the twin Bathshebas also supplement the biblical story as references to an antique statue type. The animation of tl1ese figures underscores their participation in the king's fall and amplifies their effect upon the reader. In setting before the youthful D avid the seductive fig170

ure of Bathsheba, Clovio recreated the erotic circumstance of his sin. The allure of the figures places the reader in the position of King D avid, whose lapse in judgment resulted from his illicit desire. Able to function on several levels, the beauty of Clovio's figures was also surely meant to delight the eye and mind of his patron before he turned to the serious meditations demanded by the reading of the Penitential Psalms. Clovio's inventions for these two frontispieces are particularly appropriate because they prompt the cardinal to reenact not only King D avid's desire but also bis penance. The twin figures of Bathsheba, seen from behind, closely resemble a type of Venus, known as Callipygian Venus, or Venus of the beautiful buttocks. The one life-size, antique example of this sculpture type is now in the National Archeological fuseum in aples (fig. 5), an object known in the Farnese collection since the late sixteenth century.Go D escribed in Book Twelve of Athenaeus's D eip11osophistae, or The L earned Banquet, the origins of the Callipygian Venus, though comic, concern the faculty of judgment. Known in manuscript form in the fifteenth century and published by Aldus Manutius in r 514, Athenaeus's text was certainly familiar to Cardinal Farnese, who owned one of the few manuscript copies. He was also surrounded by men with an interest in the work, such as Paolo Giovio, who wrote a treatise on fish that recalls a section of Athenaeus's dialogue.61 Though the aples sculpture is not documented before the end of the Cinquecento, Vincenzo Cartari's paraphrase of the relevant passage in the D eipnosophistae in his L e lmagini de i D ei degfi Antichi (Venice, r 556) and Raphael's use of the figure as 1inerva in his design for Marcantonio's Raimondi's engraving TheJudgment of Paris suggest that the Venus was understood as an emblem of judgment early in the century.62 Athenaeus's dialogue describes a dinner party at which participants discuss a range of topics. The subject of Book Twelve concerns the exploits of those who had lived life luxuriously. Athenaeus begins by commenting on the allegorical significance of the Judgment of Paris and the Choice of Hercules: I for one affirm also that the Judgement of Paris ... is really a trial of plea ure against virtue. Aphrodite, for example - and she represents pleasure - was given the preference, and so everything was thrown into turmoil. I think, too, that our noble Xenophon, invented the story of Heracles and Virtue with the same motive.63 He concludes his discussion of this theme with the story of the Callipygian Venus: So dependent on their sensual pleasures were the men of those days that they actually dedicated a temple to Aphrodite of the Beautiful Buttocks ... A farmer had two beautiful daughters who once fell into a dispute with each other and even went out upon the highway to settle the question as to which of them had the more beautiful curves. One day a lad passed by whose father was a rich old man, and to him they displayed tl1emselves; and he, after gazing at them, decided in favour of the older girl; in fact he fell in love with her so passionately that when he returned to town he went to bed ill, and 171

i i . 3 Giulio Clovio, _,, Jn111111ciatio11 of the Shepherds and A11g11st11s and the Tib11rti11e Sib)'!, from th e Famese I-!011rs, Pierpont l\Io rga n Library, New York, J\I.69, fo l. 3ov-3 l.

related what had happened to his brother, who was younger than he. So the latter also went into the country to gaze at the girls, and he too fell in love, but with the other girl.64 Respectably wed to their admirers, the "fair-buttocked" sisters thank Aphrodite for their newly found prosperity by dedicating a temple to her of similar attributes. Though explicitly told in the context of excessive pleasure, the subject of judgment is central to Athenaeus's tale. Like tl1e stories of Paris and Hercules, this Venus marks man's potential weakness in the face of physical beauty. Athenaeus's text was perfectly suited to the dinner parties of the Roman academies and Cardinal Alessandro's court, where it would have been particularly appreciated for its information about Greek poetry and art. 61 Clovio would thus have had abundant opportunity to learn of the figure, as would Raphael earlier in the century. 66 The subject of the latter's design for Marcantonio's print (fig. 6) and the prominence of Minerva's figure, seen from behind, recall the less momentous beauty contest described by Athenaeus. Unique to Raphael's invention, her contour speaks of the elegance of his and Marcantonio's line, 172

1 1 A Gi ulio Clovio, The D eath of U1iah the H ittite and The Repentance of King David, fro m the Farnese H ours, Pierpo nt i\Iorgan Library, N ew York, 1\I.69, fo l. 6F-64.

embodying his diseg110. 61 By rendering Minerva so appealing, Raphael challenged both the legendary judgment by Paris and that being made by the viewer. In doing so, he also brought into the foreground his own judgment.68 Though Clovio surely had Raphael's Minerva in mind, his reference to the origins of the Callipygian Venus becomes clear with a close inspection of the twin figures of Bathsheba, which recall the t:\vo sisters of Athenaeus's tale and replicate for the reader the experience of the young brothers. In admiring them, one begins to examine the serpentine curves of the nudes, noticing the slight differences in the turn of their heads, the minute variance in the breadth of their hips; and so Clovio's trap has sprung, a trap all the more pleasing if the reader remembers Athenaeus's description of the sisters' beauty contest.69 Clovio's reference to Athenaeus, like Cartari's paraphrase, suggests a pleasant diversion, an extratextual commentary that ornaments the subject of judgment. Cartari, in fact, apologizes for including the story, which he deemed too delightful to exclude.7째 More embellished than the original, his description of the origins of the Callipygian Venus seems to relish the absurdity of the sisters' argument, whlie suggesting the lack of judgment in the young men. 1 73

Lingering on the sisters' inability to agree, Cartari stresses the earnestness with which the young brothers make their decisions and the love, rather than judgment, that guides them.11 The first brother "took a good look at those parts ... and making a diligent consideration of them, judged the elder to have the more beautiful buttocks."12 The second and younger brother, in love, comforted the younger sister who "had such beautiful buttocks that could not possibly be less beautiful than those judged by his brother."73 \X!hen comparing Clovio's figures, the cardinal might have chuckled at this witty play on visual judgment, but the grave consequence of King David's sins seen in the main images would have reminded him of the wisdom lacking in such exercises.74 Vasari commended Clovio for the decorum of his frames in the Farnese HoNrs. 75 To appropriate decorously the erotic potential of the Callipygian Venus, Clovio built a context for the figure's display that both tapped and controlled its sensuality. Able to provoke lust, the Venus appears in Clovio's work as a suitable incarnation of Bathsheba, safeguarded by the Penitential Psalms that follow - and the twin figures of Nlinerva at the base of the frame. Although the figures' association with the Callipygian Venus - another figure perhaps leaving her bath - signals their function as ornament by referring to the failure of David's judgment, their narrative role, as Bathsheba, is extraordinar;o6 ot only a powerful imago agens to remind the young cardinal of David's sin and penance, the figure of Bathsheba becomes the dangerous phantasma that effected his fall. 77 In this capacity, Clovio's figure issues a warning about the seductive power of art. For a patron known for his avid collecting of antiquities, Clovio referred to a figure that best appealed to Cardinal Alessandro's weaknesses, though the cardinal's desire, as Clovio well knew, was not limited to the inanimate.78 The link between idolatry, lust, and David appears in Pietro Aretino's paraphrases of the Penitential Psalms, which were issued in several editions after 1536. ummarizing the circumstances of David's sins, Aretino describes the king's lust for Bathsheba in the same language used for the erotic phantasma, likening her to a beautiful idol. David, he wrote, bowed before her image "which at first sight had impressed itself in his breast; so much so that he adored the nuova imagine; so inflamed with desire and love was he with her that he lost his judgment."79 The texts connecting idolatry, adultery, and murder would have been well known to the cardinal, from the Wisdom of Solomon (14:12, 24, 27) to Tertullian's Treatise 011 Pttriry.So In the context of the devotional exercise, Augustine's commentary on Psalm Fiftyone is especially pertinent, addressing the idea of imitation. Though he warns against imitating David's sin, Augustine encourages imitating his penance, "for many men will to fall with David and will not to rise with David." 81 Having already fallen with David in life and fictively in response to Clovio' figures of Bathsheba, Cardinal Alessandro read the Penitential Psalms in order to rise with David.82 Clovio's frontispieces, like Raphael's design for Marcantonio's print, employ several devices that signal his artistic virtuosity. \X!hile exercising one's eye and intellect, the reader must use judgment and acknowledge that used by the artist. A striking aspect of these pages is the difference in scale between the minute, multifigured battle scene and the single figure of King David.83 Recalling the monumental frescoes in the Sala di Costantino, on one side,

1 1. 5 Greek, Aphrodite Callip)'ges, Iuseo ArcheoJogico Nazio nale, apJes.

1.6 Marcan to nio Raim o ndi, The }11dg111e11/ of Paris, engraving, Musee d u Lo uvre, Paris.

and an easel painting, on the other, Clovio's compositions, framed like pendants, challenge the reader's sense of scale. In such a way, Clovio links the moral judgment demanded by the story of David to the aesthetic judgment required to comprehend the central images. 84 Clovio's and Raphael's reference to the Callipygian Venus as a figure of (bad) judgment seems to have been understood by Annibale Carracci who painted his own version as the incarnation of pleasure itself in his composition for the H ercules at the Crossroads in the Camerino of the Palazzo Farnese. 85 Annibale surpassed the beautifully modeled marble of the Venus, which was only a few rooms away, by adding with his brush the rosy tints of delicate flesh. 86 That the Farnese and their artists knew to enjoy the Callipygian Venus in a context that discouraged vice and nurtured judgment is indicated first by Clovio's composition, next by nnibale's work in the Camerino, and finally by the fact that the statue was eventually displayed in the Saia dei Fiiosofi of the Palazzo Farnese, where the likenesses of so many wise men might counterbalance her effect. 87

In the company of the Sdegnati and the other letterati of Cardinal Alessandro's court, Clovio was immersed in the most salient antiquarian and linguistic questions of his day and was in the perfect position to wed the art forms of the Roman canon to the medieval book of hours. Clovio's disposition of ornament was partly influenced by the conventions of book illumination, certainly, but the ornaments themselves derived from the figural language employed by the Farnese artists and courtiers. Though Clovio's imitation of contemporary works might have provided him with these figures, it was his education and long career in the Roman households of cardinals that ensured their intelligent and meaningful implementation. 17 5

[12]

<Dosso <Dossi and ( elio (alcagnini at the Court of J'errara *** GrA

CARLO FIORENZA

ONLY one painting survives bearing the signature of the artist Giovanni di

icolo Luteri (or de Lutero, ca. 1486?-1542) known in the sixteenth century as Dosso. In the lower righthand corner of his Saint Jerome, an oil painting on canvas completed around 1518, the artist signed his name with a phonetic rebus: the capital letter D intersected by a bone (osso), renders "D -osso" (fig. 1 ). 1 His signature is not a commercial trademark, but is a self-reflexive pun indicative of the artist's appreciation of visual wit. Steven Ostrow, in his introduction to the 1998 anthology Dosso's Fate: Painting and CoNrf Gtiture in Renaissance Ita/y, remarks that "the qualities of D osso's entire oeuvre mirror those of his rebus. His art - both formally and iconographically - remains elusive and difficult to categorize, which underscores why he continues to be such a compelling and endlessly challenging artist to study." 2 It follows that D osso's signature, conditioned by the humanist culture at the Este court of Ferrara, where the artist spent most of his career, has given rise to a number of divergent readings concerning its function and meaning within the religious composition. What still warrants analysis, however, is Dosso's investment in self-presentation. The artist conceived his signature as an emblematic hieroglyph, a figurative expression that is intentionally enigmatic, and one that abides by the rules of ancient language by functioning phonetically. Hieroglyphics, according to Marsilio Ficino's famous gloss of Plotinus's E1meads, was a sacred language, because ideograms and pictograms embody the wisdom of divine mysteries that can be grasped intuitively, and not through lengthy deliberation. "The Egyptians presented the whole of the discursive argument as if it were in one complete image," Ficino writes.3 A comparable method of creative expression governs D osso's representation. Saint Jerome mediates on the crucifix, which provocatively shows the figure of Christ in the flesh. The Bible, the Word of God, lies open before the saint, who translated it from Greek and Hebrew into the Vulgate. Just as Christ's incarnation constitutes the Word made flesh, so too does D osso convey his own materiality by means of illusion: the letter D casts a shadow on the ground. The painter's presence takes the place of the skull, an emblem of mortality, which traditionally appears next to Saint Jerome in meditation. His signature can be interpreted as a light-hearted gesture of artistic display combined with an element of play, yet it simultaneously presents a more complicated picture of the painter's attitude toward his art and his audience.4 Provenance records do not reveal for whom Dosso originally painted his Saint Jerollle, which is now in the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.5 But not knowing who commis176

sioned the painting does not stand in the way of studying how it may have been received. Viewing is an act of discovery that involves unraveling the painter's name and finding in this form of pictorial identification the key to a complex interplay between language and symbolic images. This process of discovery adheres to poetic principles of invention. According to the fifteenth-century humanist and art theorist Leon Battista Alberti, painting and poetry share the common exercise of invention (inventio), which literally means the "discovery" of an idea or argument.6 Throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, credit for pictorial invention resided with either the artist or the humanist advisor. Patrons were willing to allow artists to find arguments for themselves. In a letter of October 19, 1505, to the Venetian painter Giovanni Bellini, Isabella d'Este of 1antua requests a picture for her stNdiofo with the following words : "it has occurred to us to write begging you to consent to painting a picture, and we will leave the poetic invention (fa inventiva poetica) for you to make up if you do not want us to give it to you."7 Whoever was responsible for the invention, the desired effect eloquence and beauty - was the shared goal. Visual representations of Saint Jerome had an important history in Ferrara that directly involved the painter's ability to inspire poets. In the fifteenth century, the humanist Guarino Guarini celebrated the expressive character of Pisanello's portrayal of Saint Jerome in meditation: a gift from the artist, now lost, which he describes as leaving the spectator marveling in silence, not wanting to break the saint's contemplation by voicing admiration. 8 Just this tension between the verbal and the visual (and even the aural) is staged in D osso's Saint Jerome; the rebus distracts the viewer from the mute eloquence of the saint's prayers and solicits speech. As a poetic construct, D osso's signature endows his picture with a literary dimension, simultaneously evincing and undermining the conventional notion upheld by carping poets that painting is without words (sine /itteris), or mute, and therefore inferior in its ability to describe. I would not claim that the wit governing D osso's pictorial language afforded the artist intellectual status commensurate with that of a poet or humanist. Instead, his art is symptomatic of a more profound interrelation between painting and poetry at the Este court that deserves greater attention than has previously been afforded. Too often the praise bestowed on D osso by the Ferrarese poet Ludovico Ariosto in the r 532 edition of his romance epic Orlando Furioso is cited without critical examination. Ariosto, in canto 33, names D osso together with his brother Battista as artists whose excellence not only rivaled the ancients, but also stood poised next to the work of contemporary paradigm on the order of Titian, Raphael, and Michelangelo. Giorgio Vasari dismissed such praise as gratuitous local patriotism in the r 568 edition of his L e vite de' piil eccelfenti pittorz~ scuftori) ed architettori.9A review of subsequent writing on D os so reveals that later attitudes toward his achievements do not diverge significantly from Vasari's bias. The catalogue to the r 998-99 exhibition, Dosso Dossi路 Court Painter in Renaissance Ferrara, while rich in acute observations, tends to locate his achievements in the wake of the artistic path led by Raphael and Titian, among others. 1 0 Even more sensitive students of D osso's art label his distinctive style and imaginative subject matter as eclectic and "arbitrary," stemming from an "eccentric turn of mind." 11 \'{!hat these interpretations fail to appreciate is the poetic, and therefore rea-

soned, foundation of Dosso's pictorial language and how it coincides with his powers of illusion. The ingenuity of Dosso's art underwrites his relationship with Ferrara's literary personalities and simultaneously helps to fashion a learned identity that is different from that of the literati. Important insight into Dosso's involvement with the humanist culture at the Ferrarese court can be gleaned from the criticism levied on the artist by Celio Calcagnini (1479-1541), the prominent Ferrarese scholar whose career, like that of Dosso, flourished under the rule of Duke Alfonso I d'Este. Calcagnini belonged to the new nobility of Ferrara. 12 His uncle, Teofilo Calcagnini, was a favorite of Duke Borso d'Este and received one of the largest land donations in Ferrarese history. Celio was a familiaris of the Este household who distinguished himself at an early age as an extremely learned individual. His professional titles included apostolic protonotary, Este court historian, and chair of the faculty of rhetoric at the University of Ferrara. He served as an artistic advisor to Antonio Costabili, Ferrara's chief magistrate, published a theory of literary imitation, composed a treatise on silence, and was even responsible, among other accomplishments, for developing the study of hieroglyphics in Ferrara. While working in Ferrara and Rome he wrote about the artistic achievements of Raphael, Garofalo, and Dosso. Unfortunately, by contrast, little is known about the terms and conditions of Dosso's role as an artist at the Este court. The name that commonly appears in the Este account books is simply "maestro Dosso depintore." Although rarely discussed in the literature, we know that the artist belonged to the Este household late in life. An inscription recorded on the frame of his now largely destroyed Faenza altarpiece, completed by 15 34, refers to Dosso as a fami!iaris of the Este. 1 3 Still, it is difficult to determine whether Dosso's title intimates privileged status or privileged access to the Este court. 1 4 \'V'hile both artist and humanist may have shared in seigniorial benefices - Dosso earned profitable compensation for his work and at times enjoyed housing at court - Calcagnini exploited the difference in their capacity to serve their duke. He devotes an epigram to a now lost portrait of Duke Ercole II by Dosso, in which he voices his disparaging remarks: Exprimit in tabula Phaethontem Cous Apelles, Sed lucem, et radios non potis exprimere. Sic tua mi princeps Dossus forte exprimit ora, Virtutem, et moris non po tis exprimere. 1 5 (Apelles of Cos represents Phaethon in a painting, but cannot represent light and rays. Thus, my prince, Dosso may be able to represent your face, but cannot represent your virtue and character.) Here, Calcagnini opposes the power of poetry to the power of images and laments that Dosso's visual likeness is too weak to convey the inner qualities of the duke. Epigrams were intended to be pointed, venomous like a scorpion's sting. This particular piece adds a con-

temporary gloss on one from the Pla1111dec111 Anthology, a widely read collection of ancient Greek pigrams. 1 6 The poet Leontius Scholasticus, in describing a portrait of Gabriel, prefect of Constantinople, claims that his virtues are beyond the capacity of painters to represent: Even Phaethon has his likeness in paintings; but art paints the sun with his rays concealed. So you too, wise ruler of the city, 0 Gabriel, does art paint without your virtues, without all your deeds. 1 7 It would be too easy to oversimplify Calcagnini's imitation of this Greek epigram as a casual refashioning of an ancient commonplace. D osso is the only contemporary Ferrarese artist discussed by Calcagnini in his epigrams, implying a healthy rivalry between the two on the level of practice that warrants investigation. In ridiculing D osso's art, Calcagnini mixes hyperbole with humor. From Apelles to D osso, artists fail perennially in their pursuit to capture the essence of human nature. But his epigram is more readily a declaration of conditional independence than an expression of disdain. Calcagnini brings the unresolved struggle over preeminence in the liberal arts into a Ferrarese context. D osso himself makes a strong claim for pictorial supremacy over other forms of literary expression through his rebus signature. In other words, both humanist and artist champion eloquence and invention, be it verbal or visual, seeking to distinguish themselves and their own particular fields of expertise by dramatizing their differences. Just how this interdependence enables both painter and poet to express individuality can be demonstrated by examining D osso's l\fyth of Pan, an extraordinary oil on canvas that dates to 1 5 30 (fig. z.). Like many of D osso's major works, we possess no information about its original commission, but art historians concur that it was most likely painted for the Este court. 18 In the foreground a group of pagan divinities rests under the shade of towering citrus trees. The pastoral god Pan, who holds his syrinx, leers at a nymph with immaculate ivory-white skin. Fast asleep, she extends her nude body on a luxurious blue fabric that is laid over a bed of roses, irises, anemones, and lilies. A dark-skinned old woman, who wears a yellow and violet robe with one breast exposed, extends her arms over the nude in a gesture of caution or protection. Another, more youthful, woman dressed in a green costume with a billowing red cape stands above the nymph. A group of erotes hovers opposite the citrus trees, one aiming his arrow at the gods below. In the distant background, far removed from the divinities, a Gothic city emerges from the blue tones of the hills and swirling sea. The x-radiograph reveals how D osso extensively reworked his composition - what we see today is not the composition that left the artist's studio. The computer-enhanced images published in the 1998-99 exhibition catalogue shows how D osso painted a landscape over the young woman positioned above the sleeping nymph. (fig. 3). This revised grouping - Pan, the old woman, and the sleeping nymph - constituted the artist's final ver ion. The female figure dressed in green and red was partially uncovered during an invasive nineteenth-century restoration; hence, her presence will not condition the following interpretation to a great degree. Despite 1

12.1.

Dasso Dossi, Sai11t Jero11Je, ca.

1519,

oil on canvas, I unsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

D osso's extensive pictorial editing, the composition is technically brilliant. Using a broad and heavily loaded brush, he lays on pure gemlike hues with bold strokes that captivate the eyes and invite a tactile response. It is as if the artist wished to precipitate the viewer into the canvas and enthrall him or her with a complete sensory experience. early all of the vastly different readings of this picture endorse the notion tl1at D osso attempted to illustrate a particular episode from a single myth: for example, Vertumnus and Pomona, Pan and Syrinx, or Pan and Echo (all from Ovid's Metamorphoses); or icaea and Dionysus (from Nonnus's D io1'!)1siaca) . 9 But the striking anomalies in D osso's painting have frustrated all previous attempts at explanation. In cases where D osso's imagery does not match a proposed text, art historians explain away significant details under the umbrella of artistic license. With D osso, however, license i often seen as pejorative, an undisciplined and elusive expression that precludes interpretation. One scholar has even claimed that the picture seems to lack a unified subject; it is erotic enough to appeal to the Ferrarese duke and at best able to convey a loosely allegorical message.20 o study of this work has attempted to discover how D os so's audience read, meditated upon, and interpreted myth. The literary personalities of Ferrara, which included members of the Este, would have been counting on D os so to assimilate and transform mythological figures within an original pictorial invention. In this respect, I will concentrate on what literary genres D osso draws from and what they have to tell us about his pictorial construction as a source of meaning. Our questioning of 1

180

Dosso's assumptions and methods in conceiving his imagery will lead to, and go beyond, concerns with eloquence and the process of discovery that were central to Celio Calcagnini's literary enterprise in particular. At stake is the marvelous quality of myth and its connection to the natural world that motivated literary and artistic practice. To begin, Dosso's audience would have immediately recognized the relationship between his composition and the elegant formula of the satyr and sleeping nymph from the H_)lp11erotomachia Poliphi!i, a widely read vernacular text composed by Francesco Colonna and published in Venice in 1499 (fig. 4). During a love-inspired dream journey, Poliphilo, the main protagonist, discovers within a fruit-filled and flowering grove an ancient fountain in the form of a temple. This scene is illustrated by a handsome woodcut in the 1499 edition. 21 The fountain displays an image of a lustful satyr who unveils the nude body of a nymph as she sleeps at the base of a tree. A Greek inscription on the fountain dedicated to the all-nurturing parent reads: "To the Mother of All,'' or "To the All-Bearing." The configuration thematizes ature's generative powers and is emblematic of artistic inspiration. As Phyllis Pray Bober has demonstrated, the fountain can be related to the inspirational waters of the Hippocrene spring on Mount Helicon, sacred to the nymphlike Muses. 22 Given the clear compositional parallels between the woodcut and D osso's painting, it is reasonable to suggest that embedded in D osso's Nfyth of Pa11 is a meditation on the fecundity of nature, the origins of inspiration, enthusiasm, and even procreative urges. Pan is also the god of irrational possession, a nightmare demon (i1w1bNs) who haunted the imagination of classical authors and Renaissance humanists. The presence of Pan aroused terror as well as the thrill of sex, characteristics of the god that Dosso glosses with the sleeping nymph, the erotes, and the protective gesture of the old woman. 2 3 Just as D osso advertises his imitation of the 1-f)lp11erotomachia Po!iphili, he also forces the spectator to recognize the marked differences between his painting and its immediate source. The towering citrus trees, festive display of floral ornaments (including the curious red Wy, and not the lilies of the valley - !i!ii conva!!i - described by Colonna), and appearance of the old woman indicate that the artist has recast the commonplace image of the nymph and priapic satyr into a unique pictorial invention. D osso's assimilation of a variety of natural details and mythological figures conforms to the well-established theory of emulation (aem11!atio) , a practice promoted by Celio Calcagnini in his treatise D e imitatione (l 5p ). 2 4 Calcagnini advocated competition in the field of imitation as a necessary stimulus for creativity and literary innovation. He advised authors not to copy slavishly their literary model when composing a piece of literature, but to seek to surpass the text by adapting it to a new context, following the rhetorical principle of aem11!atio. Passively following in the footsteps (vestigia) of one model, Calcagnini admonishes, results in inferior eloquence. 2 5 Central to my analysis of D osso's picture is that Calcagnini advised the imitation of a variety of authors as opposed to a single model. zG Eloquence is synonymous with perfecting many voices whereas verbatim imitation of a single author produces ridiculous speech, as Zeus exemplifies in Lucian's satire Zeus tragoed/,/s. 7 My premise, therefore, is that D osso obeys this imitative strategy in order to embellish and deepen the discourse of nature within his A!fyth of Pa11 while simultaneously 1

1 2 . 2 . D asso D ossi, Ll!J'th of Pa11, ca. 1 530, oil on ca nvas, J. Paul G erty i\Iuseum, Los Angeles.

12 . 3. D asso D ossi, 1l!Jâ&#x20AC;˘th of Pa11, ca. 1 530, co mputer enh anced image wi rh figure in red removed and reco nsrru ctio n o f background , J. Paul G erry i\Iuseum, Los Angeles.

asserting his artistic practice within the humanist culture of Ferrara. By the sixteenth century, new myths concerning the origins of citrus trees were being developed in the orth Italian courts. For example, Giovanni Pontano's D e Hortfr H esperidt1111 (The Garden of the H esperides), subtitled Sive de cNlt11 citri (On the Cultivation of Citrus Trees), completed in r 500, is a Georgie modeled after Virgil. Just as Virgil presented his Georgics to the victorious general Octavian, Pontano dedicated his poem to newly triumphant Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua and husband of the Ferrarese Isabella d'Este, Alfonso's sister.28 His work honors Francesco's destruction of the French army at the Battle of Fornovo in July 149 5. The pretext of the poem embraces the peaceful pursuits and sweet rewards that follow successful military duty. According to Pontano's poetic concetto, Venus, while lamenting the death of Adonis, wished to create a tree to commemorate her love for him. The goddess pours a magic potion over Adonis's body, causing the roots and branches of a citrus tree to sprout from his teeth, hair, and limbs. 2 9 Pontano's Georgie coincided with the growing interest in the study and classification of citrus trees in Italy. There were literally hundreds of varieties of lemons, oranges, quinces, and citrons then being cultivated. At Ferrara, Duke Alfonso had gardens planted throughout the city, the two most notable being the botanical gardens on the island Belvedere and the Cedrara. The latter consisted of a garden of sparkling citrus trees situated near the Porta San Benedetto on the west end of the city and along its defensive walls. Significantly, Celio Calcagnini, who admired Pontano's writings, also imagined a new myth to explain the genesis of the citrus tree. He develops his myth in the context of a didactic commentary on citrus tree and fruits, D e citrio) cedro et citro) commentatio, 182

which he dedicated to the Ferrarese physician Antonio Musa Brasavola.3째 Calcagnini's narrative describes, in part, the origins and care of two particular species of cedrtt111 (that is, a ma!tts medica), one that bears fruit without flowers, and one that bears flowers without fruit. His text, which is based in part on the medicinal writings of Galen's teacher, Satyrus, explains how the Arcadians cultivated the aromatic, beautiful, and sweet tasting fruits ("[fjructus odoratus, pulcher, gustaque suavis") borne by such trees. 3' Calcagnini's treatise lends to a reading of D osso's unique portrayal of the Arcadian god Pan in his painting. D osso transforms and surpasses his model from the Hjpnerotomachia Poiiphiii by exploiting various litern A N T n N T 0 K A A l ary genres to develop a new and modern expression. In D osso's painting there is a close bond between the 1 2+ f-(Jp11eroto111achia Poliphili, 1499, fo lio elr, Bosto n Public Library, Rare Boo ks and divine protector, the god Pan, and the rarefied and Manusc rip ts, Q40 1.zz. perfected order of agricultural life. The union of ancient myth with a contemporary experience of nature motivated the courtly environments created by the duke. Much of the art and literature fostered at the Ferrarese court served to amplify the continuing validity of the classical experience (namely the pastoral and Georgie tastes developed by D uke Alfonso) as it existed in art and (artificially perfected) nature. Moreover, D osso's image presents a power of illusion and vivid sensory response not found in the f-!Jpnerotomachia Poiiphili or in Calcagnini's commentary on citrus trees. Through an almost obsessive scrutiny of objects Dosso offers his canvas for visual consumption and contemplation. Marvels of nature entice the viewer and feed the eyes. The artist whets all five senses by painting a glistening image of fruits and flowers, together with musical instruments and luxurious fabrics, a fold of which the sleeping nymph grasps in her hand. The marvelous aspect of D osso's imagery is not a form of escape or pure fantasy - as has been proposed but functions with an alluring, erotic force that tempts the viewer with the full spectrum of sensory experience.F The imaginary landscape and wonders of nature rival the expressive energies of Ariosto's description of Alcina's enchanted island (Orlando FNrioso, 6.20-24): its beauty and marvels seduce and ensnare the paladin Ruggiero. D osso's JVfyth ef Pan is a densely allusive work that creates layers of meaning through its close engagement with literary traditions. One of the more peculiar and visually charged details of his composition - that of the red Wy painted directly below the genitals of the nymph - is an explicit reference to a poem that Calcagnini composed in imitation of the ancient literary genre known as the Priapea, or priapic poetry. The Priapea itself is a collection of eighty Latin epigrams about the phallic god Priapus, who is either invoked or addressed, or appears as the protagonist and speaks in the first person. Priapus was distinguished by his

large erect member, believed in antiquity to ward off evil and stand as a symbol of nature's generative power. His role as a god of gardens, orchards, and the sea was that of guardian or watchman. We find this lascivious god attempting to ravish the nymph Lotis in Giovanni Bellini's Feast of the Gods of r 514, a painting that hung in Duke Alfonso's famous camerino. 33 A number of epigrams feature the sexual prowess of Priapus as a symbol of manliness and dominance, and contrast his inseminating virility to the impotent, senile penis and to aged female sexual anatomy. Renaissance readers would have admired how the lewd yet lighthearted vocabulary of the epigrams pushed the limits of the comic genre. Although the authorship of the Priapea remains enigmatic, many literary theorists of the Renaissance attributed some if not all of the Priapea to Virgil - author of the Eclogues and the Georgics. 34 Celio Calcagnini played a major role in reintroducing Priapic poetry to Italy by composing a series of nine interrelated Latin epigrams in the first decade of the sixteenth century. Calcagnini's poetic voice imitates the salacious and at times outrageous language of the Priapea and absorbs it into a contemporary context. He devotes one epigram, Priapi admonito in horto Bembi (The Exhortation of Priapus in Bembo's Garden), to a statue of Priapus in the garden of the Venetian poet Pietro Bembo, who resided in Ferrara off and on for several years beginning in 1498 .35 The placement of a statue of Priapus in a garden to deter birds and thieves mimics ancient custom. Calcagnini devised his epigram as an inscription for Bembo's ithyphallic statue. The text has Priapus speaking in the first person and introducing familiar garden words now stamped by sexual meanings: Tu quicunque meum supplex venerare sacellum, Disce prius liceat qua sibi voce loqui. Nanque ea quae crebro nobis versantur in usu Digna priapea duximus esse nota. Esto pepon culus, mihi sit colocyntha cinedus, Cunnus erit malacae, mentula crinos erit. Haec sint assuetis signata vocabula rebus Sed tum hortensi non minus apta Deo. 36 You, whoever you are who comes as a suppliant to worship at my shrine, must first learn what words are permitted to be spoken. For those which are habitually employed in common usage among us, we have deemed to be worthy of a Priapic stamp. When I say melon, I mean the buttocks; the gourd is the sodomite; the vagina will be the mallow; and the penis will be the red lily. Let these be the words marked by familiar objects, but also no less fitting for the god of the garden. The symbolic and sexually allusive metaphors of this epigram, which employ Latin transliterations of rare Greek words, are Calcagnini's own fresh inventions. These metaphors appear in other priapic epigrams, the meaning of which can only be unveiled by reading his Priapi admonito in horto Bembi. One finds that Dosso's M)1th of Pan bears a quite specific relation to the

images invoked by the double meaning of Calcagnini's obscene diction. Arguably, D osso's placement of the red lily on a direct vertical axis with the genitals of the sleeping nymph would have sparked in the minds of a learned Ferrarese audience the Priapic metaphor of the penis (111ent11!a crinos erit).n The lily, in fact, was also an emblem of the Este, and only D osso's imagery, not Calcagnini's more obscure crinon, enables this link to a courtly environment.3 8 The language of D osso's painting is Priapic: the artist recreates the bawdy yet playful veiled language cultivated by Calcagnini in a new pictorial context. Like the sleeping nymph portrayed in Colonna's Hjpnerotomachia Po!iphili, the nymph in D os o's N!Jith of Pan possesses physical and metaphorical qualities of voluptuousness that suggest seduction. Poliphilo's narrative invokes tl1e story of the Cnidian Venus sculpted by Praxiteles, an ancient work whose beauty provoked young men to masturbate.39 Dosso portray his own nymph fast asleep and tilting her body toward the picture plane to expose herself. Her nudity is therefore equally vulnerable to the gaze of Pan and that of the beholder. By contrast, the old woman above the sensuous nymph reveals her barren breast; her body conveys the derisive description of the aged female's sexual anatomy in two of the original Priapea (epigrams 12 and 46). D osso's imagery embraces the audacious humor of the Priapea and confronts tl1e viewer with an affective response.4째 With his visual puns, Dosso eroticizes the body of the nymph and provides an allegorical reading for his landscape. ature becomes a space for eloquence and discovery in relation to Este identity. The calculated obscurity, or hieroglyphic character of the red lily elicits an interpretive response - it functions as a "difficult ornament."4 1 The inferential process involved in experiencing D osso's imagery is a source of pleasure. The play of nature and the veil of figurative language are multivalent and readable to various audiences. On one level, D osso's imagery relates to scientific playfulness concerning problems of classification of nature's variety.42 Highly relevant to this discussion is Antonio Musa Brasavola's Examen omnittm simp!icittm medicamentomm, a widely popular text that was first published in r 536, but largely completed by r 534, the year of Duke Alfonso's death. Brasavola, who studied under icolo Leoniceno and Calcagnini, developed botanical gardens on the island Belvedere.43 His treatise examines the identity, origins, and medicinal properties of Dioscoridean plants and flowers. Written in the form of a dialogue, the text addresses serious matters of botanical classification with humor and irony - often introducing a play on Greek and Latin names and references to mythology. Brasavola even describes the Greek variety of red lily known as the crinon.44 The degree to which D osso endows his portrayal of fruits and flowers with a formal integrity suggests that their "meaning" may not be located exclusively in the symbolic order. (Dosso's mimetic virtuosity has yet to receive a sensitive study, especially in the context of Brasavola's encyclopedic purview of the natural world.) The very popularity of Brasavola's text demonstrates how nature would have represented the most complex aspect of the Ferrarese court imagination, combining art, science, philology, philo ophy, and myth all in one space.45 On another level, the combination of overt and obscure sexual reference in D osso's N!Jth of Pan corresponds to the metaphor of the lascivious poetic garden. Ludovico Ariosto

expresses the tension between cultivating the chaste and polluted poetic "garden" in his epigram In oliva111, a poem composed sometime after 1525 in imitation of one from the Greek Anthology (9路 130). In this elegant lyric an olive tree sacred to 1linerva complains about being in a garden teeming with the roses of Venus, the bulbs of Priapus, and the vines of Bacchus - figures of lascivious poetry ("obscena et adultera et ebria") that contaminate the wise and chaste poetry of Nlinerva ("sobria casta pudensque"), symbolized by her olive.46 When read against D osso's Jl!fyth of Pan, this epigram lends further meaning to such impure details as the red lily and swelling fruits. It also allows for a reading of the overturned and emptied wine jar in the foreground as a reference to Bacchus's intoxicating liquor. The literary material that makes up D osso's pictorial imagery shares a common origin in the mytho-poetic discourse on the generative forces of nature.The artist's image of the source, however, flirts with seductive, obscene, and phantasmic pleasures. D osso's JVfJ1th of Pan is a prime example of just how interdependent the goals of art and literature were at the Este court. Questions concerning new literary genres, scientific nomenclature, poetic decorum, and courtly identity intersect in D osso's imagery. I would suggest that only the artist could assimilate these various forms of knowledge into an image that would have had such a wide value and accessibility to the Este. Two final examples will help to situate D osso's picture within a broader constellation of court culture. The first is Girolamo Mocetto's engraving, N!J1th of A1101111011e (fig. 5). D atable to ca. 1505, it represents Amymone, daughter of D anaus, who went to fetch water for a sacrifice but grew weary and fell asleep on the island of Argos. Neptune rescued her from the advances of a satyr, seduced her, and created the Amymonian Spring in commemoration of their love.47 In the woodcut two satyrs try to violate the sleeping nymph while a shepherd (or the god Apollo) sublimates one creature's base desires with a flute. Neptune sits in the foreground, and a Priapic Term stands in the background, marking the space as lascivious. An enigmatic inscription appears on a scroll in the center foreground. It is well known that an impresa of the Gonzaga family of 1antua was a1110111os, which in Greek means "immaculate." Mocetto worked closely with artists active in Mantua, and his woodcut is intimately related to a painting (now in fragments) by the Mantuan artist Lorenzo Leonbruno titled A1101111one (or Allego1J1 of Nfantua), which essentially depicts the same composition but includes the figure of Mars and, moreover, an old woman who rebukes the advances of the satyr.48 Significantly, her form and role in the narrative accord with those of the old woman in D osso's Nfyth of Pan. Two fountains contain the heads of famous Mantuan poets, ancient and modern: Virgil and Battista Spagnoli, known as Mantuan (1447-r 516). The latter criticized the erotic poetry of certain classical authors as unedifying. Mantuan's Contra poetas impudice scribentes car111en (ca. 1490) argues that the chaste waters of Helicon should be the only drink of the poet, since the pleasures of Bacchus bring one all too close to Venus.49 Giuseppe Gerola interpreted the images of Mocetto and Leonbruno as allegories of Mantua and, in particular, the defen e of its immaculate territory from hos tile invaders. 5掳 We can take this reading one step further and associate Leonbruno's portrayal of AmJ11none, datable to the r 51os, as an allegory of edifying poetry produced in Mantua. Virgil appears here as a decorous poet next to his homeland succes186

12. 5. Girolamo Mocetto, lV[yth ofA111)'111011e, ca. 1505, engraving, British Museum, Lo nd on.

cessor - or one who sublimates priapic impulses into priapic song. The opposite is true for Dosso, whose Mjth of Pan seems to celebrate more transgressive properties of painting and poetry developed in Ferrara. 51 Dosso's practice encourages a new way of thinking about the artist's role at the Este court with regard to contemporary literary personalities. Just as the rebus in his Saint Jerome asserts a unique identity for the artist, so too does his .lV'!J;th of Pan demonstrate a singular pictorial wit. Dosso's visual puns may in fact be suggestive of the artist's individual or personal character, especially when we consider Giorgio Vasari's observation that D osso was greatly loved by the duke not only for his art but also for his amiability and pleasantness ("per essere uomo affabile molto e piacevole").52 Whatever the case may be, the two paintings offer a unique visual experience and evince a distinct field of knowledge. Both are conditioned by the responsive practices of his audience and integrate a variety of interpretive techniques. Labeling D osso's art as a visual equivalent to the writings of Calcagnini and Ariosto is perhaps an oversimplification. His art transcends conventional measures of literary achievement to celebrate his illusionistic skills and to reinforce systems of representation that governed Este identity. Although his professional status never seems to have risen above the rank of pittore, D osso's pictorial language reveals a profoundly intimate engagement with his courtly audience, which the known facts pertaining to his life barely disclose.

TheJ'rench ~naissance: c:/l_n Unfinished Trqject *** REBECCA ZoRACH T rnRRE Dan, a cleric who served as the superior of a religious order housed at the royal chateau of Fontainebleau 1 in the seventeenth century, suggested with some uncertainty in his book on the chateau that the frescoes of the Galerie Francois Premier were of "diverse subo jects of history, emblems, and poetic fictions ... that have no seguence." 2 He cites "the opinion of many" that the frescoes represent actions of the life of the king, but there appears to be no strong tradition, written or oral, to assist him in individual interpretations.> While France in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries had builders, sculptors, carvers, stained-glass makers, and metalworkers, who worked for the court as well as the Church, France took longer than Italy to develop attitudes toward art that could generate the institution of "art" per se. And although Martin Warnke argues that courts were responsible for the elevation of artistic labor to a "higher destiny,'' to the realm of the mind as opposed to the hand, I think a good case can be made that this role was actually played by the literary genre of artist's biography, ala Vasari, by the formation of art academies, and by the dissemination of prints that publicized artists and works. If these related institutions were not the only causes of the "elevation" of art, they were certainly the vehicle for its transmission to posterity. And the art and artists of the sixteenth century in France were not as well documented in their own time as was sixteenth-century Italian art. Many major works survived, but some, like the Galerie Franc;:ois Premier at Fontainebleau (fig. 1) were incomprehensible to viewers even shortly after they were created. In formulating a theory regarding the status of court artists, \,'{/arnke was bound, by the very nature of the historical record, to look more closely at artists who achieved fame. In France, these artists were mostly attached to the court, but moved back and forth, as other courtiers did, between court and city, Fontainebleau and Paris. Collaboration between the two occurred most prominently in the case of royal entries, but in other contexts as well. We know a great deal about artists like Rosso Fiorentino (who was in charge of the ga!erie) and Benvenuto Cellini (fig. 2), who were written about by Vasari and others because tl1ey were Italian. Though the court of France certainly had a role in developing the fame and status of artists, these artists were called to the French court because they were already famous. In this paper, two representative works - the large decorative ensemble of the Galerie Franc;:ois Premier and Cellini's saltcellar - will serve as a backdrop. They are indicators of the aesthetic sensibilities of the French Renaissance, even as they are not necessarily typical of it. 188

I will examine the ornamental vocabulary of Fontainebleau through its further development in other media, in particular, drawings and prints, and the way this stylistic vocabulary, identified with the court, took shape and developed its most influential manifestations in collaborative contexts oNtside the court. \'{!hat I refer to as the "French Renaissance" is largely a phenomenon of the 15 30s and i 54os, when Italian artists working in a classicizing idiom were imported into France to renovate, expand, and decorate the chateau of Fontainebleau and to perform other duties for the king and court. Some of these artists certainly did receive honors and elevated status at Francis's court, and in some cases received property, or the use of it - the precarious use of it in Cellini's case - in Paris. Most of the artists working at the court of Fontainebleau were not so well remunerated. The simple fact of artists receiving elevated status and honors at court is not enough to qualify an episode in the history of art as crucial to the development of the modern notion of the artist. We would need to show that that status is part of a progressive history, that it had some impact on later generations of artists. One of the ways in which it might leave such a trace would be through biography, art criticism, academic institutions, and, potentially, oral tradition. But if humanist iconography and difficult symbolic content are appropriate indices of the artist's status as intellectual, we have to confront the fact that very little evidence exists to uggest that the complex iconographies that artists at Fontainebleau devised had much of an afterlife at court in their own century. They may, however, have had more impact outside the court. In the case of these two works in particular, while their richness - the sheer value of materials and workmanship - may have continued to be appreciated, the court did not preserve substantial memory of the complex iconographic programs embedded in them by their creators. Perhaps "embedded" is thus too strong a word. But Cellini and Rosso and their collaborators went to great lengths to produce works that conveyed meaning, often abstruse meaning, and often understandable in the context of performance. For example, another work by Cellini, his statue of Jupiter, was explicitly staged by the artist as a performance. When Francesco Primaticcio went to Rome to cast the best of the antique sculpture there, Cellini believed it was with the goal of making his own work pale by comparison. When Primaticcio returned and set the casts up in the Grande Gallerie, Cellini installed his own statue of Jupiter there with them. Cellini had put his statue on rollers, so it could move, and placed a torch in the figure's thunderbolt, thus designing it to appear animated, to produce a powerful impression of the capabilities of his art.4 Primaticcio and the king's mistress, fadame d'Etampes had staged an event intended to make Cellini look bad, but, according to Cellini, it backfired: Francois judged Cellini's statue superior to the antiques. In this instance, Madame d'Etampes criticized further - "one had to consider that I had put a veil upon my statue to conceal its faults" - and Cellini responded with a gleeful phallic display. "I had indeed,'' he writes, "flung a gauze veil with elegance and delicacy over a portion of my statue, with the view of augmenting its majesty. This, when she had finished speaking, I lifted from beneath, uncovering the handsome legs of the god; then tore the veil to pieces with vexation." 5As Evelyn \'{!elch points out in this volume, artists needed to find ways to be more like performers in order to secure long-lasting employment for themselves, and though we

may not be able to trust every detail of Cellini's account, we can see, at least, his own delight in theatricality and its intended effects. \"Xlhile we can lament the loss of iconographic knowledge (and thus the unfinished nature of "the French Renaissance"), for viewers outside the circle of intimates of artist and/ or patron, it may have been materials, richness, and style that were most important. In his essay "Iconology and Iconography,'' Envin Panofsky argues that the Renaissance truly began when artists began combining classical themes (i.e., narratives) with classical motifs (i.e., styles - often in imitation of actual antique objects). For Panofsky this indicates a massive cognitive shift toward a capacity for "objectivity": the capacity of seeing the past as distant and discontinuous (graspable as an object of scholarly inquiry) rather than as intimately present. Yet for French kings in the sixteenth century, new styles represented what was fashionable, giving a particular style to the court's material culture, and expressing personal magnificence and political aspirations. As Stephen Campbell writes of Cosme Tura, in the catalogue of the exhibition for which these essays were assembled, style was the commodity that artists had on offer. D uring the reign of King Francis I, and beyond, the style of art at court received the massive "facelift" of classicism. But this did not necessarily enact scholarly knowledge as much as it referred to it. Tbis style would lend to Francis I the aura of the triumphal emperor regardless of his numerous military defeats; it would also provide pleasure to the court in its more titillating aspects. One example of the politics of style appears in the minor political struggle among the city leaders of Paris over the gift to be given to Eleanor of Austria, Francis's second queen, on the occasion of her ceremonial entry into Paris in r 5 3r. In the absence of the governor of Paris, who had presented a design for a pair of candelabra (fig. 3), the city voted instead to follow tradition and present the new queen with a silver gilt buffet. By custom, the value of the buffet was increased slightly with each new queen to represent increased honor, but it was a new idea to give her a single pair of candlesticks or other such object. When the governor - a royal appointee - returned after an illness, he insisted on the candelabra, which had apparently been consciously selected by the king or his advisors as a way of making an impression on the imperial retinue of Charles V, Eleanor's brother, who would be present at the ceremony. The anonymous design was explicitly presented as an allegory of light and peace, with captions that explained its meaning. The potential to convey a secular (political) meaning through art seems to have been a convenient attribute of tl1e new style. The design was printed as part of the book that recorded Eleanor's entry for posterity. As this example shows, style was imparted through the medium of design, which suggests a potential paradox. D esign, disegno, is crucial to Vasari's promotion of the intellectual abilities of artists, particularly Florentine artists, yet we are not accustomed to think of drawings for the decorative arts as more than ornamental, trivial, even. For Vasari, design is not only drawing but intention, plan, the intellectual agency that conceives a work before making it. This idea was shared, for example, by Benvenuto Cellini, who wrote in explanation for one of his designs for the seal of the Florentine Accademia del Disegno: "Having considered how great

are these arts of ours that come from design, since man cannot do anything perfectly without referring to design, from which he always draws the best counsel. .. design being truly the origin and principle of all the actions of man ... "G The idea of the physical drawing as expressing intention points to the possibility, in some media, of separating design and execution. This separation could also create a certain division of labor (one artist could produce a drawing from which another could work) and also a certain temporality (a design was prospective, an indication to a patron of what the final product would look like). \'\/hat, then, of design as simply stylish, of designs for ornamental objects or peripheral elements that might be considered not only incidental but perhaps not "intentional" in the same sense as a narrative painting with an identifiable iconographic program? Like otl1er "court artists," Vasari tells us, Rosso made "infinite designs of saltcellars, vases, shells, and other bizarreries, that the king had made in silver ... he made designs for all the vessels of a lung's credenza, for all these things, equipage for horses, masquerades, triumphs, and all other things that one can imagine, and with such strange and bizarre fantasy that no one could do better."7 In this context, I would argue that ornament could actually have more meaning - and more meanings - tl1an we might expect. Renaissance emblem books make clear that one symbol could have many (and sometimes contradictory) interpretations. Thus we need to consider the potential layering of multiple meanings in the same object - meanings that might have been of import to artists themselves, to patrons, and to courtiers, including humanist scholars. For instance, the visual vocabulary of the ornament that appears in the Galerie Frarn;:ois Premier, elsewhere at Fontainebleau, and in other works by artists who sojourned there, is characterized by an emphasis on natural abundance. The e stuccoes in the Chamber of the Duchesse d'Etampes (fig. 4) provide a telling example. In the gaierie itself (fig. 5), the most prominent decorative elements are fruit swags and baskets and the fertile bodies of women. These motifs seem to emphasize the fecundity of the earth and of bodies: production and reproduction. The agricultural emphasis in ornament - especially the specific use of fruit as opposed to the flowers that are more common in comparable ornament in Italy - may have had different meanings for different viewers and makers. For a French king intent on promoting a protonationalist and personal agenda of fruitfulness, it implied specifically the agricultural abundance of France as a nation, a theme that also pervaded royal entry ceremonies, works by French historians, and the writings of outside observers such as Venetian ambassadors. One ambassador, Giovanni Correro, stated, "in France one discovers a land entirely beautiful and good (which cannot be said to the same extent of Italy), beautifully situated, with most fertile terrain, such that it produces easily not only the amount necessary for the use and comfort of the inhabitants, but it also supplies a great abundance to foreigners." 8 Ornament also expressed fertility in an eroticized sense, in keeping not only with Francis's taste but also with that of his court. To humanist scholars, it may also have suggested recondite meaning (the notion of the "fruits" of learning derived from and supplanting the "flowers" of rhetoric). Finally, to Italian artists, it may have connoted the back-

13.1. View o f the Galerie Frarn;ois Premi er, Fontainebleau, completed r 539 .

ward rusticity of Fontainebleau, a setting that seemed liberating and idyllic but also confining. Architect Sebastiano Serlio, in composing his L ibro Estraordinario at Fontainebleau in the 154os, takes the wild environs of the royal palace as an excuse to depart from the traditional orders and create a series of drawings of fantastical rusticated (roughened) portals that he describes as "licentious things" (cose licenciose) .9 As John Onians has pointed out, Serlio does acknowlege that the portals are simply orthodox constructions masked and dressed up (or travestied), stravestita and f atta maschera.10 The engravings in his books tell a story not of license but of confinement; the portals' Doric or Corinthian columns appear imprisoned within bands of rusticated stone. Thus, for urban(e) Italian artists and architects working in France, their new home may have resembled a state of nature, a rustic retreat that gave them freedom from the restrictions of home; yet perhaps they felt something like the delicate Corinthian columns of some of Serlio's portals (fig. 6), restricted by this very freedom. Multiple levels of meaning, then, not always coherent among themselves, were present in both narrative scenes and ornamental vocabularies. This may also account for some of the interpretive difficulties we find in the art of Fontainebleau. The court may have fostered works that were both beautiful and "difficult" because artists offset the imperatives of styl-

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ishness by creating works that highlighted their own knowledge. Or artists, frustrated with their subjection to the whims of a patron (in this case, the king) may have inserted subtly subversive messages into their works; seemingly ornamental areas of the composition and its enframing elements might have actually been best suited for such acts. The performance of meaning took place, we can speculate, in both casual and more formal conversations, and in "guided tours" that tl1e monarch gave to visitors - to which we have little or no historical access. How can we understand such potential multiplicity in light of the issues of intention mentioned earlier? I suggest that our notions of how to understand collective or collaborative "intention" are incredibly impoverished. How can we account for collaborative discussions, spirited disagreement, the master's corrections, the grudging or enthusiastic obedience of underlings, rivalries, cooperation, the criticisms and comments of courtiers, the power of the king to trump everyone else, and the artist's capacity to sneak subversive elements in? It is all too easy to allow discussions of complex authorship to devolve into a factitious unitary intention regardless of the number of people involved. But does this matter? I think so; the restricted historical range of the concept of heroic individual artist means we should not take

13-4路 Wlorkshop of Prirnaticci o, 1541-44, stucco figures with Taming of Bucephalus, Fontainebleau, Chamber of the Duchesse d'Etampes.

13.5. Stucco ornamentation, detail, Fontainebleau, Galerie Franc;ois Premier.

this concept for granted, all the more so in the period of its initial construction. In the case of the Galerie Franc;ois Premier, the execution was clearly collaborative. As for the initial conception, we do not know to what extent the iconography was the product of Rosso's imagination, or of consultations among king and artist and/or other courtiers. The galen.e's iconography glorifies Francis I, and we must assume that he had a hand in it, whether directly or implicitly. Andre Chastel, discussing the authorship of the gaferie, dreams of a single scholarly "author": "It is a pity we can still only speculate about the humanist, archeologist, hellenist and informed iconographer who collaborated with Rosso and surely with the king in this dazzling invention." 1 1 In the end he proposes that such courtier-humanists as Lazare de Baif, Andrea Alciati, and Guillaume Bude might have worked together to develop the ga!erie's iconographic "program." I want to add another name to this list, one that as far as I know has not been mentioned in connection with the gaferie's iconography: Robert Estienne, head of a Parisian publishing house that was to become a famous dynasty. Estienne's participation would reflect an additional collaboration: one between court and city. Estienne necessarily had a profound knowledge of numerous Latin and Greek texts, among them the commentary on Virgil by the fourth century Roman grammarian Servius Maurus Honoratus, which Estienne published in r 529 (and reprinted in 1 5p ). This text might have served as a source for many of the narrative scenes in the galerie; in fact, its description of several narratives also found in the galerie is the closest I have found to the versions of the stories presented there and thus seems a likely source for at least a few of the scenes. (For example, Servius's version of the story of Cleobis and Biton includes the plague illustrated in the galerie; the more oft-cited Herodotus does not.) Estienne's role may have been neglected in the past in part because he is topographically associated with Paris. Thus, when we speak of court or city, we need to keep in mind the connections between the two. Whatever names we adduce, and without downplaying Rosso's intellectual contribution, I would also suggest that we may want to think of designs, of physical drawings, as the prod-

uct of collaborative rather than individual agency. Having discussed the artist's collaboration with patrons and scholars, I want to deal with one artist in particular who is associated with Rosso's style. Among Rosso's many collaborators on the Galerie Frarn;:ois Premier were Italian, Flemish, and French artists. As I have stated, our understanding of collective "intention" or agency is impoverished, as is our understanding of the development of particular styles through collaboration. Even if we take design as a provisional "sign" of intention, we cannot necessarily establish a style as the sole property of a particular artist. This is true, for instance, in the case of Leonard Thiry, a Flemish artist who must have worked very closely with Rosso and later produced numerous drawings for engravings. Among Rosso's assistants in the Galerie Frarn;:ois Premier, Kurt Kusenberg ranks Thiry first. He writes, "The style of the Florentine, under Thiry's pencil, takes on a rounded, droll, precious quality, a slight tinge of eroticism; his abrupt composition gains in concision, regularity, and a nice roundness." 12 Thiry's known oeuvre consists entirely of drawings, and its further extent is known mainly through the engravings made after his work, mainly by Rene Boyvin, a French engraver from Angers with whom he had his most productive collaboration. 1 3 Theirs is the only collaboration explicitly referenced in a signature, that of the Livre de ia conqmste de ia Toison d'01~ published by Jean de Mauregard (with text by Jacques Gohory) in Paris in r 56 3, with twenty-six engravings of the story of the Golden Fleece made after Thiry's drawings (figs. 8, 9). As Henri Zerner has stated, it is the print "that, so to speak, minted the art of Rosso and drew from it an ornamental language at the disposal of all sorts of artists and artisans." 1 4 Minted in a quite literal sense, since even if prints were very cheap, once they were printed in massive quantities, they could be a lucrative enterprise. 1 5 D esigns for objects were conducive to engraving for purposes of sale on the open market. These included jewelry, tableware, furniture, frames for pictures or mirrors, medallions, fountains, buildings, and decorative motifs that could be applied to many kinds of objects. Such designs could have served various functions - as vicarious fantasy, as advertisement for the king's new aesthetic sensibilities, and as fodder for imitation. 1 6 The actual process of transmission from "Rosso's" style to prints produced in Paris or elsewhere is difficult to determine. Scholars have made attempts at distinguishing Rosso's inventions from Thiry's, but they tend to assume that Thiry's drawings for objects fall into two categories: those with intellectual content, which must be direct copies after Rosso's originals, and those whose iconographic program is incoherent or irrelevant to the object, which are allowed to be his own. Rosso's works are those that combine form and content, for instance pitchers that thematize the sea through gods and tritons, or a wine cask that tells the complex story of the extraordinary double birth of Bacchus (fig. 9), extracted from the immolated body of his mother Semele, gestated in the thigh of his father Jupiter, and entrusted to nymphs who are persecuted by Juno for harboring him. Framing figures - satyrs with women, boys with goats - drink wine and display its effects; grapes and grape leaves are strewn about. One scholar writes (underestimating the capabilities of the "assistant"), "There are two distinct groups in the body of studies for works in precious metals. On the

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one hand, the most daring creations, in which a ewer, vase or cup serves as the pretext for an exercise in virtuosity that relegates the form and the function of an object to a definitely secondary status. Clearly these are Rosso's inventions ... and his assistant has simply reproduced them for the engraver. In the other group are the projects in which the draughtsman takes up the decorative formulas of the School of Fontainebleau, transposing with talent, but without imagination, the solutions tried out in the large mural decorations. In these latter designs, the role of Rosso is, at most, that of a distant source of inspiration, and the invention of the object is evidently Thiry's own." 1 1 In tlus view, artistic creation is divided into invention, that is, tl1e generation of a unique treatment of a subject, the transfer of this invention into a drawing suitable for the engraver, and the engraver's production of the final product. The draftsman's contribution is perhaps the slimmest. Left to his own devices, he can only combine motifs learned from his master, adding nothing of his own. This notion seems purely motivated by the need to shore up hierarclues of quality, but it is, in fact, the understanding that has generally been applied to the Golden Fleece designs. In the case of drawings attributed to Thiry "after Rosso," we might also question whether many, or even any, of the extant printed designs were actually conceived as designs for real objects and whether these then are, or are not, the sort of tlung to which Vasari was referring, or if, rather, they are visual exercises, cabinets of curiosities to be mined for details. Vasari himself may have had no knowledge of the kinds of designs he mentions as Rosso's French production apart from prints after Thiry's drawings. Furthermore, the designs for the Golden Fleece series do use motifs from the Galerie Franc;:ois Premier, but they recombine them with considerable wit and add a wealth of new material. They humorously collapse levels of representation, aligning different scales of bodies, tiny objects, and decorative motifs and skillfully presenting dramatic events. To say they

lack imagination seems perver e, and to say they fail to capture the coherence of the Galerie Frans;ois Premier is to posit a coherence that interpreters of the galerie have not succeeded in establishing. Biography, of course, influences our thinking here. Our lack of knowledge of Thiry's life may lead us to think that any "intelligent" designs must have been Rosso's and that Thiry was simply a slavish imitator. Vasari makes only a brief mention of Thiry. On the basis of stylistic comparisons, icole Dacos has argued that he worked in the workshop of Bernard van Orley, and that he also traveled to Rome and was influenced by Raphael. 1 s Two main pieces of documentary evidence have provided us with the approximate limit dates of his career: the admission of one Lenaert Terey into the painters' guild of Antwerp in r 533, 1 9 and the fact that Jacques Androuet du Cerceau, prolific printer-publisher, made a statement in r 550 that suggests Thiry had recently died in nt:werp. 20 My research suggests he may have lived at least a little, and perhaps a good deal, longer. First, Du Cerceau's statement can also be translated as Thiry's having recently left for Antwerp. 21 Jean de Mauregard's claim in r 563 of having hired Thiry to produce drawings for the Golden Fleece series must be weighed against Du Cerceau's even if Du Cerceau was indeed claiming that Thiry had died. The designs frequently include the figure of Envy, which was used as a device by Gohory, suggesting that the author may have worked with the artists in a broader collaboration than has been possible to imagine previously. We might consider that Du Cerceau widely appropriated the work of others and it may have even been in his interest to claim Thiry's death; or he may simply have been mistaken. Finally, a document in the city archives of Antwerp mentions a Master Thierry (the French spelling of Thiry's name) maintaining a workshop that included at least one French apprentice in r 5 5r. 22 Thus we cannot rule out the idea that he may have been alive and working well beyond 1 5)O. \'{fe might also want to rethink the notion of the quantity of Thiry's production independent of Rosso, and the extent to which what we understand as a courtly style may actually have been produced outside the court - and may also have survived better outside the court. Cellini's famous golden saltcellar is an example of this. Cellini himself was at pains to describe the "invention" of his now famous object for posterity: It was a Golden Saltcellar of an oval shape two-thirds of an arm's length, and the base was four fingers in height. The principal components of the invention of the Saltcellar were two Figures, one representing eptune, god of the sea, and the other Berecynthia, goddess of the earth . . .At the other end of the saltcellar, on the shore, a woman of the same dimensions, roundness and metal, represented the earth, who by design met Neptune's legs with her own, of which one was stretched out and the other bent, as an allusion to mountains and plains. She held in her left hand a little temple of the Ionic order, splendidly decorated, which served to hold pepper, and in her right hand a Cornucopia filled with her richest productions. On the Earth or shore on which she rested, flowers and leaves sprung up, among which various little animals played and battled together. Thus, the earth and the sea were each surrounded by their own animals and ornaments that belong to them. 2 3

13.8 Rene Boyvin after Leonard Thir y,Jason a11d the B11//s

ofAeetes from L ivre de la co11q11ele de le Toiso11 d' Or, engraving, I

13.8. Leonard Thiry, design fo r wine cask, engraving, ca. r 5 50, Louvre, Paris.

563 .

Twenty years later the saltcellar was no longer identified as Cellini's creation nor was its complicated subject matter understood. A royal inventory of r 5Go construes the female figure as Thetis, a sea nymph and consort of eptune. Z-t As a "triton," the object was presented to Archduke Ferdinand II of Tyrol, the brother of the Holy Roman Emperor, as a gift in thanks for his assistance with the wedding of Charles IX and Elizabeth of Austria in r 570. \Y./e might compare the court's failure to "remember" this object's iconography to a design by Thiry (fig. ro) , which playfully alters it, separating it into two cups that present variations on the themes Cellini developed (in an object that, it is worth emphasizing, was completed after Rosso's death). And while it is not entirely inconceivable that Rosso could have seen Cellini's drawings or model, it seems more likely that it is an independent response by Thiry, and one that shows mastery of both style and content. Thiry has adapted the figure of Berecynthia into a hybrid with the goddess Natura, with whom the earth goddess was sometimes identified; atura presides over a life cycle that consists of birth, sexual intercourse, and death, skillfully elaborated over the top, stem, and base of the cup. Thiry's work is very much like Rosso's in its penchant for wit and eroticism, and was powerfully influenced by work with the Italian artist. It is no surprise that determinations of quality get mapped onto the distinction between master and follower. My aim is not to make a strong argument for Thiry's sole authorship of works that have previously been considered a copy by Thiry after Rosso's invention, or simply to "rehabilitate" Thiry. Rather, it might be more useful to refer to works like these - whose sole authorship cannot be determined - by a stylistic designation rather than one of individual authorship. \Y./e might call this a "curious" style: the term contains the sense of carefulness, of the cabinet of curiosities, and of its origins - direct or indirect- at court (we might even say its success at miming courtly style). The curious style delights in innuendo, disguise, and the fold; its lines are organic, irregularly curving within an overall geometric order. When engraved, the line creates volume and chiaroscuro through variation in the thickness of the excavated line. Compared to other mannerist styles in sixteenth-century France it is somewhat less interested in shaping elegant,

elongated bodies. It refuses a clear distinction between richly ornamented surface and threedimensional space. \'Xll1ile I would not argue that we should do away with the concept of authorship, we might more productively test Warnke's argument by attempting to redescribe works in terms of a style - and the mea11ings embedded in their style - rather than as the products of an individual author. \Ve also need to be more creative in imagirung the uses of style and the performance of mearung around objects on the part of various distinct but overlapping groups of producers and consumers both at court and away from the court. It does not do any disservice to Rosso's geruus or to our understanding of Francis's political ambitions to see ways in which they collaborated with others, and in which others (scholars, courtiers, and other audiences) may have taken their own mearungs from the works we study. By bringing a more flexible understanding to these works, we may have a better sense of the assumptions inherent in our notion of the status of the Renaissance court artist, and see the works themselves in a different light. If the "unfirushed" nature of the French Renaissance means that it did not form part of some satisfying history of the progressively more elevated status of the artist, it nonetheless can invite and challenge us to find new ways to approach the work produced in sixteenth-century France - and artistic production in general.

1 3 .1 0 .

Rene Boyvin after Leonard Thiry, Salt and Pepper T路essels, engraving, Rijksmuseum , .Amsterdam.

J\(Qtes to the <Text *** !11troductio11 STEPHEN

CAMPBELL

' i\Iartin \'\larnke, The Court / lrtist: 011 the ,. lncesto• of the 11lodem, lrtist (Cambridge, 1993). The book first appeared as Hofkiinstler: Zur T!n;geschichte des 111odemen Kiimtlers (Cologne, 1985), and had originally been written as the author's second doctoral dissertation in 1969. 2 1 \\ arnke, Court Artist, p. x" For a comparable view see Pierre Bourdieu, The Field of C;t!t11ral Prodnction: Essa)'S 011 ,. Jr! and Literature, ed. Randall Johnson (New York, 1993), especially pp. 29-14 5. 3 \X!arnke's "List of artists knighted o r raised to the nobility up to 1800," Co1111 Artist, pp. 168-74 includes architects, armorers, engravers, goldsmiths, medallists, painters, and sculptors; it does not include tapestry workers or embroiderers. The general neglect of tapestries in accounts of court patronage is emphatically redressed in Thomas P. Campbell et al., Tapesto 1in the Renaissance: Art a11d Jlfagnijicence, exh. cat. (New York, 2002). While for the most part courts obtained their tapestries from urban manufacturers, or through agents, some princes like the Este of Ferrara established tapestry workshops directly under the auspices of the court; see T. Campbell, Tapesto1, pp. 93-98. 4· The most comprehensive is provided by the essays in The /111 Market i11 ltaQ', eds. Marcello Fantoni, Louisa i\Iatthew, and Sarah i\Iatthews-Grieco (i\Iodena, 2003). 5. See Stephen J. Campbell, Cos1J1e Tura of Ferrara: Sl) le, Politics and the Renaissance Ci!)\ IffO-I-19! I ew Haven, 1997), p. 12. 6 For Pisanello's courtly migrations see Luke Syson and Dillian Gordon, Pisanello: Painter to the Renaissance Court (London, 2001). 7 Pi sanello's offer of gifts to Leonello d'Este of Ferrara might be seen, in otl1er words, to parallel the dedication of the Philodoxeos and other literary offerings to the same prince by Alberti: for which see Anthony Grafton, Leo11 Battista r llhe11i: 1llaster B111Jder of the Italian Reniassa11ce ew York, 2000), pp. 189-224. For i\Iaccagnino's and Pisanello's gifts, see Campbell, Cos111e Tnra, pp. 11-12. For 1-\nguissola, see the essay by \'\'elch in this volume. On Gentileschi's self-marketing through gift-giving see Elizabeth Cropper, "Life on the Edge: Artemisia Gentileschi, Famous Woman Painter" in Orazio a11d Arte111isia Gentileschi, exh . cat., ed. Keith Christiansen and Judith\\!. Mann (New H aven, 2001), pp. 269-70. For the other artists mentioned here, see Warnke. For another useful perspective on tl1e idea of the gift and the rise of the "liberal arts" in tl1e sixteenth century, see Alexander agel, "t\rt as Gift: Liberal Arts and Religious Reform in the Renaissance," in Negotiating the Gift: Pre-Modem Figura1

tions of Excha11ge, ed. Gadi Algazi, Valentine Groebner, and Bernard Jussen (Gi:ittingen, 2003), pp. 219-360. 8 Evelyn S. \Xfelch, Art and /lnthoril)' i11 Renaissance Milan 1 Iew H aven, 199 5), pp. 242-68. 9 i\Iichael Baxandall. "A D ialogue on J\rt from the Court of Leonello d'Este: .Angelo D ecembrio's De Politia Litteraria Pars LXVII," Joumal of the Warburg a11d Co11rta11/d Institutes 26 (1963), pp. 304-26; and "Guarino, Pisanello and i\Ianuel Chrysoloras," Joumal of the ll ~rb111;g a11d Courtauld Institutes 28 ( r 965), pp. 183-20 5. 1 ° For Robert of Anjou on Giotto, see \'\'arnke, Court Artist, p. 9; for King Alfonso of Aragon, pp. 52, 56. n For the 1492 Gonzaga decree on behalf of i\Iantegna see Paul Kris teller, r lndrea Ma11teg11a (New York, 1901) pp. 486-87; for that on behalf of Bonsignori in 1494 see \'\farnke, Court r lrtist, p.148; for Costa in 1 509 see Salvatore S. Nigro, Lorenzo Costa (i\Iodena, 2001), p. 161; for Leonbruno in 1 52 3 see Leandro Ventura, Lorenzo Leo11bm110, 1111 pittore a code ne/la Jlfanto/la di pri1110 Cinquecento (Rome, 1995), pp. 268-69. 12 Baxandall, Painting a11d Experience in Fifteenth Cent110• !tab• (Oxford, 1 972), p. 14. 1 3 Richard Gordon Brown, "The Politics of i\Iagnificence in Ferrara, 14 50--1505 : A Study in the Socio-Political lmplications of Renaissance Spectacle" (D. Phil, University of Edinburgh, 1982), pp. 472-n 14 Thomas Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara: Ercole d'Este and the !11vention of a Ducal Capital (Cambridge, 1996), p. 280. 1 5 Syson and Gordon, Pisa11el/o, p. 57. 1 6 Vespasiano, The T7espasiano Ne111oirs: Lives of Illustrions il!en of the XT /th Cent111)', trans. W'illiam George and Emily Waters (New York, 1963), p. 77. 17 Vespasiano, T-7espasiano Me111oirs, p. 64. 1 8 Francis Ames-Lewis, The Intellectual Life of the Ea11)1 Renaissance Artist (New Haven, 2000) tends to treat intellectual aspirations as coextensive with a desire for material success. 1 9 See Karin-edis Barzman, The Florentine ./ lcade1JI)' and the Eai'l)i Modern State: The Discipline of Diseg110 (Cambridge, 2000). 20 Norbert Elias, The Civilizing Process, fl State For111ation a11d Civilizatio11, trans. Edward Jephcott (Oxford, 1978), pp. 441-525; Aldo Scaglione, Knights at Courf.' Courtliness,

Chivalo' a11d Courtes)' fro111 Ottonia11 Ger111at!)' to the ltalia11 Renaissance (Berkeley, 1991 ); C. Stephen Jaeger, The Origins of Courtliness: Civilizing Trends and the For111ation of Court6 1 Ideals (Philadelphia, 1985); Mario Biagioli, Galileo, Courtier: The Practice of Science in the Culture of Absolutis111 (Chicago, 1993). From the Capitolo in lode de/ dappoco; translation (slightly modified) from Deborah Parker, Bronzi110: Re11aissa11ce Painter as Poet (Cambridge, 2000), p. 111. 21

201

22 See Pietro Aretino, Co11igia11a e a/Ire opere, ed. Angelo Romano (Milan, 1989); Chrisropher Cairns, Pietro _, lretino a11rl the Rep11blic of T e11ice (Florence, 1985), pp. 31-49, and the remarks on the play in Jodi Cranston, The Poetics of Portrait11re i11 the Italian Renaissance (Cambridge, 2000), PP· i 50--51. 2 3 John Berger, The S11ccess and F'tli/11re of Picasso (Harmondsworth, 1965), pp. 40--41. 2 4 Rebecca Zorach, "The l\Iatter of Italy: Sodomy and the Scandal of Style in Sixteenth-Century France," jo11mal of Nerlie1•al a11rl Eai!J•Nor/em St11rlies 28 (1998), pp. 581-609. 2 5 C. Jean Campbell, The Ca111e of Co1111i11g and the A11 of the Co1111111111e of San Ci111ig11ano l290-1po (Princeton, 1997), P· 20.

Chapter I EVELYN S. WELCH 1 l\Iartin Warnke, The Co11rt _, 111ist: On the Ancesto• of the Nor/em / lrtist (New York, 1993). For more recent discussions see T. Von Srockhausen, "The Courts and the Arts," in Eco1101J1ia er l1te: Secoli XIII-XI lll: / ltti de/la trentatreesi111a setti111a11a di st11rli, ed. Simonetta Cavaciocchi (Florence,

2002), pp. 4Z1-29. Suzanne B. Butters, "Making Art Pay: The l\Ieaning and Value of r\rt in late 16th-Century Rome and Florence," in The Art Market in !tab', eds. l\I. Fantoni, L. l\Iatthew, and S. Matthews-Grieco (l\Iodena, 2003), pp. 25-40. 3 For example, Adriano Franceschini, .rlrtisti a Ferrara in eta 11111anistica e ri11asci111entale: Testi111onianze archivistiche, Part II, vol. I: dal 1472 al 1492 (Ferrara, 1993), p. 20, cites documentation for Maestro Zoanne Trullo and l\Iaistro Girardo, who are sometimes called "depintore dela cone," but their sphere of activity did not seem to range beyond low-cost decorative painting and whitewashing. 4 For a broad historiographic discussion, see Trevor Dean "Le Corti: una problema storiografica," in Origini de/lo 2

stato: processi di for111azione statale i11 Italia fra 111erlioevo e eta 111orlema, eds. Giorgio Chittolini, Antonio Molho, and Pierangelo Sciera (Bologna, 1994), pp. 42 5-48, and Marcello Fantoni, "Corte e storia nell'l talia dei secoli XIV-XV!," in the same volume, pp. 449-96. For a useful comparison see, Chris Given-\X'ilson, The Rqpl Ho11seho/d

and !he IVng's Affinil)•: Service, Politics and Finance in England, 1360-1113 (New Haven, 1986). 5 See A. l\Iaspes, '"Prammatica pel ricevimento degli ambasciatori inviati alJa corte di Galeazzo l\Iaria Sforza, duca di l\Iilano (1468 10 Dicembre)," .rlrchivio storico /0111barrlo 7, anno 17 (1890), pp. 146-51. ee also Ordine et officii de casa de lo i!/11Slrissi1110 signor d11ca de Urbino, ed . Sabine Eiche (Urbino, 1999). 6 Guido Guerzoni, "The Italian Renaissance Courts Demand for the Arts: The Case of d'Este of Ferrara (1471-1 560)" in _, lrt Markets in £11rope, 1400-1300, eds. Michael North and David Ormrod (Aldershot, 1998), pp. 61-80. 7 Guido Guerzoni, "Ricadute occupazionali ed impatti

202

economici della committenza artistica delle corti estensi tra Quattro e Cinquecento" in E.cono1111a eA1te. Secoli XII/XI 711: .rltti de/la trentatreesi111a setti111a11a di st11rli, ed. Simonetta Cavaciocchi (Florence, 2002), p. 197, n. 19 8 Giovanni Conversini da Ravenna, "De Primo eius introitu ad aulam" in liPo Co11rl Treatises, eds. Benjamin Kohl and James Day (l\fonich, 1987), pp. 33, 39. 9 l bid., p. 41. ro l\larco Catini and l\I.A. Romano, "Le corti parallele: Per una tipologia delle corti padane dal xiii al xvi secolo" in La co1te e lo spazio: Ferrara estense, eds. Giovanni Papagno and Amedeo Quondam (Rome, 1980), I, pp. 47-82 . " Francesco Fossati, "Per le mense dei duclLi e della loro curie (tempo di Francesco Sforza)," r lrchivio storico /0111/Jardo, series 9, I, anno 88 (1961), pp. 252-81, and Giulio Porro, "Preventivo delle spese pel clucato di l\lilano clel 1476," / lrchivio storico /0111/Jardo 5 (1878), pp. 130--34. 12 Evelyn S. Welch, r lr! and .rlllthoril)' in Rena1ssance Milan (New Haven, 1995), p. 210. 1 3 See Vincent Ilardi, "Crosses and Carets: Renaissance Patronage and Coded Letters of Recommendation," .rl/J/erican Historical Rel'iell' 91 (1987), pp. 1127-49. 1 4 See for example, the proclamations made by Duke Galeazzo l\Iaria Sforza in q66 and 1468 announcing !Lis willingness to recei\'e any citizen of any status on Tuesdays and Fridays in the main courtyard of the Palace of the Corte d'Arengo. The proclamations are published in Carlo l\[orbio, Codice r1sco11/eo-Sfo1zesco ossia raccolta di 1~!!.gi, rlecreti e lettere ja1J1ig!iari rlei D11chi di J\Jila110 (Milan, 1846), pp. 369-70. 1 5 Welch,Artand .rlllthoril) 1, p. 252. 1 6 Ridolfo Signorini, Op/IS hoc Imm: La ca111era dipinla di _, lndrea Mantegna (Parma, 1985). 1 7 Ibid., p. 248 1 8 On the dog, see Ridolfo Signorini, "A Dog 1 amecl Ru bi no," jo11mal of the lrarh111;g a11rl Co11/a11/rl Instit11/es 41 (1978), PP· 3 17-20. 1 9 This is discussed in greater detail in Evelyn \X'elch, "Women as Patrons and Clients in the Courts of Quattrocento Italy," in W'o111m in Italian Renaissance C11/t11re and Sociel)\ eel. Letizia Panizza (Oxford, 2000), pp. 18-34. For references to the serving women and ladies-in-waiting who appear in the fresco, see also Ridolfo Signorini, "La malattia mortale di Barbara di Brandenburgo Gonzaga, seconda marchesa di l\Iantova," Ci1>ilta Alan!ovana, n.s., 1 5 (1987), pp. 24-25. 20 Gregory Lubkin, _,. 1 Renaissance Co11rt: illilan 11nder Caleazzo Maria Sfo1za (Berkeley, 1994). 21 Evelyn \\'elch, "Sight, Sound and Ceremony at the Court of Galeazzo l\Iaria Sforza," Ea1!J• J\111sic His!OIJ' 12 ( 1993), PP· 1 51-90. 22 For some of the most important recent work on court music see, for example, Paul A. l\Ierkley and Lora L. l\L l\[erkley; 1ll11sic and Patronage in the SJ01za Court (Turnhout, 1999); Louis Lockwood, Jlimic i11 Renaissance Ferrara, l-100-1505 (Oxford, 1984); l ain Fenlon, M11sic a11d Patronage in Sixteenth-Centi/I)' Mantua (Cambridge, 1980); \\farren

K.irkendale, The Co111t J1111Sicia11s i11 Florence d11ri1~~ the P1i11cipate of the 11/edici (Florence, 199 3); and Franco Piperno, L'i111111agine de/ d11ca: 1lf11sica e spettacolo al/a co1te di G11idobaldo If, D11ca d'Urbi110 (Florence, 2001). See also F Alberto Gallo, 1l!11Sic i11 the Castle: Tro11bado11rs, Books a11d Orators i11 Italia11 Co11rts of the Thi11eenth, Fo111tee11th and Fifteenth Cmt111ies (Chicago, 199 5). 2 3 Lockwood, Jlf11sic i11 Renaissa11ce Ferrara, p. 175. 2

4 Emilio l\Iotta, "i\Iusici all corte degli Sforza. Rich erche e documenti milanesi," Archi11io sto1ico !0111hardo 14 (1887), pp. 51 5-61 and l\Ierkley and l\Ierkley, JIJ11sic and Patronage, PP· 193-94. 2 5 Laurie Stras, "l\Iusical Portraits of Female i\Iusicians in the North Italian Courts in the 1 57os," in A1t a11d 11!11sic in

the Ear(J•Jl!oder11 Period· EsSCl)'S i11 Ho11011r of Franca Tii11chieri Ca111iz, ed. Katherine A. l\Ichrer (Aldershot, 2003), PP· 145-7 2· 2 6 Lockwood, 1IJ11sic in Rmaissance Ferrara, p. 105. 2 7 Franchesch.in.i, .flrtisti a Ferrara, Part II, vol. 1, pp. 118, 199. 2 8 Robert de la Sizeranne, Beat1ice d'Este a11d Her Co111t (London, 1924), p. 177 . 2 9 Giulio Land.i, Le attioni 111orali (Venice, 1564) cited in Francesco Gabotto, L'Epopea de/ B11.ffone (Bra, 1893), pp. 40--41. 3° Sandra Billington, A Social 1-!istol)' of the Fool lew York, 1984), p. 17. 31 Emmanuel Rodocanachi, Cortigiane e IJ//ffoni di Roma: st11dio dei cost11111i ro1J1a11i de/Xi 7 secolo (l\Iilan, 1927), pp.125-5 5, and Vittorio Cian, "Fra Serafino, buffone: lota illustrative al Cortegiano d.i Baldcssar Castiglione," Archivio storico Lo111hardo, series 2, 18 ( 1891 ), p. 407, note 2. See also, D. Gnoli, "La cappella d.i Fra l\Iariano de! Piombo in Roma," / lrchi1•io storico dell'arte 4 (1891), p. 118. 32 Erika Tietze-Conrat, Dwaifs andJesters i11 .A1t ew York, 1957), p. 45. See also Barry \X'ind, , 1 Fo11/ a11d

Pesti!a11t Co11gregation: !111ages of Freaks i11 Baroq11e art (AJdershot, 1998) and Beatrice K. Otto, Fools are Eveo•111here: The Co11rt jester aro1111d the IF'odd, (Chicago, 2001). 33 En.id Welsford, The Fool His Social a11d Literao• Histoo1 (London, 19 35), pp. 13 3-34. See also William Willeford,

The Fool a11d His Sceptre: A St11d)1in C/o//l/1s andJesters and Their _,, Judience (London, 1969). 34 Weis ford, The Fool. On the fool's costume see, D. J. Gifford, "lconographicaJ Notes towards the D efinition of a l\Iedieval Fool," }011mal of the IFarb111;g a11d Co11rta11/d !nstit11tes 37 (1974), pp. 336-42. 35 W'elsford, The Fool, pp. 13 3-34. 36 For an example of social advancement in the SL'(teenth century, see the sotto-ca111ariere and h11flom Atanasio di i\Ionaldo Atanagi da Cagli (1 po--1564), who kept a d.iary at the request of his maste r, Guidobaldo, duke of Urbino. G. Zannon.i," er Atanasio buffone," N11ova Antologia 34 ( 1 899), PP· 27-57 . 37 Tomaso Garzon.i, La piazza 1111i/lersa/e di t11tte le profassioni de/ 111011do, ed. Giovanni Battista Bronzin.i, 2 vols. (Florence, 1996), vol. 2, 99 5-96.

38 Franceschini, A11isti a rerrara, Part 11, \•ol. II: dal 1493 al I

j16, p. 80.

39 Francesco i\Ialaguzzi Valeri, La corte di L11do1•ico ii Moro,

3 vols. (l\Iilan, 1917), III, p. 7. Giorgio Vasari, Lives of the Painters, Smlptors a11d Architects, trans. Gaston du C. de Vere (orig. 1912-15, ed. London, 1996), 11, pp. 1 5-17. 4 1 Jennifer Fletcher, "Titian as a Painter of Portraits" in Titian, exh. cat., The ational Gallery (London, 2003), p. 32· 4 2 Paola Buffa, ed., Sofanisha _,,111g11issola e le s11e sore/le (l\Iilan, 1994), p. 9 3: "che ritra daJ naturale in un carbone, in manere che si conosce subito la persona che ha ritratta." On Anguissola see I. S. Perlingieri, Sofa11isba / Jng11isssola: The First Great Wi1111an Artist of the Renaissa11ce i lew York, 1992) and, most recently, Sylvia Ferino Pagden and l\Iaria Kusche, Sojimisha A11g11issola: A Renaissa11ce lf'1J111a11 (\'V'ashington, 1995) . 43 Buffa, Sofa11isha Ang11issola, p. 89. 44 l\Iaria Ku sche, "Sofon.isba Anguissola al servizio dei re d.i Spagna," in Buffa, Sopho11isba , Jng11issola, p. 92: "La sera de! sponsalitio havendo detto Sua i\Iaesta che si baJJasse alla gagliarda, ne essendoYi alcuno che desse principio, il signor Ferrante Gonzaga fu il primo, ch' incominci6, quale and6 a prende quella Cremonese che dipinge, ch'e venuta a star con la regina, et fece la via a molti altri che ballarono dapoie ... "On Sofon.isba's work for the Spanish roya l couple see also l\Iaria Kusche, "Sofonisba Anguissola retratista de la corte espa1iola," Paragone 509-1 1 (1992), pp. 3-)4. 4°

Chapter 2 C. JEAN CAMPBELL 1

I borrow here tl1e words of the title of GioYanna Ragionieri's resume of the state of the question regarding authenticity and/or autl10rship of the G11ido1iccio, as of 1985: Si111011e o 11011 Si111one (Florence, 1985). See also tl1e papers assemb led in two volumes associated with the exhibition "Simone Martinie 'chompagni,"' held at the Pinacoteca Nazionale in Siena in 1985 : Si111one Marti11i e "cho111pagni," ed. Alessandro Bagnoli and Luciano Bellosi (Florence, 1985); Si111one Ma1tini, ed. Luciano Bellosi (Florence, 1988). For a recent summary of the state of the question on the Guidoriccio, with the rele\'ant bibliography, see lrene 1-Iueck, "L'.Annunciazione e Santi d.i Simone Martini e Lippo l\Iemmi" in Si111om Llfal1i11i e l'Amu111ciazio11e degli U.ffizi, ed. Alessandro Conti (i\Wan, 2001), pp. 25-27. 2 Petrarch: The Canzo11iere, 01; Ren1111 T-Jdga1i11111 h·ag111enta, ed. and trans. l\lark l\Iusa (Bloomington, 1996), pp. 172-73, no. 114. In l\ [usa's translation the sonnet reads as follows: From wicked Babylon, from which has fled all sense of shame, from which all good is gone, the home of sorrow, mother of all wrong, I've fled in o rd er to prolong my life H ere, l'm alone, and at LoYe's invitation

collect now rhymes and verse, now herbs and flowers talking to him, and always thinking of those better clays, and only this can help me. I've no concern for Fortune or the masses or much for my own self or all base things, nor do I feel much heat inside or out. I want t\vo persons only: one I wish with heart and peace and humble toward me, the other with a foot more firm than ever. 3 See Emilio Pasquini, "II mi to polemico di Avignone nei poeti italiani clel Trecento" in , lspetti m/turali de/la societa ita/iana 11el periodo de/ papato a1,ig11011ese (Todi, 1981 ), pp. 261-63 . Petrarch's other "Babylonian sonnets" include nos. 136 (Fiamma dal ciel su le rue treccie piova), 13 7 (L'avara Babylonia a colmo il sacco), and 138 (Fontana di dolore, albergo d'ira), in Petrarch: The Ca11zo11iere, pp. 224-27 .

The date of Simone's move to Avignon is disputed, and is sometimes thought to be as late as 1340. As J\Iartinclale points out, however, records of Simone's activities in Siena cease around 13 3 3. This may be taken as the terminus post quern for Simone's departure for the papal court. i\Iartindale used November 13 36, the latest date for the composition of sonnets in which Petrarch described Simone's portrait of Laura, as a terminus ante quern for the painter's arrival in Avignon. Since Petrarch's verses were probably written after he met the Sienese painter, and since this meeting, in likelihood, took place in Avignon, the assumption that the painter must have been in the papal city well before the encl of the year 1336 is reasonable. See Andrew Martindale, Si111one Martini (Oxford, 1988), pp. 45, 53 nn. 1-6. 5 See ibid., pp. 217-18, where the contents of the relevant documents are summarized. 6 Sigismondo Tizio, Historiam111 Senensiu111 ab lnitio Urbis Senam111 ad A1111111J1 JIDX\'r 711, Siena, Biblioteca Comunale, vol. 3 (1528), pp. 139: "Hie enim Symon inter precipuos huius etatis Pictores est habitus, multaque opera sue Artis cum Sene, tum alibi peregregia reliquit, inter que aclhuc Virginis Marie Effigies obilissima ceteris cum Sanctis apucl Plateam Paparonum visitur in Sena Urbe, atque Regione Camollie, tam et si opus imperfecrnm, a Cardinali transeunte in Franciam secum pereductus, reliquerit." 7 For the early fifteenth-century text recording the traclition of the Orsini portrait see Martindale, Si1J1011e J1/a1tini, p. 1 84, cat. no. 7. 8 For the building history of the papal palace in Avignon see Leon-Honore Labande, L e Palais des popes et !es 111on11111e11ts d'Avignon au xnc siecle (j'viarseille, 1925 ) . 9 On Matteo di Giovanetti and the court at Avignon see Michel Laclotte and Dominique Thiebaut, L'ecole d'rl11igno11 (Paris, i 983) pp. 35-48; Enrico Castelnuovo, Un pittore ita-

lia110 al/a corte di Avignone: 11/atteo Giovanetti e la pitt11ra i11 Provmza nel sec. xn ~ new edition (Turin, 1991 ). ro See Laclotte and Thiebaut, L'ecole d'/l11ig11on, 1983, pp. 25-34; also Enrico Castelnuovo, "Avignone e la nuova pit-

204

tura: artisti, pubblico committenti," , lspetti mlturali de/la societd italiana nel periodo def papato a1•ig11onese (Tocli, i 981 ), p. 398 .

On the frescoes for Notre Dames des Domes see i\Iartindale, S1!11011e J1/a1tini, pp. i 81-83, cat. no. 5; Fran<;ois Enaucl, "Simone i\Iartini a Avignon," /_es 111on11111ents historiques de la France 9.3 (1963), pp. 114-79. 2 I Richard Goldthwaite, following the research of Georges Duby and Marc Bloch, provided a useful summary of the place of art as luxury object in the personal and private economies of the European courts of the later i\Iiclclle Ages, in Wealth and the De111andfor Art i11 !tab', r;oo-r6oo (Baltimore, 1993), pp. i 50-58. IJ See, most recently, llueck, "L'Annunciazione," pp. 28-3 1; i\Iarco Pierini, Si111011e J\larti11i (i\Wan, 2000), pp. 21 2-43. The most concrete evidence for the dating of the polyptych before the move to Avignon is in the punchmarks, which were made by tools that were left behind in the Sienese workshop when Simone went to Avignon . For a review of the primary evidence for the elating and a discussion of the importance of the punchmarks see Cathleen Sara 1-loeniger, "The Painting Technique of Simone i\Iartini" (Ph.D. dissertation Princeton University, 1989), pp. 66-69. For the technical examination of the punchmarks see i\[ojmir Frinta, "Unsettling Evidence in Some Panel Paintings of Simone i\Iartini," La pittura nel .\'!T 'e xr ·seco/o: fl co11tribuito de/l'analisi temica al/a storia dell'arte, ed . Henk van Os and J. R.]. van Asperen de Boer (Bologna, 1983), vol. lll of / ltti de! xxw II

Congresso intemazionale di storia dell' arte, Bologna, 1979, pp. 214-15 · 1 4 Andrew i\Iartinclale, "Simone Martini and the Problem of Retirement" (reprinted from J\ledieval / lrchitecture and Its Intellectual Context: Studies i11 Honor of Peter f{jdson, eel . Eric Fernie and Paul Crossley [London, 1990]), in Painting the Palace: Studies in the His/01)' of 11/ediel'O! Semlar Painting (London, i995 ), pp. 117-u. I5 i\Iartindale ascribed what he called the "formal strangeness" of the miniature to an attempt by Simone and Petrarch to "evoke the painting of classical antiquity," see Martindale, Si111one 1\1arlini, p. 51. He also tentatively suggested the unusual painting techniqu employed in this miniature might have been an attempt on tl1e artist's part to reinvent ancient techniques. I6 Ibid., p. 49, but see also the catalogue entry (p. 184, no. 7) where he was far more circumspect about such a companson. I7 lbid., p. 49· 1 8 Paccagnini, exceptionally, tried to find a place earlier in the artist's career for what he recognized as the eccentric manner of the polyptych, calling it "un improviso colpo di vento tempestoso." See Giovanni Paccagnini, Simone Martini (i\Wan, 19 5 5), pp. 110-21. i\Iartinclale, who offered an extended and highly evocative description of the polyptych, subscribed to the more general view of the polyptych as a late work. See i\Iartindale, Si111011e Martini, PP· 51-5 2 ·

1 9 Joel Brink," imone .i\Iartini, Francesco Petrarca and the l lumanist Program of the Virgil Frontispiece," 1\ledie1•alia 3 (1977), pp. 106-8. The confounding of humanism, classicism, and modern formalism in Brink's thinking is apparent from the very outset of the article, where, for example, he translated Petrarch's famously enigmatic claim that Simone must have been in heaven and seen his lady in order to portray (1itrarre) her on paper as proof down here of her beautiful face, with the crystalline clarity of a formal idealist: "Simone must have been i11 paradiso to conceive such divine beauty in color and mind" (p. 83). 20 i\Iartindale, Si111one L1la1tini, p. 51. 21 Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale de France, i\Is. lat. 6802, fol. 2 56. For a reproduction of the inscription and a discussion of its significance for Petrarch's humanist enterprise see Michael Baxandall, Giotto and the Orators:

f-!11111anist Observers of Painting in !tab• and the Disco11e01 of Picto1ia/ Co111position, lJJO-IjJO (Oxford, 1986), plate r, pp. 62-63 . Pliny the Elder, I-fisto1ia Nat11ralis, book 35, chapter 36.85, my translation. All subsequent citations are from Pli11f Nat11ral HisfOI)', vol. 9, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, i\Iass., 1938). 22 i\Iartin \X'a rnke, The Co11rt Artist: On the A11cest0• of the L1IodemArtist l ew York, 1993), pp. 3-23, esp. p. 16. 2 3 i\Iartindale, Si111one Martini, p. 7. 2 4 Ibid., pp. 7-8 . 2 5 Jan Frederick Niermeyer, 11lediae Lati11itatis L exicon il!i1111s, ed. C. van de Kieft (Leiden, 1997), pp. 207-9. 26 See C. Stephen Jaeger, The 01igi11s of Co11rtli11ess:

Ci1dizi11g Trends a11d the For111atio11

of Co11rtb1 Ideals, 93!)-1210

(Philadelphia, 1985 ), pp. 168-n 2 7 This separation was central to i\Iartindale's broader understanding of the place of the artist at court in the fourteenth century. See his The Rise of the, lrtist i11 the Middle_, lges and Emf)• Renaissance (New York, 1972), pp. 40--41, where i\Iartindale offered the following assessment of the existing evidence for artists, like Giotto, who were named fa111iliams to a princely court: "Their presence in the household, however, seems unlikely to have had much to do with their talent as artists and may be taken to demonstrate that, unlike Master Honore and Pietro Cavallini, they had personalities which were congenial to the princes whom they served." 28 Baxandall, Giotto and the Orators, pp. 62-63. 2 9 Petrarch: The Ca11zoniere, pp. 130--3 1, nos. 77-78. 3° Baxandall, Giotto and the Orators, p. 63, provided the following transcription and translation: " (At). f. dum scribu " (\'\latch out for this Franciscus, when yo u are writing). 31 Pli'!J'." Nat11ral HistolJ', book 35, chapter 36.n 32 On the veil as a central metaphor for the discussion of the relations between pictorial and poetic artifice in the fourteenth century, see i\Iary Pardo, "The Subject of Savoldo's i\Iagdalen," Art B11/leti11 71 (1989), pp. 84-86. 33 Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, .P. 10/27. Transcription from i\Iarcello Ciccuto, "Circonstanze francesi del

'Virgilio' Ambrosiano" in Fig11re di Petrarca: Giotto, Si111011e Martini, Franco Bolognese (Naples, 1991 ), p. 79. See Brink, "Simone .i\Iartini," pp. 87-89, figs. 2-4) for reproductions of the manuscript's heavily inscribed guard leaves. 34 Brink, "Simone .i\Iartini," pp. 94-104. 35 The miniature has been of interest to both art historians and historians and critics of literature. The two most ambitious interpretations to date are offered by Brink "Simone i\Iartini," pp. 83-109; and Annabel Patterson, Pastoral and JdeologJ\ T1rgil to Vale!]' (Berkeley, 1987),

PP· 1 9- 2 7. In addition to Virgil's works and the attendant commentary by Servius, the manuscript includes a fragment of Statius's .rlchi!leis with commentary, four of Horace's Odes with scolia and two medieval commentaries on the grammatical treatise by Donatus (see Ciccuto, "Circonstanze," p. So). Giuseppe Billanovich laid the foundation for all subsequent studies of Petrarch's Virgil in a series of articles: "Tra Dante e Petrarca," ltalia 111edioevale e 11111anistica 8 (1965 ), pp. 3-24, "Da Dante al Petrarca: IJ Virgilio Ambrosiano e !'Orazio .i\Iorgan," Accade111ia J\Tazionale die 36

Lincei, Fo11dazio11e Antonio Feltrinelli, Ad1111a11ze per ii converilllento dei pre111i de/la Fo11dazio11e .rl. Feltri11elli 1. 3 ( 1966), pp. 61-67; "II Virgilio del Petrarca," S111di Petrarcheschi 2 (1985 ), pp. 15-52. Billanovich described the manuscript as the charactistic document of the strain of Italian humanism that emerged under the Avignon papacy. 37 Brink," imone Martini," p. 93. 38 See f\lessandro Bagnoli, La Maesta di Si111011e Martini (Milan, 1999), p. 64, fig. 78. 39 For this suggestion see Brink, "Simone i\Iartini," p. 97 . 4° Brink, "Simone .i\Iartini," p. 93 . 41 Patterson expanded on the argument developed by Brink ("Simone .i\Iartini," pp. 83-109), explaining that " ... the physical presence of the veil and interpreter [in Simone's composition] indicates that interpretation itself is the primary subject of the painting ... " Patterson, Pastoral and Ideology, pp. 26-27. 4 2 The literature on this topic is extensive. For its foundations in recent art-historical literature see Elizabeth Cropper, "On Beautiful Women: Parmigianino, Petrarchismo, and the Vernacular Style," A11 B11/leti11 58 (1976), pp. 374-94; "The Beauty of Women: Problems in the Rhetoric of Renaissance Portraiture," Re11111/ing the Renaissance: The Disco11rses of Sex11al Difference in Emf)• Modem E11rope, ed . Margaret \YI Ferguson, Maureen Quilligan, and Nancy J. Vickers (C hicago, 1986), pp. 191-205. 43 For the long and fascinating history of attempts to identify the portrait see Alessandro Bevilacqua, "Simone Martini, Petrarca, i ritratti di Laura e del poeta," Bollettino de/ J\111seo Civico di Padova 68 (1979), pp. 107-50. 44 Ernest Hatch Wilkins, Life of Petrarch (C hicago, r 961 ),

P· n 45 For a recent summary of Petrarch's writings on por-

traits, and the attitudes they express, see Nicholas Mann, "Petrarch and Portraits," The !1J1age of the l11divid11al

205

Portraits i11 the Renaissance, ed. icholas Mann and Luke Syson (London, 1998), pp. 15-21, 191-92. 46 See Patterson, Pas/oral anrl Irleolop,J\ p. 27, who noted that the appearance in the epigrams "of Mantua and Siena under a single verb [111/it]" might be read "as a grammarian's wish for Italian unity." 47 Petrarch: The Ca11zoniere, pp. 176-77, no. 117. My translation: lf the mountain closing this valley most from which derives the very name it has, had its face turned by natural disgust in Rome's direction and its back to Babel, then my sighs would find a kinder road to traYel to that place where their hope lives; now they go scattered, but still each arrives where I send him, for not one goes astray; and they are so sweetly welcomed there so I gatl1er, that not one ever returns, with such delight do they remain in those parts. The pain is in my eyes, which as soon as they awake in their great desire for the beautiful places that are taken from them bring tears to me and exhaustion to my weary feet. 48 On tl1e significance of the laurel and the Vaucluse for Petrarch see Sara Sturm-i\Iaddox, Pelrarch~ Laurels (University Park, Penn., 1992), pp. 277-301.

a11rl , 111 Llfarket (Princeton, 1981 ); Bram Kempers, Painting, Po111er anrl Patronage: The Rise of !he Professional .A11ist in Renaissance !tab\ trans. BeYerly Jackson (New York, 1987; 1992); \\'illiam E. Wallace, Michelangelo al San Lorenzo: The Ce11i11s as Entrepreneur (New York, 1994). For important studies addressing this issue in the north, see Emma Barker, ick Webb, and Kim Woods, The Changing Stal/IS of the Artist, Art and its Histories (New J laven, 1999); and Joseph Leo Koerner, The il!o111enl of Self-Portraiture in Cer111an Renaissa11ce Art (Chicago, 199 3). 5 See the papers in the recent issue of Cesta dedicated to artistic identity in the late Middle 1\ges, ed. Sherry Lindquist and Stephen Perkinson, Ces/a 41, no. 1 (2002), pp. 15-28. 6 On Valois Burgundy see Jean Richard, Les rl11cs de Bo11rgogne et la for111ation rl11 D11che d11 ,,\le a11 X!Ve siecle (Paris, 1954); Richard Vaughan, Valois B111g1md) 1(London, 1975); Werner Paravicini, "The Court of the Dukes of Burgundy: A Model for Europe?" in Princes, Patronage, and

the Nobilitx The Court at the Begi11ning of the Modern Age, c. l./J0-16;0, eel. Ronald Asch and Adolf i\L Birke (Oxford, 1991 ), 69-rn2; and Bertrand Schnerb, L'Etal bo111g11ig11011, 1363-1177 (Paris, 1999). 7 Sherry C. i\L Lindquist, ''Accounting for ilie Status of Artists at the Chartreuse de Champmol," Cesta 41, no. 1 (2002), pp. 15-28. On iliis theme see Stephen Perkinson, "Engin and Artifice: Describing Creative Agency at the Court of France, ca. 1400," Cesta 41, no. 1 (2002), pp. 51-67. 9 On this painting and additional bibliography see Charles Sterling, La pei11t11re 111erlievale Paris: 1300-1;00 (Paris, 1987), pp. 147-49. See also Stephen Perkinson, "Portraire, Contrifaire, and Engin: The Prehistory of Portraiture in Late Medieval France" (Ph.D. Diss., 1 orthwestern University, 1998), pp. 232-51. 10 Andrew Martindale, The Rise of the Artist i11 the Middle Ages and Earb 1Renaissance ew York, 1972), p. 44. n For the terms of Philip's accession to Burgundy, see i\Lchael Nordberg, Les dues et la r01a1tte (Stockholm, 1964), pp. 6-7, 25; Vaughan, Philip the Bold, pp. 2-3; P Petot, "L'accession de Philippe le Ilardi au duche de Bourgogne et les actes de 1363," Mellloires de la societe pour l'histoire rl11 8

Chapter} SHERRY

. M. LINDQUIST

1 Johan Huizinga, The W'ti11i11g of !he Mirlrlle Ages, trans. F Hopman (1924; ed. l ew York, 1989), p. 257. 2 Huizinga, lf7a11i11g, p. 256. 3 i\Iartin W'arnke, The Co11rt .A11ist: 011 the A11cesto1of the 11/orlem A11ist 1 lew York, 1993), p. xiii. 4 For medieval artistic self-consciousness, see especially Xavier Barra] i .A.ltet, ed., Artistes, at1isa11s el prod11clion al1is-

tiq11e a11 Mq)'en Age (Colloq11e i11temalional, Centre 1\Tatio11al de la Recherches Scientifiq11e), 3 vols. (Paris, 1986); Jacqueline Leclercq-Marx, "Signatures iconigues et graphiques d'orfevre dans le haut Moyen Age: Une premiere approche," Cazetle des Bea11x-.Arts 137, no. 1584 (2001), pp. 1-16; Alain Erlande-Brandenburg, Depierre, d'or et de feu: la criatio11 artistiq11e a11 M01m .r-lge, II e-Xlf!e siecles (Paris, 1999); and Le sacre de l'artisle: la criatio11 artistiq11e a11 M0 1m Age, X!T 'e-,\路1 'e siecles (Paris, 2000); and papers in the section devoted ro "Status, Organisation und elbsrverstandnis der Bildhauer," in Herbert Beck, and Kerstin HengvossDi.irkop, eds., S111dien z11r Ceschichte rler europaischen Sk11lpt11r i111 12/1;. Jahrh1111dn1, 2 vols. (Frankfurt am Main, 1994), pp. 75-229. Calvin B. I endall lists a number of artist inscriptions in his The / lllego1J' of the Church: Ro111amsq11e Po11als and Their Vim Imcrip1io11s (Toronto, 1998). For workshop practices among Renaissance artists, Bruce Cole, The Renaissance / l11ist al lf''ork: Fro111 Pisano to Titian ew York, 1983); Martin \\1ackernagel, The W'orlrl of the

Florentine Renaissance Artis/: Pro;ecls and Patrons, lf"orkshop

206

rlroit et des imtit11tio11s des a11ciens pq)'S bo111g111g11011s, co111tois el ro111a11ds, ii (1935), pp. 5-113;]. Billioud, Les hats rle Bo111gogne aux Xfl/e et XVi siecles (Dijon, 1921); and Alfred de Ridder, Les Droits de Charles-Quint a11 rl11che de Bo111gog11e (Louvain, 1890), esp. pp. 13-57, 154. Warnke, Court A11ist, p. 19. 1 3 Warnke, Court Artist, pp. 20-21. 1 4 There is a large literature on this period in French history; for a good introduction see Richard Famiglietti,

R01al !11trig11e: Crisis at the Court of Charles VJ, 1392-1po 1 lew York, 1986). 5 A prime example of this nostalgia is that Philip the Bold commissioned a biography of Charles V from Christine de Pizan, which she entitled, "The Book of the Deeds and Good Character of ilie W'ise I'-ing Charles." 1

For a recent edition see Eric l licks and Therese Ioreau,

Dijon (Brussels, 1986), p. 134.

L e li1n des fails et bonnes 111oeim d11 roi Chades T'le Sage (Paris,

1997). r6 Cf. \\ 1arnke, Co11r! .rl1tist, p. 20. 17 See for examples Sandra L. I lindman, Christine de

Charles \~" 811/leti1u1!0111r!llen!al 109 (1951), pp. 273-96;

Pizan's "Epistre Otbea": Painting and Politics al the Co11r! of Charles T'!(Toronto, 1986). Anne D awson l ledeman, The R0)1a/ !111age: ll/11s!ratiom of the Grc111des Chroniq11es de France, r27-1-rp2 (Berkeley, 1991 ), and her OJ Co11melors a11d Kings: the Three T'ersions of Pierre Sa/111on's Dialog11es (Urbana, 2001 ). 18 John of Berry is much noted in this regard, see l\Iillard J\Ieiss, French Painting in the Ti111e ofJean de Bero•: the Late Fo1111eenth Cenllll)' and the Patronage of the D11ke (London, 1967). On Philip the Bold see H enri David, Philippe le Hardi, d11c de Bo11rgogne, pro/ectertr des arts (Dijon, 1937); and P. de \\'inter, "The Patronage of Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy (1364-1404) ." (Dissertation, ew York Unive rsity, 1976). 1 9 The most comprehensive study of the Chartreuse de Champmol is Renate Prochno, Die Ka1ta11se von Cha111p111ol Grablege der b111g1mdischen He1ziige (136-1-1-177) (J\Iunich, 2002). See also Cyprien Monget, La Chartreuse de Dijon apres !es dom111en!s des archives de Bo11rgogne, 3 vols. Q\Iontreuil-sur-1\Ier, 1898-1905); Pierre Quarn~, La Chartreuse de Challlp1110! (Dijon, 1960); C. de J\Ierindol, "Art, spiritualite, et politique: Philippe le Hardi et la Chartreuse de Champmol: nouvel aper~us," in Les Charlre11x el !'art, ed. A Girard and D. le Blevec (Paris, 1989), pp. 93-115; and S. C. J\I. Lindquist, " Patronage, Piety, and Politics in the Art and Architectural Programs at the Chartreuse de Champmol in Dijon" (Dissertation, orthwestern University, 1995). 2 ° For characterizations of Philip the Bold as an involved connoisseur, see D a,,id, Philippe le Hardi, and \'{'inter, "Patronage." Vaughan, Philip the Bold, pp. 206-7, and J\Ieiss, French Painting I, p. 293, both see Philip the Bold as relati,-ely uninvolved in the details of artistic production. 21 Dij on, Archives D epartmentales de la Cote d'Or (ADCO), B1467, fol. 65. Unless otherwise noted, all references to archival sources in the paper are housed in this archive. 22 For examples of Philip's visits to work sites see B1460, fol. 134 ( emur), B1465, fols. 3ov (Courcelles), 32v (Paris), 90 (tapestry workers). Margaret made similar offerings in visits to chantiers at B1479, fol. 5 5" (Ecluse). 2 3 For J\Iargarer's involvement in these commissions see B11671, fols. 260; and B11672, fols. 25r & v, 58v. For the record of a gift of wine to the workers at Champmol from the duchess, see B11671, fol. 237. Additionally, l\Iargaret sent painter Arnoul Picornet "admender certaines choses de pourture que ma dite dame luy a fair faire en la chapelle de monseigneur a Dijon, 81461, fol. 135v. (1\bbreviations expanded in italics.) 2 4 B1671, fol. 307. 2 5 Bi 1671, fol. 36i. For a transcription of this document and additional bibliography on the altarpieces see J\Iicheline Comblen-Sonkes, Le il111sie des Bea11x-/l!ts de

6 On these tombs see Pierre Pradel, "Les tombeaux de

Claire Richter Sherman, Poi1raits of Charles T 'of France (r33S-r3So) (New York, 1969), pp. 65-71; and J\I. A \Tidier, "Un tombier liegeois a Paris au XJ\'e siecle," ilfi111oires de la Sociiti de l'histoire de Paris et de /'lie-de-France 30 (1903), pp. 281-308. 2 7 Georgia Sommers Wright, "The Reinvention of the Portrait Likeness in the Fourteenth Century," Gesla 39, no. 2 (2000), pp. 117-34, at 117. 2 8 Catherine Chedeau notes the use of models in Burgundian workshops beginning at Champmol, " Reflexions sur ['organisation des ateliers de sculpteurs en Bourgogne et en France aux X\Te et XVle siecles: Jes modeles d'atelier," in Pierre, lrw1iere, colfleur: it11des d'histoire de !'art d111lf0)1en Age en l'hon11e11r d'/lnne Prache, ed. Fabienne Joubert and D any Sandron (Paris, 1999) pp. 488-99 at 493. In addition to her citation of plaster models for the Great Cross ( ll"e// of Moses) in B 11670, fol. 42 see also B11670, fol. 88v, and B11673, fol. 25v. Gary Radke has shown that artists in Quattrocento Italy also employed full-scale models, "Benedetto da J\Iaiano and the Use of Full Scale Preparatory J\Iodels in the Quattrocento," in T/errocchio and Late Q11a!trocen!o Italian Smlpt11re, ed. Steven Bule, Alan Phipps D arr, and Fiorella Gioffredi Superbi (Firenze, 1992). 2 9 On J\Iarville's activity under Charles\~ see \Tidier, "Tombier liegeois," p. 383; Gerhard chmidt, "jean de Marville, artiste suranne OU innovateur?" in / le/es des ;011mies intemationales C!a11s S/11/er: Septe111bre r990 (Dijon, 1992 ), pp. 295-304 at 295; and Chretien Cesar Auguste Dehaisnes, Doc11!llen!s et ex/rails di1 ers concemanl l'histoire de !'art dans la Handre, 2 vols. (Lille, 1886), I, p. 490. 3° \'('arnke, Co1111, lrtist, p. 21 2. \X'a rnke also argues that the ruler's desire to control his portrait "encouraged the tendency to limit the production of royal portraits to as few artists as possible," thus, "portraitists were the first specialist painters," Co11rt .Artist, p. 216 . On the late medieval origin of the portrait likeness see H arald Keller, "Die Entstehung des Bildn.isses am Ende des H ochmittelalters," Roi11isches Jahrb11ch jiir K.lmstgeschichte 3 (1939), pp. 229-356 . For a fascinating study of the implications of the reappearance of portraimre in the late J\liddle Ages, see Stephen Perkinson, "Po11rlraire, Co11/rafaire, and Engi11: The Prehistory of Portraiture in Late J\Iedieval France" (Ph.D. thesis, I orthwestern University, 1996). l thank Stephen Perkinson for making this available to me. 31 According to \\fa rnke, the title varlet de cha111bre "has no obvious intellectual connotations, but indicates a relationship of personal service founded on trust ... lt placed him in a position from which he could rise in the court hierarchy, setting him apart from the craftsmen and holding out the prospect of higher titles," Co11rt ./ lrtist, p. 117. Artists under Philip the Bold who were given this title include painters Jean de Beaumetz, Jean J\Ialouel, and l\Ielchior 1

207

Broederlam; sculptors Jean de 1Iarville, Claus Sluter, Jean Malouel, and Claus de \'{,'erve; glazier Jehan de Thioys; and goldsmith Josset de Hailes. For these and other of Philip's varlet de cha111bres (receiver general, harpist, armorer, tapestry maker, barber, tailor, grocers, shoemaker, and tailor), see Monget, Charlre11se de Dijon, l, p. 66 . 32 For Marville's tax exemptions, see Dijon, Archives Municipales, L3 30, fol. 64r, cited in Pierre Camp, Les i111age11rs bo111g11ignons de la fin d11 L1lf!)'e/l ./'lge (Dijon, 1990), p. 39; for those of Sluter, see Henri David, C!a11s S/11ter (Paris, 19 51 ), p. 57, and Monget, Chartreuse de Dijon, l, p. 406 . 33 For a discussion of such gifts see Lindquist, "Accounting for the Status of Artists," pp. 20-22. 34 On gifts in the Burgundian context see Brigitte Buettner, "Past Presents: New Year's Gifts at the Valois Courts, ca. 1400," Art B11/letin 83 (2002), pp. 598-625. 35 For Burgundian examples of the breakdown of loyalty on both sides see Lindquist, "Accounting for the Status of Artists," pp. 21-22. 36 See \'\farnke, Co11rl Artist, pp. 143-146. 37 On speculation about Sluter's outside commissions see Camp, !1J1ageurs Bo11rg11ignons, p. 44. 38 Monget estimates that twelve gros were approximately equivalent to one franc, Monget, Chartreuse de Dijon, I, p. 383 . 39 However, higher ranking 111al'tres de comptes might earn as much as 500 to 1,000 francs in a year. Vaughan, Philip the Bold, p. 222. 4° For the documents concerning Sluter's retirement and Claus de Wlerve's appointment to succeed his uncle, see 1Ionget, Chartreuse de Dijon, I, pp. 371-74. 41 On the Limbourg Brothers see Meiss, French Painting. Philip the Bold even subsidized their ransom when they were taken hostage while traveling through Brabant, then at odds with their native duchy of Gueldre, B1 519, fols. 158v-159. 42 On Fraignot, see Richard Vaughan,john the Fearless: The Gro111th of B11rg11ndian Po111er (New York, 1966), p. 121. Camp notes that the sale of Iarville's goods upon his death yielded more than 347 francs, equivalent to the pay of a day laborer for 2,090 days, !111age11rs Bo11rg11ig11om, p. 39. Jean de Liege, who carved Charles V's tomb in Rouen (not the woodcarver of the same name at Champmol), and with whom Marville worked briefly early in his career, also left a respectable fortune; for his testament and other documents see Vidier, "Tom bier liegeois," pp. 290-308. 43. Jean de Cambrai, the Duke of Berry's master imagier and varlet de cha111bre, similarly appears to have made a good marriage, Stephen Scher, "Bourges et Dijon: observations sur !es relations entre Andre Beauneveu, Jean de Cambrai et Claus Sluter," in .rlctes des ]011rnees Internationales Claus S/11ter (Dijon, i 990), pp. 277-93, at 283. 44 Camp, Imageurs Bo111g11ignom, pp. 64-65. 45 On Moingine's remarriage and ennoblement, and Pierre Marriot's tenure as mayor, see Camp, !111age11rs Bo111g11ignons, p. 68. 46 Camp, Imageurs Bo11rg11ignons, p. 68.

208

47 Claus de Werve was found to possess an "aubergeon de plate, ung brigandine, ung pan, ung bassignet, ung barruyer, gantelets, avambras, haiches et epees, vivre a souffisance," Dijon, Archives 1Iunicipales, H 1 5, fol. 38v; transcribed by Camp, !1J1ageurs Bomgignons, p.68. Ducal bronzecaster Cola rt Joseph was given permission to purchase such equipment formally belonging to Jean de Marville, B1478, fol. 38. Charles V's to111bier,Jean de Liege, also owned some armor, see Vidier, "Tom bier liegeois,"

PP· 289, 291. 48 For examples of these seals see B 382 (Sluter and Bourgeois); B387 (Beaumetz, 1Ialouel, and Broederlam) B396 (Thiois). The Archi,·es Departmentales de la Cote d'Or has removed the seals from these documents and stores them separately. On the social implications of seals see Brigitte Bedos Rezak, Form and Order in Medie11al France: St11dies in Social and Q11antitative S(gillograpl?J• (Brookfield, Vt., 1993)· 49 My transcription with abbreviations expanded in italics, B1454, fol. 79 . For the horse, see B1451, fol. 79· 5o. For example, in a document from 138 3 ] ean de 1Iarville witnesses a contract involvingJehanne de Dammartin, D ame de Longvy, wife of Jacques de Vienne, and a goldsmith, B1 i 292, fols. 48v. Bronzecaster Colan Joseph acted as witness in two a similar contracts, B11310, fols. 100, and 103. 5I For the documents concerning this incident see Dijon, Archives Municipales, B148, fol. p; 11 B 336/27, fol. 228 (contains a list of accused); M54, fols. 23-24; as cited in Camp, who also notes the future careers and economic status of the participants in his !111age11rs Bo11rg11igno11s, p. 65 . 52 The document describing the row on December 9, 1448, is transcribed in Pierre Quarre,jea11 de la H11erta el la smlpt11re bo111g11ignonne a11111ilieu d11 .rYT/e siecle (Dijon, 1972),

PP· 33-3 5· 53 For more on 1Iachefoing's commissions of de la Huerta see Henri D avid, "Quelques artistes meridionaux en Bourgogne," Anna/es de i\lidi 47 (1936), pp. 319-64. 54 "et !ors !edit Monseigneur le Maieur Jui dit que il mentit et qu'il povoit aler a routes heures <levers Monseigneur ce que !edit Jehannin n'oseroit faire en soy approuchant de luy" transcribed by Quarre,jean de la H11erta, p. 34. 55"tres bon ouvrier de son mestier d'ymagerie et que de ce est renomme" transcribed by Quarre,jean de la J-!11erta,

P· 35 ·

56 "et en oultre pour l'amende il sera condempne a faire sur la porte devant de la Maison de la Ville une belle ymaige de Notre Dame de deux piedz et demi de hault assise sur une belle sobasse seronr bien taillie Jes armes de la Ville que deux singes tiendront, et en la somme de vint livres, sur laquelle somme ladite ymaige faite messgrs. feront au dit Jehan tan qui sera contant" Dijon, Archives Municipales, B 1 58, fol. 21; transcribed by Quarre,jean de la Huerta, p. 35. 57 Vaughan, Philip the Good, p. 278. 58 ln describing the court of Philip the Good, W'erner Paravicini writes: "intimacy with the prince was a sign of

social status and for everyone, whether high or low ranking, it represented a source of informal power, which aroused jealousy and was constantly under threat," "Court of the Dukes of Burgundy," p.72. 59 For the relevant ducal letters see B11199; for more on de la J l uerta's mining activities see Camp, 1'11ageurs Bo111~~11{~11011s, pp. 160-62. 6o Camp retrieves de la H uerta's tax burden for six of the years between 1449 and 1457 when de la H uerta would have been in his mid-tli.irties ro early forties, presumably productive years for tl1e head of a workshop. His tax burden for these years averaged around 16 gros per year. By contrast, de W'erve paid an average of 46 gros per year during an inten路al in Ii.is ni.id-career from 1421 to 1426, Camp, !111a,geurs Bo11rg11ig11011s, pp. 69, 144. 6r D ijon, Archives l\Iunicipales, B 3 1o, as cited in Camp, !111ageurs Bo111g11ig11011s, p. 140. 6 2 "En renonc;ant quant ad ce par mondit serment et soubz ]'obligation que dessus a toutes et singulie res exceptions deceptions, fraudes, cautelles, cavillations, allegations, graces, respis, dispensations de mon serment, oppositions, appellations et a toutes autres choses que !'on pourroit dire, faire, alleguer, ne imperrer contre la teneur et effect de ces presentes lettres mesmement au droit disant general renonciation non valoir se !'especial ne precede," transcribed by Quarre,jea11 de Huerta, p. 29. 63 That this damage is described as being done to the gisa11ts suggests that the figures were roughed in at the quarry, B 310, as cited in Quarre,Jea11 de la Huerta, p. 38. 64 See Lindquist, ''Accounting fo r the Status of Artists," pp. 20-21. 65 Jean Pierre Sasson argues that master craftsmen constituted a veritable artisanal aristocracy among metalworkers in late medieval Brussels, "L'artisanat bruxelJois du metal. Hierarcli.ie sociale, salaires et puissance economique (1360-1 500)," Cahiers bmxellois 7 (1962), pp. 225-5 8. 66 See Camp, !111ageurs Bo11rg11ig11011s, p. 118; and Arthur Jean Kleinclausz, Claus Sluter et le smlpt11re bo111g11ig1101111e a11 xr 'e siecle (Paris, 1905), 122-2 5; l\Iartindale, The Rise of thu-1.Jtist, pp. 48-49. 67 Vaughan, Philip the Bold, p. 235; and l\Ionget, Chmtre11se de Dijon, I, p. 429. 68 The most comprehensive account of the patronage of P hilip the Good is still Jeffrey Chipps Smith, "The Artistic Patronage of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy (1419-q67)." (Ph.D. thesis, Columbia University, 1979). 69 Kleinclausz, Claus Sluter, pp. 123-24. 7掳 J\Iartindale, Rise of the Arlist, p. 50. For examples of these large orders in the accounts, see B1436, fol. 30; B1452, fol. 92; B1454, fol. 120; B1460, 133"; 134; B146t, fols. 74v-75, 83 B1466, fol. 21; B14n, fol. 59; B1476, fol. 34; B1479, fol. 81; B1481, fol. 27v; B1486, fol. 30; B1487, fol. 140; B149 5, fols. 74v-74; B1 526, fols. 124v; 158, 164; 1538, fols. 189, 239 . 7 1 J\Iartindale, Rise of the .rlrtist, p. 50.

7 Warnke gives many later examples of court artists who

were responsible for the "whole aesthetic ambience of court life," Co1111 ,, 111ist, pp. 200-203. Cf the importance of the also much neglected category of gifts recently explored by Buettner, "Past Presents." 73 On this episode, Vaughan, Philip the Bold, pp. 48-50. 74 B 1466, fol. 21. 75. On chivalry in the Burgundian contexts see l\Ialcolrn Vale, /Far a11d Chivali]'.' lf'/atjare and _,,. 11istocl'Cltic C11lt11re in

Engla11d, France, a11d B111g1111dj at the E11d of the Middle Ages (London, 1981 ); and Ii.is The P1i11ce6 Co1111: Lllediel'al CoHrts and C11lt11re i11 1Vorth-west Europe, 1270-1330 (New York, 1

2001). J. Cabaret d'OrYille, La Chro11iq11e d11 bo11 due Lf!J'S de Bo11rbo11, ed. A.l\L Chazaud (Paris: Societe de 1'11.istoire de France, 1876), pp. 184-85, cited in Vaughan, Philip the Bold, p. 49; and Froissart quoted first by Huizinga, The lf"tlning of the Middle /J,~es, p. 364, then by Warnke, Court Artist, p. 20. 77 Warnke, Court /'lrtist, pp. 70-73, 140. 78 On the Rapondi see Brigitte Buettner, "Jacques Raponde, marchand des manuscrits enlurnines?" 1lledievales 14, pp. 10-23. 79 Beaumetz's ennoblement is evident from the tax record: in 1382 he is listed as paying 40 sols while in 1383 he is listed as "noble" and ilierefore exempt from paying taxes, B11487, fols. and 330. l thank Celine VandeurenDavid for her aid in interpreting these records. Bo For what folJows, see W'illiam E. \'\'allace, "i\Ianoeuvring for Patronage: l\Iichelangelo's Dagger," Re11aissa11ce St11dies 11, no. 1 (1997), pp. 20-26. Br Cited in \'\lalJace, "l\Ianoeuvring for Patronage," p. 22 . 82 William E. Wallace, "J\Iichael Angelus Bonarotus Patritius Florentinus" in !1111ol'atio11 a11d Tl'Cldition: Essap 011 Renaissa11ce ,, lrt a11d Cllit11re, ed. Dag T. J\ndersson and Roy T. Eriksen (Rome, 2000 ), pp. 60-74. 83 Wallace, Jllichela11gelo at San Lorenzo. 84 Warnke organizes the Court /'lttist into two parts, "The Artist between City and Court," and "Artists at Court." 85 This traditional view has been advanced by scholars ranging from ugene Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc, 76

Dictio1111aire raiso1111e de l'architect11re fra11raise d11 Xie a11 XVIe siecle (Paris, 1854-68), vol. 8, pp. 2 F-3 3 and passim, to l\Ieyer Schapiro, "On the Aestl1etic Attitude in Romanesque Art," in A11 and Tho11ght, Issued i11 f-!011011r of

of his Se11e11/ieth Bi11hdqj ed. K. Bharatha Iyer (London, 1947); reprinted J\Ieyer Schapiro, Ro111a11esq11e Ari.' Selected Papers l ew York, D1: A11a11da K Coo111a/'Cls111atJI)' 011 the Occasio11 1 ,

1977), pp. 1-27. J\Iore recently see Xenia l\Iuratova, "Vir qu..idem fallax et falsidicus, sed artifex praeelectus: Remarques sur !'image sociale et litteraire de !'artiste au l\Ioyen Age" in .rlrtisles, artisans, el production a11istiq11e a11 illf!J'ell / lge, ed. Xavier Barra! i Altet (Paris, 1986), p. 71.

Chapter -I FREDERIC ELSIG I For the Piedmont see Schede r es111e: L'arte in Pie111onle dal XT /f al XT ?JI! secolo, -t vols. (Turin, 1963-1982), which

contains the research notes of Alessandro Baudi di Vesme from the early 1900s; Vittorio Viale, llfostra de/ Colico e de/ Rinasci111ento in Pie111onle (Turin, 19 39); and Pri111itivi pie111ontesi nei 11111Sei di Torino, ed. Giovanni Romano (Turin, 1996) . For the "French" part of the duchy see A Dufour and F Rabut, "Les peintres et Jes peintures en Savoie du Xllle au XIXe siecle," Me111oires et doc111mnts plfblies par la Sociiti sai•oisienne d'histoire et d'archiologie 12 (1870), pp. 1-103 and 15 (1875), pp. 199-268; C. de i\Iandach, "Les peintres \'('itz et l'ecole de peinture a Geneve," Gazette des Bea!lx-,lrls 6 (1911), pp. 405-22; Clement Gardet, La peintnre dlf 1'!0J1en Age en Savoie (Annecy, 1965); Charles Sterling, "Etudes savoyardes I-Il," L'Oeil 178 (1969), pp. 2-13; 195-96 (1971), pp. 14-19; 215 (1972), PP· 14- 2 7· 2 For the reign of Amadeus VIII see , 1111idie T7!11-Filix T~premier d!lc de Savoie el pape (1;SJ-liJI} ed. Bernard Andenmatten and Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (Lausanne, 1992). 3 E . Rossetti Brezzi, in Ciaco1110 Jaq11erio e ii Cotico internazio11ale, ed. E. Castelnuovo and G. Romano (Turin, 1979), PP· 176-n 4 For Giacomo Jaquerio see Ciaco1110 Jaqlferio e ii Cotico i11ternazionale, ed. Enrico Castelnuovo and Giovanni Romano (Turin, 1979). For Jean Bapteur see Sheila Edmunds, "New light on Bapteur and Lamy," Atti de//'/lccade111ia Reale

de/le Scienze di Torino: Classe di scienze 111orali, storiche efilologiche 102 (1967-68), pp. 501-54. 5 The Sta/!lfa Sabalfdiae (1430), which includes a compilation of legal and moral texts attesting to Amadeus's program of unification for his duchy. See Rejean Brondy, Bernard Demotz and Jean-Pierre Leguay, La Savoie de /'an 111il la Rifor111e, Xfe-diblfl XT /fe siecle (Rennes, 1984), PP· 305-6. 6 For the library, see Sheila Edmunds, "The i\Iedieval Library of Savoy," Scriplorin111 24 (1970), pp. 318-27; 25 (1971), pp. 253-84; 26 (1972), pp. 269-93. For the Apocabpse see Clement Gard et, L/ lpocabpse fig11de des dues de Savoie (Annecy, 1969); Sheila Edmunds, "Jean Bapteur et I' r\pocalypse de l'Escorial" in Les 111a1111mits en/11111inis des co111fes el dncs de Sa1•oie (Turin, 1991 ), pp. 92-104. 7 For music see . i\L la Reine i\[arie-Jose, "Un musicien celebre du A_'\Te siecle a la cour de Savoie: Guillaume Du fay," Revue de Savoie 11 ( 19 58), pp. 249-5 8. On social hierarchy see La Maison de Salioie en Pq)'S de Va11d, ed. Bernard Andenmatten and Daniel de Raemy (Lausanne, 1990). 8 Annemarie Stauffer, D'or el de soie 011 /es voies du saint: Les

ome111en/s sacerdola11x d:·b111on de llfonljalcon, iveq11e de Lausanne (Bern, 2001), p. 63, cat. 42a and 42b. These 1

embroideries were drawn Galizia.

2.10

my attention by Annalisa

9 This "Domenico from Venice" is sometimes identified,

on very insecure grounds, with the famous Domenico Veneziano. See C. Gardet, Un li1n d'heures du co111fe de Pie111ont f11t11r due ,· l111edie IX de Savoie (Annecy, 1981 ), p. 33. Io For Peronet Lamy see S. Edmunds, "The i\Iissals of Felix V and early Savoyard illumination," Ari Bulletin 46 (1964), pp. 127-41. I I For the Hours of Louis of Savoy, see Frarn;ois Avril, in Les 11/a/ll/SClils peinl11res en France ll/0-IJ20, ed . Frarn;:ois Avril and icole Reynaud (Paris, 1993), pp. 203-4, 208-9. See also Frederic Elsig, "La peinture en Savoie autour de 1450," N11ovi S111di 5 (1998), pp. 25-28. 2 I For Hans \'('itz see Charle terling, "Josse Lieferinxe peimre provern:;al," Revue dn Lo11we et des 11111sees de France 14 (1964), p. 14; Charles Sterling, "L'influence de Konrad \'('itz en Savoie," Retlfle de I: lrl 71 (1986), pp. 17-32; Giovanni Romano, "Tra la Francia e !'Italia: note su Giacomo Jaquerio e una proposta per Enguerrand Quarton" in Ho111111age llfichel f,ac/otte: E111des snr la peint11re du 1'!0J•en r lge et de la Renaissance (j\[iJan, l 994), p. 18 8. See also my text in El Re11aci111ienlo llfedilerrdneo: Viajes de ai1islas

e ilinerarios de obras en/re ltalia, Francia)' Espaiia en el siglo Xf~

ed. i\Iauro Natale (i\[adrid, 2001), pp. 309-18. For the Genevan fairs see Frederic Borel, Les foires de Cene1•e a11,\1-'e siecle (Geneva, 1892); Jean Franc;ois Bergier, IJ

J,es foires de Ceneve et l'icono111ie intemationale de la Renaissance (Paris, 1963). '4 For the i\Iaster of the Prince of Piedmont see Nicole Reynaud in Les 11/all/ISClils peinl11res en France, PP· 209-10. See also N. Foron-Dauphin, "Un temoignage de l'enluminure en Dauphine? Le manuscrit 84 de la Bibliotheque de Clermont-Ferrand," Lapierre et l'ic1it 11 (2000), pp. 77-96. I 5 Bernard Gagne bin, Le 111issel de Bonimrd prie11r de Sain I-

T-/ctor de Ceneve: Chefd'oeu!'re 111ico111111 de Ja11in L19•sel pei11tre des 1•ilra11x de la cathidrale Saint-Pierre (Geneve, 1976). I6 \'\1aldemar Deonna, Les arts aCene11e des origines ala fin d11 XT /ffle siecle, (Geneve, 1942), pp. 217-22. 17 See La Maison de Savoie en Pa)'S de T1'11d, pp. 183-86. IS V Promis, "Inventaire fait au XVe siecle des rneubles, ornements religieux, vaisselles, tapisseries, etc., empruntes par le pape Feli""' V a!'hotel de la i\[aison de Savoie,"

llfi111oires el dom111enls p11hliis par la Sociile savoisiem1e d'histoire el d'archeologie l 5 ( 1875), pp. 311-12. See also P. Vayra, "Le lettere e le arti alla corte di avoia," Miscella11ea di storia italia11a 22 (1884), pp. 11-248. I9 R. Avezou, "La decadence sous Louis Ier et Amedee IX," Cahiers de Savoie (1945), pp. 51-61; L. Marini, Sai•oiardi epie111ontesi 11ello slato saba11do, I. 1418-1601 (Rome, 1962). 20 i\[ichele Beaulieu and Victor Beyer, Diclio1111aire des smlp/eurs fra11rais d11 M0J 1en Age (Paris, 1992), pp. 151-52. zI Francesco i\Ialaguzzi Valeri, "Un pittore savoiarclo ai servigi di Gian Galeazzo Sforza," Rassegna bih/iografica de/l'arteitaliana6 (1903), pp. 12-13; Evelyn S. W'elch, "Un artista di Ginevra nella casa di Branda Castiglioni, veSCO\'O di Como," ; Jrte /0111/Jarda 70-71 (1984), PP· I 56-58.

For Antoine de Lonhy, see Franc;ois Anil, "Le i\Iaitre des Jleures de Saluces: Antoine de Lonhy," Reme de /'Art 85 (1989), pp. 9-34; Gim·anni Romano, "Sur Antoine de Lonhy en Piemont," Ret'l!e de I~· lrt 85 (1989), pp. 35-44; Philippe Lorentz, "Une commande du chancelier icolas Rolin au peintre Antoine de Lonhy (1446): la vitrerie du chateau d' Authumes," Blllletin de la Societe de l'Histoire de l/lrt fra11fais (1994), pp. 9-13 . See also my text in El Renaci111iento 11/editemineo, pp. 481-90. 2 3 For Yolande, see L. i\Ienabrea, Chroniq11es de 1olande de France, d11chesse de Savoie, somr de Lo11is ,\J: Dom111ents inedits (Paris, 1859). 2 4 For the Chambery panel, see E. Rossetti Brezzi, "II riarredo figurato YOluto da Giorgio e Carlo di Challant," in Sa11t'Orso di .Aosta: II co111plesso 11101111111entale. f Saggi (Aos ta, 2001), pp. 187-204. For the diptych of Charlotte, see Charles Sterling, "Carnet savoyard," Rev11e d11 Lo11vre 28 (1978), pp. 333-42. 2 5 For the i\Iaster of Charles of France and Jean Colombe, see Franc;ois Avril in Les 111a1111scrits a peint11res en Fra11ce, pp. 163, 326-27. 2 6 Nicole Reynaud in Les 111an11scrits apei11t11res en France, P· 345· 2 7 E. Dolino, "Le verrate," in Sa11t'Orso di,· losta, !, pp. 205-18. 2 8 Frederic Elsig in La Renaissance en Sa11oie: L es arts a11 te111ps d11 d11c Chades II (1501-1553) (Geneva, 2002), pp. 15 3-60. The new documents on the painter were drawn to my attention by 1 icolas Schatti. 2 9 See G. Romano, "Nuove indicazioni per Eusebio Ferrari e ii primo Cinguecento a Vercelli," in Sc1itti i11 onore di Ci11/iano Briganti, ed . i\I. Bona Castellotti, l\tlilan, 1990, pp. 28-31. 3° The association of the Turin panel with Defendente Ferrari is due to Giovanni Romano. 3' i\Iauro Natale in La Renaissance en Savoie, pp. 99-110, 116-27. 32 P. Amiet, "Gaspard i\Iasery et la peinture savoyarde du XVIe siecle," ilfe111oires de l/lcade111ie des sciences, belles-lettres et arts de Savoie, 7 (1963), pp. 3-16. The Luxembourg Flagellatio11 was brought to my attention by Lili Koltz, who restored the painting and discovered the signature "Gaspardus i\Iaseri" in 2002. 33 These new urbanistic projects belong to a panEuropean phenomenon of architectural and urban renewal around 1600. See Vera Comoli, "Torino paradigma per i modelli urbanistici e archirettonici delle capitali nel Seicento e nel Settecento in Europa," in I Trio11f; de/ Barocco: Archite!f11ra i11 Europa 1600-r750, ed. H . A i\Iillon, (Venice, 1999), pp. 349-69.

Chapter J DAVID

DROGI

Abbreviations

ASF, FBSP Archivio di Stato di Ferrara, fondo Benrivoglio, serie patrimoniale ASB = J\ rchivio di Stato di Bologna J\Si\I = Archivio di Stato di i\Iodena AFSP Archivio della Fabbrica di San Petronio

' Cecilia Ady, The Bentivoglio of Bologna: A St11r!J 1in Despotis111 (London, 1937), p. 1. 2 Ludovico Frati, L'inventario dei beni di Giovanni I Be11ti110,glio (Bologna, 1907), p. 4; Filippo Bosdari, Cio/la11ni I Bentivoglio Signore di Bologna, r1or-1102 (Bologna,1915); Giovanni Farfoli, "La signoria di Giovanni I Bentivoglio e la battaglia di Casalecchio, 26 giugno 1402 ." Strenna storica bolog11ese (1965), pp. l 13-24; Raffaele Belvederi "l Benrivoglio e i Malvezzi a Bologna negli anni 1463-I 506," / lnnali de/la Facolta di Magistero, Uni11ersita di Bari 6 (1967), p. 35. 3 Nicolo Benrivoglio is recorded as a member of the Anziani, the governing body equivalent to a senate, in 1284 and 1288. Ivano Bentivoglio is listed as such several times between r 298 and I 3 I I. Francesca Bocchi, " I Benrivoglio da cittadini a signori," Alfie 111e111orie de/la dep11tazio11e di storia patria per le provi11cie di Ro111ag11a F (1971), pp. 48-49. 4 Fo r pre-Bentivoglio Bologna's political history see Ady, Benti11oglio, pp. r-9; Albano Sorbelli, I Bentivoglio, signori di Bolo,gna, ed. Iarsilio Bacci (Rocca San Casciano, 1969), pp. 1-18; Giorgio Tamba, f dom111enti delp,011emo de/ co1111111e bolognese (1116-15r2), Quaderno culturali bolognesi, Vol. II, no. 6 (Bologna, 1978) pp. 16-20. 5 J\dy, Be11tivoglio, p. 9; Lanfranco Berri, Giovanni ff Bentivo,glio: iipotere politico a Bologna nel secolo deci111oq11i11to (Bologna, 1976), p. 28; Tarnba, I doc11111enti, p. 20. 6 Bosdari, Ciova1111i I Bentivoglio, p. 21 5. 7 Ady, Bentivoglio, p. lo; Sorbelli, ! Be11tivoglio, p. 22; Berri, Ciovan11i If Bentivoglio, p. 30; Tamba, f dom111enti, p. 20. 8 Berri, Giovanni ff Bentivoglio, p. 29. 9 ASF, FBSP, libro 2, fascicolo 27;J. F Guerrini,Arbore istorico de/la Casa Bentivoglio d'/-lrago11a, Ferrara, Bib. comunale, ms. CL I, 435 (cited in Ady, Benti11oglio, p. l 1) . ro Sorbelli, I Bentivoglio, p. 28 . rr Ady, Bentivoglio, p. 13. 12 Antongaleazzo was named "Rettore delle Citta, Luoghi, Castelli nelle Provincie della Campagna e Maritima della Santa Sede" in August 1420; he was named feuda l lord of Castelbolognese in 1420; he was aUowed to travel in the papal stares without toUs and taxes in r42 l; Antongaleazzo and sons were declared in "le grazie del Papa" in 1426; he was granted the moneylenders' tax again in 1426; and, in 1428, papal

211

captains were ordered to gi\â&#x20AC;˘e Antongaleazzo men and arms, if requested . J\SF, FBSP, bus ta 2, fascicoli 34, 35, 43, 44, 49; catastrot, fascicolo 24. 1 3 Gaspare Nadi, Dia1io bolog11ese di Caspare J\Tadi a mra di Corrado llicci, 1-135-1503, ed. Corrado Ricci (Bologna, 1886) p. 6; Cherubino Ghirardacci, Della historia di Bolo,g11a. Parle terz.a, de/ R.PM. Cbirardacci bolognesi dell'ordine eremita110 di S. Agosli110 l1 570], ed . Albano Sorbelli. R em111 ltalicam111 Scrip/ores, 2d series, XXXlII (Bologna, 19 33) p. 4 5; Ady, Benti11oiio, p. 1 5. 1 4 1\ntongaleazzo's salary was three times greater than nearly all others. For 1418-19: 1\SB, Ufficio della camera, libro delle entrate e spese, anno 1419, ff. 188 r.-196 r. Giuseppe Zaoli, "Lo studio bolognese e papa Martino V," St11di e 111e111orie per la storia dell' U11iversila di Bolog11a 3 (1912): p. 146; Umberto Dallari, 1 rot11/i dei letto1i legisti e artisti de/lo St11dio bolog11ese dal r;S-1-1799, 5 vols. (Bologna, 1888-1924), l\~ pp. 41-42 . For 1419-20: SB, Ufficio della camera, libro delle entrate e spese, anno 1420, ff. 2 35 v.-242 r; Zaoli, "Lo studio," p. i49; Dallari, f rot11/i, IV, pp. 41-42. 1 5 He possessed no ruling title, but accumulated powers that constitute rulership: he controlled the city's finances, its militia, and the office that determined exilement. Passeggeri was the leader of Bologna's notaries, a group that had an integral governmental role, registering acts of the Anziani and composing statutes itself. His rise to power accelerated when, after the Bolognese took Emperor Frederick II's son King Enzo prisoner in 1248, Passeggeri wrote the refusal to the emperor's demand for return. l n 1277 he was recorded as an ''J\nziano perpetuo." L. ColiniBaldeschi, "Rolandino Passeggeri e icol6 III: pagine di storia bolognese," Storie e 111e11101ie per la storia de//'U11iversita di Bologna 8 (1924), pp. 1 55-86. 1 6 Panofsky identified the appearance on tombs of commemorative scenes with secular, biographical elements as a major shift in medieval funerary practice. He cites the Bolognese professor tomb as the first type in the genre. Erwin Panofsky, To111b Sc11!pt11re: Fo11r L ect11res 011 !ts Cha11gi11g Aspects fro111 A11cie11t Egypt to Bemi11i, ed . H . \YI. Janson. ew York, i964; 2d edition, London, i992), pp. 39-70. 1 7 After the 1348 plague, the production of professor tombs with lecture reliefs continued sporadically. On the tradition up to i 348, see Renzo Grandi, f 11101111me11ti dei dottori e la smlt11ra a Bologna (n67-1J-1S) (Bologna, t 982). Iconographic consistency marks the Bolognese professor tombs as an identifiable type, in contrast to other cities' (e.g., Padua's) professor tombs, whose imagery varies widely.Jill Emilee Carrington, "Sculpted Tombs of the Professors of the University of Padua, c. 13 58-1 557" (Ph.D. dissertation, Syracuse University, 1996). 1 8 Giovanni d'Andrea wrote major texts on Gregory lX's decretals and on Boniface Vlll 's Liber sex/11s, he was arbiter for the co1111111e, and he served as Bologna's

212

official representative abroad . Giorgio Tamba, " Giovanni d'Andrea," in Dizio11a1io biografico degli italia11i, ed. F.P. Casavola (Rome, 2000), vol. 55, pp. 667-68. On his tomb, see Grandi, I 11101111111e11ti, pp. r63-67. Giovanni da Legnano wrote two major texts (De Bello, 1360, and De Pace, 1364), served as Bologna's official ambassador to the Vatican, and chose two Bolognese cardinals himself. Guido Zaccagnini, Storia de/lo S111dio di Bologna d11ra11te ii Ri11asci111e11to (Geneva, 1930), pp. 19-21. On his tomb, by Jacobello and Pierpaolo dalle i\Iasegne, see Lutz Heusinger,Jacobello 1md Pie1pao/o da//e 11laseg11e (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Munich, 1967). 1 9 lnjuly 1433, a payment to Quercia reads "A maestro lachomo da la Fonte a dito di Lire I soldi i6, per lui a Guielmo Ghato nochiero, per lui a Iachomino so fradelo, per nolo d'1111a piola da 1111a archa de pexo some tre a soldi 12 la soma dalla Tore della Fossa a Bologna." J\FSP, giornale, 24-28 luglio, i433, f. 212v. Cited in James Beck,Jacopo de/la Quercia, 2 vols. (New York, 1991), II, p. 495. After Quercia's death, his brother wrote to the Fabbrica di San Petronio on January 12, 1439: "Pareva a me che voi aveste asa' di capitale avendo la sipoltura che era ricevere fiorini dugento cinquanrn ... " AFSP, miscelleanea, vol. 2, no. 1. I. B. Supino, La sm//11ra i11 Bolog11a 11el secolo )(T <"'.' ricerche e st11di (Bologna, 1910) doc. 73; Beck,)acopo de/la Quercia, II, p. 547. On 31 August 1442, the tomb appears again: "quandam sepulturam marmoream laboratam et sculptam per dictum quondam dominum lacobum ad instatium illorum de Varis de Ferraria ... " AFSP, librot vol. 1, f. 68 ff. Supino, La smlt11ra, pp. 171-76. Bolognese university records document "Iacobus de Varis de Regio" on university payrolls in 1392-1393, 1395-1396, and 1398-1399. ASB, ufficio per la condotta degli stipendiari, Libro delle bollette, ff. 45 r.-49r., 6H.-6jf., 1Zor.-1 2 r.; ASB Ufficio di tesoreria o masseria, giornali di entrate e spese, ff 234r-242r. Dallari, f rot11/i, I\~ pp. 17, 19, 24. He was a pro111otore di la11rea at the University of Ferrara in April 1419. ASM, Notaro Petrus de Lardis, Ul, l, f. 111. Giuseppe Pardi, Titoli dottorali co11feriti da//o st11dio di rerrara 11ei secoli XV e XVI(Lucca, 1900), p. 12. 2 Â° Furthermore, the tomb was likely unfinished, allowing the gisa11t figure and the seated professor in the relief to be adapted to Antongaleazzo's features. 21 Literature on the tomb generally considers its appropriation as a question of convenience rather than utility. Anna Maria Matteucci, "Le sculture," in fl telllpio di San Ciacolllo J1laggiore i11 Bolog11a, ed . Carlo Volpe (Bologna, 1967), p. 75. Beck alone, relying upon stylistic evidence, argues that Quercia did not carve any part of the tomb. He suggests that an unknown Vari tomb was destroyed in Ferrara, and that the tomb upon which Quercia worked in Bologna is Antonio da Budrio's floor slab (1430-1435 ). Beck,jacopo de/la Q11ercia, I, pp. 33, 197. This is contradicted by the 1433

document's reference to "una archa," an inapplicable term for a floor slab. 22 Martin \\'arnke, The Co1111, Jrtist: 011 the / Jncesl1J' of the 1llodem _, 11tisl I lew York, 199 3), p. xiii. 2 3 1\ SF, FBSP, libro 3, fascicolo 25 . 2 4 Gasparre Nadi recorded that in 1438 icolo Piccinino was welcomed "per achordo de zerti zetadini perche lo chiamono ... perche v'era uno amigo di bentivoli ." I adi, Diario Bolog11ese, p. 9. l n 1441, Bologna's independence was sold to the papacy and Francesco Piccinino became the autocratic governor, dissolving the Sedici. Ghirardacci, Historia di Bolol',11a, pp. 51-5 5; r\dy, Benfil'(J,_~/io, pp. 18-22; Sorbelli, 1 Bentivoglio, pp. 36-42; Tamba, I doC11111enli, p. 21. 2 5 J\dy, Benti1 10,glio, pp. 24-26; Sorbelli, I BentiNJ/!,/io, p. 43. 2 6 Ghirardacci, Historia di Bolo,~11a, pp. 92-93; Ady, Be11ti1 1o<~lio, p. 27; Sorbelli, I Bentivo<~lio, p. 43. 2 7 adi, Diario Bolognese, p. 24; Ghirardacci, Historia di Bolo,~11a, p. 107; Ady, Be11tivo,~lio, p. 28; Sorbelli, I Benti1 1 0<~/io, p. 44. 2 8 The inscription at the chapel's entrance states that its space was purchased by Annibale in February 1445. See also Ghirardacci, I-!istoria di Bolo,~11a, p. 100; Anna Ottani Ca\'ina, "La Cappella Bentivoglio," in JI le111pio di Sa11 Ciaco1110 111aggiore i11 Bolog11a, ed. Carlo Volpe (Bologna, 1967), p. 117. 2 9 Sante was born around 1425 at the Castello di Poppi, from the affair between Ercole Bentivoglio and the wife of Agnolo da Cascese. Guido da Poppi, the local lord, sent teenaged Sante to Flo rence to be apprenticed as a wool merchant, under the care of Capponi. Neri Capponi, "Commentari di I eri di Gino Capponi di cose seguite in l talia dal 1419 al 1456." Rm1111 ltalica1w11 Scriptores, ed. L.A. l\Iuratori, (i\Iilan, 17 3 1) XVIII, pp. 1 1 57-1 220; Ghirardacci, I-!isloria di Bologna, p. 118; Ady, Be11ti1 10,~lio, pp. 31-33. 3° Ghirardacci, I-!istoria di Bolo,g11a, p. 1 19; r\dy, Benti11oglio, pp. 33-34. 3' Cosimo al1egecl1y told Same that he was either the son of a Bentivoglio, in which case his fate would pull him to Bologna and a great future, or the son of a provincial wool merchant, in which case he would stay in Florence and do his "little things." Capponi, Co111111en/ari, p. 1209; Ghirardacci, r !istoria di Bolo,~na, p. 119; Ady, Benti11oglio, p. 34. J2 Sante's relationship to the Sforza and Este is demonstrated in letters (many now lost) to Francesco Sforza and Borso d'Este. The archival index reads: "[Lettere] clalle quali ... pure rilevasi l'Amicizia e Parentela che aveva dt. Sig. Santo con ii d. to Sig. Duca, e Primati di Milano, e del'Amicizia, e domestichezza passava col Sig. Duca di Ferrara." ASF, FBSP, libro 5, fascicolo 2. 33 ASF, FBSP, libro 6, fascicolo 20. 34 ASB, provisioni e riformagioni, 12 luglio 1447; Ghirardacci, Historia di Bologna, pp. 122-24; Ady, Bentivoglio, pp. 39-40; P. Colliva, "Bologna da1 XIV al XVlll secolo: 'governo misto' o signoria senatoria?"

in Storia de//'!:,111ilia Ro111ag11a, vol. 11, ed. A Berselli, pp. 13-34 (lmola, 1977), p. 18. 35 Acly, Benti1 1o<~lio, p. 49; Bocchi, II patri111011io benti1•olesco al/a 111e!a de! Q11attroce11to (Bologna, 1970) p. 81; Gertrude Billings Licciardello, "Notes on the 1\rchitectural Patronage in Bologna of the Bentivoglio" (Ph.D. dissertation, Columbia University, 1990), p. 52· 36 ASF, FBSP, libro 6, fascicolo 18; catastrot, libro 16. 37 Two hypotheses are generally accepted. First, that Pagno began the present chapel for Sante in the 1450s, but it was completed and decorated by Giovanni lI in the 1470s and 1480s (as with the Bentivoglio Palace). Francesco l\lalaguzzi Valeri, L'architet/11ra a Bolo,~11a 11el Ri11asci111e11to (Rocca San Casciano, 1899), p. 87; Ottani Cavina, "La Capella Bentivoglio," pp. 1 17-20; Giordano Conti, "Cappelle di derivazione brunelleschiana a Bologna nel secolo XV" in Filippo Bn111elleschi· la s11a opera e ii s110 te111po (Florence, 1980), pp. 553-60. Second, that Pagno completed Sante's chapel in the 1450s, which was demolished in the 1470s for Giovanni ll's construction of a new chapel, presently on the site. Clifford l\L Brown, "The Church of Santa Cecilia and the Bentivoglio Chapel in San Giacomo Maggiore in Bologna," 1llitteih111ge11 des /(;111sthistorischen !11stil11tes in Florenz 13 (1967-68): 301-24; Billings Licciardcllo, "Notes on the .Architectural Patronage," pp. 1-82. Nieuwenhuizen denies Sante any involvement, suggesting that Giovanni 11 demolished his father J\nnibale's chapel to construct his own between 1480 and 1486. Paul Nieuwenhuizen, "Worldly Ri tual and Dynastic Iconography in the Bentivoglio Chapel in Bologna 1483-1499,'' 11Jededelingen 11a11 he! J\Tederlands !mti/111!! !e Ro111e 55 (1996), p. 191. 38 Nadi, Diario Bolognese, p. 50; Ghirardacci, I fistoria di Bolo,~11a, pp. 173, 371-72; Sorbelli, I Benti1 10,~lio, p. 56; \X'illiam Wallace, The Be11ti1 1oglio Palace: Lost a11d R eco11slmcted (K..irksville, 1979). Originally published in The Sixteenth Ce11llllJ' jo11mal 1o (Fall 1979), pp. 97-1 14; Billings Licciardello, "Notes on the 1\rchitcctural Patronage," pp. 179-238 . 39 ln addition to local political turmoil, military threats included the ex..iled Canetoli in 1450-51 and Jacopo Piccinino in 145 5. Ghirarclacci, 1!istoria di Bolog11a, pp. 129, 138; Ady, Be11tivoglio, pp. 41, 46 4° Billings Licciardello, "Notes on the 1\rchitectural Patronage," p. 37. 4' Tax records document his business relationship with Donatello and l\Iichelozzo. Archivio di Stato di Firenze, cstimo de! 1427, Quartiere S. Giovanni, pi\"iere di Fiesole, popolo della canonica, f. 165. Published in Fabriczy, Cornelius von Fabriczy, "Pagno di Lapo Portigiani," Jahrb11ch der Koi1iglich Pre11Ssische11 /(;111stsa111111h111ge11 24 (1903), p. IZ6. Pagno worked in the Old Sacristy in 1449, and in the l\Iedici Palace in the same period. lsabelle Hyman, Fifteenth-Ce11!1t1J' Florentine St11dies: The Palazzo 1lledici and a L edgerjor the Ch11rch of Sa11 Lorenzo (New York, 1968), pp. 140-41.

213

ASB, sezione de! comune, denunzie di guelle che \'ennero a domiciLare in Bologna, suo contado o clistretto, 14jl-1456. "Pagno," p. 121. 43 Contracts published in Fabriczy, "Pagno," pp. 131-35. For thorough discussion of Pagno's biography and works, see Billings Licciardello, "Notes on the Architectural Patronage," pp. 25 5-87. 44 Warnke, The Co11rt / lrtist, pp. 46-5 4. 45 Francesco Sforza had toppled the Ambrosian republic with Florentine (i.e., Medici) financial support. 4G Andrea Bacchi, "Vicende della pittura nell'eta di GiO\'anni II Bentivoglio" in Be11ti110/om11111/agnijicentia: pri11cipe e c11/t11ra a Bologna ne/ Ri11asci111e11!0, ed. Bruno Basile (Rome, 1984), pp. 289-90; Luigi Samoggia, "L'ambiente storico-culturale centese de! Quattrocento e Marco Ruggiero detto lo Zoppo" in Jl!arco Zoppo: Cento 1-133-Ve11ezia 1.178. / Jtti de! convegno intemazionale di st11di S11!!a pitt11ra de/ Q11atlrocento pada110, ed. Berenice Giovannucci Vigi (Bologna, 1993), pp. 29-31. 47 Angela De' Benedictis, "Quale 'corte' per guale 'signoria'? A proposito di organizzazione e immagine di potere durante la preminenza di Giovanni II Bentivoglio" in Benti110/om111 111agnijice11tia, p. 19. 48 ASF, FBSP, libro 13, fascicolo 17; Ady, Bentivoglio, p. 88. 49 ASF, FBSP, libro 8, fascicolo 24. 5掳 ASF, FBSP, catastrot, fascicolo 344. ladi, Diario Bolognese, p. 88; Ghirarclacci, Historia di Bologna, p. 221. F ASF, FBSP, Ii bro 1 5, fascicolo 5 5; Ghirardacci, Historia di Bologna, pp. 279-83. Other honors: in 1461, Emperor Frederick Ill gave Giovanni the right to create knights (A F, FB P, libro 6, fascicolo 20); in 1465, Frederick Ill gave him the right to legitimate bastards (ASF, FBSP, catastrot, libro 18); in 1467, he received condo/le from Florence, aples, and 1\lilan, renewed repeatedly over the decades (ASF, FBSP, libro 8, fascicolo 50); in 1469, he was granted the right to use the Sforza s!e111ma (ASF, FBSP, libro 9, fascicolo 11); King Christian of Denmark knighted his eldest son Annibale in 1474 (Sorbelli, I Bentivoglio, p. 69); in 1473, Pope Sixtus IV reconfirmed Giovanni's appointment as "president for life" of the Seclici, an act repeated by Innocent VIII in 1485 (ASF, FBSP, libro 9, fascicolo 65); in 1482, King Ferrante of Naples issued him a condo/ta, as well as the right to use the Aragon ste111111a (ASF, FBSP, libro 12, fascicolo 23); and, in 1499, King Louis XII named Giovanni's son Annibale II a baron adi, Diario Bolognese, p. 264). 52 Acly, Bentivoglio, pp. 103-33. 53 adi, Diario Bolog11ese, pp. 276-80; Ghirardacci, Historia di Bolog11a, p. 298; Acly, Bentivoglio, pp. 120-23. 54 The friendship between Giovanni and Ercole is demonstrated in Giovanni's letters in the Este archives. AS I, carteggio principi esteri, busta 1134, fascicolo III, sottofascicoli I-II. See also Dallari, l ro/11/i. 55 Ghirardacci, Historia di Bolog11a, pp. 344 ff.; Acly, Bentivoglio, pp. 132-33. 42

214

5G ASF, FBSP, libro 10, fascicoli 26, 3 3; catastro B, libro 78, doc. 134; catastrot, libri 365, 478. 57 Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti, Un codice a11tografo di

Cioflanni Sabatino degli Arienti, ed. R. Ambrosiani (Bologna, 1909); Idem, La "ci11ica sahi!e" di Ciova1111i Sabadi110 degli Arienti, edizione i11te1pre!ati11a, 1467, ed. Daniela Volta (Tesi di Laurea in Filologia ltaliana, Universita degli Studi, Bologna, 1984). Bruno Basile, Introduction to Le Porretta11e by Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti, ed . Bruno Basile (Rome, 1986), PP路 XV-XVll. 58 Nadi, Diario Bolognese, pp. 144-46, 301; Ghirardacci, Hisloria di Bologna, pp. 247-5 3, 305-6; Acly, Bentivoglio, PP路 103-9, I 28-30. 1 59 Lino Sighinolfi, L architet!11ra bentivolesca in Bologna e ii Palazzo de/ Podesta, (Bologna, 1909); Billings Licciardello, "Notes on the Architectural Patronage," pp. 1 50-78; Paola Foschi, " l palazzi del Podesta, di Re Enzo e clel Capitano de! Popolo: problemi e proposte di interpretazione," // Carrobbio 24 (1998), pp. 13-42. Go See, for instance, A. D. Fraser-Jenkins, "Cosimo de' Medici's Patronage of Architecture and the Theory of Magnificence," jo11mal of the lf7arb111;g and Co111ta11/d !11stit11tes 33 (1970), pp. 162-70. Gr Rab Hatfield, "The Compagnia de' Magi," jo11rnal of the lrarb11rg and Co11rta11/d !11stit11tes 3 3 (1970), pp. 107-61; Roy Strong, Art a11d Po1JJer: Renaissance Festivals, 1-150-1650 (Berkeley, 1984). G2 Nadi, Diario Bolognese, pp. 31-32; Rossi 1906; G hirardacci, J-listoria di Bologna, p. 14 7. G3 Arienti, // !omeo fatto in Bologna ii IV ottobre l./70 (1471], eel. Antonio Zambiagi (Parma, 1888); Ghirardacci, Historia di Bologna, pp. 203-6. G4 Ghirardacci, Historia di Bologna, p. 206. G5 Fulvio Pezzarossa, '"Ad honore et laudo de! nome Bentivoglio': la letterarura clella festa nel seconclo Quattrocento" in Benti1,olom111 111ag11ijicentia, p. 44. GG Ghirardacci, f\larrazione de/le 11ozze di Annibale ff Bentivoglio celebrate i11 Bologna l'a11no l./87 [1570], ed. Gaetano Giordani (Bologna, 1836); Andrea Bernardi, Cro11ache forlivesi di Audrea Bemardi (No11amla) dal 1-176 al r; 17, p11bb/ica!e ora per la pri111a 110/ta di s11 ! a11tograjo, 1505-1jl7, eel. Giuseppe Mazzatinti (Bologna, 189 5-1897), pp. 173-76; Ghirardacci, Historia di Bologna, pp. 235-44; r\cly, Bentivo,glio, pp. 172-74. G7 Pezzarossa, "Ad honore et laudo," pp. 101-2. G8 The festival's timing was propitious: 1488 brought an assassination attempt and the murder of Faenza's ruler Galeotto Manfredi, Giovanni's son-in-law. Giovanni was temporarily imprisoned when he rode to his daughter's and grandson's rescue. ladi, Diario Bolognese, pp. 135-137; Acly, Bentivoglio, p. 87. On the 1490 tournament, see Bruno Biancini, Ciostre e tomei di Giovanni fl Bentivoglio (Bologna, 1925), pp. 6-8; Ghirardacci, Historia di Bologna, pp. 257-62; Ady, Bentivoglio, p. 171. G9 Bacchi, "Vicende della pittura"; Andrea Emiliani, "Tre artisti nella Bologna clei Bentivoglio" in Tre a11isti 1

11el/a Bolo,_~11a dei Benti1 oglio, ed . Andrea Emiliani (Bologna, 1985), p. ix. 7° Joseph i\Ianca, The A11 of hrcole de' Roberti (Cambridge, 1992), p. 5. 7' Bacchi, "Vicende della pittura," p. 294. 2 7 Bacchi, Fra11cesco de/ Cossa (Soncino, 1991 ), pp. 46, 1

78 ff.

ln 1401, Giovanni 1 bricked over an image of the Virgin near Porta Santo Stefano; the wa ll fell, was reconstructed, and fell again, whereupon Giovanni declared it an important site of devotion. Bacchi, l"-"tm1cesco de/ Cossa, pp. 30, 76. 74 i\Ianca, Ercole de'Robe11i, pp. 29-32. 75 Giorgio Vasari, Le 1ite de' pi1/ ecce/le11ti pittori, sm/tori, et arch1Jettori, ed. Gaetano i\Iilanesi, 9 vols. (Florence, 1878-85), III, 141-48; Emiliani, "Tre artisti," pp. xx-xxiii; i\Ianca, Ercole de'Roberti, pp. 48-5 3. 76 The diptych's attribution is questionable. See David Alan Brown, in Brown et. al., T'/1111e a11d Bea111) Leo11ardo's Ginevra de' Benci a11d Re11aissa11ce Po11raits of lf'1J111en (\'\'ashington, 2001 ), p. 1o3. 77 i\Iarzia Faietti and D aniela Scaglietti Kelescian, / l111ico _,. lspertini (i\Iodena, 199 5), pp. 344-4 5. 7S Francesca Bocchi, "Vicende dell'archi,·io Bentivoglio attualmente consen·ata nell'Archivio di Stato di Ferrara," / ltti e 11;e111orie de/la dep11tazio11e di storia patria per le pro1 i11cie di Ro111agna 17-19 (1965-68), pp. 351-74. 79 ASF, FBSP, libro 16, fascicolo 33. So t\SF, FBSP, libro 21, fascicolo 46. Sr ASF, FBSP, libro 21, fasc icolo 40. Vasari, Le vite, III, pp. 538-39; Ghirardacci, Historia di Bologna, pp. 226, 370 ff. 2 S Ghirardacci, J Jistoria di Bolog11a, p. 372; Giampiero Cuppini, I palazzi senatorii a Bologna: architett11ra co111e i111111agi11e de/ potere (Bologna, 1974), pp. 52-5 4. S3 Paolo Giovio, Cli elogi vile breve111ente scritte d'h110111ini il/11stri di g11erra, antiche et 111odemi di 1llom. Paolo Ciol'io 11esco/IO di 1\ 'ocera, 011de s'ha no11 111e110 11/i/e c:> piena, che necessana & vera cog11itione d'i11finite historie 11011 ved11te a/trove, trans. J\I. Ludovico D omenichini (Florence, 15 54), p. 296; Billings Licciardello, "Notes on the Architectural Patronage," p. 183. S4 Ghirardacci, Historia di Bologna, p. 243; Ottani Cavina, "La Cappella Bentivoglio," pp. 120-28; Nieuwenhuizen, "\'\'orldly Ritual," p. 191. S5 Sforza and Visconti stem111i appear with that of the Bentivoglio in the floor tiles, and the dedication inscription reads: "Cl!RlSTO OPT! \JO i\I \XI\[() 01\'0QCE 73

JO,\:--.i\J lc\ ' \i\GELIST,\E OB OE\'OT!Oi\L\1 J0,\1'\i\ES BEi\T l\'OU; S S1'CUi\DLJS SFORTI1\ VJCl ;CO\ ll cS Di e ,\JV\GO/\:li\ I IOC OPUS DIC1\VIT ANNO GIV\TL\E MCCCCLXXXVI I DIE VI JUN! !. "

S6 lZnightings included that of Ludovico da Castel San Pi etro on February 18, 1475, Cristoforo lngrati on January 9, 1483, and Carlo Ingrati on April 23, 1486. Ghirardacci, !Iistoria di Bologna, pp. 21 5, 226, 2 3 3. Visiting dignitaries included the Cardinal of Santa Croce in

1496 and Ercole d'Este in 1492. Ghirardacci, ~!istoria di Bolog11a, pp. 264, 291-92. On the use of the chapel in this respect, see Nieuwenhuizen, "W'orldly Ritual." S7 Ghirardacci, Histo1ia di Bologna, p. 243. SS i\Iy thanks to John T. Paoletti for this observation. S9 Bacchi, "Vicende della pittura," p. 317. 9° The inscription reads: "ME/P1\TRJ ,\i\I JCT DUl.CES/ CJ\R1\ CU1\I C01'\IUG l;/NJ\TOS/C01\I J'1•..t)O PRICCJBUS/

VIRGO Bl cAT,\jTUIS/i\lCCCCLXXXVIJ l/1\LJGUSTJ/ l.ALJRhNTIUS COST1\ F,\CIEB,\T." Nieuwenhuizen, " \'\'orldly Ritual," p. 193. 9 1 Ghirardacci, Historia di Bologna, p. 243. 9 2 Petrarch, Tri11111ph11s illortis I. 79-84. 93 Petrarch, Tri11111ph11S Jlfo1tis 1.106-1 1. 94 Nieuwenhuizen argues that these figures, l sotta and Laura Bentivoglio, stand for the personification of Chastity and Petrarch's beloved Laura, also mentioned in the Tri11111phi. ieuwenhuizen, "\,'{/oddly Ritual," pp. 197-98. 95 From the top, clockwise, the scenes represent Ventidius Bassus, the mule diver who became Tribune; the Greek athlete i\Iilo bound to a tree being devoured by beasts; the Samnites defeating the Roman army at the Caudine Forks; the physician of Alexander the Great; the Lydian king Croesus spared from burning by the Persian emperor Cyrus; Augustus and cavalry fallen in a ravine after a bridge collapse; Philip of i\Iacedon's murder; and Julius Caesar fleeing Pompey. Scenes of Creation and Cain slaying Abel are at center. Wendy Wegener, "Mortuary Chapels of Renaissance Condottieri" (Ph.D. dissertation, Princeton University, 1989), pp. 194-205. 96 Petrarch, Tri111J1ph11s Fa111ae III.1-4. 97 Nieuwenhuizen, "W'orldly Ritual," p. 196. 9S Billings Licciardello, "Notes on the 1\rchitectural Patronage," pp. 281-82; Supino, L'al1e 11elle chiese di Bologna (Bologna, 1990), 11, p. 314. Two-volume reprint of L'arle 11elle chiese di Bologna, secoli T711-XJr 7 (Bologna, 1932) and f)arle 11e//e chiese di Bolog11ct, secoli XT 7-XT 71 (Bologna, 1938). 99 Cesare Gnudi, Niccolo dell'rlrca, Biblioteca d'arte Vol. 2. (Turin, 1942), p. 74; i\Iatteucci "Le sculture,"

P·77roo ladi, D1ario Bolognese, p. 98; Ghirardacci, r!istoria di Bolo,_1?,na, p. 341; Daniela Scaglietti, "La Cappella di Santa Cecilia" in II telllpio di Sa11 Ciaco1110 Maggiore in Bolog11a, ed. Carlo Volpe (Bologna, 1967), p. 135; Clifford 11. Brown, "The Church of Sama Cecilia and the Bentivoglio Chapel in San Giacomo i\Iaggiore in Bologna," Jlfitteihmgen des J(J111sthistorische11 lnstit11tes in Florenz 13 ( 1967-68), pp. 3 17 ff. 101 Charles D empsey, "The Carracci and the D evout Style in Emilia" in E111ilian Pai11ti11<1!, of the Sixteenth a11d Seventeenth Cent111ies: A S]•11;posi11lll, ed. H enry A. 1vlillon (\'\'ashington and Bologna, 1987), pp. 75-87; 1\ndrea Emiliani and Konrad Oberhuber, "Bologna 1490: dall'umanesimo severo alla Suavitas rinascimentale" in

Bologna e l'11111anesi1J10, r-190-1510, ed. l\Iarzia Faietti and Konrad Oberhuber (Bologna, 1988), p. xi" 102 Scaglietti, "La Cappella di Santa Cecilia," pp. 13 5-3 7; Roberto Longhi, Ojficina Ferrarese, r93-1, s~~11ita

dagli a111plia111e11/i 19-10 e dai n110/ii a111plia111e11ti 19-10-r955 (Florence, 1968), pp. 60-62; Bacchi, "Vicende

della pittura," pp. 327-35. 10 3 Bruno Basile, introduction to Le Porre!fane by Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti, ed. Bruno Basile (Rome, 1986), pp. xxv-xliii . 10 4 In a letter from Antongaleazzo Bentivoglio to l sabella d'Este. Archivio di Stato di l\Iantova, Archivio Gonzaga, busta 1891. Cited in Scaglietti, "La Cappella di Santa Cecilia," p. 14 5, n. 16. 10 5 Vasari, Le 11ite, llI, 546.

Chapter6 STEPHEN

CAMPBELL

The standard literature on the Tri11111phs is Friedrich Portheirn, ''Andrea l\Iantegnas Triumph Casars," Reperto1i11171 fiir K1111slll'issemchaft 9 ( 1886), pp. 266-80; Paul Kris teller, .rlndrea Llfante.~na (Berlin, 1902), pp. 281-311; Alessandro Luzio and A Paribeni, II Ttionfo di Cesare di ,.fodrea i11a11tegna (Rome, 1940); Andrew 1\Iartindale, The 1

Tti11111phs of Caesar b)•, lndrea Llfantegna in the Collection of Her Jlfajesl)• the Queen al Ha111pton Co11rl (London, 1979); Charles Hope, "The Chronology of Mantegna's Triumphs," Renaissance Stndies in Honor of Cra~~ H11gh S111)'1h, 2 vols. (Florence, 1985), 11, pp. 297-309; Claudia Cieri Via, L~· lntico Jra s!o1ia e allego1ia: Da Leon Battista .Alberti ad , llldrea Ll!antegna (Rome, 1985), pp. 120-37; Ronald l\l. Lightbown, Andrea i\Jantegna (Oxford, 1986), pp. 140-5 3; Carla Cerati, I Ttio11fi di Cesare di , lndrea Nantegna e ii Palazzo di S. Sebastiano in Llfan/01•a (l\Iantua, 1989); , Jndrea 11/antegna, exh. cat. ed. Jane l\Iartineau (London, 1992),

pp. 350-92 (entries by Charles l lope); Anthony Halliday, "The Literary Sources of l\Iantegna's Tt-i11111phs of Caesa1;" / lnnali de/la Smola No1male S11periore di Pisa, Serie iii, X,'GV, 1 (1994), pp. 337-96; idem, "The Literary Sources of Mantegna's Tt-i11111phs of Caesar," in La Corte di Jl!a11/ova mll'eti di Andrea Llfantegna: 1-150-1550, eel . Cesare 1\Iozzarelli, Robert Oresko, and Leandro Ventura (Rome, 1997), pp. 187-97. l\Iartindale, Tti11111phs of Caesa1; pp. 103-9, summarizes the critical and artistic fortune of the Tti11111phs in the later Renaissance; a more detailed treatment of its ongoing celebrity in the later sixteenth century is provided by Giovanni Agosti, "Su l\Iantegna, 4 (A l\Iantova, nel Cinquecento)," Prospettil'O 77 (1995), pp. 58-83, esp. p. 72, and note 129. 2 Plutarch , Life of Ae111ili11S Palll11s, p-34; Halliday "Literary Sources" (1994), pp. 340-48 and 35 5, shows that l\Iantegna must have had access to a manuscript of Plutarch's in the Gonzaga library, since fifteenth-century Latin translations and paraphras s by Leonardo Bruni and Flavio Biondo omitted crucial particulars regarding the

216

elaborate display of trophies, weapons, and armor in canvases I and III, all of which l\Iantegna faithfully depicts. Halliday also proposes that the pathos of the captives in canvas VII indicates a thorough engagement with Plutarch's text. 3 1\Iartindale, Tti11111phs of Caesar, p. 158. The author also notes (pp. 176-77) that the arch originally bore an inscription (visible in a copy in Vienna) dedicating the monument to Caius 1\Iarius, the uncle of Julius Caesar, whose monuments he had restored. The inscription itself, which was believed to have come from an arch at Rimini, had circulated in a fourteenth-century collection of inscriptions, the SJ 1lloge Signorillia11a, and in the !Jdlogai of a figure often linked ro l\Iantegna, Giovanni 1\Iarcanova. The architecture itself is invented by l\Iantegna, and is most reminiscent of the artist's early fresco St. Ja111es Led to Exec11tio11 in the Ovetari Chapel. 4 l\Iartindale, Tt-i11111phs of Caesar, pp. 60-63. 5 Halliday, "Literary Sources," pp. 354-61. 6 See the catalogue entry on Vienna, Albertina inv. 2583 by David Eksercljan in Andrea i\Janlegna, 1992, pp. 44 5-4 7. 7 For an example of source-hunting under strain, see Phyllis \'(' Lehmann, "The Sources and l\Ieaning of l\Iantegna's Pamass11s," Sa111othracian Reflections: r lspects of the Rn i1 al of the Antique (Princeton, 1993), pp. 59-178, which despite its objecti,·es serves mainly to convince the reader of l\Iantegna's notable independence of ancient sources in his mythological painting. This is not to say that 1\Iantegna was not sometimes inspired by actual works of ancient art. The Battle of the Sea Cods engraving draws some formal elements from the Felix Gem (now Oxford, J\shmolean 1\Iuseum), which was owned by Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga, but the borrowings heavily transformed their source, and thus cannot be seen as citations or quotations, and the uproarious context of Iantegna's invention bears little relation to the epic gravity of the source. For an analysis of the borrowing, which also involves an unconvincing attempt to interpret tl1e Battle of the Sea Cods as a record of a lost pendant to the Tri11111phs, see 1\Iichael Vickers, "The Felix Gem in Oxford and i\Iantegna's Triumphal Programme," Gazette des Bea11x-Arts JOI (1983), pp. 97-104. 8 W'ith regard to the antiquarian detail of the vault of the Camera Picta, Randolph Starn and Loren Partridge have noted, "l\Iantegna's vault. .. is not an imitation of a "source" so much as a model of (and for) the logic of a 'new classic,"' Arts of Pou,er: Three Halls of State in Renaissa11ce Itab1 1300-1600 (Berkeley, 1992), pp.127-28. For parallel conclusions regarding the authorial claims of l\Iantegna's prints, see Evelyn Lincoln, "1\Iantegna's Culture of Line," Art Histo1) 1 16 (1993), pp. 33-59, and Patricia Emison, "The Raucousness of Mantegna's 1\Iythological Engravings," Gazette des bea11x-arts 124 ( 1994), pp. 159-76; on i\Iantegna's self-presentation through a thematization of historical consciousness in his painting, see Jack i\l. Greenstein, J1fa11tegna and Painting as I!isto1ical Narrative (Chicago, 1992), esp. pp. 59-85. 1

9 For a review of tbe possibilities, see i\lartindale,

Tri11111phs of Caesm; pp . .p-46, concluding that of tbe three Gonzaga princes wbo ruled i\Ianrna during Iantegna's residency there, tbe marcbese Ludovico is most likely to have initiated the commission, since be alone "is known without doubt to have had the cultural interests and tbe academic attainments which would have enabled him to play a part in tbe creation and planning of the Tri11111phs (45 )." i\Iartindale bad reservations about Francesco, who many scholars favor as patron of the Tri11111phs, adopting the conventional characterization of this prince as a man of action, devoted to horses and warfare, with little time for scholarly pursuits. This characterization has been modified by i\Iolly Bourne, whose dissertation "Out from tbe Shadow of Isabella: Tbe Artistic Patronage of Francesco 11 Gonzaga, Fourth i\Iarquis of i\Iantua (1484-1519)" (Ph.D dissertation, Harvard University, 1997), strengthens to some extent tbe case that Francesco commissioned tbe Tri111J;phs following his accession in 1484. 10 Dale Kent, Cosi1110 de'Medici and the Florentine Renaissance. The Patron's Oem•re (New Haven, 2000), esp. pp. 1-8. II Paride is quoted in Bourne, "Out from tbe Shadow," p. 84 112 5. Following the battle of Fornovo, Pa ride da Ceresara sent Francesco verses that described "tutta la foelicito, gloria, e triompbo del nostro invictissimo Imperatore gran marcbese di i\Iantua." Tbe Fiera poems are in bis fl)'l1111i Di11i11i, S)'lvae, Me/a11)'Si11S, Coena (i\Iantua, Francesco Bruschi, l 51 5), unpaginated. Other examples of such accolades are surveyed in David S. Chambers, "Francesco ll Gonzaga, i\Iarquis of i\Iantua, 'Liberator of Italy'," in The French Descent into Renaissance !tab•, r-19-1-9;, ed. D. Abulafia (Aldershot, 199 5), pp. 217-29. Cast some years earlier, Bartolomeo i\lelioli's medal of Francesco Gonzaga included a classical figure of cil'itas and the legend ADOLESCEr TIAE AUG ST1\E. See George Francis I lill, A Co1p11s of Italian Medals of the Renaissance before Ce//i11i, 2 vols. (London, 19 30), no. 196. 2 I Charles J lope, "Chronology," posits three phases of execution, based on stylistic evidence and on tbe eyewitness accounts of contemporaries who report on differing numbers of canvases bet\veen 1486 and l 507, when tbe entire series is thought to have been installed in Francesco Gonzaga's newly completed Palace of San ebastiano: I) before 1488, canvases 9 (Caesar), 8 (Sta ndard Bearers), 7 (o riginally Senators); II) from q90 to l 501, canvases l (Picture Bearers), 2 (Statue Bearers), 3 (Trophy and Treasure Bearers); III), from l 501 to l 506, canvases 4 (Vase Bearers), 5 (Elephants), 6 (Co rseler bearers). Halliday "Literary Sources," p. 19 3, proposes that in tbe last phase canvas 7, originally depicting the Senators, was transformed into the present group of Captives. I 3 Suetonius, Div11s J11!i11S, xxxvii . 1 4 On emulation as a mode of imitation motivated by a desire to surpass an authoritative mod l, see Thomas i\I. Greene, The Light i11 Trqj•: !111itation and DiscOl'el]' in Renaissance Poe!!]' (New Haven, 1982), pp. 171-75 and pas-

si111. On center and periphery see Elena Fasano Guarini, "Center and Periphery" in The Origins of the State in !tab\ 1;00-r600, ed. Julius Kirshner (Chicago, 1996), pp. 74-97, as well as the classic essay by Enrico Castelnuovo and Carlo Ginzburg, "Centre and Periphery," trans. E. Bianchini, in Histoo• of Italian ./ lrt, ed. E. Bianchini and C. Dorey, 2 vols. (Cambridge, 1994), l , pp. 29-113, and the collection / J11istic Exchange and Cu!t11ra/ Tra11slatio11 i11 the lta!i011 Renaissance Cit)', eds. Stephen J. Campbell and Stephen J. i\Iilner (Ca mbridge, 2004). I5 On i\Ianregna's seal with the image of Julius Caesar, which he used from 1472 to 1498, see Caroline Elam, "i\Ianregna and i\Iantua," in Splendo11rs of the Gonzaga, ed. D. S. Chambers and Jane i\Iartineau (London, 1981), P· 2 5 n.9. IG As noted by Ligbtbown, Mantegna, pp. l 52-5 3. See also the earlier letter of i\Iantegna to Ludovico Gonzaga of June 30, 1474, concerning his disputes with the "bastardo" Francesco Aliprando and others: " l lanno tanta invidia che la vostra Extia mi abia fato questo bene che non lo possono patire con fatti e con parole dicendo suso per lo pince costui ovemuto data del diavolo aparesso qui e moire altre e piu vilano parole .... " Kris teller, / lndrea Mantegna, p. 473 (doc. 17). For references to Em;· in a letter ro the marcbese Francesco Gonzaga from November 1491 see Krisreller, Andrea Ma11tflgna, p. 485 (doc. 51): "E verissimo che sempre la invidia Regna negli omini da pocho e sonno inimici della virtu e deglhominij da bene." Claudia Cieri Via briefly explains the theme of lnvidia as a self-reference in the Tri1111;phs, in L'A11tico fra storia e allflgona, pp. 120--3 7. '7 On the inscription l NVlD in tlie Battle of the Sea Cods see i\Iarcello Ciccuto, Fig11re d'artista: Lo 11ascita de/le i111111a,gi11i a/le origi11i de/la le!terat11ra (Fiesole, 2002), pp. 1 55-n 18 Ceo1ics III, l 0--34; translation from Virgil, Ec!o,~ues, Ceo1;~ics, Aeneid I-T '7, trans. H. Rushton Fairclough, revised G. P Goold (Cambridge, i\Iass., 1999), pp. 177-79. 1 9 For the decree of February 4, 1492, awarding i\Iantegna an estate near Borgoforte, see Krisreller, Andrea Jlfa11tflg11a, pp. 486-87. 20 A fact that Halliday's argument would preclude, since it is heavily invested in the claim that i\Iantegna deliberately favored Republican over Imperial triumphs, and that this explains why he did not draw upon the triumphal iconography of the Arch of Titus. But numismatic sources suggested already by i\Iartindale would suggest otherwise. 21 Included with other numismatic examples by i\Iartinclale, Tri1111;phs of Caesar. So too the children with laurel branches, and decoration of the triumphal chariot with laurel, may be inspired by a passage in the Life of A1~~11s/11s (5 8) by Sueronius, where Augustus is acclaimed paterpatriae by a huge crowd bearing laurels: "dein, quia non recipiebat, ineunti spectacula frequens et laureata." 22 On the theme see \'{1 Goez, Translatio h1;pe1ii: Ein Beitrag

Zftr Ceschichte des Ceschichtsdenkens 1111d derpolitischen Theo1ie11 i111Mi!telalter1111d i11 derjriihen Nmzeit (fi.ibingen, 19 58).

217

Sylvia Ferino-Pagden et al., "J,a Pri111a Donna de/ 111ondo" lsabel/a d'Este, hlrstin 11nd 1\liizenatin der Renaissance, exh. cat.

(\'ienna, 1994), pp. 127-29. 2 4 On Hildebert de Lavardin see Richard Krautheimer, Ro111e: Profile of Cit]\ p2-r30S (Princeton, 1980), pp. 200--202. 2 5 Quoted from the complete translation in Christine Smith, .rfrchitect11re in the C11/t11re of r::c1rb1 H11111anis111: Ethics, ,. lesthetics, and Eloq11mce, 1-100-1.170 (Oxford, 1992), pp. 199-215 (113-14) . The passage is also cited in i\Iartindale, Tri11111phs, pp. 51-52. For the passage in Poggio Bracciolini's De l'arietate Jort11na l, see L atin IT'litings of the Italian H1111w1ists, ed. Florence A. Gragg (New York, 1927); translated in The Portable Renaissance Reader, ed. James Bruce Ross and J\lary i\Iartin i\IcLaughlin ew York, 1953, 1981 ), pp. 379-84. 2 6 Alessandro D'Ancona, 01igini de/ teatro italiano, 2 vols. (rnd ed., Turin, 1891), fl, pp. 381-83. 2 7 Triumph of Fame, openings of cantos Il, III. Quoted from The Tri11111phs of Petrarch, trans. Ernest Hatch \'('ilkins (C hicago, 1962), pp. 78, 86. On the wide diffusion of Petrarch's liionfi in the Quattrocento, see G. C. Alessio, "The lect111Y1 of the lii!/!/ljJhi in the Fifteenth Century" in Petrarch's Tri1111phs: Allegoo• and Spectacle, ed. A lanucci and K. Eisenbichler (Ottawa, 1990), pp. 269-90. 2 8 t\ parallel appropriation of triumphal imagery is also characteristic of the Bentivoglio Chapel at San Giacomo i\Iaggiore in Bologna, decorated in these years by Lorenzo Costa. See the essay by David Drogin in this volume. See also the observation by Cieri Via, J;antico fra storia e allego1ia, p. 131: "r ei liionfi dunque emerge un significato di 111e111e11to 11101i legato al giuclizio morale sulla vittoria milirare soggetta alla fortuna, alla !'anitas, alla morte, cui si puJ contrapporre solo la 1•irt11s forse allegorizzata secondo i progetti del pittore, nel corteo dei Se11ato1i." 2 9 Diana Robin's account of the representation of rape in one neo-Latin humanist epic, Francesco Filelfo's .'iforziad, as a critique of mercenary culture and of the patronclient system in social and political Life, is pertinent here, especially since it counters a prevailing view of humanists as necessarily sycophantic dependents who wrote only to please their patrons: " .. . Filelfo deplored above all else the abduction of the townswomen and girls [of Piacenza in 1447) by Sforza's men, treating the rapes as a kind of emblem for l\Wan's unlawful penetration of its former client city." File/fa in J\lilan: lrliti1w r-15r-1r- (Princeton, 1991 ), p. 63 . 3° David Ekserdjian, Corre,r!,gio lew Haven, 1997), PP· 2 -4. 3I For a summary of the controversy, which begins with the assertion by Ortensio Landi in 1 5 52 that "[Correggio] died young without having been able to see Rome," see Cecil Gould, The Pai11ti1w of Correggio (Ithaca, 1976), pp. 40--50. For a more recent assessment of Correggio's style as a regional alternative to the Roman modern manner, see Giancarla Periti, "r ota sulla 'maniera moderna' di Correggio a Parma," in Par111igianino e ii 111a11ie1is1110 europeo:

218

,. ltti de/ Co111•e,gno intemazionale di st11di - Par111a, 13-15 gi11gpo 2002 (i\Iilan, 2002), pp. 298-303. 32 Giorgio \'asari, L e 1•ite de' pi1/ eccel/euti pitto1i, smlto1i ed architetto1i, ed. Gaetano i\Iilanesi, 7 mis. (Florence, 1906, 1981 ) IV, pp. 111-12: "Eel egli fu il primo che in Lombardia cominciasse cose della maniera rnoderna: per che si giudica, che se l'ingegno di Antonio fosse uscito di Lombardia e stato a Roma, averebbe fatto miracoli, e dato delle fatiche a molti che nel suo tempo furon tenuti grandi. Conoscia che essendo tali le cose sue, senza aver egli visto delle cose'antiche o delle buone moderne, necessariamente ne seguita che se l'avesse vedute, arebbe infinitamente migliorato l'opere sue, e crescendo di bene in meglio, sarebbe ' "enuro al sommo de'gradi." 33 Lodovico's rejection of Rome, i\Iichelangelo, Raphael, and the antique is recorded by his seventeenth-century biographer, i\Ialvasia, who embraced the same position and in a set of famously belligerent annotations to Vasari . See Charles Dempsey, ,. lllnibale Carracci and the Beginni1w of Baroq11e St)'le (rnd ed., Florence, 2000), pp. 42-43. 34 The best account of Correggio's two st11diolo paintings is that of Peter Porc;al, "Le r\llegorie de! Correggio per lo Studiolo di Isabella d'Este a i\Iantova," J\littei/11ngen des !V111sthistorischen lnstit11tes in Florenz 37 (1984), pp. 225-76 . 35 The definiti,,e study is still Alessandro Luzio, "Isabella d'Este e ii Sacco di Roma," ,. lrchi1•io Sto1ico Lo111bardo 35 (1908), pp. 5ff.; 361ff. 36 Francesco Guicciardini, Sto1ic1 d'lta/ia, ed . Silvana Seidel i\Ienchi, 3 vols. (Turin, 1971 ) , Ill, Lib. xviii, p. 1858: "Furono saccheggiati i palazzi di tutti i cardinali (eziando del cardinale Colonna che non era con l'esercito), eccetto quegli palazzi che, per salvare i mercatanti che vi erano rifuggiti con le robe loro e cosi le persone e le robe di molti altri, feciono grossissima imposizione in denari: e alcuni di quegli che composeno con gli spagnuoli furono poi o sacchegiati dai tedeschi o si ebbeno a ricomporre con loro. Compose la marchesana di i\IantO\'a il suo palazzo in cinquantaduemila ducati, che furono pagati cla'mercatanti e da altri che vi erano rifuggiti: de'quaLi fu fama che don Ferrando suo figliuolo ne partecipasse di cliecimila." 37 The letter to Marmaraldo of i\Iay 22, 1 527, is quoted in Luzio, "Isabella cl'Este," p. 87, along with the following of June 8, 1 527, to the marchese del Guasto (p.88): " ... sapendo che al presente VS. ha meglio che mai la commodita de farmi piacere in una cosa che sopra lo negare. Et questo e che la voglia raccordarsi di J\Iarmirolo e del Te in questi tempo che l'ha tanto ben il modo do poterli ornare d'antiquita di marmi e metalli' che so pur che la n'havera la commodita benissimo, facendoli participi di qualche belle statue o teste et figure di brunzo, et marmi come Ji piacera ... " 38 For Aretino's relations with Federico Gonzaga, see Luzio, Pietro Aretino nei pri111i s11oi anni a T7enezia e la co11e dei Gonzaga (Turin, 1888) . On Flandino's attitude to the Sack see S. Seidel J\lenchi, "La discussione su Erasmo nell'ltalia del Rinascimento: Ambrogio Flandino vescO\'O di

i\Iantm·a, Ambrogio Quistelli teologo padovano e Alberto Pio principe di Carpi," in Societa, Politico e C11/t11ra a Ca1pi ai Te111pi di.rllberto 111 Pio (Padua, 1981), pp. 35 5-57. 39 Alessandro l ova, "Folengo and Romanino: The Q11estione de/la Ling11a and its Eccentric Trends," .rlrt B11//etin 76 (1994), pp. 664-79. For a parallel argument with regard to Pordenone, who also wo rked in i\Iantua and who worked alongside Romanino at the cathedral of Cremona, see Charles E. Cohen, The .Art of Giovanni,- llltonio da Pordmone: Beh11een Dialect and Lang11age, 2 \'Ols. (Cambridge, 1996). 4° Aspects of the cultural politics of Mantua under Federico Gonzaga are discussed in Bette Talvacchia, Giulio

Ro111ano's Sala di Troia: a .[J'nthesis of epic narratil'e and e111b/ematic i111age!)' (Ann Arbor, 1981 ). The preferred designation of Porc;al, "Le Allegorie del Correggio," pp. 244-47. 4 2 On the early reception of the Laocoon and its dep loyment as the definitive exe11;ph1111 doloris see Salvatore Settis,

Laocoonte. Fa111a e stile: Con 1111 apparato doc11111entario a c11ra di Sonia Maffei s11 "La Fama di Laocoonte nei testi de/ Cinq11ecento" (Rome, 1999)· 43 Ludovico Canossa wrote to Isabella on the pope's

acquisition of the statue for the Belvedere, "a rather public place, and would to God it were rather in your grotta which is more worthy of such an image." (Alla quale significho . S.re haver havuto el lacheonte & ponaresse in belvedere in locho assai pubblico che dio volesse fusse in la grotta di v.s. come di tale imagine piu degna) . Archivio di Stato, i\Iantova, Archivio Gonzaga 857 [Rome l 506], i\Iarch 7, 1 506. Similar sentiments are echoed by the young Federico Gonzaga some years later; see Clifford i\L Brown and Sally H ickson, "Caradosso Foppa (ca. 1452-1526/ 27)," Arte Lombardo 119 (1997), pp. 26-27. For other letters on the statue ro Isabella see Sert.is, Laocoonte, pp. 111, 173 · 44

Sc1itti di Pietro Aretino nel Codice Marciano ft. Xi 66 (=67Jo),

ed. D anilo Romei (Florence, 1987) p. 63 (ll. 119-126): "di Fabricio et Caton gli spirti pij / han pianto Roma in voci altiere et pronte / d'altrui colpa in un fine senza fine;/ et son tante et sl gravi sue mine,/ de le carthe ne i secoli raconte, / che insin Laocoonte / oblia il vechio ma!, col nuovo duolo, / i\Iinerva, i serpi et que sto et quel figliuolo ... " 45 Sc1itti di Pietro .Aretino, p. 166: (180-82) "E gire a ponte Sisto /in mille pezzi Apollo / e torre i figli al collo al Leuconte ... " 46 Massimo Firpo, JI sacco di Ro111a de/ 1527 tra profezia, propaganda politica, e rifor111a religiosa (Cagliari, 1990), pp. 32-3 3.

Chapter 7 LUKE SYSON

' This essay should not be treated as a complete account of the career of Leonardo in Sforza i\Iilan. Nor is it intended as an exhaustive study of those of his contemporaries who selected elements of his style. For that rea-

son l have not always included details of medium of either paintings or drawings (the latter discussed here are mostly in metalpoint) nor their museum inventory numbers. This level of derail, inappropriate here, must wait for a fuller study of Leonardo and the Leonardeschi, and the relationships between them. Such a study will also require the full scientific examination of their pictures. l n writing this, l am grateful for the assistance and encouragement of Andrea Bayer, Lorne Campbell, Dawson Carr, J ennifer Fletcher, David Jaffe, and Larry Keith. 2 Considerable efforts have also been expended on distinguishing between the works of his "pupils." Most of the paintings and drawings discussed in this essay have, ar one time or another, been gi,·en to most of the figures associated with Leonardo in Milan - Marco cl'Oggiono, Boltraffio, Ambrogio Preda, and rhe anonymous Maestro clella Pala !fferzesca. There is currently very little consensus on which of those painters did what, and the situation has been complicated by the fact that the drawings and paintings are often considered separately, catalogued even within single volumes by different specialists. l t is also possible, in the case of the latter, that scholars have overcomplicated matters by the invention of too many distinct hands. Here I have assumed that drawings that exhibit precisely the same stylistic characteristics and techniques are likely to share a single author. The literature on this subject - and especially that on Leonardo himself - is vast. I have therefore sought to cite, in almost all instances, the most recently published opinions, generally in books that provide full bibliographies, which can be used to explore the attributional history of each work. On thi subject see, most recently, Pietro C. i\larani, "Leonardo's Drawings in i\lilan and Their Influence on rhe Graphic W'o rk of i\Wanese Artists" in Leonardo da T/inci, 11/asler Draftsman, exh. cat., eel . C. C. Bambach l ew York, 2003), pp. 1 55-90. His recent, useful essay on the collaboration in the London T7irgin of the Rocks appeared only after the research for this paper was complete: idem, La Vergine delle Rocce de/la National Calle!)' di Londra: Alaestro e hottega di Jronte al 111ode/lo, Lett11ra r.?inciana, 42 (Citta di Vinci, 2003) . l ts conclusions, in some respects, are similar to mine. 3 See for example Stephen J. Campbell, Cos111e T11ra of Ferrara: Sl)•le, Politics and the Renaissance Cil)1, IfJO-If9J (New Haven, 1997), pp. 9-27, esp. pp. 9, 164 notes 3-4, who provides a good working definition of rhe "court artist," but is nevertheless wary of the term. i\Iartin \\'arnke, The Co1111 , Jrtist: On the ./ lncesf!)' of the 11/odem .rJ11ist, trans. D. i\IcLintock (Cambridge, 1993), uses it somewhat indiscriminately. The relevance of the term for the i\Llanese court is questioned by Evelyn . Welch in her / Jr! and / lllthoril)' in Renaissance Lili/an (New H aven, 1995), pp. 241-68, as well as in her essay in the present volume. However it certainly has more meaning than she allows, and she presents a more balanced view in Evelyn \'('elch, /111 and Sociel)• i11 lta61 IJJO-IJOO (Oxford, 1997), pp. 1 19-2 3. See also Luke Syson, "Ercole de' Roberti:

The 1Iak.ing of a Court Artist" in Denise Allen and Luke Syson, Ercole de' Roberti: The Renaissance i11 Ferrara, exh. cat., J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles (published as a supplement to Burlington Magazine 141 [1999], pp. iv-xiv). 4 \'<.'elch, Ali and , luthoril)', pp. 255-5 6. 5 Ibid., p. 15 4. See T11tte le opere di Matteo Ba11dello, ed. Francesco Flora, 1 vols. (Milan, 1934-35), I, p. 647 . 6 Francis J\mes-Lewis, The Jntellecl11al Life of the Ear61 Renaissance Artist ew l laven, 2000), p. 168. 7 Martin Kemp, J,eonardo da T'/11ci: The J\larvel/011s Works of Nature and Ma11 (Cambridge, Mass., 1981), p. 92. 8 Martin Kemp, Behind the Picture: .rlrt and Evidence i11 the Italian Renaissance I ew Haven, 1997), p. 248. 9 W'elch, A11 and A11thoril)', p. 252; Janice Shell, Pittori i11 bottega: 11!ila110 11el Ri11asci111ento, (furin, 199 5), passim. I o For Zanetto see Luke Syson, "Zanetto Bugatto: Court Portraitist in Sforza 1Iilan, "B11rli11gto11 Magazine 138 (1996), pp. 300-308. For an example of collaborative assimilation see Maria Teresa Fiorio, "Bergognone e la pittura a Milano e a Pavia" in A111broio da Fossa110 detto ii Bergo<~nom: 1111 pittore per la Cerlosa, exh. cat., ed. G.C. Sciolla (Pavia, 1998), pp. 77-86. II See Constance Jocelyn ffoulkes and Rodolfo 1Iaiocchi, T'/11cenzo Foppa of Brescia, Founder of the Lo111bard School, his Life and ll''ork (London, 1909). See also Giovanni Agosti, "Vincenzo Foppa" in T'/ncenzo Foppa: 1111 protagonista de/ Ri11asci111ento, exh . cat. ed. G. Agosti, 11. latale, G.

Romano (Brescia, 2002), pp. 27-60, esp. pp. 38-40. 2 I Maria Grazia Albertini Ottolenghi, "Il Bergognone alla Certosa e le ancone quattrocentesche" in Sciolla, Be1;~og11011e, pp. 173-91; Giovanna Giacomelli Vedovello in ibid., pp. 218-19, cat. 31, Alberto Del Giudice in ibid ., pp. 226-27, cat. 38 . '3 This is to be found to the left of the central portal, a full-face portrait in a roundel, clearly identifiable (though hitherto apparently unnoticed) by its contemporary costume, chain, and adherence to one of the standard iconographies for Gian Galeazzo. '4 See Luke Syson and Dillian Gordon, Pisanello: Painter lo the Renaissance Court (London, 2001), pp. 57-63. I5 Evelyn Samuels \Xfelch, "Galeazzo Maria Sforza and the Castello of Pavia, 1469," ...-Jr/ Blllletin 71 (1989), pp. 353-75. r6 ciolla, Be1;gog11011e, pp. 178, 210, 25 5-57. I7 Although his direct lineage from Francesco Sforza was also key to his claim. See Gary lanziti, H11111a11istic

Histo1iograpl?J 1111der the Sfo1zas: Politics and Propaganda i11 Fifteenth-Centttl)' ilfilan (Oxford, 1988), pp. 132-38. 1 8 Michael Baxandall, Painting and E'jJe1ience in FifteenthCentitl)' Ita61(2nd ed., Oxford, 1988), p. 26. 1 9 Martin Davies, National Calleo• Catalogues: The Earlier Italian Schools (London, 1961) pp. 403-7, no. 288. 20 See Pinin Brambilla Bartilon and Pietro C. Marani, Le h111etle di Leonardo ml Refet101io de/le Crazie: Q11ademi di 1ista11ro, ed. R. Zorzi (1Wan, 1990), passim. 1

2 I Although tl1e inventory of works of art owned by Leonardo in 1482, shortly after his arrival in Milan, included a "head of the duke," tentatively identified as

220

Francesco Sforza by Martin Kemp, but surely more likely to be Lodovico il Moro, who was Duke of Bari, even if not by then Duke of Milan. See Kemp, Leonardo da f '/nci, pp. 42, 199 ("one of the odder aspects of the surviving record of Leonardo's years at the Sforza court is that there is no evidence of his having portrayed either Ludovico or Beatrice"). 22 See for example Janice helJ and Grazioso Sironi, "Cecilia Gallerani: Leonardo's Lady with an Ermine," , l1tib11s et HistOJiae 25 (1992), pp. 47-66; Shell, "Cecilia Gallerani: una biografia" in f,eonardo: la da1J1a co11 l'enmllino, exh. cat., eds. B. Fabjan, P. C. Marani (Rome, Florence, Milan, 1998), passim. 2 3 See for example Giulio Bora, Due tavole leonardesche:

n11o!'e indagi11i s11/ 11Iwico e ml San CioJ1C1nni dell'A111brosia11a (Vicenza, 1987), pp. 7-22. 4 Martin Kemp, "The illado1111a of the }am1JJinder in the Buccleuch Collection Reconsidered in the Context of Leonardo's Studio P ractice" in I leonardeschi a Milia11o:jort1111a e collezio11is1110, ed. Maria Teresa Fiorio and Pietro C. Marani (1Llan, 1991), pp. 35-48, esp. p. 35. 2 5 lbid. 2 6 1 [aria Teresa Fiorio, Cio1•a1111i , lutonio Boltraffio: 1111 pittore 111ila11ese 11el /11111e di Leonardo (1Llan, 2000), p. 3. 2 7 This issue is not to be confused with the much-debated existence, or otherwise, of an "r\cademy" in 1Wan led by Leonardo or in which he participated. If it existed, this does not seem to have been any sort of art school, but rather a gathering of artists and intellectuals. See Leonardo 2

e l'i11cisio11e: sta111pe derivate da Leonardo e Bra111ante dal .XT / al XIX secolo, ed . Clelia Alberici, exh. cat. (1Iilan, 1984), pp.16-17, for the six prints with variations on the inscription "1\cademia Leonardi Vinci ." See also Kemp, Behind the Picture, p. 249. New evidence that an academy that included Leonardo among its members existed in 1Llan in the 1490s is to be found in a pre,·iously unknown 1Llanese text of l 513, Henrico Boscano's Isola beata in lralian recently sold at Christie's. It contains a nostalgic, but not necessarily totally fictitious, account of the academy and its meeting place, a space resembling a sl11diolo, (ff. 9-10) that can be dated by its membership to the 1490s. Apart from Leonardo, the architect Bramante and the goldsmith Caradosso are listed as participants, as are the poets Gaspare Visconti, Giovanni Cieco da Parma, and 1\ntonio Filoremo Fregoso, the writers Bartolomeo Simonetta, Cesare Sacco, Bernardo Accolti, Antonio Pelotti, Carnelio Balbo, and Ambrosio Archinto and the musicians Giovanni Maria Giudeo, Gaspare W'erbecke, Janes da Liege, and Pietro da Olli (who both left 1Llan in 1492). Many of these figures are connected as recipients of Sforza patronage. See Ch ristie's, London, March 26, 20or The Co1111t Os111ald Seilem Collectio11, pp. 51-5 5, lot l 5. I am grateful to Catherine Reynolds for this reference and for the chance to exam.inc the manuscript. 2 8 Carlo Pedretti, Leo11ardo: ...- J St11r!J• i11 Chronology and Sl)•le (London, 1973), p. 65. 2 9 DaYies, Earlier Italian Schools, pp. 261-81, no. 1093, for a

rather cNerly complicated account. For the most logical, conci e, and convincing accounr so far set down see Kemp, Leonardo da T7i11ci, pp. 9 3-94. See also \X'illiam S. Cannell, "Leonardo da Vinci, The T lrgi11 of the Rocks: A Reconsideration of the D ocuments and a New Interpretation," Gazette des Bea11x-£lrts 47 (1984), pp. 99-108 . 3° Pietro C. J\Iarani, Leonardo: 1111a carriera di pittore (]\Wan, 1999), pp. 149-5 5. A painting, including copies of the angels on the two side-panels formerly in the church of Santa i\Iaria della Passione, l\Wan (with, at the center, a version of the much-copied L11te-Plq)'er by Bartolomeo Veneto), resolves any remaining doubt that, despite their awkward relationship with one another, only these two panels were painted . 3' His working life therefore began in the same way as another brother, the deaf-mute Cristoforo. The best recent account of his documented career, though unreliable in its views on attribution, is Janice Shell, ''Ambrogio de Predis, Milan, c. 145 5-Milan, after 1 500" in Giulio Bora et al., The LegaC)' of Leo11ardo: Pai11ters in Lo111barrf) 1, IJ90-IJJO (l\Iilan, 1998), pp. l 2 3-30, esp. pp. l 23-26, 128-3032 Elena Ginannesch.i in II Cinq11ecento Lo111bardo: da Leo11ardo a Caral'aggio, exh . cat., ed. F Cairoli (]\Wan, 2000), p. 106, cat. lll.16. Preda's continued connections with i\Iaximilian and his officials, and his capacity to oversee a group of painters working on a single project are explored in Janice Shell and Grazioso Sironi, ''Ambrogio de Preclis, Cristoforo Solari and the i\Ionument to Erasmo Brasca," Raccolta vinciana 26 (1995), pp. l 59-83. 33 Luke Syson, "The Circulation of Drawings for Medals in Fifteenth-Century Italy" in Designs 011 Posteri(J•: Dral/Ji11gs for Medals, eel. l\l. Jones (London, 1994), pp. 10-26. This drawing is very unlike drawings with works discussed below that have been attributed to Preda. H owever, despite its small scale, it can be related to the profile drawing of a boy, identified as l\Iassimiliano Sforza, which was formerly in the Vallardi collection and was recently on the market with an attribution to Preda. Although its medium and support are like those of drawings here attributed to Boltraffio and the Maestro clella Pala Sforz.esca, the handling is very much more regular and stiff, close in approach to Preda's certain panel portraits and manuscript portraits of Lodovico ii l\Ioro and h.is son l\Iassimiliano, to the latter of which this has been connected. See Ecloardo Testori, Dessins anciens de l'ecole lo!J!barde (Trinity Fine Art Ltd., Salons Hoche, Paris and London, 2001), pp. l 8-19, no. 2. The attribution, but not the iclenti fication, is accepted by l\Iarani, "Leonardo's Drawings in l\Iilan" in Leo11ardo da T'i11ci, p. l 87, note 39. 34 lvanoe Riboli in F Caroli, ed., II Cinq11ecmto Lo111bardo, p. 104, cat. lll.14. 35 Davies, Ea1b1 Italia11 Schools, p. 262, nos. 1661, 1662. 36 Fiorio, Boltraffio, pp. 71-74. 37 Janice hell and Grazioso Sironi, "Giovanni Antonio Boltraffio e l\Iarco cl'Oggiono: La Resurrezione di Cristo con Santi Leonardo e Lucia," Raccolta Vinciana 23 (1989), pp. l l 9-5 4. See also Janice She!J, "i\Iarco d'Oggiono,

Oggiono, c. 1475-c. l 530" in Bora et al., Le,_~aC)' of

f,eonardo, pp. 163-78; l\Iarani, "Leonardo's Drawings in Milan" in Leo11ardo da Vinci, p. l 67. 38 Ibid. 39 For this drawing and others com-incingly, on the whole,

related to it, see l\Iaria Teresa Fiorio, "Leonardo, Boltraffio e Jean Pern~al," Raccolta f7i11ciana 27 (1997), pp. 325-5 5. See also Carmen C. Bambach in Leonardo da Vi11ci, pp. 65 5-57, cat. 127. 4° Secure works clateable to the 1490s are to be found in Fiorio, Boltrajfio, pp. 84-88, 100-102, 107-109, cats. A4, A5, Ar l, A14. Other attributions should be treated with some caution . A drawing that uses light and shade to reveal the structure of the head in such a way as to make its attribution to Boltraffio certain is now in the Clark Institute in Williamstown (ibid., pp. 144-45, cat. B 5). See also Linda \'folk-Simon in Leo11ardo da Vi11ci, pp. 649-50, cat. 124. For the National Gallery picture, a fragment, see D avies, pp. 88-89, no. 728; Larry Keith and Ashok Roy, "Giampetrino, Boltraffio, and the l nflu nee of Leonardo," National Calle!)' Technical B11lleti11 17 (1996), pp. 4-19. It seems possible that this too may be a collaborative work, in that the flesh of the Christ Child seems to be treated with a different approach and sensibility from that of his mother. This may however be the result of abrasion. For an account of Boltraffio's career (one that iJJustrates the Bristol portrait of Francesco Sforza - see below - although it is excluded from her catalogue raisonne and questioned in the text, seep. 140) see l\Iaria Teresa Fiorio, "Giovanni Antonio Boltraffio, i\iilan, 1467-1516" in Bora et al., LegaC)' of Leonardo, pp. 131-62. 4 1 D omenico Seclini, 11/arco d'Oggiono: lradizio11e e ri1111ova1J1en!o in Lo111bardia Ira Q11attrocento e Ci11q11ece11/o J 1ilan and Rome, 1989), pp. 58-60, cat. 22 . See also Pietro C. l\Iarani in Jl!11seo d', lrte / lntica del Castello Sfo1z.esco: Pi11acoteca, ed. l\Iaria Teresa Fiorio, 5 vols. (l\Iilan, 1997), 1, pp. 341-44 (who introduces the probably erroneous suggestion that the picture may have been painted in collaboration). It is elated however to the early Cinquecento by Janice hell, which, given its connection with the first rather than the second version of Leonardo's painting, seems too late. ee Shell, "l\Iarco cl'Oggiono, Oggiono, c. 1475-c. 15 30" in Bora et al., LegaC)' of Leonardo, pp. 16 3-78, esp. p. 169. 2 4 edini, Marco d'Oggiono, pp. 42-44, cat. 10; Kristina H errmann Fiore in Caroli, ed., Cinq11ece11to Lo111bardo, pp. 123-24, cat. lll.2 5 (dated to before 1502 when a dated copy was executed) . 43 This was observed during an examination of the painting by l\Iartin Clayton, Pietro l\Iarani, Nicholas Penny, Carol Plazzotta, and myself in 1996. See l\Iarani, Leonardo, pp. l 40-42, who suggests, however, that other elements may have been painted by Boltraffio, a proposal for which I see little visual evidence. See also Ann C. Pi zzorusso, "Leonardo's Geology: A Key to Identifying the \'\'orks of Boltraffio, d'Oggiono and Others," Raccolta Vincia11a 27 (1997), pp. 357-69 (although her conclusions are different).

221

Francesco l\Ialaguzzi Valeri, "II J\Iaestro della Pala Sforzesca," Rassegna d'arte 5, no. 3, March 1905, pp. 44-48; Gio,路anni Romano, "La Pala forzesca" in G. Romano, i\L T. Binaghi, D. Collura, fl 1'/aestro de/la Pala Sforz.esca: Q11ademi di Brera 4 (1978), pp. 7-23; Pietro C. Marani, "Master of the Pala Sforzesca, J\Iilan, active c. 1490-1520" in Bora et al., LegaC)' of Leonardo, pp. 179-98, esp. p. 186. 45 Pietro C. Marani in Pinacoteca di Brera: Smole /0111barda e pie111ontese, 1300-1535, ed. Federico Zeri (1Iilan, 1988), pp. 315-30, cat. 145. The older son has sometimes wrongly been identified as Cesare, an illegitimate son of LodoYico. This assumes that the picture was painted very soon after its first mention, bur makes no sense of the repetition of the portrait in the refectory at Santa Maria dell Grazie three years later. 46 Pietro C. Mara~, "II Cenacolo di Leonardo" in Leonardo: L'Ulti111a Cena, ed. P. Brambilla Barcilon and Pietro C. Marani (1Iilan, 1999), p. l 5. 47 Agnolclomenico Pica, L'opera di Leonardo al Convento de/le Craz.ie in 1\li/ano (Rome, 1939), pp. 32-33 . 48 Pietro C. Marani, "Master of the Pala Sforzesca, J\Iilan, acti,路e c. 1490-1520" in Bora et al., LegaC)' of Leonardo, pp. 179-98, esp. pp. 186-88. 49 See, most recently, J\Iarani (ibid.) who seeks to include most of the pictures attributed to the J\Iaestro della Pala Sforz.esca and adds other new suggestions, which are equally hard to reconcile with the style of the picture after which this painter was named. 5掳 Giulio Bora in Disegni e dipinti leonardeschi dalle collez.io11i 111ila11esi, exh . cat. (1lilan, 1987), pp. 58-5 9, cat. 9 (wrongly identified as the illegitimate Cesare Sforza); Alessandro Rovetta in P. C. J\Iarani, J\ L Rossi, A. Rovetta, L/-l111brosiana e Leonardo, exh. cat. (1IiJan, 1998), pp. [1066?], cat. 44; Carmen C. Bambach in Leonardo da T7inci, pp. 643-46, cat. 122. 51 Giulio Bora in Disegni e dipinti leonardeschi, pp. 48-49, cat. 3; Rovetta in L/-l111brosiana, pp. 104-5, cat. 43 (as Boltraffio); Fiorio, Boltrajjio, pp. 174-75, cat. C14 (among drawings of uncertain attribution). 52 Giovanni Agosti, Cabinetto disegni e sta111pe degli Ujfiz.i: Disegni de/ Rinasci111ento in Valpadana (Florence, 2001), pp. 188-94, cat. 3 3, as Boltraffio, on tl1e authority of Ballarin, and despite its obvious differences in approach to the Head of lf'.-01J1a11 by Boltraffio in the same collection (pp. 194-97, cat. 34) and its similarity in aims and technique ro a Head of the Virgin also in the Uffizi, which is correctly attributed ro the J\Iaestro della Pala Sforz.esca. For these drawings see also edini, 1'larco d'Oggiono, p. 46, cat. 12 (Head of a }011/h attributed, as it frequently has been, to J\Iarco d'Oggiono; Giulio Bora, "I leonardeschi e ii ruolo del disegno" in Disegni e dipinti leonardeschi, p. i4; Fiorio, Boltrajfio, pp. 145-46, cat. B1 (as Boltraffio). For another work in the British J\Iuseum that appears to be by the same hand see Fiorio, Boltrajjio, p. 199, cat. D38. 53 See Kenneth Clark with Carlo Pedretti, The Drall'ings of 44

Leonardo da T7i11ci in the Collection of Her 1'la;es!J the Q11een at 1

222

ll"i11dsor Castle, 3 Yols. (rnd. ed, 1968-69), l (text), pp. 86-87, no. 12498. 54 Despite the fact that the drawing for it is so unlike any of Boltraffio's certain works on paper, the finished portrait is currently generally given to Boltraffio, seemingly, once again, on the authority of Ballarin. Its smoothly regulated surfaces have none of the freshness however of Boltraffio's paintings identifi d above. But see for example J\Iaria Teresa Fiorio, "Giovanni Antonio Boltraffio, J\Iilan, 1467-1516" in Bora et al., LegaC)' of Leonardo, pp. 1 31-62, esp. p. qo. 55 Davies, Earlier Italian Schools, pp. 448-49, no. 1665 . See also Steve Farrow, "An Examination of the Archinto Portrait in the National Gallery of London," Raccolta Vinciana 29 (2001), pp. 65-102, whose conclusions are suggestive, though flawed. 56 Suida's Preda however is not much better defined than the creature who has subsequently emerged. See Wilhelm Suida, Leonardo 11nd sein Kreis (Munich, 1929), pp. 174-75. 57 These attributions have been made by Ballarin in a much cited bur so far unpublished lecture, and in a forthcoming book based upon it. 58 Jean-Christophe Baudequin, "J\Iarco da Oggiono: Tote de Christ adolescent," in Diseg110: /es dessi11s d11 M11sie de Rennes, exh. cat. ed. P. Ramade (Rennes, 1990), p. 30. 59 David Alan Brown, "The J\Iaster of the 'J\Iadonna Litta"' in Iaria Teresa Fiorio, Pietro C. J\Iarani, [ leonardeschi a Mila11o:fort1111a e collez.ionis1110 (1Iilan, 1991), pp. 25-43, esp. p. 33, note 28. However, Brown does not appear to believe that the group is by a single painter, attributing the Getty Christ to J\Iarco d'Oggiono, apparently on the basis of its similarity to the Madonna Litta, which he believes is Marco's work. I evertheless, he usefully (though temporarily) distances the whole group from Preda. For the Getty picture (attributed to Preda) see most recently Carlo Pedretti in Caroli, ed., Cinq11ecento Lo111bardo, p. 105, cat. lll.1 5. 6o See Fiorio, Boltrajfio, p. 181, cat. D4, in which she follows Ballarin in his suggestion that the Bristol picture should be linked with the pictures listed above. However, unlike Ballarin (followed by Bora, D1segni e dipi11t1), she does not believe that the picture is the work of Boltraffio, preferring to revert to the earlier view that the group painted by the Archinto J\Iaster should be connected with Preda (cf. pp. 185-86, 192, cats D 12, Dz 3). Interestingly Suida attributed this work to the J\Iaestro della Pala Sforz_esca (see Suida, Leonardo, pp. 182, 284). 6r Ibid. 6 2 This drawing was first attributed to Preda on the basis of its similarity ro tl1e Cleveland Saint Sebastian by D avid Alan Brown, "Some Observations about the Exhibition Disegni e dipinti leonardeschi da//e co/lez.ioni 111ilanesi," Raccolta vinciana 13 (1989), pp. 27-32: then by Rovetta in J\Iarani et al., L/-l111brosiana, pp. 108-9, cat. 4 5. The attribution cannot, of course, stand if the Cleveland painting is considered to be the work of the Archinro J\Iaster and/or Maestro della Pala Sfo1z.esca. But the assumption of shared

amhorship between painting and drawings seems to be correct. 63 See Carlo Pedretti, "L'altro Leonardo," in Ira

Ri11asci111enlo, 111a11ieris1110 e real/a: scritti di s/oria dell'arle i11 11m1101ia di, 11111a 1\la1ia B1izio, ed. Pietro C. i\Iarani (Florence, 1984), pp. 17-30, esp. p. 26. l t has also rightly been compared by Bora to the band in the Arcbinto portrait. Sec Bora, Disegni e dipinti, p. 63, cat. 12. 64 The Jllado1111a Litta in Saint Petersburg is another work "by Leonardo" which is, in fact - as is generally acknowledged - a collaborative effort. Drawings were made (or reused) for the work by Leonardo and perhaps two other bands. See David Alan Brown, "The i\laster of the 1\!ado1111a Litta," in I leonardeschi a 1\fila110, pp. 2 5-34. Brown attributed both the J1/ado1111a Lilla and the Getty Ch1ist ro i\Iarco d'Oggiono. Both are more delicately painted, and achieve more of an enameled effect, than works by i\larco (see above). They do not, however, both appear to be the work of the same painter. The use of shadow, especially in the neck, in the 11/adonna Litta bas a blurring at the edges that makes the oft-proposed attribution to Boltraffio of the picture (worked up under the close supervision of Leonardo) more plausible. See also Fiorio in L~~ao• ef Leonardo, p. 13 5; Marani, "Leonardo's Drawings in i\lilan" in Leonardo da T lnci, p. 165; Franc;oise Viatte in ibid., pp. 362-66, cat. 44. 65 Dm·ies, Earlier Italian Schools, pp. 449-50, no. 5752· 66 See Keith and Roy, "Giampetrino, Boltraffio," pp. 4-19. 67 Clark with Pedretti, Dra11fr1gs ef L eonardo da T"inci, I, pp. 88-9, no. 12505 . Like the drawing of the elderly man (see note 53 above), this is usually dated in the previous decade. l lowever these darings have more to do with the medium (metalpoint) than with the complete effect of the drawing.

Chapter g ETHAN MATT KAVALER r One of the landmarks of this renewed interest in ornament is the English translation of J\lois Riegl's fundamental study, Proble111s ef St)'le: Fo1111datio11s for a Histoo• ef Oma111ent, trans. Evelyn Kain, annot. David Castriota (Princeton, 1992). For a discussion of this issue, see Paul Crowther, "i\lore Than Ornament: The Significance of Rieg!," , :!rt Histoo• 17 ( 1994), pp. 482-94> and Oleg Grabar, The 1\fediation ef Orna111en/ (Princeton, 1992). 2 Jan Steppe, He! Koordoksaal i11 de Nederla11de11 (Brussels: Pale is der Academien, 19 52), p. 79. 3 Anne-i\Iarie Sankovitcb, "Structure/Ornament and the i\lodern Figuration of Architecture,"./ lrt B11lleti11 80 (1999), PP· 687-7 17. 4 Alexandra Carpino, "Margaret of Austria's Funerary Complex at Brou. Conjugal Love, Political Ambition, or Personal Glory?" Wo111en and .-lrt in L::a1b• l\lodern E11rope. Patrom Collectors, and Connoisseurs, ed. Cynthia Lawrence (University Park, Pennsylvania, 1997), pp. 37-52 . 5 Appropriately, there is the ubiquitous appearance of

family insignia, especially of emblems, of the initials " I" and "P," and of i\largaret's personal motto on the choir walls, the ;11bi, and elsewhere. G See J. Beck, "Formalism and Virtuosity: FrancoBurgundian Poetry, i\lusic, and Visual Art, 1470--1 520," Critical !11q11io• 10 (1984), pp. 644-67. 7 Willem Elders, Co111posers ef the Low Co1111tries, trans. Graham Dixon (Oxford, 1991), pp. 74-77; 11. Wcstgeest, "Gbiselin Danckerts' 'Ave i\laris stella': The Riddle Canon Solved," Tijdschrift va11 de T7ereniging 1•oor 11ederla11dse il111ziek,~eschiede11is 36 ( 1986), pp. 66-79. 8 The stalls at Brou repeat many of the same tracery forms as are found on the rest of the furnishing and must bm·e been designed or overseen by Loys \'an Bogbem, even though they were executed by French woodworkers, and not before 1 530. Such richly decorated stalls are unusual in the Netherlands, at least by this date, and seem to have been planned especially for the interior of the choir at Brou. 9 i\lax Brucbet, 11!arg11e1ite d'/l1t!riche, D11chesse de Savoie (Lille, 1927), p. 192, n. 11. ro Anthony Blunt, .r-111 and / lrchitec/11re i11Inmce1500-1700 (1 larmondsworrb, 19 53; rev. ed., 1973), pp. 40--42 . Colombe, already in the final years of his life, was then collaborating with Italians - most likely with Girolamo da Fiesole at antes and later with the Genoese Jerome Pacberot, who framed Colombe's relief of Saint George for the eminent Cardinal Georges d'Amboise, regent of France. 11 Ibid., pp. 36-37. The monument to Louis Xll, carved by the members of tl1e Giusti family, a celebrated Genoese clan of sculptors, soon came to the attention of the Dutch poet Janus Secundus, who praised its Renaissance design and extolled it far above its kind tl1at he had seen carved in bis own northern prm·inces. See Philippe Senechal, "Jean Second a Saint-Denis: les tombeaux de Charles VIII et de Louis Xll en 1 532," Rev11e de I', JJ1 99 (I 993), pp. 74-79. 12 E . Dbanens, "Jan van Roome alias van Brussel, Schilder," Centse Bijdragen tot de K;ms(~eschiedenis 1 1 (1945-48), pp. 44-46, 54-56. 1 3 Ibid., pp. 46-47, 56-60. 1 4 Alain Erlande-Brandenburg, Le chdtea11d'hco11en:1l!11sie 11atio11al de la Renaissance (Paris, 1988), pp. 36-63 . See particularly the portals and pavilions illustrated on pp. 38, 40, and 63 . 1 5 Dhanens, "Jan van Roome," pp. 78-85. rG i\Iarkus Horsch, Architekt11r 1111/er llfargarethe 1•on Osterreich, Regen/in der Niederlande (150-,-15;0) , Verbandelingen van de Koninklijke Academie voor \X'etenschappen, Letteren en Schone Kunsten van Belgie, Klasse der Schone Kunsten, jr. 56, nr. 58, p. 121, n. 545; Alphonse \'\1auters, "Louis van Bodeghem," Biographie nationale p11hliie par l'a-

cadillfie rq)'ale des sciences, des lettres, et des hea11x-arls de

Be(~iq11e

2 (Brussels, 1868), p. 564. 1 7 Horsch, , lrchitekt11r 11nter Jl!argarethe 1•011 Osterreich, pp.

s lbid., p. 132. 9 Jeffrey Chipps Smith, Cer111a11 Smlpt11re ef the Later Renaissance c. 1520-1580: r!rl i11 a11 , l<~e ef Uncertain!)' (Princeton, 1994), pp. 387-8 8; J. Du1路erger, Co11rat Jllei;t (ca. 1.180-1551), Academie royale de Belgique, Classe des BeauxArts, Memoires, vol. V (Brussels, 1934), pp. 43-5 3. 20 The top of the tomb may contain elements from the arlier design of Perreal. 21 The statuettes, of an indefinite allegorical nature, also deviate sharply from the putti atop. They are dressed in Northern European gowns can路ed in the most elegant manner of Gothic statuary around 1 500. The tomb of Philibert of Savoy accommodates the a11tiq11e manner within an innovative Gothic format. See Dhanens, "Jan van Roome," p. 137, nr. 7b: "Une sepulture moderne de mondit seigneur de Savoye ou petit pied sur perchemin .. . " 22 The retable of the Seven Joys of the Virgin, the altarpiece carved by Netherlanders for her chapel at Brou, included Renaissance forms among the architectural props within its individual compartments. In the scene representing the Nativity, for example, the figures stand before a classical arch that frames them in the background . This ancient Roman ruin is rendered in perspectival foreshortening and recedes behind the jltbe-like form that rises behind the virgin. Executed in a Late Gothic style, this elaborate structure appears in nearly all of the compartments, clearly relating to the encompassing frame of the altarpiece while disrupting the narrative logic of the biblical events portrayed. Existing out-of-time, it partakes in the metaphysical ordering of the scenes and relegates the Renaissance forms they contain to the level of an inferior discourse. 2 3 Indeed, Perreal discouraged i\largaret from pursuing a tomb with a gilded bronze effigy, following the model of the tomb of i\largaret of Burgundy, an established convention of the high nobility in the l etherlands. 2 4 \\le find the survival of a few figural conventions on the sculpture, but only at some remove. The small statues of mourners on the Tomb of i\Iargaret of Bourbon, for example, clearly allude to Sluter's mourning figurines on the Tomb of Philip the Bold some hundred years earlier. But these ple11ra11/s had been widely adopted throughout Europe during the intervening century - they are found, for instance, on both the tombs of Francis II at Nantes and of the Archbishops d'Amboise at Rouen. The regent definitel y wished her church at Brou to stand among exalted company, but the context was more current and European than her Burgundian heritage. 2 5 Horsch, Architekt11r 1111/er 1\fa1garethe vo11 Osterreich, pp. 172-73, discusses at some length the considerable ties between Margaret of Austria and the Bourbon famil y. During the final decades of the fifteenth century, the famous Bourbon chapel was added to the Cathedral of Lyon, not far from Brou. This richly decorated structure, containing the tomb of its founder, Charles de Bourbon, was completed about 1 506, shortl y before Margaret com1 1

224

missioned her own church. As at Brou, we find abundant carving: fields of blind tracery, intricate baldachins, and openwork balustrades. l otably, there is a similar reliance on family insignia, on names, initials, and mottos caf\'ed along parapets and moldings. The Bourbon chapel was a natural point of reference, a demonstration of Late Gothic decoration helping to commemorate one of Europe's great families. Margaret of Austria's advisors must have been particularly aware of the Bourbon Chapel. Although nothing survives of Jean Perreal's architectural designs, the French artist had been living for many years in Lyon, where he had worked for the Bourbon family before being called into i\largaret of Austria's sen路ice. See Blunt, , 111 a11d / lrcbitect11re, pp. 4 5-46. Similarly, the chapel of Saint J l ubert at the royal chateau at Amboise, constructed shortly before 1 500, was conceived according to the most ornate of Late Gothic conventions. \Xfhile awaiting a marriage to Charles VIII that was eventually called off, Margaret of Austria spent several of her formative years at Amboise and had plenty of opportunity to note the appointment of the local chapel. i\Iuch as at Brou, the walls of this structure are profusely decorated with elaborate fields of blind tracery. The distinctive ornamental forms that clad the walls and frame the door and windows, in fact, are closely related to configurations found at Brou, and it comes as little surprise that etherlanders were prominent among workers at the chapel at Amboise. 2 6 Also among the late-fifteenth-century chapels in Spain with thematic ornamental programs were Alvaro de Luna's Santiago Chapel in Toledo Cathedral and the Constable's Chapel in Burgos Cathedral. Another notable funerary chapel was the ornate Gothic choir at the Charterhouse of :tlliraflores at Burgos, with a disposition of tombs that partly recalls that of Brou. The delicate drop tracery hanging from the vaulting of the choir is outdone by the lavish furnishings, the two tombs, the choir stalls, and the enormous altarpiece that occupies the entire east wall. In the center of the choir stands the delicately carved alabaster tomb of King Juan and Queen Isabella, while built into the side wall of the monastery church is the tomb of the Infante Alfonso, botl1 of which share complex interlacing tracery motifs, varied and repeated about the structures. The tomb of the Infante Alonso prefigures several aspects of the tomb of Margaret of Bourbon: in both the effigy rests in a niche crowned by a giant ogival arch, bracketed by delicate tabernacles containing statues of saints. The cenrral tomb of J(jngJuan and Queen Isabella has an elaborate Gothic base, intricately carved out of alabaster. This understory, a Gothic arcade with complex baldachins sheltering female figmines, is comparable in certain respects to the base of Philibert of Savoy's tomb at Brou - although the monument at Burgos is thoroughly Gothic and built on a hexagonal plan. It may not be irrelevant that the sculptural work at i\Iiraflores was largely due to an expatriate etherlander, Gil de SiJoe, who excelled in this new manner

of Gothic design. The church at the monastery of liraflores must haYe been an impressive sight for the young i\Iargaret of Austria during her stay in Burgos. Only a few years later, the tombs there caught the attention of her brother, Philip the Fair, who visited the charterhouse in 1 501; his travel journal specificaliy notes the alabaster monuments, praising them for their virtuoso carvng. When the regent later considered her own funeral chapel, she would likely have reflected on the magnificent Gothic display she had witnessed at Toledo and Burgos, through which the rulers of Spain had celebrated their lineage. An ornate Gothic remained current for royal funerary chapels in Portugal into the 1 52os. i\Ianuel I, whose kingdom had become one of the richest in Europe and maintained extensi,,e commercial ties with the I etherlands, favored for hjs a Gothic idiom that has since borne his name. At the i\Ionastery of Batalha, King i\Ianuel began the so-called unfinished chapels, which housed the tombs of King Eduard and hjs wife Leonora. The portal, characterized by giant, interlocking tracery figures bore the now familiar family insignia: heraldic devices, mottos, and initials. Around 1520, members of the Portuguese royal family were interred in the choir of the church of Santa Cruz at Coimbra. The pair of monumental alabaster tombs that flank the choir are primarily Gothic in design and opulent in execution, intricately carved and replete with heralruc devices. Here, too, are idiosyncratic tracery figures - those on the central tabernacles are remarkably similar to those on the tomb of Margaret of Bourbon at Brou. 2 7 The sophisticated tracery motifs that characterize the final carving are even more pronounced than in his drawing of the 1 5Sos and must represent an evolution in Gothic design closer to 1 500. 2 8 The pattern of the balustrade is similar in its design to the crest on the tomb of i\Iargaret of 1\ustria at Brou. 2 9 l kirsch, Architekt11r 11nter J11argarethe von Osterreich, pp. 174-76. The author neglects the significance of the tombs and other furnishings, which so greatly determine the character of the choir. He also undervalues the political attraction of Spanish aristocratic fashion. 3째 On the cloister side of the waLI, an identical tracery form contains a relief sculpture of Veronica holrung her veil. ee Beatrice Gilman Proske, Castilia11 Sculpture: Gothic to Renaissance (New York, 1951 ), p. 144. 31 The tracery also rustinguishes tl1e different parts of the portal: the teardrop holds carved figures of the Virgin and God the Fatl1er, while the outer field beneath the broad trefoil is relegated to angels supporting coats of arms. 32 The tracery figure around the door to the sacristy is a far more complex version of framing devices designating the portals of chapels and the surrounding of tombs in the nave and wit!Un tl1e sacristy itself. 33 Proske, Castilian Sc11lpt11re, pp. 169, 178-81, 484 n. 1 55. The tomb of Inigo Lopez de i\Iendoza, first count of

Tendilla, was first located in the i\Ionastery of Santa Ana in Tendilla and was later transferred to the Church of San Gines in Guadalajara. An early description notes that tl1e Mendoza coat of arms was originaliy located in the niche, while angels holding heraldic signs were placed in the reserves of the crest. Other tombs of the l\Iendoza family were placed in the i\Ionastery of San Francisco in Guadalajara but disappeared in the seventeenth century. 34 And let us not forget tl1e king of England. The first decade of the sixteenth century witnessed the construction of I lenry Vll's chapel at \X'estminster Abbey. Tl,js brilbant Late Gothic structure, it is true, contained a tomb designed by Torrigiani, but it was surrounded by a splendid Late Gothic screen - again a style deemed appropriate in the face of a rival mode.

Chapter 9 KIM E. BUTLER

I would like to thank Stephen Campbell, i\Iary Garrard, and Esperarn;:a Camara for their thoughtful comments on this essay, and Swarthmore Coliege, where J was 2002-2003 Visiting Assistant Professor of Art I-fistory, for its generous financial assistance with photographs. 1

On the distinction, and historical tension, between city and the court, see "Part 1: The Artist Between City and Court," in i\Iartin Warnke, The Court Artist: On the Ancesto' of the Modenulrt1st, trans. David McLintock (Ca mbridge, 1993), p. 3ff. Raphael, unlike a resident court artist, was remunerated in concrete monetary form, in adrution to the less quantifiable, but equaLiy important, rewards relative to upward social mobility. W'arnke, p. 146, cites Raphael's 1 514 letter: "His Holiness has promised me, for managing the building of St. Peter's, a pro\'ision of 300 guilders, which I am to receive as long as I live; I am also sure that I shall receive more. At ali events, for any other work I do l receive what I regard as proper payment." 2 The unique prominence of humanists in the l,jghest offices of the Leo1,jne courts, with for example Angelo Colocci holding the post of domestic secretary and Pietro Bembo and Jacopo Sadoleto papal secretaries, is discussed in John F. D'Amico, Renaissance H111J1a11is111 in Papal Ro111e: ~!11111anists

and Ch11rch111en on the E/'e of the Refor111ation

(Baltimore, 198 3), pp. 43 ff. 3 See discussion in ibid. pp. 89ff. 4 Ibid. pp. 97 ff. 5 Leo Xis understood to have continued, and taken to a new level of literary and formal elegance, the culn1ral project begun by Julius II. In The C11/t11re of the High

Renaissance: .rlncients and lllodems in Sixtee11th-Ce11t111)' Ro111e (Cambridge, 2000), p. 182, Ingrid Rowland writes, "In the hands of Colocci and his generation of humanists, Pomponio Leto's antiquarian obsession with ancient Rome took on a much more pointed emphasis, spurred by the manifest interests of Pope Juljus himself. The pope's search for proof of papal primacy encouraged the

Roman Academy of the sixteenth century to scour Rome fo r traces (\·estigia again) of Chri stian Rome's imminent destiny for use in briefs, bulls, speeches, and occasional verse, while Colocci was busily exhorting his friends all the while ro try to measure hea\•en." For a discussion of the papal court's preoccupation with ro111a11ita in the 1 530s, see Elena Calvillo, " Romanita and grazia: Giulio Clovio's Pauline Frontispieces for i\Iarino Grimani," Art B11lleti11 82 (2000), pp. 280--97. 6 A collection of humanist encomia dedicated to the artist is discussed in Giovanna Perini, " Raffaello e l'r\ntico: alcune precisazioni," Bolletli110 d'arte 89-90 Qanuary-April 1995), pp. 111-44. Confirming humanist views on the importance of Raphael's efforts to reCO\'er ancient Rome, she considers, among other texts, a Latin epigram by Girolamo J\leandro, r., who was appointed Vatican librarian in 1 519, and a G reek epigram by Giano Lascaris, and notes on p. 117 that Raphael rather than i\lichelangelo was "ii primo divino." 7 On the concept of ri111e111hrare in Petrarchan lyric, see Nancy Vickers, "The Body Re-i\Iembered: Petrarchan Lyric and the Strategies of Description," in Ni111esis, fro111 Jllirror to 1\lethod, ./ lttg11sti11e lo DescC111es, ed .]. Lyons and S. Nichols, Jr. (Hanover, 1982), pp. 101-9. The relevance of this concept for pictorial formulations of female beauty is explored in Elizabeth Cropper, "The Beauty of W'omen: P roblems in the Rh etoric of Renaissance Portraiture,"

ReJ1J1iti11g the Renaissa11ce: The Disco11rses of Sex11al Difference i11 Earl)' Modem E11rope, ed. i\Iargaret W Ferguson, i\Iaureen Quilligan, and ancy Vickers (C hicago, 1991), pp. 175-90, and Charles D empsey, The Porlrapl of Love: Botticelli's

P1i111a1•era a11d H11111a11ist C11lt11re at the Ti111e of Lorenzo the 1\fa,g11ijice11t (Princeton, 1992). On prosopopeia, Quintilian writes, " llla adhuc audaciora et maiorum (ut Cicero existimat) laterum, fictiones personarum, quae prosopopeia, dicuntur. l\lire namque cum \'ariant orationem, tum excitant. His et adYersariorum cogitations velut secum loquentium protrahimus (qui tamen ita demum a fide non abhorrent, si ea locutus finxerimus, quae cogitasse eos non sit absurdum), et nostros cum aliis serm ones et aliorum inter se credibiliter introducimus, et suadendo, obiurgando, querendo, laudando, miserando personas idoneas damus. Quin deducere deos in hoc genere dicendi et inferos excitare concessum est; urbes etiam populique \'Ocem accipiunt. (A bolder form of figure, which in Cicero's opinion demands greater effort, is impersonation, or prosopopeia. This is a de,·ice which lends wonderful variety and animation to orarory. By this means, we display the inner thoughts of our adversaries as though they were talking with themselves (but we shall only carry conviction if we represent them as uttering what they may reasonably be supposed to have had in their minds); or without sacrifice of credibility we may introduce conversations between ourselves and others, or of others among themselves, and put wo rds of advice, reproach, complaint, praise, or pity into the mouths of appropriate persons. l ay, we are even allowed in this form of speech to

226

bring down the gods from hea,·en and raise the dead, while cities also and peoples may find a voice." See 1L E. Butler, The !11stit11tio Oratoria of Q11intilia11 (London, 1971 ), JX.ii.29-31. For a discussion of the rherorical device of prosopopeia, and its connection to the demand for margeia, o r semantic vividness, see i\Iurray Krieger, " Poetic Presence and Illusion I. Renaissance Theory and the Duplici ty of i\Ietaphor" in Poetic Prese11ce a11d Ill11sio11. Essap i11 Ciitical Histoo 1 and Theoo 1 (Baltimore, 1979), pp. 3-27 . 8 Tot proceres Ro mam, tam longa extruxerat aetas, / Torque hostes, et tot saecula dirverant /I unc Romam in Roma quaerit reperitque Raphael,/ Quaerere magni hominis sed reperire D ei est. 9 "Baldassar Castilion. Quod lacerum corpus medica sanm·erit arte / H ippolytum stygiis ex revocavit aquis. / Ad Stygias raptus serpens epidaurius undas / Sic pretium vitae mors fuit artifici. / Tu quoque discerpta Raphael dum membra parentis / Componis miro sedulous ingenio / J\tque urbis lacerum ferro igni annisque cadaver / Ad vitam antiquum restiruisque decus. / i\ [o risti superum invidiam indignataque mors est/ Te dudum extinctis reddere posse animam. / Et quod longa dies paulatim aboleverat, hoc te / l\Iortali spreta lege parare iterum. / Sic miser heu prim a ca dis intercepta J Ll\'enta / D eberique mones nostraque nosque neci?" I have followed the translation offered by Johann l(onrad Eberlein in "The Curtain in Raphael's Sistine i\Iadonna," Art B11lleti11 65 (1983), p. 77. Unless otherwise stated, the remaining translations are my own. 10 "i\Ia in prima l'honorata et nobiJ Roma, / ch'egli con !'alto ingegno et piu ch'humano / dispost'era a tornar nella grandeza ... / e mostrar la beltate et la chiareza / ch'ella ritenne infin che di sua alteza / lascio caderla J lonorio, ii cui difecto / la strada aperse a mille altre ruine / alle quai ponea fine / questi, a cui non fu mai pare architetto: / ch'a veder sol, prova ch'ogn'altra eccede, / degli antichi edificii un piccol segno / cose tutti i fingea compiutamente, / che spesso ho decto a fargli era presente, / o ver dall sua man nacque ii disegno. / H or l'edace vecchieza a domar ri ede / l bei lochi et famosi, a cui non vede / ... simili ii mondo, et notte eternal copre / secura homai infinite et divine opre ... / di cui si perde ogn'hor piu la memoria, / nel l\LD. et X.,"'{ il sexto / giorno d'aprile, a voi duro et funesto, / cadde con Raphael la \'OStra gloria ... /son state spesse \'Olte piagate / sue belle membra: hor salda et immortale / si vedea riuscire, et posta fuore / d'ogni ingiuria di tempo et di fortuna." The complete canzone is published in F.P. Di Teodoro, Raffaello, Baldassar Castiglio11e e la lettera a L eone X (Urbino, 1994), pp. 242-4 5. " The issue of desire for making antique sculpture whole has been little discussed in the scholarship. However, Leonard Barkan, in U11earthi11g the Past: /-lrchaeology and / lesthetics i11 the Maki11g of Re11aissa11ce C11lt11re ew H aven, 1999), offers a compelling account of humanist discourses on the antique. r\lthough much of the discussion is devoted to the issue of the fragment, i.e., r 99ff, he con-

siders the issue more broadly, and in the context of a discourse of desire and playfulness as well. Acknowledging the importance of competing discourses on the antique, Giancarlo Fiorenza focuses primarily on the idea of the fragment in "Studies in Dosso Dossi's Pictorial Language: Painting and l lumanist Culture in Ferrara under Duke Alfonso l d'Este," (Ph.D. dissertation, Johns I-lop kins University, 2000), pp. 373ff. Fiorenza, following Barkan, remarks that Vasari praised the Florentine sculptor and architect Lorenzetto's sculptural restorations as exemplary, more beautiful and graceful than unrestored sculptures. Lorenzetto executed the sculptures for Raphael's Clugi Chapel in S. i\Iaria de! PopoJo and was commissioned by his heirs to execute the Marian sculpture to adorn Raphael's tomb in the Pantheon, which he based with near exactitude on a Venus sculpture, at the same time refashioning it as a "whole." On this and Raphael's tomb project as an expression of their mutual antiquarian interests, see TiJmann Buddensieg, "Raffaels Grab," 1\l111111smla Discip11/omlll. Festschrift fiir Ha11s Ka11/Jllla1111 (Berlin, 1968), pp. 45-70, who argues that the issue should be considered in greater detail with respect to the painter's late i\Iadonnas, and reviews some of their antique sources. Lorenzetto's artistic relationship with Raphael is certainly significant in the context of the humanist quest for the ideal all'antica sculptural whole. 12 See Di Teodoro, Raffaello, Baldassar Castiglio11e, and discussion in lngrid Rowland, "Raphael, Angelo Colocci, and the Genesis of the ArclutecturaJ Orders," / Jrt Blllleti11 76 (1994), pp. 81-104. 1 3 Di Teodoro, Raffaello, Baldassar Castiglione, pp. 64-65, 83-84: Onde, se ad ognuno e debira Ja pietate verso Ii parenti e Ja patria, tengonu obligato de esponere tutte le piccolo force mie accioche, piu che si po, resti in 1·ita un poco del'imagine e quasi ]'umbra di questa che, in vero, e patria u11iversale de tutti e cristiani et per Lm tempo e stata tanro nobile e potente che gia cominciavano gli homini a credere che essa sola sotto il cielo fosse sopra la fortuna e, contra il corso naturale, exempta da la morte e per durar perpetuamente ... Pero parve che'l tempo, come invidioso de la Gloria de'morrali, non confidatosi pienamenre de le sue force sole, se acordasse con la fortuna e con li profa11i e scelerati barbari, Ii quali alla edace lima e venenato morso di quello agionsero l'empio furore, el ferro e ii foco e tucti quelli modi che bastavano per ruinarla. Onde quelle famose opere che hoggi do, piu che mai, serebbono florenti e belle, forno dalla scelerata rabbia e crudele impeto di malvaggi homini, anci fiere, arse e distrutte: ma non, pero, tanro che non vi restasse quasi la machina de! tutto, ma senza ornamenti e (per dir cosD J'ossa d l corpo sensa carne ... ch'io ponga in dissegno Roma anticha, per quanro conoscere si po da quello che hoggi cli, et anchor, si vede, sforceromi adonque quelle poche che restano da mostrare come stanno e quelle che di se mostra ta! reliquia che per

vero argumento se posso ridurre come stava, facendo quelli membri che non si veggano correspondenti a quelli che si veggono ... 1 4 This is the case when Castiglione, in 1•esle di Raphael, writes, "et le dico che per dipingere una bella mi bisogneria veder piu belle, con questa conditione, che VS. si trovasse meco a far scelta de! meglio." For the letter, see Ettore Carnesasca, Raffaello: Gli scrilti: /el/ere, jirllle, sonetti, sal!J!/ lec!J11ici e /eorici (Milan, 1993), p. 166. For its attribution to Castiglione, see John Shearman, "Castiglione's Portrait of Raphael," 1\litteil!mgen des Km1sthistorischen fnstit11tes i11 Florenz 38 (1994), p. n 1 5 Kurt Badt, "Raphael's 'lncendio de! Borgo,"' }011mal of the 1Farb111~~ a11d Co11rta11/d !11slil11tes 22 ( 19 59), pp. 35-5 9, argues in favor of a unified composition based on the model of Aristotelian tragedy. r6 On the analogies between the human forms and architectural membra and vessels, specifically the women on the right with the lo11ic column and the vases and the man hanging from the wall on the left with the composite column, see Rowland, "Raphael, 1\ngeJo Colocci," and, for a more detailed discussion of humanist speculation on the female figural analogy of the vase, see Elizabeth Cropper, "On Beautiful W'omen: Parmigianino, petrarchismo, and the Vernacular Style," / lrt B11/letin 66 ( 1976), pp. 374-94. 1 7 The thematic connection tying together the restoration of ancient Rome and Christian eloquence, centering on the perfected male and female body, contextualizes the emphasis on formal eloquence that some scholars have perceived to overwhelm the fresco's narrative. For instance, Patricia Emison, "Grazia," Renaissance St11dies 5 ( 1 991 ), pp. 446-4 7, writes: "Lo lncendio del Borgo is an example in which Raphael was sufficiently interested in the meaning of beauty to detract from the narrative ... Judged as an istoria, the fresco is weakened by the Water Carrier. Though it is true that she counter-balances another obtrusi1·e sub-episode, the Aeneas and Anchises element opposite ... both are out of tune with the composition as a whole." On the observation that the Expulsion of Heliodorus fresco alludes to papal charity, with the representation of Julius's gesture seemingly referring to raking under his protection the women and children, see Ernst Steinmann, Rolll in der Renaissance 1•0111\Tico/a11s T7 bis an[ L eo X (Leipzig, 1902), pp. 128-29, as discussed in John Shearman, "The Expulsion of Heliodorus," in Raffaello a Rollla: ii com 1egno di 1933 (Rome, 1986), pp. 75-88, who persuasively reads that fresco as a metaphor of the long-term papal policy on the fiscal and territorial integrity of the Church. 1 8 Hermann 1-:lettner, !talielllschen St11dien (Braunschweig, 1879): pp. 225-33. Bettner discusses in particular the oration of Pietro Pomponazzi in a December 1513 Council session, in which he lamented the existence of doubts regarding the supernatural powers of grace vested in the papacy and the church. See discussion in Konrad Oberhuber, Raphael The Paintings, (i\lilan, 1999),

227

pp. 147-48, where the literature on the function of the room (the seat of the Segnatura Gratiae under Julius 11, then rriclinium penitior under Leo X) is also reviewed. 1 9 For the most recent attribution discussions, see Ro111a e lo stile classico di Raffaello: Iflf-2-;, eds. Konrad Oberhuber and Achinn Gnann (l\LJan, 1999). On the historiographical problem of taste and Raphael's late manner, see Cecil Gould, "Raphael versus Giulio Romano: The Swing Back," B11ding,ton Magazine 124 ( 1982), pp. 479-87. 2 ° For a general discussion of the "partiality to Latin poetry" during the pontificate of Leo X, see \'\lilliam Roscoe, The Lift and Pontificate of Leo the Tenth, 2 vols., (London, 1846), pp. 145ff. Also see D. Gnoli, "Orti Letterari nella Roma di Leone X," fl.'11ovaAt1tologia 347, (1930), pp. 7ff. On the para!Jel, but less fervent, promotion of Greek letters, see ibid.: 3 32 ff, and Vittorio Fanelli, "II Ginnasio Greco di Leone X a Roma," St11di Rot11a11i 9 (196 1), pp. 379-93. 21 On Raphael and Vitrnvius, see F P. D i Teodoro, Raffae!Jo, Baldassar Castiglione; Vincenzo Fontana and Paolo i\loracrue!Jo, T1tn11•io e Raffaello: fl "De Architect11ra"

di T7itnfllio ml/a trad11zione i11edita di Fabio Calvo ra1•ennate (Rome, 1975), and Gabriele J\Iorolli, "Oltre Virruvio: II 'Trattato Nuovo' di Raffaello," in St11di s11 Raffaello, eds. i\1icaela Sambuco Hamoud and i\laria Letizia Stroccru (Urbino, 1987), pp. 245-64, where Raphael's plan for Rome "instaurata e renovata" based largely on study of Vitruvius is discussed, together with substantial bibliography. Similarly, Raphael's related contact with the antiquarian Andrea Fulvio, who dedicated a description of Roman antiquities written in Latin hexameters to Leo X in 1 513, and the artist's commission of a vernacular translation of Vitruvius from J\L Fabio Calvo of Ravenna, which an autograph letter records, is reviewed in G. Spagnesi, i\L Fondelli, E. i\Iandelli, Raphael .,,-lrchitect11re "Painted": Perception and Reali!]', trans. H. Lee Brimm (Rome, 1984), introduction. On the latter, and the importance of Raphael's contacts with the humanistic interests of Ludovico degli Arrighi and Fra Gioconda, see Cecil H. Clough, "Ludovico degli Arrighi's contact with Raphael and with Machiavelli," J,a Bibliojilia 75 (1973), pp. 293-308. Rowland, "Raphael, Angelo Colocci," pp. 93ff, discusses the artist's Vitruvian orientation further, contextualizing his antiquarian interests with those of Castiglione and Colocci. She also makes the important point that he did not necessarily follow Vitruvius closely, for example in the design of the architectural orders in the Vatican Fire in the Borgo, that there was an imaginative component to his archaeological investigations (indicated by the idea letter as well with the phrase "i\le ne porge gran luce Vitruvio, ma non tanto che basti"), for example in the fresco's visual juxtaposition of the composite column with the nude hanging man. 22 Cropper, "On Beautiful \'('omen," explores the aesthetic comparison to the beautiful vase and the idea of the Vitruvian analogy between the column and the female form (which is invoked in the letter to Leo A.') in

228

reference to Parmigianino's Madonna of the Long Neck. Rowland, "Raphael, Angelo Colocci," p. 9 5, further discusses the aesthetic ideal of the vase and female beauty, which she connects to the Platonic dialogue H.ippias i\Iaior. 2 3 Konrad Oberhuber, Raphael, p. 145, posits, importantly, that it was only in Leonine Rome that Raphael created the artistic language "fusing antique forms and Christian content," the basis for his subsequent long-lasting fame, and that, despite the attribution issues, artists such as Rubens and Poussin most admired the late works, wruch held an authority equivalent to antique works themselves. 2 4 On the poetic sodalities generally, see Gnoli, "Orti Letterati nella Roma di Leon X," which characterizes Rome in tlus period as "la legislatrice, la maestra, la rocca della pura latinita," and P. Carmine Gioja, Cli Orti Co/occia11i i11 Ro111a (Foligno, 1893). On the Goritz sociality specificaUy, see Julia Haig Gaisser, "The Rise and Fall of Goritz's Feasts," Rmaissa11ceQ11arter!J1 48 (1995), pp. 41-5 5; Phyllis P ray Bober, "The Coryciana and the ymph Corycia," ]011rnal of the Warb111g and Co11rta11/d !11stit11tes 40 (1977), pp. 223-39, Otto l urz, "J l uius nympha loci : r\ Pseudo-Classical Inscription and a Drawing by D iirer," ]011mal of the Warb111g and Co1111a11/d Institutes 16 (19 53), pp. 171-77, and Jozef I jsewijn, "Poetry in a Roman Garden: The Coryciana," Latin Poeto• and the Classical Tradition, ed. Peter Goodman and Oswyn i\lurray (Oxford, 1990),pp. 211-31. 2 5 On the humanist concept of the grotto as a metaphor for antique eloquence (as a highly artificial, man-made simulation of nature) see C. Naurner, "Gardens and Grottoes in Later Works by i\lantegna," Athanor 20 (2001), pp. 43-51. Blasius Palladius, the publisher of the Coryciana anthology, referred to himself and Goritz as "in homine natione externo Romanum ingenium" (possessing Roman ingegno though men of foreign origin); see l jsewijn, "Poetry in a Roman Garden," p. 216. On Colocci being awarded Roman citizenship by Cardinals of the Roman Senate ipso jure, see Gioja, Gli 011i Colocciani i11 Ro!lla, pp. 1ff. On the Longueil controversy in the period, see discussion in Haig Gaisser, "Rise and Fall." It was discovered that the Belgian humanist, who had been made an honorary Roman citizen, had delivered a vituperative oration about Rome wlU!e in France, which resulted in an enormous controversy and factionalism witlun humanist ranks, exposing tensions about the previously idealized issue of Roman cultural identity. 2 6 On the i\ledicean project of perfecting the vernacular with reference to Latin diction, see the discussion in John Onians, "The Tuscan Renaissance," in Bearers of 11!eani11g:

The Classical Orders in A11tiq11it)', the Middle Ages and the Renaissance (Princeton, 1988), pp. 130-46 and D empsey, The Portrapl of Love. For the increasing dominance of the model of Bembo's politissimo stiJ Romano in speculation on the Petrarchan vernacular in Leonine Rome, and his classical orientation to Virgil and Cicero, see Vincenzo De Caprio, "Dal latino al volgare: Bembo e la ricostituzione

della norma," in Inte1preti11g the ltalia11 Renaissance: Literao 1 Perspectim, ed. A Toscano (i\lilan, 1991), [ p. 99-112. 2

7 See note 16, and Virginia Anne Bonito, "The St. Anne Altar in Sant' Agostino in Rome: A New Discovery," B11rli1z~to11 Jl!agazi11q1 (1980) pp. 805-12 and "The Saint Anne Altar in Sant'Agostino: Restoration and I nterpretation," Burlington Magazim 74 (1982) pp. 268-76. 2 8 Bonito, "The Saint Anne Altar in Sant' Agostino: Restoration and Interpretation," and J ozef l jsewijn,

Coo 1ciana critice edidil, car111inib11s exlra11agantib11s a11xit1 praefatione et annotalio11ib11s inslmxil (Rome, 1997), p. 43, poem of one "Savoia": "i\Iortales lepidi, et boni poetae / Qui duJces cithara sonos cietis /Et tanto clecoratis ista versu / Sacra r umina, vos, Corytiumque / Qui tanto decoravit ista sumptu, / Dii vos quaeso beent, boni poetae, Et te, culte opifex et artis altae, / Qui tan to decoraris ista cultu. / Dii vobis bona dent, boni poetae, / Sculptorique bono, Corytioque / Qui tanto clecorastis ista cultu. /Na m si sint mihi linguae et ora centum, / Si vox ferrea, et hinc sonem i\Iaronem, / Hine alto Cicerone contumescam, / Non laudem satis hos bonos poetas, / Sculptoremque bonem Corytiumque. / Vivant, quaeso, diu Corytiusque / Et sculptor bonus et boni poetae!" 2 9 Craig Kallendorf, Tl/rgil and Epideictic Rhetoric in the Ea1-f) 1 Renaissance (Hanover, 1989), p. 123. 3째 See general discussion in G. Faliani, "La cultura in Vaticano al tempo di Giulio Il e Leone X," Raffaello in T7aticano, ed . G. Muratore, exh. cat. (Milan, 1984), pp. 30-34. On the impact of Egidio's Virgilian sacred verse upon Sannazaro, see l\ L Deramaix, "La genese du 'de partu virgin.is' de Jacopo Sannazaro et trois eclogues inedites de Gilles de Viterbe," Melanges de /'Ecole francaise de Ro111e, no. 1 (1990) pp. 73-276. On Pontano's characterization of Egidio as a "Cicero Christianus," see John \\1-iittaker, "Giles of Viterbo as Classical Scholar," in

Egidio da T'/terbo, 0. S. A., e ii s110 te111po: atti de/ T'convegno del/'111slit11to storicao Agostiniano (Rome, 198 3), p. 85. F See De Caprio, "Dal latino al volgare," p. 105, and Piero Florian.i, Bembo and Castiglione (Rome, 1976). 32 Ijsewijn, Co1)'cia11a, pp. 29-3 3, "Corycium senem tibi quadantenus cognominem, lane Coryci, P.Virgilius (ut scis) multis versibus collaudat . .. atque ilie quidem hoc summ.i poetae munere aeternus iam est suasque arbores et plantas vivacitate vincit, parique perennitate huius memoria cum poetae gloria protenditur. Tantum iJ]j felicitatis attulit P. Virgilium in eius hortos incidisse . .. Quod si P. Virgilius in tua aut tu in jj]jus tempora incidisses, habu.isset iLie quidem quid de te praeter hortense stud.ium concineret. Praedicasset in horriine natione externo Romanum ingen.ium, urbanam dexteritatem, litteraria studia, litteratorum commercia, festivam urban.itatem, extemporariam dicendi facultatem, Antiquitatis et marmorum vetustorum amorem ... Scio non esse nos Virgilios neque tam nos assecutos his plurimis versibus quam ilium jj]js paucissimis. Sed nee ulios alios praeter Virgili um fu.isse Virgil.ios, et te iJ]j Corycio anteponendum (ut dixi) non dubito, neque quia nos tibi Virgil.ii esse non possumus,

icleo rn nobis non eris Corycius. Vives, vives, inquam, nobiscum et hoc uno remedio mortem vincemus ut mortui \'i ta per famam et gloriam vivamus." 33 Ibid., pp. 31-33: "Ergo (dicam en.im iam libere) tecum furem esse oportuit volueras, subfurari tibi atque in lucem edere opus fuit ut nobis omnibus aliquam afferret lucem." ljsewijn, n . 12, cites the refe rence to the sixth Eclogue ( 13-26): " ... Chromis et Mnasyllus in antro / Silenum pueri somno videre iacentem ... / ill e dolum ridens 'Quo vincula nectitis? lnquit / 'Solvite me, pueri ... '/Carmina quae vultis cognoscite ... " 34 For example, with the familiar reference to piously restoring "broken" Rome, we read in the l\Iariangeli Accursii Proptrepticon ad Corycium, ibid., p. 35, " ... Nee qu.icquam in maius referunt, nee inania fingunt / attamen (usque adeo studiis sua tempora praesunt) / hunc prohibet flammis pietas Augusta supremis / ilium alii lacerum reparant, obeloque perennem / recldunt, Pieriis ne desint lumina Musis," in the epigram lani Vital.is Panhormitan.i, ibid., p. 82, "Quis neget ad priscum Romam rediise nitorem, / quandoquidem prisci cuncta nitoris habet? / En Phidiam, atque Numan, et praeclaros ecce l\Iarones, / Arte, animoque pio, carmin.ibusque piis! / Hi tribus his statuis dant onu1es \'ivere sensus, / tre que uno includunt corpore treis animas. / Quinetiam si cuncta, hospes, mirere, loquuntur: / nam quicqu.id \'ates tot cecinere, canunt," in Marcantonio Casanova's poem, ibid., pp. 130-31, "Non nunc l\Ioecenas, non rex l\Iacedum, nee J\thenae, / Corycii at pietas excitat ingenia haec. / Phidiacae rediere man.us, red.it alter Apelles, / divinum rediit Virgilii ingen.ium . / Corcycius nequeat donis cum aequare merentes, / dent rogat his Superi praemia digna sui," and in the elegiac poem P. lani l Iaclelii Saxonis, p. 244, " ... Quod superest fractis longa ex aerate sepulchris / Colligit, inque hortos collocat ornne suos; / cum base, cum titulo siquam moclo \'iderit urnam, / pon.it in electis ordine quarnque locis. / Erma Flaminiae, sunt eruta multa Latinae, / lectaque sunt uni tot monumenta viro, / fractaque tot veterum, torque integra signa virorum / in sua conspicuas atria vexit opes,/ ut quid Roma fuit, quantisque eversa nun.is / Prae se Corycii vel dornus una ferat. / Vos, an.imae, festas nunc exercete choreas, / Carminaque alternis dicite laeta modis!" Typically the patron's piety is placed on a par with the sculptor's (Sansovino's) artifice, as in the epigram of Franciscus Sperulus, p. 42, "Felix ter, quarter at foetus et amplius / vatum carmin.ibus nam pietas tua / dum poscit lapidem numin.ibus dari / ars nume lapidi dedit / oestro uncle Ausoniis ingeniis dato / Consultum est pietas ut tua, ut artifix / usque et vivat opus: Pierides enim / Aevi longe abigunt minas." Also see the epigram l ani Vitalis Panhorm.itan.i, ibid., p. 48, "Sed tantum pietate, sanctitate, / tanrnrn religione et aequ.itate, /tan tum simplicitate, largitate / famam omnem superas et omne nomen / praeclarurn, omn.ia belia, magna, sancta," that of Hieronymus .Angerianus, ibid ., p. 52, "Qu.is dedit hu.ic an.imam saxo? Quis numino coelo / eripuit, terras et facit

haec colere? /No n manus artifix polit hoc opus; ipsa benigni / Corytii durum saxum animat pietas," that of P Antonius Cippius, ibid., p. 56, "i\Iirari statuas, Coryti, non desinit unquam, / qui dextram artifis novit, et inde tuam. / am sua Praxitelem, Rhodios quoque \'incere tentat, / Et tua Romanum cum pietate decus," that of i\Iarcus Caballus, ibid., p. 57, "Failor, an hoc sacro latitant in marmore D ivi? /A n Parius docta spirat ab arte lapis? / Vivit opus; neque enim fallunt pia numina! Coelo / Eduxit Superos Corycii pietas," and that of Carolus i\Iazzaeus, p. 80, "Iliacos Latios vexit gui classe Penates, / Aeneam cecinit Virgiliana chelys. / Qui voto hue Superos \路exit bona numina nobis, / Corycium vatum concinit omne sophos. / Nam maior pietas maiora haec numina \'exit; / l ure canant plures Corytium ergo fides," together with numerous other examples. 35 Arnold Nesselrath, "Raphael's Archaeological i\Iethod," in Raffaello a Ro111a, pp. 357-71, makes the passing remark, positing it as an issue for further study. On some antigue sources, see Buddensieg, "Raffaels Grab." Ir is generally agreed that Raphael designed the painting, but that it reflects a largely workshop execution . The distinction between the guality of the und rdrawing and the surface paint is remarked upon in Rafael en Espa1la, exh. cat. (i\Iadrid, 1985 ), pp. 105-8, with a discussion of the technical evidence, an observation supported in Sylvia Ferino Pagden and i\Iaria Antonietta Zancan, Raffaello: catalogo co111pleto (Florence, 1989), p. 1 53. 36 On the excursion, documented in a letter that Bembo wrote to Cardinal Bibbiena, see Camesasca, Raffaello: Cli scritti, p. 52路 On the provenance of the base, see Phyllis Pray Bober and Ruth Rubinstein, Renaissa11ce Artists a11d A11tique Sculpture (London, 1986), pp. 121-2 2. It is discussed briefly in Leopold Dussler, Raphael ,. 1 Critical

Catalogue of his Pictures, ll"'all-Pai11ti11gs and Tapest1ies (London, 1971 ) pp. 51-52 . 37 Buddensieg, "Raffaels Grab," pp. 65-66. 38 Oskar Fischel, Raphael, trans. B. Rackham (London, 1964), p. 366 . 39 Bucldensieg, "Raffaels Grab." On Renaissance knowledge of the Gemma r\ugustea through casts, as described by Filarete, see Bober and Rubenstein, Renaissance / Jrtists and Antique Sculpture, pp. 100-201. 4掳 On the traditional setting of the Virgilian pastoral, see ,.-Jn ,.-Jnthology of Neo-Lati11 Poell)', ed. F l ichols (New Haven, 1979): p. 3 5. Also discussed (p. 5) is the fact that (as can be seen in the painting) neo-Latin pastoral is generally located in a poetic version of some real location, whether the Bay of Naples, the banks of the Loire, or of the Thames, predicated on a relocation not only in space but in time. 4' 0n the rhetorical character of the pictorial syntactical device of antithesis/ contrapposro in Italian Renaissance art, see the essential study of David Summers, "Conrrapposto: Style and i\Ieaning in Renaissance Art," .r-Jr/ Bulletin 59 (1977), pp. 336-61. 4 2 On the essential source in Virgil for the skillful alterna-

tion of light and dark in Renaissance poetry, with special reference to Pontano, see note 40. On the issue of Leonardo's impact on Raphael during the former's Roman period 1513-16, see especially Kathleen Weil-Garris Brandt, Leo11ardo a11d Central ltalia11 , 111: r5r5-50 r lew York, 1974). The Leonardo connection is certainly an important one, as is clear in the i\Iadonna of Francis 1, which was designed for the French king at the time of Leonardo's employment there, and in the striking Leonardism of the Trc111sjiguratio11. However, the humanist poetic endeavors of Raphael's friends and patrons specifically in those years supply a closer context, although the two concerns may well have acted in concert. Also see Brandt, Chapter lil, on the likel y importance of all'antica speculation in humanist circles for Raphael 's stylistic shift, as she connects the "dark manner" to a Plinian anecdote on Apelles and Pausanias related by Dolce and others. i\Iy argument attempts to situate mo re tightl y the poetic discourse on antigue eloguence, furthering Patricia Rubin's observation, in "11 contributo di Raffaello allo sviluppo clella pala cl'altare rinascimentale," ,. Irle Cristia11a 737-38 (1990), pp. 169-82, of the eguivalence of the pictorial diction in paintings like the Transfiguration with the demands of sacred eloquence. 43 For example, see the hymn of Franciscus Franchinus Consentinus, which mixes Virgilian metaphors and metaphors from the book of Genesis, in l jsewijn, Coo1cia11a, pp. 249-52, " ... Aetherague arclentem, et supereminet omnia coelum; / Ingue vicem hinc luces ceclunt cum lege renebris, /e t sibi pcrficiunt guae tempora guator annum, / ver, acstas, autunnus, hyems, aequalia numguam, / uncle fluunt tot aguae dukes, tot habemus et uncle / undigue grata focis silvarum robora nostris, uncle hom.ini \'ictus, / uncle hom.ini victus, pecorigue alimenta guotannis, / arbori foetus, fruges et gramina campi. / Natus in hoc eguiclem possum laetarier ae\'O: / Luce fruor . .. Nee fecisse Chaos terram noctemgue, nee incle / factos nocre dies argue aethera coniuge mixto. / l pse D eus nobis, nubem Deus abstulit atram, /No n passus populos per tot magis ire tenebras . .. ,"that of Albertus Cisrarellus in ibid., p. 260, " . .. Tu, D ea, tu contra (fas sit componere magna / parvis; fas lucem tenebris, et sancta profanis!) / Aspicis ex alto si nostri in luminis oras / auxilium latura piis, tu flamine amoris / divini virtutem animis, iustumgue piumgue / Ingeris, hos ficla clonec statione reponas ... ," that of Franciscus Cenrelles, " .. .Salve, magna parens divum, ruque aurea Virgo,/ salve iterum argue iterum, magno lux acldita coelo ... vere novo aetheriis racliis lustrata ... ," that of Laomeclontis Tarcloli Camertis, " . .. Assiclue venerabor, et ipsa alraria circum / annua clum verso lux sacra reclibit Olympo, / Laeta canent festa velati tempora lauro / Egregii vares, n.iveague in vcste sacerclos / caelestes vobis epulas et mystica sacra / Libabit, nee vos meritis pro talibus auri / ponclera clivitiasgue opulentague regna reposco ... Hine alacres post saecula longa caducis / exuti membris aeterna luce fruamur. .. ,"and a hymn by C. Silvanus Germanicus, " . .. ut vester regeret perenne / san-

guis Olympum. / Te per antiquae tenebrae fugatae / mentium, per te periere inanes/ numinum coetus, et adempta mundo / Reddita lux est ... ," together with a number of other examples. 44 . .. et ipsa nova fix us pater auricomus sol / Luce coruscabit, vacuae telluris in aequor / lnsultans adolescet, et omnipatentia sumer/ Lumina, ter maior facie, ter lumine noto / Splendidior, nubesque cadent sub imagine coeli, / Velantes radios velantesque aethera magnum, / Comrenient terries loca subdita, claustra Aquilonis / Claudentur, tenebras densamque trahentia noctem ... alma Pax! 45 See ibid . 46 On the common invocation of Bacchic motifs in the context of Christian piety in the period, see discussion in Alexander Nagel, ilfichela11gelo and the Refar111 of, 111, (Ca mbridge, 2000), pp. 87-99. 47 See brief discussion in A11, llltho!掳'l!J' of Neo-Lati11 Poe!!]', pp. 5off, of Pontano as a Virgilian, Tebaldeo as a Petrarchist, and Navagero's importance for the development of the lusus pastoralis, a sort of pastoral epigram with the familiar attributes of the grotto and shady tree, greatly admired by poets such as Du Bellay in the next century. The editor also remarks, pp. 5ff, that though humanists looked closely to the model of Petrarch, they found his diction suspect and looked to purify further the \'ernacular language with reference to Latin. 48 , 111 , lllthology of Neo-Lati11 Poe!!]', p. 6. 49 An epigram from Battista Casalius reads, "Dii tibi dent annos, quos nos optamus, Amiee, / Et quacumque animi saecla merentur opes. / Optamus merito studiis quos tu facis annos, / Obruta qui a stygiis illa reduces aquis. / Graja in te certat, Romanaque gloria linguae; / Et neutra alterutri cedere victa potest. / Quin & sermonis cultu laudaris ethrusci, / Incle tibi non est fama reposta minor." A Chariteo sonnet reads, "Colotio di Virtu ,路ero Cultore, / Degno del nome Angelico, e divino / Ciascun conven che corra a quel destino / Che gli diede de! Cielo l'AJmo Rettore: / Tu dell / .Attico fonte ii be! liquore / Bevi con l'oro Etrusco, & col latino / lo non pen ti to mai del mio Camino/ con vela, & remi vo scquendo Amore ... " See Gianfrancesco Lancellotti, Poesie !talia11e e !~ati11e di ilfo11sig11orA11gelo Colocci, (Iesi, 177 2), pp. 58-5 9 and 13 9, respectively. 5掳 On Colocci's and Bembo's often mutual linguistic interests in this respect, see S. Lattes, "Recerches sur La Bibliotheque d'.Angelo Colocci," N elmws d'., lrchiologie et d'Histoire 48 ( 1931 ), pp. 308-44, especially p. 335ff. Colocci also owned fourteen Virgil manuscripts, including the famous Vatican Virgil. J\ good example of Colocci's poetry is the canzone published in Lancellotti, Poesie !talia11e e Latine, p. 7ff, which again employs the trope of pious remembrance, and reads, "Fiorite piaggiae ap riche a / tremanti, e Verdi fronde, / dove hor mi trovo in solitaria vita:/ valli e riviere amiche / presto al suon di quest'onder, / ch'a trar mille sospir da1 cor m'aita. / Pia rimembranza a riveder m'invita / la donna che sen gia / secura in quei bei poggi / camando. Udirete oggi / quan-

ta gioia ii cor n'hebbe: ove non sia / tra boschi ombrosi, e folti / altro che \'Oi, che con pieta m'ascolti: /be! prato era allor quando / mia donna humile, & piana /col ben tenero pie calco quest'herba / . .. J\Ia piu bel quando per mia pena acerba / dormendo in verdi cespi / scherzar zeffir vedea / ventilando, e movea / pe'I bianco collo i crin dorati, e crespi: / come or, che avorio tocchi, / mentre Amor si posava in quei begl'occhi. / Ben dorme il vivo fuocoe ... questo a tempo, e luoco /s ue membra in sonno solve ... / si la gia chiusa luce / de! mio be! ol riluce / sereno stral d'Amore cocenti, e forti / tolto dagl'occhi il velo / ride col riso suo la Terra, e'I Cielo. / Poi mentra scinta, e scalza /co me apri in varii fiori / predano ii ricchi honor di Prima,路era, / scendean dall'aspra balza / i pargoletti I\.mori, / V'la bella Compagna spogliat'era, / qua! di candida benda, e qua! di nera / s'adorna, e veste in Donna, ch'il purpureo coturno / si cinge, & altri furno, / che in un tronco posar l'aurata gonna / nudo di rami, e foglie, / quasi un trofeo di si pudiche spoglie / . .. quasi gareggiando Eco / Con la voce non tronca, / E la cava spelonca, / Vaga del suon un oruni habito seco .. .1\.hi lasso, hor mi rimembra ... che dopo il duro passo / Se'l corpo in Terra lasso / co che l'ombra mia errando per quest'ombre . .. /Che la Seka novella / della non sua belta si fe piu bella." 5' Colocci in Lancelotti, Poesie italia11e e lati11e, sonnets q and 38. imilarly, he praises the "Vergine J\Iadre, in cui el Sole eterno / che tu con tua bellezza innamorasti, / si specchia, Tu che il J\Iondo illuminasti, / colla tua lucem, e ii tenebroso Inferno." 52 In ibid., after calling upon the J\Iadonna to warm him with her starry rays, Colocci in sonnet .+O uses the same imagery for his lady, "Tra mille Stelle un Sol co'raggi d'oro / parea pien d'umilta madonna altera, / quando fra l'altra Donne a \'ederla era / quasi Diana in mezzo al casto Choro ... " or in sonnet 14, "A voi grazie rendo io pietose, e sole / lagrime de! mio ben felici scone, / poiche nel petto mio gelate, e morte / restar le grate amorose parole. /Non possendo io davanti al summo Sole/ appalesar miei guai, mio mal, mio morte, / fei quel Fanciullo, che col pianger forte, / Denota quel, che dir non puote, e vuole. / Laccio era al cuor, ma quell disfece imanto / La pieta, che per far piu largo dono, / mando voce a i Sospiri, agl'occhi il pianto. / E perche manco alli Sospiri il suono, / Le lacrime si serno eterne tanto, /C he cosi mute ancor chieggion perdono." 53 Ibid., poem 71. The editor writes: "De hedera Quercum annosam complectente. Edidit Ubaldin .in Vita.Color. pag.8 Jacobus Pontanus in Eglog.VII.Virgilianum hoc Epigr.impcnse laudat: extat in Cod.Vaq 3 j2 p.282.& in Cod.Vat. 3358 p.11 5.&202.ubi habetur pubescentem loco subnascentem . Qacopus Pontanus sic: De hedera Quercum annosam complectente, & inunabrante, & ita velut gratiam referente Nutrici suae rotunclissimum profecto, & velut ab ipsis dicatum J\Iusis Epigramma Angelo Colotii hie venusto Lectori inferam.): Subnasccntem hederam trabeati in Colle Quirini / Nutrierat densis Quercus opaca

guis Olympum. / Te per antiquae tenebrae fugatae / mentium, per te periere inanes / numinurn coetus, et adempta mundo / Reddita lux est. .. ," together with a number of other examples. 44 .. . et ipsa nova fixus pater auricomus sol / Luce coruscabit, \'acuae telluris in aequor / lnsultans adolescet, et omnipatentia sumet / Lumina, ter maior facie, ter lumine noto / Splendidior, nubesque cadent sub imagine coeli, / Velantes radios velantesque aethera magnum, / Convenient terries loca subdita, claustra J\quilonis / Claudentur, tenebras densamque trahentia noctem ... alma Pax! 45 See ibid. 46 On the common invocation of Bacchic motifs in the context of Christian piety in the period, see discussion in Alexander Nagel, J1Jichela11gelo anrl the Refor111 ef _,;-111, (Cambridge, 2000), pp. 87-99. 47 See brief discussion in _,;-fo , lntho/o/!)' ef N eo-Lati11 Poefl)', pp. 5off, of Pontano as a Virgilian, Tebaldeo as a Petrarchist, and Navagero's importance for the development of the lusus pastoralis, a sort of pastoral epigram with the familiar attributes of the grotto and shady tree, greatly admired by poets such as Du Bellay in the next century. The editor also remarks, pp. 5ff, that though humanists looked closely to the model of Petrarch, they found his diction suspect and looked to purify further the \'ernacular language with reference to Latin. 48 , 111 _, 111thology ef N eo-Latin Poe!!)', p. 6. 49 An epigram from Battista Casalius reads, "Dii tibi dent annos, quos nos optamus, Amiee, / Et quacurnque animi saecla merentur opes. / Optamus merito studiis quos tu facis annos, / Obruta qui a st:ygiis illa reduces aquis. / Graja in te certat, Romanaque gloria linguae; / Et neutra alterutri cedere \•icta potest. / Quin & sermonis cultu laudaris ethrusci, / Incle tibi non est fama reposta minor." A Chariteo sonnet reads, "Colotio di \lirt:U \'ero Cultore, / Degno de! name Angelico, e divino / Ciascun com·en che corra a quel destino / Che gli diede del Cielo l'Almo Rettore: / Tu dell / Attica fonre ii bel liquore / BeYi con l'oro Etrusco, & col latino / lo non pen ti to mai de! mio Camino / con vela, & remi vo sequendo Amore ... " See Gianfrancesco Lancellotti, Poesie ltaliane e Lati11e rli Jlfomig11orA11gelo Colocci, (lesi, i 772), pp. 58-5 9 and 139, respectively. 5° On Colocci's and Bembo's often mutual linguistic interests in this respect, see S. Lattes, "Recerches sur La Bibliotheque d'Angelo Colocci," Nila11ges r/', lrcbeologie et rl'E-listoirq8 (1931 ), pp. 308-44, especially p. 335ff. Colocci also owned fourteen Virgil manuscripts, including the famous Vatican Virgil. A good example of Colocci's poetry is the canzone published in Lancellotti, Poesie ltaliane e Latine, p. 7ff, which again employs the trope of pious remembrance, and reads, "Fiorite piaggiae ap riche a / tremanti, e Verdi fronde, / dove hor mi trovo in solitaria vita: / valli e riviere amiche / presto al suon di quest'onder, / ch'a trar mille sospir dal cor m'aita. / Pia rimembranza a riveder rn'invira / la donna che sen gia / secura in quei bei poggi / cantando. direte oggi / quan-

ta gioia ii cor n'hebbe: O\'e non sia / tra boschi ombrosi, e

folti / altro che Yoi, che con pieta m'ascolti: / bel prato era allor quando / mia donna humile, & piana / col ben tenero pie calco quest'herba / .. .l\la piu be! quando per mia pena acerba / dormendo in Yerdi cespi / scherzar zeffir vedea / ventilando, e rnovea / pe'l bianco collo i crin dorati, e crespi: / come or, che avorio tocchi, / mentre J\mor si posava in quei begl'occhi. / Ben dorme ii vivo fuocoe ... questo a tempo, e luoco / sue rnembra in sonno solve . .. / si la gia chiusa luce / del mio be! Sol riluce / sereno stral d'Amore cocenti, e forti / tolto dagl'occhi ii \'eio / ride col riso suo la Terra, e'J Cielo. / Poi mentra scinta, e scalza / come apri in Yarii fiori / predano ii ricchi honor di Primavera, / scendean dall'aspra balza / i pargoletti Amori, / \l'la bella Compagna spogliat'era, / qua! di candida benda, e qual di nera / s'adorna, e \'este in Donna, ch'il purpureo cornrno / si cinge, & altri furno, / che in un tronco posar J'aurata gonna / nudo di rami, e foglie, / quasi un trofeo di si pudiche spoglie / ... quasi gareggiando Eco / Con la voce non tronca, / E la cava spelonca, / Vaga del suon un oruni habito seco ... Ahi lasso, hor mi rimembra ... che dopo il duro passo / Se'] corpo in Terra lasso / co che l'ombra mia errando per quest'ombre . . . / Che la Seka nO\·eJJa / della non sua belta si fe piL1 bella." 5' Colocci in Lancelotti, Poesie italiane e latine, sonnets 14 and 38. Similarly, he praises the "Vergine i\Iadre, in cui el Sole eterno / che tu con tua bellezza innamorasti, / si specchia, Tu che il i\Iondo illuminasti, / calla n1a lucem, e ii tenebroso Inferno." 52 In ibid., after calling upon the i\Iadonna to warm him with her starry rays, Colocci in sonnet 40 uses the same imagery for his lady, "Tra mille Stelle un Sol co'raggi d'oro / parea pien d'umilta madonna altera, / quando fra l'altra Donne a \•ederla era / quasi Diana in mezzo al casro Choro ... " or in sonnet 14, "A \'Oi grazie rendo io pietose, e sole / lagrime del mio ben felici scorte, / poiche nel petto mio gelate, e morte / res tar le grate amorose parole. on possendo io davanti al summo Sole / appalesar / miei guai, mio ma!, mio morte, / fei quel Fanciullo, che col pianger forte, / D enota quel, che dir non puote, e \ruole. / Laccio era al cuor, ma quell disfece intanto / La piera, chc per far piu largo dono, / mando voce a i Sospiri, agl'occhi ii pianto. / E perche manco alli Sospiri il suono, / Le lacrime si serno eterne tanto, / Che cosi mute ancor chieggion perdono." 53 Ibid., poem 71. The editor writes: "De hedera Quercum annosam complectente. Edidit Ubaldin.in Vita.Color. pag.8 Jacobus Pontanus in Eglog.Vl l.Virgilianum hoc Epigr.impense laudat: ex tat in Cod.Vat.) 352 p. 282.& in Cod.Vat. 3358 p.11 5.&202.ubi habetur pubesccntem loco subnascentem. Qacopus Pontanus sic: De hedera Quercum annosam complcctente, & inunabrante, & ita velut gratiam referente utrici suae rotundissimum profecto, & velut ab ipsis dicatum l\lusis Epigramma Angelo Colotii hie \'enusto Lectori inferarn.): Subnascentem hederam trabeati in Colle Quirini / Nutrierat densis Quercus opaca

comis: / Nunc quia victa Aevo viduata est frondibus arbos, /Pro merito Altricejm \'estit Alumna suam." 54 Colocci evidently owned several properties in Rome. On his owning a house with garden and antique grottos on the Quirinale, which also hosted tl1e stamperia of the Greek gymnasium, see Vittorio Fanelli, ''Aspetti della Roma cinquecentesca: le case e le raccolte archeologiche de! Colocci," Studi Rol/lani 10 (1962), pp. 391-402. 55 Humanist cultivation of these poetic grottoes often entailed the adoption of an aqueduct, which ilien served as an image of poetic inspiration. Colocci famously restored the aqua 1iirgo, and his equally famous genius loci was the (related) fountain nymph modeled after the Belvedere Cleopatra. See note 4 5 and discussion of the association of the "Sleeping ymph" with tropes of the locus amoenus and prosopopeia, in Barkan, Unearthing the Past, pp. 2 33-42, who is also puzzled by the fact that the Cleopatra fountain is referred to as an aqueduct. Also see Lancellotti, Poesie italiane e latine, p. 57, where a poem by an unknown autl1or is cited, "Hoc nemus umbrosum, haec, undam exceptura cadentem / marmorea rara, meus dat tibi Colotius. Tu memor infusum lymphis da, Virgo, pudorem / illi olim fuerit filia si qua bibat." 56 On Colocci's particular interest in antique weights and measures, and this relevance for Raphael, see discussion in Rowland, "Raphael, Angelo Colocci." On his poetic nickname, see Lancellotti, Poesie italiane e la tine, pp. 1 1, s2, and anotl1er poem by Battista Casali us, in ibid., p. 59, "Redde Helicona mihi, redde, inquit Apollo, Sorores /die ubi sunt, inquam: dicam, ait, ex tripode: / Musae habitant spretis B1\SSI penetralia Delphis / illic aesternis fons scatet uber aquis. / Redde libens, inquam te, Phoebe, misque tibique / non alio poteris gratior esse loco."

Chapter 10 LARRY SILVER

See Martin \'\'arnke, The Court ./ lrtist, trans. David i\IcLimock (Cambridge, 1993; orig. German ed., Cologne, 1985), on Di.irer, pp. 71-72 . The perfect counterpoint to Diirer's distinct Nuremberg distance from his court assignments is his Italian doppelganger, Jacopo de' Barbari, who migrated northward from Venice to Di.irer's own German court patrons in reverse sequence: first to Emperor Maximilian I as "portraitist and miniaturist" (1 500-1 503; although then, like Di.irer, based in Nuremberg, since Maximilian had no fixed court abode), but tl1en to the Saxon court of Frederick ilie Wise of Saxony (r 504-1505/6), where he was succeeded at the axon court by Lucas Cranach the Elder (see below). He then seems to have moved on to Schwerin in Mecklenburg in 1 507 at the court of Duke Heinrich, then in 1 508 witl1 the Elector of Brandenburg, Joachim. Afterwards he proceeded to the l etherlands, where he served at the court of the regent, Margaret of Austria, daughter of Maximilian I, in i\[echelen (1 jl0-12). Jay Alan Levenson, "Jacopo de' Barbari and Noriliern Art of 1

the Early Sixteenth Century" (Ph.D. dissertation, New York University, 1978), esp. pp. 4-24, 339-54, asserting pp. 16-17, thatJacopo was the probable artist for the now-lost classical interior decorations in \'\'ittenberg Castle, which included the Labors of Hercules (see below for Di.irer's version of this subject). Although de' Barbari is celebrated as a major innovator in Italian engravings (formerly grouped under the name "Master of ilie Caduceus"), tl1e entirety of his known historical documents stems from the period after 1 500 of his travels in Germany and the Netherlands after leaving Venice. 2 Joseph Koerner, The 1lfo111e11! of Self Portraiture in Cen11a11 Renaissance Art (Chicago, 1993), esp. pp. 203-2 3, sketches this emerging self-consciousness and independence as well as ilie commercial authorship/authority of Diirer's monogram . 3 The alternate dynasty of Saxon dukes was ilie Albertine line, whose capital was Dresden. The partition was itself instigated by Ernst in 1485. The newer duchy of Saxony was established in 1432 after the death of the Ascanian line as a gift from Emperor Sigismund to i\Iargrave Frederick of Meissen of the \'\'ettin dynasty. Frederick was succeeded in office for seven years after his death by his brother, John the Constant (1469-1532). See Hajo Holborn, A HistOI)' of i11odem Cem1a11y The Refor111ation (London, 1965), esp. p. 32, claiming that Saxony was financially stronger than other German principalities because of revenue from the mining of both metals and salt. For the slightly later period, Carl Christensen, Princes and Propaganda (Kirksville, Mo., 1992). The standard modern biography of Frederick the Wise is Ingetraut Ludolph)', Friedrich der lf'7eise: K111fiirst von Sachsm IJ6J-IJ2J (Gbttingen, 1984) . The fundamental study of his patronage remains Robert Bruck, Friedrich der Weise als Fikderer der KJ111sl (Strasbourg, 1903). 4 On Frederick's piety, see Ludolphy, Fried1ich der lf'7eise, pp. 337-66; on his patronage of the visual arts, pp. 101-12, esp. 102-4 for Diirer. For Cranach the basic study is Werner Schade, Cranach: A Fal/lib' of i11aster Painters (New York, 1980; orig. German ed., 1974); also Dieter KoeppLin and Tilman Falk, Lukas Cranach, exh. cat. (Basel, 1974), I, pp. 42-51, 185-217, with the Reliquary Book (Heilt111mbuch), pp. r 86-91, 218-20, nos. 9 5-100. Cranach's 1 17 woodcuts offered samples from more than 5005 relics and their gilded reliquaries. 5 Bruck, Friedrich der Weise, p. 56; Fedja Anzelewsky, / Jlbrecht Diirer: Das 111alerische ll''erk (Berlin, 1971), pp. 27-30. 6 The chief study of early canvases centers on Neilierlandish paintings, Diane \'\folfilial, The Beginnings of N etherlandish Canvas Paintiug, r.;oo-r5;0 (Cambridge, 1989), on Di.irer, pp. 10, 20, 29. 7 f\nzelewsky, Albrecht Diirer, pp. 28-3 1, 134-3 7, nos. 39-40, for Saints Sebastian and Anthony, which he accepts as authentic. These side wings of the Dresden canvas sit on thinner fabric and have usually been assigned to a later period of production, before Di.irer's

second trip to Italy, thus ca. 1503-04. For the central image, howeYer, Anzelewsky, detecting considerable influence from Netherlandish art for both the prosaic figure types and the emphatically domestic interior space for Saint Joseph in the background, theorizes that, instead of Di.irer, some putative Flemish painter generated the canvas for Frederick the \\iise. He notes that Wi:ilfilin had originally demurred on a firm attribution to Di.irer, though he later revised that view; the Tietzes even hypothesized a restoration of the background by a etherlandish artist of the seventeenth century. Panofsky describes the work as a synthesis of the artist's experience of Bellini and Venice plus Bouts and Flanders. Anzelewsky's candidate for authorship of this odd image is a documented master "Jhan" or "Hanns," who traveled with Frederick the W'ise to Jerusalem in 1493 and was at his court by 1491 (p. 30 n. 79), receiving payment in 1493 for five canvases (Tiich/ein); together with Winkler he associates ]\faster Jan with Jan Joest van Kalkar, an artist of the lower Rhine; however, this attribution fails in comparison to any of the known works of that master. Anzelewsky dates the two main figures of the saints on the side wings to 1497, in part through comparison to the Di.irer woodcut of the Men's Bath Ho11se (B. 128), usually dated to that same period . To this viewer, the facial type of the Dresden Madonna resembles the Washington Madonna and Child (also particularly close to Bellini; Anzelewsky, Albrecht Diirer, no. 43) and even (allowing for the difference of purposes) to the portrait of Katharina Frey (J\nzelewsky, Albrecht Diirer, no. 46; dated 1497) . 8 Erwin Panofsky, The Life and / lrt ef Albrecht Diirer (Princeton, 19 55), pp. 39-40, noting also that the carpentry work of Saint Joseph in the adjoining room is a heritage of the Campin formulation in early Flemish painting. He also speaks of the anticipation of death and last rites in the form of the sleeping Christ Child, anticipating and echoing the model of the German T'esperbild, or Piela. 9 Schade, Cranach, p. 40, claiming that it might have been painted for the small west choir of Wittenberg Castle's chmch, built 1 510--12 in memory of Frederick's ancestors. He also notes the influence of Di.irer's painting as a model for Cranach: "Its figures are drawn to a larger scale than those on the other panels displayed in the church, except for Di.irer's so-called Dresden altarpiece (on canvas), whose original location is unknown." The German cult of the T'frgi11es capita/es, led by saints Catl1erine and Barbara, forms the subject of a recent dissertation (University of Pennsylvania, 2002) by Stanley \X'eed, who has noted Frederick's particular devotion. 10 J\Iax Geis berg, Der de11tsche Ei11b!attholzsch11itt, 35 vols. (Munich, 1930), XII, p. 17. I I Koepplin and Falk, L11kas Cranach, pp. 488-92, nos. 338-41. Christensen, Princes and Propaganda, pp. 22-25, noting that the Wittenberg Castle church was dedicated to the Virgin Mary and all saints. Frederick's particular veneration of Saint Bartolomew, included in the "Prince's Altarpiece," was also the subject of a separate Cranach

engraving (ca. 1 508-09) as well as a trio of paintings by the same artist; l oepplin and Falk, L11kas Cranach, p. 489, no. 338. According to Ludolph)', Friedrich der 111/eise, p. 359, this uncommon personal devotion was stimulated by the presence of substantial relics of the saint in the ducal collections at Wittenberg, some of which are illustrated in the Cranach woodcuts of the castle reliquaries. Bartholomoew was also a patron saint of miners, the important industry of Saxony; Christensen, Princes and Propaganda, pp. 21-22. See also the recently discovered Di.irer ink drawing (Ottawa, ational Gallery of Canada) of a standing Saint Bartholomew, holding his conventional attribute of the knife tliat flayed him for martyrdom, alongside a smaller, kneeling donor, almost certainly Frederick the W'ise, identifiable as well from the sketchy coat-of-arms at lower right; Charles Talbot et al., Diirer i11 A111e1ica, exh. cat. (\'{/ashington, 1971), pp. 76-77, no. xxii. There the hypothesis is advanced that this drawing might have been intended for a stained-glass window. 12 Anzelewsky, Albrecht Diirer, pp. 27-30, 127-34, nos. 20--3 8v. The work has been cut down by approximately 18 cm . at its top. The full roster of seven scenes, now in Dresden, includes Circumcision, Flight into Egypt, Christ among the Doctors, Carrying of the Cross, Nailing to the Cross, Crucifixion witl1 John and the Holy \\''omen, and Lamentation. For the theme of the Seven Sorrows of the Virgin, see Carol Schuler, "The Seven Sorrows of the Virgin: Popular Culture and Cultic Imagery in PreReformation Europe," Si111io/11s 21 ( 1992), pp. 5-28, esp. n. 62 for Di.irer; also Larry Silver, The Pai11ti11gs efQ11inten illasS)'S (Montclair, 1 .]., 1984), pp. 55-60, 205-7. Schuler, "Seven orrows," n. 62, observes that German art of this period usually shows only five canonical scenes for the Sorrows of the Virgin, so this assortment stands closer to the contemporary etherlandish cult, established by Jan van Coudenberghe (secretary to Philip the Fair in the 1490s); however, it still omits the standard Entombment and substitutes the Nailing to the Cross. 1 3 f\nzelewsky,Albrecht Diirer; pp. 36, 168-71, no. 67, discussing the altered format of this cut-clown work. A drawing variant of tlie tlieme (Darmstadt; Winkler 250), often doubted as a Di.irer original and attributed instead ro his follower, Hans von Kulmbach (Koepplin and Falk, L11kas Cranach, pp. 610--11, no. 522) provides an approximate image of the original, full-size composition . Its classical subject was first associated with a 1487 edition by the German poet-laureate Conrad Celtis of eneca's play, "Hercules furens," by Moritz Thausing, Diirer; 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1884), I, pp. 195-96. Panofsky, Life and .rlrt, pp. 33-34, 91, discusses the relation of the form of the hero to classical and Italian models, chiefly of Hercules by Pollaiuolo (e.g., The Killing ef Ness11s, New H aven, Yale University Art Gallery) after a lost frieze of an abduction scene. This complex relationship is discussed more fully in Erwin Panofsky, "Albrecht Di.irer and Classical Antiquity," Llleani11g in the Vimal Arts 1 lew York, 19 55), pp. 236-94, esp. pp. 244-49, also discussing the artist's

woodcut illustrations to Celtis's, J111ores (1502), with further contributions by his studio, especially Kulmbach. On Kulmbach and the Di.irer circle around 1 500, see Peter Strieder, J\feister 11111 Albrecht Diim~ exh . cat. I uremberg, 1961); further on D i.irer and Celtis, D ieter \X'uttke, " D urer und Celtis: Von der Bedeutung des Jahres 1 500 for den deutschen Humanismus: Jahrhundertfeier als symbolische Form," jo11mal of Medieval a11d Re11aissa11ce St11dies 10 (1980), PP· 73- 12 9· I4 Ludolphy, Friedrich der Weise, pp. 121-2 3; documents indicate the considerable expenses i1woh·ed in decorating the \X'ittenberg Castle. On Andreas Meinhard, n. F 3. Another of the rooms, the so-called Sta111111st11be, focused on coats-of-arms and portraits of twenty-four princes, the pre,·ious "Saxon rulers" up to Frederick himself. In the middle segment of the palace stood the bedroom of the duke, whose wall decorations included representations of the Liberation of 1\ndromeda by Perseus, as well as scenes of Hercu les and the Argonauts, plus allegories of Fortune and Justice. Koepplin and Falk, L11kas Cra11ach, pp. 213-14, n. 21. 1 5 l n general, see Erwin Panofsky, Herc11les a111 Scheidell'l:,ge (Leipzig, 1930); \X'olfger Buist, I !ermles-Z]klen i111 16. JahdJ1111dert (dissertation, University of Heidelberg, 1975 ); Karl Galinsky, The Herakles The111e: The./ ldaptatio11s of the Jlero i11 Literat11re fro111 JIo111er to the Ti11e11tieth Ce11tlll)' (Oxford, 1972). For a later, intact series of the Labors of H ercules as a decoration for a princely palace, the Buen Retiro of the Spanish king Philip lV, see Zurbaran's cycle of 1634; Jonathan Brown and J. l 1. Elliott, A Palacefor a Ki11g (New Haven, 1980) , pp. 156-61, with useful references but few as early as 1 500. I lercules also served as the symbol of virtue and strength in the contemporary princely cycle of decoration on the ceiling of London's \X'hitehall Palace, Banqueting I louse, paimed by Rubens; for the oil sketch (Boston), entitled Hermles as Heroic T'/1'/11e 01•erco1J1i11g Discord; Peter Sutton, The Age of Rubens, exh . cat. (Boston, 1994), pp. 301-3, no. 30, with references. 1 6 Panofsky, "Iconography and lconology: An Introduction to the Snidy of Renaissance Art," 1\fea11i11g i11 the Visual Al'ls, pp. 26-54, esp. pp. 53-54, discussing Di.irer's drawing of the Rape of Europa (Vienna, Albertina; Winkler 87) . He concludes: "This comparison illustrates the fact that the reintegration of classical themes with classical motifs which seems to be characteristic of the Italian Renaissance as opposed to the numerous sporadic revivals of classical tendencies during the .Middle 1\ges ... " Despite all that we know about both Di.irer and the Italian Renaissance, this phenomenon still arrives surprisingly early in his work relative to the interest in myth itself in l taly. There is a pressing need for a more thorough and integrated analysis of Di.irer (and his artistic circles and contemporaries) and classical subjects, particularly with consideration of audiences and patrons, such as Frederick the \X'ise. See in particular Dieter Wuttke, Die "Histori

Hermlis" des 1\'iimberger H11111a11isten 1111d Fret111des des Cebriider

zm·

T lsche1; Pa11gratz Bemha11bt ,~m. Schll'mter: Materien /:,iforsch1111g des deutschen H11111a11is11111s 11111 1500 (Cologne,

1964). More recently on the general subject, Leonard Barkan, The Cods J\!ade .flesh: Jl!eta11101phosis and the Pursuit of Pa,~a111s111 (New Haven, 1986); Barkan, U11ea1'/hi11g the Past:

,,, lrchaeology and Aesthetics i11 the 1\faki11g of Renaissance Culture ew l laven, 2000). 1 7 The formation of a court at Wittenberg through the instrumems of culture, including the foundation of a university as well as the appointment of court artists, first de' Barbari and then Lucas Cranach, is discussed by Edgar Bierende, L11cas Cra11ach d. ,,, i 1111d der dmtsche H11111anis11111s (Berlin, 2002) . The Hercules cycle, however, predates both the arrival of de' Barbari in 1 504 and the 1 502 foundation of the university (the Vienna College of Poets and Mathematicians, established in Vienna by :i\Iaximilian, only dates from October 1 501). 1 8 For D i.irer's Choice of Hermles, see Panofsky, Life and ,,, 11'/, pp. 73-76; Panofsky, Hermles a111 Scheide111ege, pp. 166-73, passim. Koerner, J\10111ent of Se!f-Po1'/rait11re, pp. 318, 385-94. See also a deconstructive reading of Panofsky's dominant interpretation by Fedja t\nzelewsky, Diim' St11dim (Berlin, 1983), pp. 66-89 . The literary source of this \'isual topos is a parable recorded by Xenophon. 1 9 Koepplin and Falk, Lukas Cranach, pp. 613-3 1. See also Larry Siker, "Forest Primeval: Albrecht t\ltdorfer and the German \X'ilderness Landscape," Si111iol11s 13 ( 198 3), pp. 36-38 . The ultimately fallible character of Paris leads him to select the goddess Aphrodite/Venus and her sensual love over both the wisdom of Athena/ Minerva and the domesticity of Hera/ Juno. J lis promised reward, H elen of Troy, led to the disaster of the Trojan War. 20 , lusstel!tmg 1 1!axi111ilian !., exh. cat. (Innsbruck, 1969), pp. 30-3 1, no. 108, fig. 1 2. This woodcut dates before 1 503, for it bears on its re,·erse the arms of a Celtis associate, a humanist at the Uni,•ersity of Regensburg, Johann Tolhopf, who died that year. 2 1 The importance of myth remained strong (well beyond the death of Frederick in 1 525) in the output of the Saxon court artist, Lucas Cranach. Koepplin and Falk, Lukas Cra11ach, pp. 604-13, 631-41. Franz Matsche, "Lucas Cranachs mythologische D arstellungen," in Lukas Cra11ach, exh. cat. (K.ronach, 1994), pp. 78-88. A later painted didactic allegory for a prince's castle is Paolo Veronese's paired canvases for a later nortl1ern court, presumably Albrecht V of Bm·aria (1567) but later Rudolf II of Prague. These paired works, 011111i Tanitas and Honor et T 'irt11s post Morte111 Floret, the latter with a distinct "Choice of l lercules" cast, now grace the Frick Collection, New York. See Peter Watson, IF'isdo111 a11d Strength: The Biograpl!J' of a Re11aissa11ce Masterpiece r lew York, 1989), pp. 3 3-63; Richard Cocke, "Veronese's Omnia Vanitas and Honor et Virtus post Mortem Floret," Pantheo11 35 (1977), PP· 12 0- 2 5. 22 Anzelewsky, / llbrecht Diim; pp. 1 82-83, no. 82. In 1603 the painting was given by Elector Christian II of Saxony to Emperor Rudolf II in Prague.

3 For Di.irer nature studies, Fritz Koreny, . llbrecht Diirer 1111d die Tietc 1111d Pflanzemflldien der Renaissance, exh. cat. (Vienna, 1985 ), pp. 112-27, for the stag beetle and its imitations, pp. 188-91, no. 66, for the iris; for the landscape drawings, \\'alter Koschatzsky, Albrecht D1/rer: The Landscape lf'iitercolors l ew York, 1993). 2 4 Drawings of designs for such goblets and other goldsmith wo rk appear frequently in the artist's work. See Gi.inther Schiedlausky, "D as Werk: Di.irer als Enrwerfer for Goldschmiedekunst," Albrecht Diirer 1-171-19-1, exh. cat. (Nuremberg, 1971), pp. 364-78, with one executed Pokal (Vienna; no. 665) ascribed to a design by the artist and a second "apple" Pokal r uremberg; no. 671) also assigned to Durer's authorship and compared explicitly to the Uffizi painting. 2 5 Anzelewsky, "Die Turkenfamilie," Diirer-St11dien, pp. 57-65, to which could be added several drawings, \'(/inkier, pp. 77-81, 86-87, as well as the unfinished engraving, The S11lta11, after another drawing (Washington, National Gallery of Art; Klaus Albrecht Schroder and i\Iaria Luise Sternath, Albrecht Diim; exh. cat. (Vienna, 2003), pp. r 62-63, no. 22). See also Julian Raby, T'mice, Diirer a11d the Oriental Jl/ode (London, 1982). 2 6 Le,路enson,Jacopo de' Barba1i, pp. 8-2 3, with the last Saxon document to mention the artist by name dated December 19, 1505. Schade, Cranach, pp. 22-23, n. 108, 402, notes that Cranach's appointment to the elector's court is not documented, though the first payment in To rgau is dated April 14, l 505. He also notes that Frederick employed a number of court artists from the inception of his rule in 1486: Cuntz (1486-1502), i\Iaster Jan (1491-1499; associated with the "Dresden Triptych" by Anzelewsky; see above), Albrecht (1494/95 -1 505/07), and Frederick (?-1505), then Lucas Cranach. 2 7 Arthur Saliger, ''Aspekte zur ki.instlerischen Autorschaft des 'Ober St. Veiter Altares,'" Hans Scha11felei11 (Nordlingen, 1990), pp. 171-82. 2 8 Panofsky, Life a11d A11, pp. l 21-2 2; 1\nzelewsky, ./llbrecht Diirei; pp. 44-45, 212-18, no. 105, citing the letter from Di.irer to another patron, Jakob Heller (August 28, 1 507), reporting that he had a serious fever, which delayed the completion of his prior commitment to the Saxon elector. A later letter to Heller (J\Iarch 19, l 508) sets out a new schedule for the completion in two weeks of the Llfar1J1rdo111 painting, which is monogrammed and dated l 508. A tm11i1111s post q11e1J1 is provided by the presence of a double portrait in the center of the picture: a self-portrait of Di.irer alongside his friend (and the friend of Frederick the W'ise) Conrad Celtis, who died in Vienna on February 4, l 508. See Panofsky, "Conrad Celtes !sic] and I unz von der Rosen: Two Problems in Portrait Identification," r lrt B11lleti11 24 (1942), pp. 39-54. Already in 1487 Frederick the \Xlise, to whom Celtis had dedicated his Ars versijica11di (1486), promoted tl1e poet's case with Emperor Frederick Ill for awarding Celtis a poet's laurel crown, bestowed at tl1e Diet in Nuremberg that Yery year. In l 501 a joint woodcut image of the poet with the Saxon duke shows

Celtis presenting his edition of the plays of I lroswitha of Gandersheim to Frederick the \X'ise; the artist is from the Di.irer circle. \\'alter Strauss, The lf'oodmts a11d Woodblocks of ,,.Jlbrecht Diirer lew York, 1980), pp. 224-27, nos. 63-64, with further references to Celtis. Above the throne of Frederick appears his coat-of-arms of Saxony, later to be utilized in his woodcuts by Cranach . The book was published by the uremberg collective of humanist scholars and friends of Celtis, the Sodalitas Celtica. 2 9 D1/rer i11. l!imica, p. 160, no. 82. Strauss, IWoodmts, pp. 13 7-38, no. 35, suggests that the theme for this woodcut might equally hm路e been prompted by the visit of Frederick the \\'ise to r uremberg in April 1496, when the artist painted the duke's portrait (see above). The original block for this woodcut survives (London, British i\Iuseum). 3掳 Panofsky, Life a11d Art, pp. l 07-3 r. Koerner, Mo111ent of Se!f-Porlrait11re, pp. 112-14: "Self-portraiture belongs to Di.irer's more general aesthetics, which locates the value and meaning of a work of art in the way it manifests the style, talent, and body of the particular artist. And it supports his new business practices as a producer, who will be paid according to his inimitable authorship rather tl1an the labor he expends." Clearly such a combination of the commercial with the aesthetic is detaching itself from the identity of the Saxon duke as both spiritual and noble. 31 Panofsky, Life a11d Art, pp. 109-10, 9. 32 The most striking later use of historical narrative to make the same point is Albrecht 1\ltdorfer's l 529 Battle of !ss11s (i\Iunich, J\lte Pinakothek), made for the court of the Duke of Bavaria as part of a cycle of renowned battles of antiquity; here, however, the figures of Darius and Alexander the Great stand in for the imperial forces of Christendom against the Ottomans who then occupied Jerusalem and the Holy Land. See Larry Silver, "German Patriotism in the Age of Durer," in Dilrer a11d J !is C11lt11re, eds. Dagmar Eichberger and Charles Zika (Ca mbridge, 1998), p. 59, with references; also Silver, "Nature and la rure's God: Landscape and Cosmos of Albrecht Altdorfer," r l11 B11lleli11 81 (1999), esp. pp. 204-5. For the la rger context of th.is battle scene, J. R. Hale,/lrt1sts a11d lf7aifare i11 the Renaissa11ce (New Haven, 1990), pp. 192-99; on the cycle, Gisela Goldberg, Die.- llexanderschlacht 1111d die Histo1ienbilder des bCl)1e1ischen Herzpgs lr'ilhe/1/1 IT". (i\Iun.ich, 1983). 33 Larry SilYer, "Shining Armor: i\Iaximilian J as Holy Roman Emperor," M11se11111 Studies:_, Jr/ Instit11/e of Chicago l 2 (1985), pp. 8-29; David Landau and Peter Parshall, The Renaissa11ce Print r-170-1;;0 (New Haven, 1994), pp. 184-91. 34 On the deep tensions, especially after the Diet of r 500, between Frederick and i\Iaximilian after an initial cordiality between the two men, Ludolphy, .hied1ich der W:'eise, pp. 137-238; Frederick had served in the 1490s as an official or lieutenant for i\Iaximilian, Statthalter, J lofrat and Hofmeister, with a (promised) annual stipend as honorarium. But Frederick became the princely leader of the political resistance to i\Iax.imilian's attempted consolida-

tion of imperial power, including taxation. Both men were pious and fervent in their pastimes, especially for hunts and tournaments - favorite themes of Cranach for Frederick as well as his successors. One large painting, a l 529 Stag H1111/ (Vienna, Kunsthistorisches i\Iuseum) shows both the Saxon duke and the emperor in the field. For a view from the other side, H ermann Wies flecker, Kaiser Maxi111ilian I, 5 vols. (Vienna, 1986), esp. V, pp. 5-9, 3 5-42 . Frederick pointedly did not attend the imperial coronation at Trent in 1 508, the year of the Burgkrnair equestrian woodcut. Ultimately, Frederick's political sheltering of Luther against the interdict of Emperor Charles V (i\Iaximilian's grandson and successor) in 1 521 can be seen against this smoldering contest by the Saxon elector against imperial authority for political supremacy. 35 The drawing of i\Iaximilian in chalks is now in Vienna (Albertina; W/ j67). For good introductions to Di.irer's various works for i\Iaximilian, see Ludwig Baldass, Der Kii11stlerkreis Kaiser Maxi111i/ians (Vienna, 192 3), esp. nos. 18-19, 36-39, 42-48, 54-5 5, 60--61, 78-82, 84, 96-97;

Panofsky, Life a11d £lrt, pp. 173-90; Ludwig Veit, "Umwelt: Kaiser und Reich stadt," Albrecht Diirer 1r1-1971, pp. 1 29-51; Larry Silver, "Prints for a Prince: Maximilian, uremberg, and the Woodcut," in 1Ve111 Perspectives 011 the Art of Renaissance N11re111berg: Five Essap, ed. Jeffrey Chipps Smith (Austin, 1985), pp. 6-2 l. On the drawing and other portraits of the emperor, Katherine Crawford Luber, "Albrecht Di.irer's i\Iaximilian Portraits: A.n Investigation of Versions," MasterDraJ11ings 19 (1991), pp. 30--47, who correctly notes that the drawing was replicated at actual size in all of tlie subsequent portrait works by Di.irer, including the woodcut. 36 For the literary works of [aximilian, see Jan-Dirk i\Ii.iller, Gedecht1111s: Literal/Ir 11nd Hofgesel/schaft 1111111/axi///ilian f (i\lunich, 1982). For a good introduction to tlie large woodcut projects for the emperor, including the Augsburg sets chiefly assigned to H ans Burgkmair, Landau and Parshall, sec The Renaissance Print, pp. 206-r 1, with a section on Di.irer's principal collaborator on tlie production of woodcuts for Maximilian's projects, pp. 217-18.

On Burgkmair, Tilman Falk, Hans B11rgk111air: St11dien Z!I Leben 1111d 117erk des .A11gsb11rger ilia/er (i\lunich, 1968), esp. pp. 69-73; Falk et al., Ham B11rgk111air: Das graphische II/erk, 37

exh . cat. (Smttgart, 1973)· On i\Iaximiban and J\ugsburg, where he was affectionately called "burgomaster," \'('iesflecker, Kaiser Maxi111ilian I, V, p. 62; also for the lost frescoes of the emperor's famous battles and genealogy in the old Augsburg City Hall (destroyed in the early seventeenth century), Pia Cuneo, £lrt a11d Politics in Ear!J111/odem

Gem1a11)'.' Joi-g Breu the Elder and the Fashioni11g of Political Identi!J' ca. 1475-1550 (Leiden, 1998), pp. 102-19. haracteristically, this commission was brokered for the emperor and supervised locally by Dr. Conrad Peutinger, learned Latinist and city secretary, on whom see the references in Cuneo, Art and Politics, p. 67, n. 146. 38 The hieroglyphs treatise is now in Vienna, National

Library (Cod. vind . 325 5), with colored drawings on seventy folios, all copies after Di.irer designs, to accompany the Latin of Pirckheimer. \'{'illehad Paul Eckert and Christoph von Imhoff, IF,illiba/d Pirckhei111er: Diirers Freund (Cologne, 1971), pp. 101-06; /'llbrecht Diirer 1-171-1971, p. 167, no. 297 . On the general phenomenon of hieroglyphic studies in the circle of Maximilian, Karl Giehlow, " J-lieroglyphenkunde des Humanism us in der Allegorie der Renaissance, besonders der Ehrenpforte Kaiser i\Iaximilians I ," Jahrb11ch der K1111sthistorischen Sa111111/11nge11 der al/erho'chsten Kaiserha11ses 32 (1915), pp. 1-229; Panofsky, Life and Art, pp. 173-74, 177-78; Rudolf \'('ittkower, "I lieroglyphics in the Early Renaissance," Al/ego!]' a11d the Migration of Sp11bo/s (London, 1977), pp. 113-28 . The H orapollo text has received a translation, by George Boas, The Hierog!Jphics of Horapollo ew York, 1950) . The fencing text, witl1 35 double-sided pages with some 200 drawings, encompassing multiple groups on each page, is not securely dated; Eckert and Imhoff, lf//i/liba/d Pirckhei111e1; p. 10o;Albrecht Diirer, 1-171-1971, p. 363, no. 659; Friedrich D ornhoffer, "Albrecht Di.irers Fechtbuch," Jahrb11ch der

k1111sth1storische11 Sa111111/!111gen der allerho'chste11 Kaiserha11Ses 27 (1909), pp. 1-81. 39 Eduard Chmelarz, " Die Ehrenpforte des Kaiser

Iaximilian I," Jahrb11ch der Kimsthistorischen Sa111m/1111gen der allerho'chsten Kaiserha11ses 4 ( 18 86), pp. 289-3 19; Karl Giehlow, "Urkundenexegese zur Ehrenpforte i\Iaximilians

I ," Beitrage Z!tr Ki111stgeschichte Franz lf//ickhoff ge111id111et (Vienna, 1903), pp. 9 1-110; Panofsky, Life a11d.Art, pp. 175-79; Peter Strieder, "Zur Entstehungs geschichte von Di.irers Ehrenpforte for Kaiser i\Iaximilian," A11zeiger

des Ger111a11ischen JVatio11a/11111se11111s (19 54-5 9), pp. 128-42; ,. l/brecht Diirer l-f71-197r, pp. 144-45, no. 261, which makes the correction to 174 woodcuts from the standard, often repeated number of 192. Larry Silver, "Paper Pageants: The Triumphs of Emperor i\laximliian I,'' in "All the

ll''tirlds a Stage . .. " .rl11 a11d Pagea11to1in the Renaissa11ce and Baroque, ed. Barbara Wisch and Susan Scott i\Iunshower niversity Park, Penn., 1990), pp. 292-3 31; Silver, "Power of the Press: Di.irer's .rlrch of T-Ionom'' in Albrecht Diirer in the Collectio11 of the National Galle1)' of Victoria, exh. cat., ed. Irena Zdanowicz (i\Ielbourne, 1994), pp. 45-62; Thomas Ulrich Schauerte, Die Ehrenpfo11e jlir Kaiser J\Iaxi111ilia11 f (Berlin, 2001), who among other contributions has fixed the number of blocks at 198. 4°11/eister111J1 Albrecht Diirer, no. 341; stiU unsurpassed is Campbell Dodgson, Catalogue of Ear!J• Ger111an and Fle111ish W'tiodmts . .. in the B1itish Jlf11se111J1, 2 vols. (London, 1903), 1, pp. 3 11-3 3, nos. 130--36. 4 1 The program, recorded by Treitzsaurwein as "delivered orally" (mi.intlichem angeben) by Maximilian, is preserved in Vienna, National Library (Cod. vind. 283 5). This documentary history sequence is charted by Giehlow, "Urkundenexegese," as well as Gichlow, "Di.irers ~ ntwi.irfe for das Triumphrelief Kaiser i\Iaximilians im Louvre: Eine Studie zur Entwicklungsgeschichte des Triumphzuges," Jahrbuch der k1111sthistorischen Samllll1111gen der

allerhiichsten Kaiserha11Ses 29 ( 191o/1 1), pp. 14-84; Franz chestag, " Kaiser Maximilian I. Triumph," Jahrb11ch der k1111sth1storischm Sa111111!tmgen der allerhiichsten Kaiserha11ses 1 (1883), pp. 154-81; for a translation see tanley Applebaum, The Tri11111ph of Maxi111ilia11 ew York, 1964). 2 4 The side columns at either side of the Arch were produced by Albrecht Altdorfer of Regensburg, who had already made several important drawing projects for the emperor, beginning with the designs for illustrations to the 1508 Historia fliderici et 111axi111ilia11i; see H ans 1Iielke,

/ J/brecht, lltdoifer: Zeichmmgen, Declefarben 111alerei, Dmckgraphik, exh. cat. (Berlin, 19 8), pp. 68-83, revising Otto Benesch and Erwin Auer, Die I !islo1ia Friderici et 1\laxi111ilia11i (Berlin, 1957). For Maximilian Altdorfer also produced during thjs fecund period of the middle teens a painted Tri11111phal Procession as miniatures, along with some of his associates; fifty originals survive (Vienna, Albertina; a full set is preserved in copies in both Vienna, National Library (Cod. min. 77) and Madrid, Royal collections). Franz Winzinger, Die 1\linat11ren z11111 Tri11111phZftg Kaiser 1\laxi111ilia11s I (Graz, 1972-73); Winzinger, "Albrecht Altdorfer und die 1Iiniaturen des Triumphzuges Kaiser Maximilians I.," Jahrb11ch der k11nsthisto1ischen Sa111111l111tgen i11 lf0'ie11 63 (1966), pp. 1 57-72. Then AJtdorfer produced several woodcut contributions to the Tri11111phal Procession, 1Iielke, .rllbrecht / lltdoifer, pp. 188-9 5, no. 91; \X'inzinger, AltdoiferGraphik (Munich, 1963), pp. 22-27, nos. 76-81. The Arch of Honor woodcuts appear as 1Iielke, Albrecht Altdoifer, pp. 163-68, no. 78; Winzinger, Graph1k, pp. 70-74, nos. 66-75. Schauerte, Die Ehrenpforte, pp. 105-8. 43 1Ililler, 59; W'iesflecker, Kaiser Maxi111ilia11 I,\~ pp. 321, 327-29, 365; also H elmuth Grossing, "Johannes Stabius: Ein Oberbsterreicher im Kreis des Humanisten um Kaiser Maximilian I.," Mitteil1111ge11 der oberiisterreichen Landesarchivs 9 (1969), pp. 239-64; Schauerre, Die Ehrenpforte, pp. 95-104. 44 Konrad Fischnaler, "Jbrg Kolderer und die Eh renpforte Kaiser Maximilians," Zeitsch1ift des Ferdi11a11de11111s 3 (1901), pp. 308-30; Erich Egg, "Jbrg I olderer und die D onauschule," Werde11 1md Wand!tmg: St11dien Zftr /(;ms! der Dona11schule (Linz, 1967), pp. 57-62. 45 H ans Rupprich, Diirer: schriftlicher Nachlass, 3 vols. (Berlin, 19 56), I, pp. 77, 79, for the letters; also Giehl ow, "Enl:\vi.irfe," pp. 77, 81. General discussion by \'('arnke, The Co11rl .rlrtist, p. 71, from whom the translation of the Maximilian letter of D ecember 12, 1 51 2, is taken. 46 Panofsky, Life and Art, pp. 10, 20 5; the proximate cause was the coronation of Emperor Charles V at Aachen. See also J. A. Goris and George 1Iarlier, .,.. llbrecht Diirer: Dial]' of His }011m~1 to the Netherlands 1520-2r (Greenwich, Conn., 1971), pp. 8, 64: "Lady Margaret sent afer me to Brussels and promised to speak for me to King Charles." Also: "My confirmation from the Emperor came to my Lords of Nuremberg for me on Monday after Martin's in the year 1 520 after great trouble and labor" (p. 72). 47 Di.irer's l:\vo drawings of Albrecht include a pen sketch

(Liverpool, Walker Art Gallery, W 676) and a more finished drawing, touched up with watercolor (Berlin,\'(' 677); for the latter, now ascribed to H ans Burgkrnair; see F. Anzel wsky and J-l. 1Iielke, Albrecht Diirer: Die Zeich11111tge11 i111 /(;tpjerstichkabinelt (Berlin, 1984), p. 143, no. l 53; Franz Winzinger, "Umstrittene Di.irerzeichnungen II, Graf Albrecht von Habsburg," Zeitsch1ift des De11tschen Vereins fiir /(;111st11Jissenschaft 29 (1975), pp. 40-43, still argues for an ascription to Di.irer. The commissions to I uremberg sculptors Vischer (bronze) and Veit Stoss (normally linden wood) were given around 1513/14. The figure of Albrecht of Habsburg was cast in 1 518 by Stefan Godl, who assumed subseguent responsibility for the entire Tomb project's figure production. On the overall Tomb project, see Vinzenz Oberhammer, "Das Grabmal des Kaisers," in A11sstell111tg illaxi111ilia11 !, pp. 107-12; Oberhammer, Die Bro11zesta11dbilder des

)\laxi111ilian-Grab111ales i11 der Hofkirche Z!' J1111sbmck (Innsbruck, 193 5); Karl Oettinger, "Di e Grabmalkonzeptionen Kaiser Maximilians," Ze1Jschrift des De11tschen T7ereim fiir /(;msl711issemchaft 19 (1965), pp. 170-84; Oettinger, Die Bildha11er L11axi111ilia11s a/JI J1111sbmcker Kaisergrab111al 1 luremberg, 1966); Albrecht Diirer 1171-19p, p. 382, no. 707; Erich Egg, Die Hofkirche i11 !11nsbmck (Innsbruck, 1974), esp. pp. 19, 24, 32, 35-39 (including fig. 8, a working drawing after the Di.irer model, ascribed to Jorg Kolderer, now in Braunschweig, Herzog-AntonUlrich Museum). 48 The design for a saddle decoration l w York, Morgan Library, \XI. 680) is discussed in Diirer i11 America, pp. 80-82, no. xx.iv; see also the pair of drawings in Vienna (Albertina, WI 678-79), discussed in Walther Koschatzsky and Alice Strobl, Die Diimz.eichmmge11 der Albertina ( alzburg, 1971), pp. 256-59, nos. 103-4. A further pair in Berlin (\YJ. 681-82) is discussed by Anzelewsky and Mielke, Albrecht Diirer, pp. 88-90, nos. 87-88. The armor designs have been associated with the Qost) "silver armor" commissioned by the emperor from the Augsburg armorer, Colomon Kolman, or Helmschmied (1470-1 532), shortly after May 16, 1 516 . Falk, B111gk111air, pp. 74-76, has established cl1e close family and neighborhood ties between that artist and the principal armorers of Augsburg, the Helmschmied family, led by Lorenz J-lelmschmied, since 1491 the court armorer to Maximilian. This association explains in part the splendid and fully current fashjon of armor that Burgkmair designed for such works as the 1508 eguestrian portrait print for Maximilian as well as his design for a r 510 eguestrian statue intended for Augsburg (Falk, B111gk111air, figs. 43-44; drawing in Vienna, Albertina). 49 Larry Silver, "Caesar l11dens: Emperor Maximilian l. and the Waning Middle Ages," in C11lt11ral Visions: Essa)'S in the Histoo' of Cult11re, ed. Penny Schine Gold and Benjamin Sax, (Amsterdam, 2000), pp. 173-96. Recall Altdorfer's woodcut images on the flanking columns of the Arch, which also celebrate princely interests, gualities, and pastimes.

5掳 For the Prayerbook see Panofsky, Life a11d A11, pp. 18 2-90; Giehlow, Kaisel'llfaxi111ilia11s ! Cehetb11ch 111it Zeich111111ge11 /!Oil , llbrecht Diirer 1111d anderen ]{jimtler (Vienna, 1907); Hans Christoph von Tave!, "Die Randzeichnungen Albrecht Di.irers zum G betbuch Kaiser i\Iaximilians," Jl!iinch11erjahrb11ch der biIden den K;mst 16 ( 1965), pp. 55-120; Ewald Vetter and C. Brockhaus, "Das Verhaltnis von Bild und Text in Diirers Randzeichmmgen zum Gebetbuch 1 aiser J\Iaximilians," Anzeiger des Cer111a11ischen 1Vatio11ah1111se11111s (1972), pp. 70--1 21; facsirnile ed., Walter Strauss, The Book of Ho11rs of E11peror Llfaximilian the First (New York, 1974)路 Two unpublished studies are: Christa Burgoyne, "The Prayerbook of Maximilian I: Arr Making and lts Circumstances" (11.A. thesis, Universit:y of California, Berkeley, 1977); Diane Claire Strickland, "Maximilian as Patron: The 'Prayerbook'" (dissertation, University of Iowa, 1980). 51 \Xlinzinger,AltdoiferCraphik, pp. 74-78, 122-25, nos. 209-40, with good discussion of surviving blocks, thirtytwo designs attributed to Altdorfer and his workshop; 1fielke, Albrecht .rlltdoifer, pp. 188-95, no. 9ia. 52 Giehlow, "Diirers Ent\vi.irfe," esp. pp. 39-59; Koschatzsky and Strobl, Die Diimz.eichmmgen der Albertina, pp. 212-13, no. 83, pp. 278-81, no. 114. A further modification for a Triumph relief appears in the Dresden Sketchbook (fol. 167v; \\'. 672). For the Altdorfer workshop miniatures for the Procession, see 1fielke, ./llbrecht _, 1/tdoifer, pp. 180--86, no. 89, with references. 53 Quoted by Strauss, lfVoodc11ts, p. 536, no. 188, datable before the March 29, l 51 8, reply from i\Iaximilian. Giehlow, "Di.irers Ent\viirfe," passim; also Eckert and lmhoff, lf'/illibald Pirckhei111er, pp. 109-15, 173-77; Silver, "Prints for a Prince," pp. 17-18. 54 Silver, "Prints for a Prince," pp. 18-20, fig. 14; J\Iatthias Mende, Das alte Niimberger Ratha11s 1 luremberg, 1979), pp. 226, 178-81, no. 1lo; Jeffrey Chipps Smith, N11re111berg: ,-1 Renaissance Cil)1 1500-1618, exh. cat. (Austin, 1983), pp. 301-2, no. 213. 55 Silver, "Prints for a Prince"; Luber, "Diirer's J\Iaximilian Portraits"; Vinzenz Oberhammer, "Die vier Bildnisse Kaiser 1Iaximilians I. von Albrecht Diirer," Alte 1111d iliodeme K;mst 14 ( 1969), pp. 2-14; .rllbrecht D1/rer IJJI-1971, pp. 139-41, no. 258; Anzelewsky,A/brecht Diim; PP路 250--54, nos. 145-46. 56 Koschatzsky and Strobl, Die Diirerzeich111111gen der Albe11ina, pp. 282-83, no. l 15. In all likelihood the hands depicted are from a model other than the emperor. 57 Susan Dackerman, Painted Prints, exh. cat. (Baltimore, 2002), pp. 129-32, no. 16. / l/brecht Diirer 1r1-1971, pp. 140--41, no. 259; the l uremberg portrait is 139-41, no. 258. For Lucas van Leyden's reversed copy in engraving and etching after Di.irer, see Landau and Parshall, The Re11a1ssa11ce Print, pp. 331-3 3 (figs. 363-64). Three other blocks, often of differing size, were made after tl1e Diirer prototype; Strauss, lr'oodmts, pp. 543-47, no. 190, mentioning tlie presence of a second gilded version in Goth a.

Landau and Parshall, The Renaissance Print, p. 310. Frederick was in Nuremberg for the Diet in the winter of l 522-2 3. Albrecht D1/rer lfJI-197f, pp. 295-96, nos. 546-47. Larry Silver, "The Face is Familiar: German Renaissance Portrait J\Iultiples in Print and Medals," IF'ord & Image 19 (2003), pp. 6-21, esp. p. 13. 58

Chapter II ELENA CALVILLO 1 Gian Paolo Lomazzo referred to Clovio as the "gran meniatore" in his Trattato d'arte de/la pitt11ra, sc11/t11ra ed architett11ra (15 85) in Scritti s1t!le arti, ed. Roberto Paolo Ciardi, 2 vols. (Florence, 1973-74), 11, p. 38 r. 2 Antonino Bertolotti, "Don Giulio Clovio 'Il principe dei miniatori'," Atti e 111m101ie de/le R.R. dep11tazio11e di sto1ia pat1ia per le provi11cie de/l'E111ilia 7: no. 2 (1882), pp. 259-79; p. 259, "prender posto nel'elegantissimo gabinetto della grande signora." 3 See Grgo Gamulin's introduction to Maria CioniniVisani, Giorgio Ci11/io Clovio: Miniaturist of the Renaissance ew York, 1980), pp. 7-2 3, see p. 9. 4 \\1arnke himself responds ro Vasari's comments about Clovio's life with the Canons Regular in his discussion of artists' desire to remove themselves from court life, but he qualifies his comments about Clovio by noting that the Sack of Rome had precipitated Clovio's retreat from the world. See Martin \\1arnke, The Co1111 .rlrtist路 On the .rlnceslr)' of the Modem Artist, trans. David i\IcLintock (Cambridge, 1993); Quentin Skinner, ed ., Ideas in Context (Cambridge 1993), p. 248. 5 Giorgio Vasari, Le 11ite de' pi1) eccellenti pitto1i, smltori ed architettori, ed. Gaetano Milanesi, vol. 7 (Florence, r906), pp. 557-69; pp. 557-5 8 for his beginnings with tl1e Grimani . This sort of training recalls 1fichelangelo's in the household of Lorenzo de' i\Iedici, as described by Asconio Condivi. For the status of fa111iliare, see John F D'Amico, Renaissance 1-I11111anis111 in Papal Ro111e: H11111anists and Ch11rch111en 011 the Eve of the Refor111ation (Baltimore, 1983), pp. 38-60; and Warnke, The Court Artist, pp. r l 1-24. 6 Vasari, Vite, vol. 7, p. 558. 7 See Vasari's life of Girolamo dai Libri in the Vite, vol. 5, p. 3308 The annual rosters of the S. Salvatore congregation of Canons Regular of Saint Augustine make it possible to track Clovio's residence in a number of monasteries between 1529 and 15 33. See Sergio Longhin, "Nuove fonti su Giulio Clovio" in K.loviie11 Zbomik: Jl!i11i;at11ra-cl1ez-graflka If!0-'700 (Acts of the symposium dedicated to the 5ooth anniversary of Clovio's birth), Zagreb, 22-24 October, 1998, ed. i\Iilan Pelc (Zagreb, 2001), pp. 16-31, see figures A-Eon p. 29. 9 For J\Iarino Grimani's ecclesiastical career, see Konrad Eubel, Hierarchia Catholica il!edii ,,, levi, 8 vols. (Regensberg: Librariae Regensbergiana, 1913-1978), vol. 3, pp. 21, 127, r 77, 190; and Pio Paschin.i, JI Cardinale ilfa1i110 Cri111a11i ed i pre/ati de/la SI/a fa111iglia (Rome, r 961 ).

re This project, according to my argument, comprised two manuscripts, i\Is 143 in Sir John Soane's J\Iuseum, London, and his frontispieces in the ?\Iusee du Loune (R. F 3977 & 3978) for what was probably a revised copy of the Co111111e11tarii; see my article, "Romanira and Grazia: Giulio Clovio's Pauline Frontispieces for Marino Grimani," Art B11!/eti11 82 (2000), pp. 280-97. Also see Ivana P rijatelij Pavii:ic, "Prilog Poznavanju Klovicevih minijatura," Perestil 38 (1995), pp. 95-101; and idem,]11/ije K/011ic: Iko11ografske St11dije (Zagreb, 1999), pp. 22-FPrijatelij Pavii:ic has described Clovio as a "pictor doctus." 11 De 1lolanda describes Clovio as a "gentil homem" and a "patricio." For the original Portugese, see T/ier Cesprache iiber die 11/alerei geftih1t Z!I Ro111 15;8, ed . Joaquim de Vasconcellos (Vienna, 1899), pp. 226 and 228 for his description of Clovio as a gentleman and patrician. 12 Passages in the I111presa de I~· lq11ila and Clovio's frontispiece make it possible to identify this eagle as that described in book Ten, chapter Five of Pliny's Nat11ral I Tis/01]'. See Susan \X'oodford, "The \'\fo man of Sestos: a Plinian Theme in the Renaissance," )011ma/ ef the IFarb111;g a11d Co11rla11/d I11stit11tes 28 (1965 ), pp. 3.t)-48; and my essay in K/01•icei• Zbomik, "The Collaboration of Giulio Clovio and Eurialo d'Ascoli: The I111presa de/~ lq11ila and the Roman 1l!a11iera," pp. 51-61. 1 3 For ltalian academies, see Michele i\Iaylender, Storia de/le accade111ie d'Italia, 5 vols. (Bologna, 1926-30); Frances Yates, "The l talian Academies," in Selected W'orks, vol. IX (London, 1993), pp. 6-29, 2 23-2 5; and Itcilia11 Acade111ies ef the Sixteenth Centlll]', eds. David S. Chambers and Frarn;ois Quiviger (London, 199 5); and Lina Bolzoni, The Calleo• ef

Jlfe11101J'." Literal]' a11d Iconographic L1fode!s i11 the, lge ef the P1i11ti1~~ Press, trans. Jeremy Parzen (Toronto, 2001). \'\'ebster Smith recognized the im[ ortance of CJo,·io's membership in the Accademia delJo Sdegno, though his comments were limited to the astute observation that, as felJow academicians, Clo\•io and Francesco i\Ionterchi would hm·e discussed the theoretical link between text and image. ee Smith, The Famese I-Io11rs (New York, 1976), p. 18 . 1 4 See Claudio Tolomei's T7ersi el regole de la 111101•a poesia tosca11a (Rome: Antonio Blada, l 539). Tolomei was one of the founders of the Accademia della Virru and a protector of the Sdegnati. Our knowledge of the membership derives from Dionigi Atanagi's comments in his Ri1J1e di di1•ersi 11obili poeti toscani (Venice: Lodovico r\vanzo, 1 565); and his De le lettere facete, et piaceJJoli di di1•ersi ,~ra11di h110111i11i, el chi01i i11g~~11i, 2 vols, vol. I (Venice: Bolognino Zaltieri, l 561), vol. 11 continued by Francesco Turchi (1575) ; and the carteggi of Annibal Caro, a member of the/lcade111ia de/la T1111/, and of Claudio Tolomei. James Wardrop summarized much of this information in his article "Civis Romanus um: Giovanbattista Palatino and J lis Circle," Sig11a/11re (1952), pp. 3-38. 1 5 See Leon Dorez, La Co11r d11 Pape Pa11/ III, z vols. (Paris, l9J2), vol. I, pp. 37-41; \'\'a rdrop, "Civis Romanus Sum," p. 9, note 2; Bolzoni, Calleo• ef 1l!e1110IJ', pp. 87-89.

r6 See D'1\mico's comments about the narure of earlier academies and the refuge that they provided humanists from the duties of court life in Re11aissa11ce J-!11111a11is111, pp. 89-9i. Though first protected by Cardinal lppolito de' J\Iedici, the Accademia della Virtu met at the palace of Archbishop Francesco Colonna. See i\Iaylender, Storia de/le accade111ie, vol. V, p. 478; and Alina Payne, Thulrchitect11ra/

Treatise i11 the Renaissa11ce: Architec/11al !nventio11, Oma111ent a11d Literao1 C11/t11re (Cambridge, 1999), p. 24 7 note 4 i. 17 For the relationship between the academies, see i\Iaylender, Sto1ia de/le accade111ie, vol. V, pp. 141 and 480. As Payne has noted, Tolomei's correspondence indicates that the Vitnn·ian project of tl1e Accademia della Virru continued in the l 540s; see her .;Jrchitec/11ral Treatise, pp. 26-27, 31, 247 note 4i. rs Claudio Tolomei, Le L ettere (Venice: Gabriele Giolito di Ferrarii, 1549), pp. 43-4)\', "Cosi vo imitando quelli edificatori, Li quali non havendo potuto, o saputo fare una bella casa, la van poi dipingendo di bell e figu re, accio ch'ella non iscomparisca affatto. E mi ricordo d'un discepol d'ApelJe, ii qua] dipinse helena coperta di drappi d'oro, e raccamata di gioie da capo a piedi. Onde poi mostrandola al maestro, e dimandando quel che gLie ne pareva, ApelJe Li disse, 0 come hai fatro ben discepolo, poi che non potendo dipingere Helena bella, l'hai dipinta ricca. Cosi vorrei io sodisfare ne la prima \•ista a loro occhij di fuore, se ben forse poi non sodisfaro a quegli altri de l'intelletto di dentro." 1 9 For Tolomei's letter to Francis I see Le L ettere, p. 5v-6, where he calls the project the "impresa d'Architettura"; also cited in 1Iaylender's comments, Sto1ia de/le accade111ie, \'OJ. \~ p. 479 · 20 The connection between Vitruvian proportions and the construction of letters had been made well before tlie founding of the two academies. See Bolzoni, Calleo• ef 1'fe11100', p. 88. 1\lso see Payne's discussion of both Tolomei's and Trissino's joint interest in architecture and alphabets in her Architect11ra/ Treatise, pp. 31, 251-52. 21 Bolzoni, Calleo• ef ilfe11100', pp. 89-92. 22 Smith, Farnese Ho11rs, p. 18. 2 3 Whether the authors of the poems were members of the Sdeg110 is unclear. Though this particular project has not been studied, Roberto Zapperi has argued that Clovio participated in a similar tribute commissioned by Cardinal Farnese to honor Livia Colonna. See his "11 Cardinale Alessandro Farnese: riflessi della vita privata nelJe committenze artistiche" in I Farnese: St11di, ed. L. Fornari Schianchi (?\Wan, 1995), pp. 48-57. 2 4 "Giulio . . . et con dar forma, & spirto al minio, / rendi Stupore al Ciel, vergogna a la Natura"; see Atanagi's Ri111e, p. 90, for Contarini's poem and pp. 54 and 60 for Allegretti's and Cenci's poems, respectively. Fourier Bonnard first nored these poems in his U11 hOte d11 pa!01s Famese: Do11 Ci11/io C!ovio 111i11iat11riste (Rome, 1929), pp. 39-42. All of the poems, including i\Iolza's and Varchi's, are republished in i-'011/es C!ol'ia11ae:Jllli;e K!Ol'ic 11 Dok11///enti///a Svoga Doba, ed. i\lilan Pelc (Zagreb, 1998), pp. Ln-49.

Atanagi, Ri111e, p. 54, Allegretti's phrase "dotta man(o)." Clare Robertson, "II Gran Cardinale": / llessanrlro Farnese, Patron of the Alis r lew Haven, 1992), pp. 34, 249, note 88, 290, no. 14 (ASP, Estero, Roma, b. 325), "Proprio oggi, cbe fo il giorno di San i\farco, i\Iesser Bernardin Ca farello mi meno in casa sua per farmi vedere la Mancina, et cusl parlando con lei, la domandai cbe la si lasasi ritraere, et gli disse che io avevo facto un ritratto di lei, et che non srava bene cbe'l potessi solamente ritocare ... " Robertson connects this portrait to Clovio's drawing of "la i\Iancina" in Fulvio Orsini's collection. ee Pierre de olhac, "Une gallerie de peinrure au XVl e siecle: Les collections de Fulvio Orsini," Gazette des Bea11x-Arts 19 (1884), pp. 427-36, P路 435, no. 91. 2 7 Robertson, Gran Cardinale p. 290, no. 14 "donda la fece resistenza con un parlare tan to grazioso di maniera cbe a me m.i parse vedere un miraculo di tanta grazia ... " Not aU of Clovio's projects portraying women were as honest as bis incorporation of Settimia and la Mancina in the Cirm111cision of tbe Farnese Ho11rs. Zapperi has shown that the Cardinal intended to add the portrait of another woman to Titian's Danae by sending Titian a portrait drawn by Clovio. See Zapperi, "Alessandro Farnese, Giovanni deUa Casa and Titian's Danae in Naples," )011mal of the lf'/arbmg and Co11rta11ld fnslil11tes (1991 ), pp.159-71; see pp. 159-67. The letter that .Annibale Caro wrote for Clovio to the miniaturist Lavinia Teerlinc provides another example of Clovio's adoption of courtly manners and language. Pelc has reprinted the letter in Fontes Clovianae, pp. 185-86. 2 8 According to Vasari, Clovio resulted from tl1e fame and the Cardinal's characteristic love for men of talent brought about his employment; see b.is Vite, vol. 7, p. 560. Given tbe narure of the Cardinal's household, Clovio's ability to converse and coLiaborate with tbe other fa111ilieri would certainly have worked in his favor. In bis 1 550 Life of Sebastiano del Piombo, Vasari presents Clovio as friend, like i\Iolza, witl1 wbom Sebastiano conversed . See Vasari, Le vite de' pi1) eccellmti architetti, pittori, et smltori italia111; da Ci111ab11e insino a' /e111pi 11ostri (Firenze: Lorenzo Torrentino, l 550; reprint, 1991 ), ed. Luciano Bellosi and Aldo Rossi, pp. 846-47. Though a letter by D on .Miniato Pitti to Vasari suggests that Clovio sometimes withdrew from the excesses of the court, in general, his interaction with the academicians reflects h.is suitability to the Cardinal's household. Pitti's letter instructs Vasari to chastise Clovio for acting too much tl1e monk, berating tbe court and shunning his friends. See C. Frey, Der literarische Nachlass Gio1gio T/asaris, 2 vols (i\Iunicb, 192 3), vol. 1, p. 129. 2 9 Atanagi, Ri111e, index of volume I, for the sonnet on p. 108a. 3掳 For Cortesi's ideas about the education and philosophy of a cardinal as a culrural patron, see D'Am.ico, Renaissance H11111anisi111, p. 229-30, 234. 3' Robertson, Gran Cardi11ale; idem, "Annibale Caro as lconograpber: Sources and ?IIetbod," )01m1al of the il"arb111g

25 26

anrl Co11rla11/d Inslit11tes 45 (1982), pp. 160-81; Riebesell, Ein 'St11dio'; idem, "Clovio als H ofki.instler," in Re- T1sione11 (Berlin, 2002); Patricia Rubin, "The Private Chapel of Cardinal Alessandro Farnese in tbe CanceUeria Rome," )011mal of the lf'/arb11rg and Co11rlauld Institutes 50 (1987), pp. 82-112; seep. 82 and note 1, where she cites Annibale Caro's comments, "l'isstrissimo cardinal Farnese mi ch.iama a Roma . .. consigliate a me qual che debba fare. 11 desiderio mio sarebbe di servir cotesto signore . .. la benigna sua narura l'affezion che m.i porta, l'applicazion che mostra a gli studi, la conoscenza e la conversazione che ho di gia presa de la sua casa ... "See his Letterefa111iliari, ed. A. Greco (Florence, 19 57-61 ), vol. II, pp. 317, 47-49. 32 Paul Ill's interest in tbe spiritual welfare of artists is best indicated by the founding in 1 543 of the Vi1t11osi al Pantheon, or tlie Congregation of S. Giuseppe della Terra Santa, which included most of the artists working for Farnese. Clovio was not a member of tbe Virtuosi, but his clerical status and membership in the Accadern.ia deUo Sdegno m.igbt have made such a group unnecessary. For the sodal.ity's rosters, see J. A. F. Orbaan, "Virtuosi al Pantheon," Repertori111J1 jlir !01nst11'issenschaft 37 ( 1914-1 5), pp. 17-52. 33 The terms of Clovio's employment and remuneration are given in a letter from Francesco Babbi, Cosimo I's agent in Rome, to Pierfrancesco Ricci. In addition to a monthly salary of ten ducats, Clovio received private chambers, two servants and a horse, which, Babbi added, was "sempre un de piu belli cavaUi di questa corte." Though tliese conditions were generous, Clovio's requests for money in the spring of 1543 (see letter cited in note 26) and Babbi's remarks concerning the Cardinal's failure to pay for individual works potentiaUy explain Clovio's interest in joining Cosimo I's service. First published by Kukuljevic Sakcinski in his 1878 life of Clovio, Babbi's letter is reprinted in Pele's Fon/es Clovianae, pp. 188-89. Bonnard cites it extensively in his Un Hole (p. 29) and publishes the archival information: ASF, Carteggio del maggiordomo Pierfranceso Riccio, fiJza n 1171. Also see Silvia i\Ieloni Trkulja, "Giulio Clovio e i Medici," in Perestil 24 (1983): 91-99, p. 91; and Jennifer Bauman, "Giulio Clovio and the Revitalization of :Miniature Painting at the i\Iedici Court in Florence," in Klovif Zbornik (2001 ),

PP路 63-n P路 63. 34 According to Babbi, Clovio's desire to leave the Cardinal's service had recently been quelled by Vittoria Colonna, who persuaded Clovio that be would receive a benefice wortl1 200 ducats. In order to induce Clovio to come to Florence, Babbi suggested that tbe duke promise him a canonicate of San Lorenzo. For Clovio's benefice from Cardinal Grimani, see Ivan Golub, "Nuovi fonte su Giulio Clovio," Paragone 31 (1980), pp. 121-40; see pp. 121-23 and 136-39. 35 Warnke's history of the court artist is generally applicable to Clovio, especially in regard to such issues as remuneration, tlie artist as agent, and works "without price"; but John D' r\m.ico's and Barbara i\IcClung I-lallman's

accounts of the particular conditions of a cardinal's patronage and the ecclesiastical system of exchange are crucial to understanding Clovio's career. ee W'arnke, Co111t / l11ist, pp. 89-92 and 111-67; D'Amico, RC11aissance f-!11111anis111, pp. 38-60; and Barbara H allman, Italian Cardinals, Refom1 and the Cb11rch as Proper!)• (Berkeley, 1985). 36 For Paul III, see Ludwig Pastor, Histoo 1 of the Popes, trans. Ralph F Kerr, vols. XI & Xll (London, 1950); volume Xl includes a family history, pp. 14ff, and volume XII treats Paul Ill's cultural patronage, including the construction of Saint Peter's, pp. 523-647. Onofrio Panvino included him in his ,..\::.-\1711Ponlijicom111111axi111om111, Elogia el i111aines acmralissi111e ad l'i/111111 aenis l)ipeis delineatae (Rome, 1568). ln addition to Pastor, Capasso wrote a history of his pontificate, Paolo JJI, IJJ-l-IJ-19 (i\Iessina, 1924). For Pier Luigi, see l reneo Affo's life, which seems to have been more sober than most accounts of a figure generally treated as quite sinister, T'/ta di Pier L111;gi Farnese (i\ Iilan, 1821). 37 For his benefices see C. Eubel, Hierarchia, vol. 111, pp. 50, 56-64, 72, 108, 1)2, 160, 203, 210, 237, 249, 303, 32 1, 3 35. See also S. Andretta's entry in the Dizionmio biqgrajico degli italiani, vol. 4 5 (Roma, 199 5), pp. 53-6 5; Clare Robertson wrote the entry on the cardinal's an patronage, pp. 65-71. Both authors provide fuU bibliographies. 38 See Andre Chaste!, "La cour des Farnese et l'idfologie Romaine," in Le Palais Famese (Rome, 1981 ), vol. II, pp. 459-73; Robertson, Gran Cardinale, pp. 237-40. Noting a rema rk made by lliichelangelo in Francisco de H olanda's Third D ialogue, in which i\Iichelangelo states that Paul III had no inte rest in painting and that Ca rdinal Alessandro did not know what painting was, Chaste! and Robertson came to different conclusions. \'\'bile Chaste! asserted the expediency behind Paul Ill's official patronage, to restore the morale and cultural hegemony of Rome, and identified the expert implementation of his cultural policy with the court of Cardinal Alessandro, Robertson treated the remark as confirmation of a conclusion drawn from her extensive research. Robertson's criteria of what constitutes an interest in painting is extremely limited and does not include the Famese J-!011rs. Also lacking was a consideration of the Cardinal's development of judgment in painting. H er failure to recognize the complex relationship between personal taste and official duty has been addressed by \'\'alter i\Ielion, who insisted on the importance of exemplarity, and Thomas W'illette. See i\Ielion's review in ,,Jr/ Bulletin 77 (1995), pp. 324-29; and W'i!Jette's in Jo11mal of 11/odem HisfOI)' 67 (199 5), pp. 45 8-60. 39 ee chapter four of my dissertation, "Imitation and Invention in the Service of Rome: Giulio Clovio's Works for Cardinals i\Iarino Grimani and Alessandro Farnese" Qohns J lopkins University, 2002). Riebese!J has also referred to the Farnese Ho11rs as a gallery or collection, see her "Clovio als Hofkiinstler," p. 132. 4° See Bolzoni, Calleo• of Jl!e11100 1, pp. 189-96. 4' This is the verse as it appears in the Famese I !011rs, which differs slightly from the Vulgate, "justitia et pax

oscularae sunt" by placing more emphasis on the affection of the exchange; "deosculor" meaning to kiss warmly. 2 4 Smith, Famese Ho11rs, ff. 17v-18. Christina Riebese!J has very recently seconded the idea that Clovio's choice was based on the similar embrace of two sets of figures, see her, "Clovio als I lofkLinstler," p. 126. \'('illiam Voelkle, however, has recently proposed liturgical connections between the Virtues and the Feast of the Visitation in his essay in the new facsimile, The Famese Book of f-!011rs (Zagreb, 2001), pp. 24-25, 90 n. 35. Representations of Justice and Peace kissing are generally associated with the Annunciation because of the medieval allegory of the Virtues Reconciled. Smith, Cerney and Voelkle referred to Samuel C. Chew, The T/1111es Reconciled· , 111 Iconographic St11d)' (Toronto, 1947), pp. 60, 66. 43 See Augustine's Enarratioms in Psal111os, in the Palrologia Latina, ed . Jacques-D avid lliigne, 221 vols. ( 1841-5 5, 1862-65), vol. 37, cols. 1078-81. For the English translation, sec 1:,:vposilio11S on !be Book of Psa/;11s, trans. Members of the English Church, 6 vols. of .rl Libra!)' of Fathers of the Hob• Catholic Ch11rcb (Oxford, 1847-57), vol. 4/)2 (1850), pp. 166-83, pp. 182-83. See \'('alter i\Ielion's discussion of the efficacy of pictorial artifice and the patristic homilies that relate the incarnation recognized in the Visitation to the making of images in his "Artifice, l\Iemory, and Refor111atio," RC11aissance and Refom1alion (1998), pp. 1-23, especially pp. 20-22. 44 Rubin relates this idea to the story of Janus receiving Saturn, the classical equivalent of Justice and Peace Kissing; see her "Private Chapel," pp. 107-8. 45 ee Julian Kliemann, "L'immagine di Paolo Ill come pacificatore: Osservazioni sul 'Salotto Dipinto,"' in

Francesco Sal1 iati el la Bella Jfa11iera: , lcles des colloq11es de Ro1J1e et de Pmis (1998), ed. Catherine lllonbeig Goguel, Philippe Costamagna, and lliichel Hochmann, Collection de /'Ecole franra1se de Ro111e 284 (Rome, 2001), pp. 287-310. Rubin's 1

necessarily brief discussion of the theme is very useful. See her "Private Chapel," pp. 107-9. 46 Ovid, Fasti, l , 2 33-49; Virgil, / lC11eid, l , 292-96; VI, 791-95; Vlll , 319-25; and idem, Eclog11es, 1\1, 6. The premise of this section is indebted to Charles Dempsey's discussion of the epic style or mixed mode in sixteentl1century ltalian poetry and Roman painting; see his "Mythic Inventions in Counter-Reformation Painting" in Ro111e in the RC11aissance: The Cil)• and the Jl!)'tb, ed. P. A Ramsey (Binghamton, I .Y, 1982), pp. 56-75. 47 For this figure, see Frances A Yates, "Queen Elizabeth as Asrraea," Jo11mal of the lf'7arb111;g and Co111ta11/rl Inslil11tes lo (1947), pp. 27-82, especially pp. 27-37 for the classical source and Christian interpretation. 48 Ibid., pp. 30-JZ. 49 J\s Voelkle has noted, Jacopo da Voragine claimed tliat these two events both occurred on December 25. See his comments in Famese Book of Ho1m, pp. 29-30. 5° Of the many scholars who ha\·e touched on the relationship between the figures of Peace and Justice, only

1-J.iemann has referred to Clm·io's ]mtice a11d Peace IVssi11g, briefly discussing it in regard to its place in a group of similar images, "Paolo 111 come pacificatore," pp. 292, 294. 51 Nore Patricia Rubin's description of the pictorial program for the Capella del Pallio, which she describes as a scheme "as personal, learned and as allusive as an i111presa." See Rubin, " Private Chapel," p. 83. 52 Kliemann, "Paolo lll come pacificatore," pp. 289-92. The two triumphal processions including th.is image were in Piacenza, where he celebrated Easter before embarking for Nice in the spring of 1 538 and Rome, for the papal car in the Carnival of 154 5. For the latter, see Vincenzo Forcella, To,.,,ei egioslre i1z~ressi lrio11fali eJeste came1•alesche i11 Ro111a sotto Paolo III (fl...ome, 1885 ), pp. 104-5 . 53 l\Iarcantonio Flaminio, I11 libn1111 psa/111on1111 Bre1•is

expla11atio ad ./"l/exa11dm111 Famesi11111 cardi11ali11111 a111plissi11111111 (Venice: .Aldus, 1545 ), p. 167. The parallel embraces of the two pairs of women are themselves elegant, affording Clovio tbe opportunity to match his mastery of female grace and beauty with depictions of the Visitation by Perino in the Pucci Chapel, Salviati in the S. Giovanni Decollato and Sebastiano clel Piombo in Sta. Maria della Pace. The concept of grazia is central both Flamino's commentary and Clovio's figure s. 54 For a detailed discussion of the i111prese used by Paul 111 during this period, see pp. 396-403 of Bernice Davidson, "Paul Ill's Additions to Raphael's Lagge," Art Bul/eti11 61 (1979), pp. 385-403, and pp. 40 2-4 for this particular i111presa. Also see Loren Partridge, "Divinity and Dynasty at Caprarola: Perfect J listory in the Room of Farnese Deeds," A11 Bulleti11 Go (1978), pp. 494-5 30, especially pp. 496-98 for a discussion of the meaning of the imprese employed in tbar room; and Richard Harpath, Paul III als , llexa11der der Grosse (Berlin, 1978), pp. 23-2 5. Patricia Rubin addresses this iconography in her discussion of Janus Greeting Salum in the Cappella del Pallio but does nor connect it to Paul Ill's i111presa; see her " Private Chapel," pp. 107-9. 55 See Forcella, To/"llei, p. 73. An anonymous chronicler of the 1 539 Carnival noted the rainbow's, as the goddess l ris, connection to the lily of casa Farnese and its meaning as a portent of great tbings to come from Paul Ill's reign. See Davidson, "Paul Ill's Additions," p. 402 . 56 See Le illlprese illuslri co11 esposilio11e el discorsi def 5.or Ieroni1J10 Ruscel/i (Venice: Comin da Trino di l\Ionferrato, 1 572), pp. 42-46, pp. 44-45 for this i111presa. (In most works Ruscelli's name appears as Girolamo.) Ruscelli's explanation of the rainbow's meaning conforms to an anonymous description of the triumphal cars for the 1 539 Carnival, which included an image of Janus welcoming Saturn, which represented, according to the chronicler, the present security in Rome because Janus, with his two keys and pious and hospitable gesmre, demonstrates the "carita" appropriate to the papacy; the two heads signify the glory of past and present Rome. See Forcella, Tomei, p. 74. Rubin relates this description to Paul Ill's iconography in her "Private Chapel," p[ . 107-9.

57 The Visitation itself bore symbolic meaning for the

Church of Rome and the papacy of Paul lII, for the Feast of the Visitation was universally instituted by Pope Urban VI in 1389 during the Great Schism and Avignon residence of tbe papacy, in the hope that the Virgin and Christ would visit and thus heal the divided Church . See Frederick G. Holweck's entry for the "Visitation of the Blessed Virgin" in The Catholic E1191clopedia (New York, 1912), vol. XV, pp. 480-81. Significantly, the Feast of the Visitation, though part of the Lutheran liturgy because of its basis in tl1e Gospel of Luke, was celebrated by Luther with ambivalence, associating the feast with botl1 ilie papacy and idolatrous l\Iarian devotions of the Church of Rome. Thomas A. O'l\Ieara, Mai]' i11 Protestant a11d Catholic Theolo,gy r ew York, 1966); and Luthers Works, vol. 21, The Sem1011 011the 1l101111t (Se1wo11s) a11d the 1l!ag11ijicat, ed . Jaroslav Pelikan, trans. Jaroslav Pelikan and A T. \XI. Steinhaeuser (Saint Louis, 1956). 58 When considering Clovio's frames and intrinsic and extrinsic ornament, 1 have kept in mind Jacques D errida's essay on the Parergo11 in The Tmth i11 Pai11ti11g, trans. Geoff Bennington and Ian l\IcLeod (C hicago, 1987), pp. 15-147; and also Hubert Damisch 's The Judg111ent of Paris, trans. John Goodman (Chicago, 1996). 59 Smith, Farnese I-Iours, commentary for ff. GF-64; VoelkJe, Fa/"llese Book of Hours, p. 48. 6o See The National Archeological Nuseu111 of Naples (Naples, 1996), p. 314 for inventory no. 6020. 6i For Giovio's treatise in the context of Renaissance symposia, see T. C. Price Zimmerman, "Renaissance Symposia," in Essa)'S Presmted lo 1l!J 1w1 P Gi/111ore, ed. Sergio Bertelli and Gloria Ramakus, 2 vols. (Florence, 1978), vol. r, pp. 363-74. Tolomei was also interested in sp1posia; see his L ettere, Bk Il, p. pr in July of 1 543· Patricia Rubin discusses Vasari's inspiration to write the T?ile in the context of this environment in Giorgio T7asari: ,-lrt and Histoo• (New Haven and London, 1995), p. 144. For the history of Athenaeus's text in the Renaissance, see Geoffrey Arnott, "Athenaeus and the Epitome: Texts, l\Ianuscripts and Early Editions" in Athmaeus and His W'odd· Reading Greek Culture i11 the Ro111a11 E11pire, ed . D av id Braund and John Wilkins (Exete r, 2000), pp. 41-52; and Rosemary Bancroft-1\Iarcus's essay in the same volume, "A Dainty Dish to Set Before a King: r atale de' Conti's Translation of Arhenaeus' Deip11osophistae," pp. 53-69. For the Farnese collection of Greek manuscripts, see Laurent Pernot, "Les manuscrits grecs," in L e Palais Famese, vol. 1, 2, pp. 425-28. 6 2 Though the date and circumstances of the statue's discovery are unknown, Christina Riebesell has argued that a drawing in Florence and a bronze attributed to H ans l\Iont in Frankfo rt indicate that it was in Rome by 1 570 and came to the Farnese from the Cesarini Collection. See Christina Riebesell, "Eine fri.ihe Zeichnung nach der T"e11us Kal!ipJ'gOS" in St11dien Zflr Kiimtle1z.eich111mg: K/aus SchaJ1Jager Zfl/JI 65 Geb1111stag, eel . Stefan Kummer and Georg Satzinger (Stuttgart, 1990), pp. 132-41. The Naples cata1

logue (p. 3 14) cites the legend that it was found near Nero's D om us Aurea. Also see Bertrand J estaz, "Le co!Jezioni Farnese di Roma," in I Famese: , lrte e Collezionis1110 ()\Wan, 1995), pp. 58, 66, note 14; and Gosta Saflund, Aphrodite Kallipj'gOS, trans. Peter 1 1. Fraser (Stockholm, 1963), pp. 14-1 5, 62. Francis Haskell and Nicho las Penny imply that it was among the works found in the Baths of Caracalla after 1 545 in thei r Taste a11d the Antique: The Lure of Classical Smlpt11re, r;oo-r900 l lew H~ll'en, 1981), pp. 12, 316-18. 63 J\thenaeus, The Deip11osophists, trans. Charles Burton Gu Lick, The Loeb Classical Library (London, 193 3), pp. 294-9 5. Panofsky noted the connection discussed by Athenaeus in his Hermles a111 Scheideli'~~e: 1111d andere a!ltike Bildstojfe in der 11meren IV111st (Berlin, 1930), p. 60, note 3. 64 J\thenaeus, The Deipnosophists, pp. 518-21. 65 See T. C. Price Zimmerman's comments about the Cardinal's attempt to entice Giovio to return to Rome in his Paolo Ciovio: The Historian and the Crisis of SixtemthCmtuo• !tab• (Princeton, 1995), pp. 237, 356 n. 60. 66 Because the antigue figural motif of the Callipygian Venus existed in other forms, the laples Venus need not have been found by the time that Raphael designed The Judg111ent of Paris. Minerva's close resemblance to the statue, however, supports my belief that it was. 67 Though none of the goddesses derives directly from the two antigue reliefs that Raphael mined for his otl1er figures, Minerva is the most distinct, replacing the figure of Mars that divides the composition of the Villa Medici relief. See Phyllis P ray Bober and Ruth Rubenstein, Renaissance Artists and Antique Sculpture (London, 1986) pp. 148-50, nos. l 19-20. 6S W'hile referring to anotl1er judgment, Raphael's beautifully buttocked Minerva insists on the pleasure provided by her. Following Warburg, D amisch has considered her function as the central axis of the work, conceding that Raphael's arrangement "might very well have been inscribed under an invocation of the 'grey-eyed goddess,' of Minerva, if the latter.. . weren't still in the process of disrobing," and noting that part of the pleasure of painting, "as a cosa 111mtale," is its ability to prompt "understanding, perspicacity, and erudition," while still "promising a premium of sensual pleasure." See Damisch,Judg111ent of Paris, p. 2 35. For tlie idea that Paris had no real choice bm to choose the embodiment of beaut:)', see pp. 206-11. 69 Joseph Leo Koerner identified a similar dynamic between the image and \'iewer in his discussion of Baldung's Death and the lf'o111an; see his The J\!0111ent of Self Portl'Clit11re in Cer111a11 Renaissance /l11 (Chicago, 1993), pp. 293-94. 7° Cartari, !111111agini de/le dei de gli a11lichi nel/e quali si con-

tengono gl'idoli, riti, cere111onie, & a/Ire cose appartenenmti all religione de gli antichi (Venice: Vincentio Valgrisi, 1 571; reprint; lew York, 1976), pp. 537-38, p. 537 · 7' For the subjective experience of the Cinguecento view-

er and the tension between love and judgment, see Elizabeth Cropper, "The Palace of Beauty in the High

Renaissance and lts Displacement in the l listory of Art," in Place and Displace111enl i11 the Rmaissance, ed. 1\ . Vos, .Medin1al and Renaissance Texts and Studies (Binghamton, N.Y., 1995), pp. 1 59-205, 174-205. 72 Cartari, !111111a<~ini de/le dei, p. 537. 73 Ibid., p. 538. 74 The only other page ornamented in th is devotional section begins Psalm 51, the psalm written - according to its title - after Nathan had rebuked David for his sin with Bathsheba. As \Toelke noted, the title of the psalm, though not included in the Farnese !-lours, would have been remembered by the Cardinal; see his Famese Book of Hours, p. 49. 75 \Tasari, Vite, vol. 7, p. 561. 76 l\s figure se1pentinate Clovio's Bathshebas also evoked rhetorical conceptions of ornament and license. The differences between his figures and the laples Venus - the distribution of weight and the placement of the legs - are partially explained by the fragmentary state of the original work and by the artistic license tlwt that state allowed . See Leonard Barkan's discussion of the creative potential of the antigue fragment for artists in Unea11hi1{~ the Pas/.'

./ lrchaeology and Aesthetics in the J\Iaki1{~ of Renaissance Culture i lew l laven, 1999), pp. 139-46. For the connection between license and the figura mpentinata see David Summer, "1Ianiera and Movement: the Figura Serpentinata," , lrt Qnarterl)' 35 (1972), pp. 269-301. 77 l am responding and referring here to Bolzoni's discussion of the Phantas111ata and Eros in the art of memory; see Calleo• of J\le11101J 1, pp. 14 5-4 7. 7S See Zapperi, "Alessandro Farnese, Giovanni clella Casa." As l noted above, Zapperi has written another essay on the Cardinal's project to honor the memory of another possible mistress Livia Colonna; see his "Committenze artistiche." 79 Pietro Aretino, I sette sa/111i de/la pmitenlia di Da1 1id (probably Venice, 1 536; no date or pubLisher was included in the copy that I used at the Beinecke Library, New Haven), f. 5, "che nel primo apparire le rimase impressa nel seno: oncle l'animo di cotanto huomo rivolto ad adorarc la nuova imagine s'infiammosi di lei, che obliato tutto guel senno (che guai a i Regni guando i Re ne mancano) ardendeo di clesiclerio, e d'amore, non riguarclanclo ne a!Ja 1Iaesta cl' l ddio, ne alla sua sotto inganno di mandarlo a una secura vittoria, cliede Uria Etheo marito dell lclolo suo in precla a!Je spade nimiche ... "A seventeenth-century English edition translated "senno" as judgment; see Pietro Aretino, , J Pa/'C/ph/'C/se upon the Sea1•en Pmitmtiall Psa/111es of the King/)• Prophet, trans. John Hawkins (163 5), in English Remsa11t Lileral11re r;;3-r6-10, eel . D. 11. Rogers, vol. 340 (London, 1977), p. 2. So TertuLiian exhaustively treats the connection between the sins. l have consulted the English translation by William P. Le Saint, (W'estminster, MD, 1959; London, 1959); see pp. 62-63, 107-8. Sr J\ugu tine, Enarl'Cltiones, vol. 36, col. 585, "Multi enim caclere volunt cum Da\'id, et nolunt surgere cum David"; for the English, see Expositions, vol. 2/ 25, p. 367.

2 43

Rebecca Zorach has addressed similar issues concerning idolatry, imitation, and desire in her article, "Desiring Things," Art Histoo• 24 (2001 ), pp. 195-212. 83 Vasari, Vite, ed. i\Wanesi, vol. 5, p. 562. 84 Cortesi's prescriptions for difficult iconography and the benefits of intellectual exertion support my reading of Clovio's exercise for Cardinal Farnese. As would Erasmus's prescriptions concerning allegory in the Enchiridion militis christiani; see Charles Fantazzi's translation for the Collected lfforks of Eras11111s, vol. 66 (Toronto, 1988), pp. 1-127, especially pp. 65-84. 85 For Hercules at the Crossroads, Xenophon, 11fe!llorabilia and Oeco1101J1ims, trans. E. C. i\Iarchant, The Loeb Classical Library (London, 1923), pp. 276-78 . For the humanist theme in art, see Panofsky, H ercules al// Scheide1vege, pp. 60 note ), 124; John i\fartin, "lmmagini della Virt:U: The Paintings of the Camerino Farnese," Art Bulletin 38 (1956): pp. 91-112; Charles Dempsey, ''Annibal Carrache au Palais Farnese" in L e Palais Farnese, vol. I, 1, pp. 269-3 11, especially pp. 269-83 . For the statue's presence in the Farnese collection, see G. B. de Cavalieri,

Chapter 12

/lntiquam111 Satuam111 Urbis Ro!llae tertius et q11art11s libere (Rome, 1 594), no. 66 . 86 Bellori related the subtle coloring of Voluptas and the powerful coloring of Hercules and Virtue to moral difference. See Gio. Pietro Bellori, Le vite de' pittori sc11/tori et architetti 111oderni (reprint: Quaderni dell'Istituto di Storia dell' Arte della Universita di Genova), pp. 53-5 5. Following Bellori's description, Charles Dempsey has noted the suggestion of excessive ornament in her drapery and intricate braids, especially combined with the attributes at her feet. ee Dempsey's entry for the painting in L'Idea de/ Bello: Viaggio per Ro!lla nel Seicento con Giova11 Pietro Bellori (Rome, 2000), vol. II, p. 2 32· It is my belief that in the figure of Voluptas Annibale presented his own version of the Roman 111aniera, so that he might surpass her seductive and ultimately degenerative beauty, associated - as Dempsey has noted - with Salviati and Vasari, with that of the equally statuesque but naturally colored figure of Virtue. 87 John Martin established Fulvio Orsini's authorship of the iconographic program of Cardinal Odoardo Farnese's study, and Dempsey clarified the humanist context of the program and its place in the literary tradition of spem/11111 principis. Recently, Caterina Volpi has enlarged the collaboration by publishing an encomium written by Antonio Quarenghi. See Volpi, "Odoardo al bivio: l'invenzione del Camerino Farnese tra encomio e fiJosofia," Bolletino d'Arte 105-6 (1998), pp. 87-98. The arrangement of works of art according to decorum and audience is addressed in chapter tl1ree, Frances Gage's dissertation, "Giulio Mancini's 'Considerazioni sulla pittura': Recreation, i\Ianners and Decorum in Seventeentl1-Century Roman Picture Galleries" Oohns Hopkins University, 2000), pp. 183-25;. For the decorum of license and pleasure in paintings, see chapter six, pp. 382-45 5.

244

GIA CARLO FIORE 1 ZA

lote: I wish to tl1ank Stephen Campbell and Alan Chong for the opportunity to present my research at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. i\LchaeJ Amy kindly read an earlier version of tlus essay. This material is part of a forthconung book on Dosso's mythological paintings. Unless otherwise noted, all translations are mine. Henriette Iendelsohn, "Did the Dossi Brothers Sign Their Pictures?" Burlington Jllagazine 19 (1911 ), pp. 79-80. For recent proposals on dating the picture, which measures 19 y4 x 29 i/4 inches, see Alessandro Ballarin, Dosso 1

Dossi: La pittura a Ferrara negli anni de/ ducato di Alfomo I (Cittadella, 1995 ), vol. 1, p. 309; and Peter Humfrey in

Dasso Dossi: Co11rt Painter in Renaissance Ferrara, exh. cat. ew York, 1998), pp. 133-36. teven Ostrow, introduction in Dosso's Fate: Pai11ti11g and Court Culture in Renaissance !tab1, ed. Luisa Ciammitti, teven F Ostrow, and Salvatore Settis (Los Angeles,

998), P·

3 Quoted in Rudolf Wittkower, r lllegoo'

and the Migration of S)l!llbols (Boulder, 1977), p. 116. That pictorial compositions could read as hieroglyphs is explored by Diana Galis, "Concealed Wisdom: Renaissance Hieroglyphs and Lorenzo Lotto's Bergamo !ntarsie," Art Bulletin 62 (1980), pp. 363-75. For a concise overview of the function of hieroglyphs in Renaissance painting, see Charles Dempsey, " Renaissance Hieroglypluc Studies and Gentile Bellini's Saint Mark Preachi11g in Alexandria" in Her111eticis111

and the Renafrsance: Intellectual HislOIJ' and the Ocmlt in Ea1b 1 Modern E11rope, ed. Ingrid i\Ierkel and Allen G. D ebus (London, 1988), pp. 342-65. Concerns with self-presentation also permeate the art of the Ferrarese painter Benvenuto Tisi, called Garofalo, who was Dosso's contemporary at Ferrara. In his 15 37 Adoration of the Magi (Ferrara, Pinacoteca Nazionale), Garofalo signed his name with a red carnation, the flower that bears his name in the vernacular (garofano). The painted carnation stands as emblem of beauty, invoking Garofalo's name as well as his eloquent artifice. 5 The painting is first recorded in the collection of Archduke Leopold Wilhelm of Austria (Brussels, Couden berg Palace) by 1651 . 6 Leon Battista Alberti, 011 Painting and Sculpt11re: The Latin Texts of "De Pict11ra and "De Statua", ed. and trans. Cecil Grayson (London, 1972), pp. 94-97. 7 Cited and translated in Francis Ames-Lewis, The Intellectual Life of the Earb1 Re11aissa11ce Artist (New Haven, 2000), p. 184. 8 Michael Baxandall, Giotto and the Orators: Hu!llanist 4

Observers of Painting in Itab 1and the Discoveo1 of Pictorial Co111positio111 Ijf{)-I4JO (Oxford, 1971 ), p. 92. See also Stephen Campbell, Cos111ii Tura of Ferrara: S1J1fe, Politics and the Renaissance Ci!]\ 1-15()-1-19; I lew Haven, 1997), pp. 80-88, for a discussion of Tura's Saint Jerome in

Penitence (London, The ational Gallery), and the humanist cult of the saint in Ferrara. 9 Giorgio Vasari, Le vite de' pi1) eccellenli pitlori, smllori, ed archileltori (1568), ed. Gaetano i\Iilanesi (Florence, 1906), vol. 5, pp. 96-101, for D osso's biography. rn In her review of the 1998-99 exhibition Dosso Dossi: our/ Painter in Renaissance Ferrara, Beverly Louise Brown (Rmaissance Studies 14, 2000, pp. 251-5 9) shared the opinions of Peter Humfrey and Mauro Lucco, the authors of the catalogue, stating: "It is also apparent that during his formative years [Dosso] often found it difficult to reconcile the diverse styles of more prominent and gifted artists whose work he had seen in Rome, Venice, and Ferrara." Early writers on Dosso, from Paolo Giovio and Giorgio Vasari to Francesco Scannelli and Luigi Lanzi, did not measure the artist in terms of "influence," but instead saw his art as distinct from his Venetian and Roman contemporaries. The tenacity with which art historians characterize D osso as a belated achiever has caused serious misperceptions about the chronology of his paintings. For a revision of the prevailing view in light of new documents, see Adriano Franceschini, "Dosso D ossi, Benvenuto da Garofalo, e il polittico Costabili di Ferrara," Paragone, nos. 543-45 (1995), pp. 110-1 5 (reprint in English with additions as "D osso Dossi, Benvenuto da Garofalo, and the Coslabi/i Pobp1J1ch in Ferrara," in Ciammitti et al., eds., Dosso's Fate, pp. 143-51); and my article "D osso D ossi, Garofalo, and the Costabili Polyptych: Imaging Spiritual Authority," .rlrt Bllllelin 82 (2000), PP路 252-79. " Felton Gibbons, Dosso and Battista Dossi: Court Painters al Ferrara (Princeton, 1968), pp. 112-14. 12 On Calcagnini's career, see Girolamo Tiraboschi, Storia de/la /etlural11ra italiana (i\fodena, 1792), vol. 7., pt. 3, pp. 870-73; Ernesto Piana, Ricerche ed osservazioni sulfa vitae sugli scritti di Ce!io Calcagnini u1J1a11isla ferrarese de/ secolo J\.1/1 (Rovigo, 1899); J\Jfonso Lazzari, "Un enciclopedico de! sec. XVI: Celio Calcagnini," .rltli e Jl!e1J1orie de/la Deputazione Ferrarese di Storia Patria 30 (1936), pp. 83-164; and Dizionario biograjico degli italiani 16 (1973), s.v. "Calcagnini, Celio," pp. 492-98. 1 3 IOHANNES BAPTISTA BO IUS, EQUES ET I. V DOCTOR D Ui\1 ESSET IN HUi\IANIS SCIENS i\IORJTUR S, ET Tli\IE1 S HEREDES SUOS TRANSIRE CU[i\fj E RRORJBUS ALIOR[Ui\fj i\IANDAVIT HA1 C TABUL i\l IN HONOREi\1 lr i\IACULATr\E VIRGI IS FIERJ PE R i\IJ\GISTRUi\1 DOSSUi\1 PICTOREi\I AC FAJ\IILIAREi\I ILL.i\11 FERRARIAE D UClS, DIE QUARTA i\IJ\Il Di\f\TX)\)Q; reprinted in Ballarin, Dosso Dossi, pp. 358-5 9, who notes that despite the 1536 date on the restored inscription, reference is made to the altarpiece already in 1 534. 1 4 The discrepancy between privileged access and elevated status at court is examined by Evelyn S. Welch, Art and Authoril)1in Rmaissance Milan (New Haven, 199 5), pp. 241-68. i\Iartin Warnke, The Court Artist: On the Ancesl!]' of the Modern Artist (Cambridge, 1993),

pp. 1 11-16, sees the title ja1J1i!iaris as monolithic, noting that it afforded artists intellectual status on a par with that of the intelligentsia at court. Although D osso's art was admired by an audience tl1at rewarded skill, we risk misrepresenting his expertise and merit if we judge those qualities solely by literary measures. 1 5 Celio Calcagnini, Car111i1111111 libri Ires, ed. Giovan Battista Pigna (Venice: Vincentio Valgrisi, 1 553), p. 208. A remarkable Portrait of a Man in the Philadelphia Iuseum of Art Qohnson Collection) displays all ilie characteristics of D osso's hand and may represent Celio Calcagnini . Faintly visible in the upper left hand corner is an armillary sphere used for mapping the heavens, at which the sitter gazes intently. Significantly, Calcagnini wrote a famous treatise on the movement of tl1e eartl1, Quod cae/;1111 stet, lerra 111ovelar. This portrait was attributed to D osso by Amalia Mezzetti, JI Dosso e Battista Ferrarese (Milan, 1965), p. ro8; and Felton Gibbons, who first proposed an identification of the sitter as Angelo Perondoli in his article ''An Emblematic Portrait by Dosso," Joumal of the ll7arb11rg and Co11rlauld lmlilules 29 (1966), pp. 433-36. r6 See James Hutton, The Greek Authology in !tab' lo the }ear 1800 (Ithaca, 193 5). 1 7 Quoted and translated from the Planudean Anthology ( 16. 32) by Hutton, Greek Anthology, p. 179. I have made a few minor adjustments to the translation for clarity. For a discussion of iconic epigrams in the context of Renaissance portraiture, see John Shearman, 011b1

Conned ... A11 and the Spectator in the Italian Renc1issance (Princeton, 1992), pp. ro8-48. Diirer's engraved portrait of Philip Melanchtl1on of 1 526 (possibly known in Ferrara) carries a comparable inscription vaunting the artist's skilled hand while underscoring his inability to represent the sitter's mind. rS Also known as Al/ego!)' with Pan, the painting is first recorded in England by 1859. On the dating and technical analysis of this picture, see Humfrey in Dosso Dossi, pp. 203-9; and Ballarin, Dosso Dossi, pp. 101-7. 1 9 See, for example, Gibbons, Dosso and Battista Dossi, pp. 86-89; Augusto Gentili, Da Tiziano a Tiziano: il!Jito e allego110 ne/la cultura vmeziana de/ Cinqmcmto (Rome, 1988), pp. 122-25; and Luisa Ciammitti, "D osso as a Storyteller: Reflections on His i\Iythological Paintings," in Dosso's Fate, pp. 83-111. The notable exception to a straightforward reading of the painting as a mere illustration is by Carlo de! Bravo, "L'Equicola e il D osso," Artibus el historiae, no. 30 (1994), pp. 71-82, who advanced a philosophical interpretation of the imagery in terms of virtue and vice with regard to Iario Equicola's Libro de natura de all/ore. 20 Humfrey, in Dosso Dossi, p. 208. 21 Francesco Colonna, F!Jpnerofoll!achia Polipht!i (1499), ed. Giovanni Pozzi and Lucia A. Ciapponi, 2 vols. (Padua, 1964), vol. 1, p. 65. 22 Phyllis Pray Bober, "Decor, Furor Bacchicus, Convivium" in Antiquil)1and Its Interpreters, eds. Alina Payne, Ann Kuttner, and Rebekah Smick (Cambridge, 2000), pp. 229-43; and idem, "The Coo1ciana and the

245

Nymph Corycia," ]011ma/ of the IF'arb111g and Co11rta11/d !11stit11tes 40 (1977), pp. 223-39. For a related study, see Elisabeth Blair i\IacDougall, "The Sleeping ymph: Origins of a Humanist Fountain Type," .Art Bllilelin 57 (1975), pp. 357-65. 2 3 \Xfhile Pan's frustrated love for the nymphs Echo and Syrinx were widely accepted as poetic inventions, book 1 5 of Saint Augustine's De civitale Dei contra paganos reports that the spirits of Silvans and Pans, "who are commonly called inmbi, often misbehaved toward women and succeeded in accomplishing their lustful desire to have intercourse with them"; De civitate Dei co11tra paga11os, trans. Philip Levine, Loeb Classical Library (Ca mbridge, Mass., 1966), 15.23. Moreover, the Ferrarese mythographer Lilia Gregorio Giraldi cited numerous passages in classical literature in which Pan produced "panic terror" in men and beasts: that is, a violent seizure fed by irrational fear that often surfaces during sleep or fatigue. Giralcli's discussion of Pan's form and identity is found in his De deis genti11111 (1548) (reprint, New York and London, 1976), pp. 619-25. 2 4 Calcagnini, De i111itatio11e, in Opera aliq11ot (Basel, 1544), pp. 269-76 . Calcagnini wrote his piece in response to Giovanbattista Giralcli Cinzio's advocacy of single-model imitation published in his S11per i111ilalio11e epist1t!a (1532). References to Calcagnini's text are found in Rosanna Albaique Pettinelli, "Roma, ponte tra Antico e i\Ioderno per due umanisti ferraresi: Lilia Gregorio Giraldi e Celia Calcagnini" in Ro111a, cenlro idea/e de/la m//11ra de/l'anlico 11ei secoli ,-\'I/ e .Al 71, ed. Silvia D. Squarzina (j\Wan, 1989), pp. 365-70; Luca D'Ascia, Eras1110 e /'11111a/lesi1110 ro111ano (Florence, 1991 ), pp. 105-59, and Clauclio Moreschini, "Aspetti dell'attivita letteraria cli Celia Calcagnini" in "In

s11pre111e dignitalis ... ": Per la storia dell' Universita di Ferrara 1391-1991, ed. Patrizia Castelli (Ferrara, 1995 ), pp. 15 5-72, esp. pp. 156-60. 2 5 Following Quintillian, Calcagnini saw the literary model as both master and adversary, which one must combat in order to achieve an independent authorial voice. The relevant passage from his De i111italio11e (Opera aliq11ot, pp. 275-76) is translated and cliscussed by G. \\'.'. Pigman, "Versions of Imitation in the Renaissance," Renaissance Q11arte1b1 33 (1980), p. 18. 2 6 Calcagnini, De illlitatione, p. 275. "quaedam esse tam proprie, tam apposite, et ad rem explicandam accommodate dicta, ut vix commutari possint, nisi in deterius." 2 7 Ibid., p. 274: "Contra alius clixerit, imitationem nibil esse aliud nisi imaginem, ad quam stylum quis orationemque conformer. Atqui in imagine quaedam similia, disimilia quaedam sunt: nulla sunt eadem. Nam si eadem, tum vero eveniet illud ricliculum, quad Lucianus argute illusit in love Tragoedo [. . .]." 2 8 See Carol Kidwell, Po11ta110: Poet and Pri1m 1lfi11ister (London, 1991 ), pp. 294-95. 2 9 The transformation occurs in 1.75-101 of the De Hortis Hesperid11111. I have consulted the text from the following edition with accompanying Italian translation: Giovanni

Pantano, "Dai Car111i11a," ed. and Italian trans. Andrea Gustarelli (j\Han, 1934) 路 Pantano completely refashions the Ovidian metamorphosis of Adonis into an anemone for his courtly auclience. 3掳 Celia Calcagnini, De citrio, cedro et citro, co111111entatio in Opera aliq11ot, op. cit., pp. 479-83 . 31 Ibid., pp. 482-83. Calcagnini commits the common error of conflating the name of the citrus tree with that of tl1e cedar (cedn1111) . On the citrus tree in Renaissance myth see Ada Segre, "Alla ricerca dell'Orto delle Espericli: Un mito per i giradini d'agrumi" in// Giaidino de/le Esperidi: Gli agmllli nella storia, nella letteral11ra e ne/l'arte, ed. Alessandro Taglioni and Margherita Azzi Visentini (Florence, 1996), pp. 19-40. 32 On the notion of the marvelous in .Ariosto's writings, see Douglas Biow, "ilfirabile Dict11": Represe11tatiom of the ilfarvelom i11 il!edieval a11d Renaissance Epic (Ann Arbor, 1996), PP路 95- 12 1. 33 See Anthony Colantuono, "Dies All)'OIJiae: The Invention of Bellini's Feast of the Gods," Art B11/letin 73 ( 1 99 1 ), PP路 2 37-56. 34 Significantly, the Ferrarese literary historian Lilia Gregorio Giralcli, writing in his !-Iistoriae poetan1111 ta111 Graecom111 q11a111 Latinom111, asserted that "in these gardens (of i\Iaecenas] there was a Priapus shrine [... ] poets meeting there hung up appropriate verses, which, because they were collected by Virgil, are now published under his name"; quoted and translated in \X1. H. Parker, Priapea: Poellls for a Phallic Cod (London, l 988), p. 33. Parker offers an excellent history of the Priapea accompanied by an English translation. 35 For Pietro Bembo's residency in Ferrara and his connection with the local humanists, see Ludovico Ariosto's sixth satire dedicated to Bembo and the cliscussion of it by Peter DeSa Wiggins, The Satires of L11dovico Ariosto: .A Renaissance .A11tobiograp!J)' (Athens, Ohio, 1976), pp. 147-67. 36 Celia Calcagnini, Car1J1in11111 libri Ires, p. 221. Carmeo Cali examines Calcagnini's Priapea in its Renaissance literary context in his St11di s11 i Priapea e le loro i111itazio11i (Ca tania, 1894), pp. 16-18, 62-63. Additionally, Bette Talvacchia explains how Ludovico Dolce, in bis Dialogo de/la pitt11ra intito/a/o /'/lrelino (15 57), makes reference to tl1e classical Priapea as a justification of artists' rights to create erotica; Taking Positions: On the Erotic in Renaissance C11/t11re (Princeton, 1999), p. 87. 37 The Greek variety of red lily known as crinon (which Calcagnini changes from neuter to masculine) is mentioned by Pliny the Elder, Nat11ral Histot)', trans. \X1. H. S. Jones, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, Mass., 1969), 21.11.24: "Est et rubens ]j]jum quad Graeci crinon vocant, alii f'lorem eius cynorrbodon" (There is also the red lily that the Greeks call crinon, some calling its blossom the dog-rose.) 38 On January l, 1431 Charles VII, king of France, honored Marchese I iccolo Ill of Ferrara with the arms of the three golden tleurs-de-lis on a blue background, which the Este subsequently incorporated into their her-

aldry; see Ludm,ico Antonio i\Iurarori, Delle antichita estensi (Modena, 1740), pt. 2, pp. 194-95. 39 See I lelena Szepe, "Desire in the Printed Dream of Poliphilo," , lrt HistOI)' 19 (1996), pp. 370-92, esp. p. 381. 4° Dosso's so-called 1ll)'fhological .rlll~~OIJ' (Borghese Gallery, Rome) emerges in thematic contrast to his 1l!J1th of Pan. Here Pan is absent, nor is there any reference to fruits or flowers, only Jaure] garlands. The sleeping nymph rests peacefully in the lap of an old woman, who looks at a standing young maiden. This latter figure holds a large jar upright and points heavenward in a virtuous gesture. 4' On concept of the "difficult ornament," see Edmond Fara!, / ,es arts poetiq11es d11 Xlle el d11 Xllle siecle: Recherches el dom111enls s11r la technique litteraire d11 JlfqJ•en f-1,~e (Paris, 1924), pp. 89-91; and Angus Fletcher, ./ 11/egoo•: The Theoo• of a ~y111bolic ii/ode (Ithaca and London, 1964), pp. 233-4 5. 2 4 Paula Findlen, "Jokes of ature and Jokes of Knowledge: The Playfulness of Scientific Discourse in Early i\lodern Europe," Renaissance Q11arle1b 143 (1990), pp. 292-3 3I. 43 On Brasavola's writings and career see Tiraboschi, Storia de/la lett11ral11ra italiana, vol. 7, pt. 2, pp. 657-60; Lorenzo Barotti, Llfe111orie istoriche di letterati Jerraresi (Fe rrara, 179 3), \'Ol. 2, pp. 108-1 zo; Lynn Thorndike, , 1 Histoo• of Lliagic and E-.;peri111ental Science (New York, 1941 ), 1'01. 5, pp. 4-f5-71; Dizionario biografico degli italiani 14 (1972), s.v. "Brasavola (Brasavoli), Antonio," pp. 50-52; and Edward Lee Greene, Land111a1ks of Botanical 1lis/01)', eel. Frank Egerton (Stanford, 1983), pp. 658-701. 44 I have consulted the following edition: Antonio Musa Brasavola, Exa111en 011111i11111 sil//plici11111111edica111entoml//, q110m111 i11 effici11is 11s11s est (!,yon: Apud Joannem et Franciscum Frellaeos, 1537), p. 35. 45 See, for example, Gianni Venturi, "Scena e giardini a Ferrara" in JI Rinasci111ento nelle co11i padane: Societa e mlt11ra, ed. Paolo Rossi (Bari, 1977), pp. 553-67; Giovanni Leoni, "La citta salvara dai giarclini: I benefici de! 1·erde nella Ferrara del XVl secolo" in Fiori egiardini eslensi a Ferrara (Ferrara, 1992), pp. 14-27; Alessandro Bruni, "i\ledicinaturalisti del Rinascimento ferrarese e Ja nascita del concetto sci en ti fico di farmaco" in "Jn s11pre111e dignitas": Per la storia dell'1111i11ersita di Ferrara 1}91-1991, ed. Patrizia Castelli (Florence, 1995), pp. 441-74; and Vivian Nutton, "The Rise of Medical Humanism: Ferrara, 1464-15 55," Renaissance St11dies 11 (1997), pp. 2-19. 46 See J lutton, Greek Anthology, p. 161; and Ludovico 1\riosto, Opere 111i11ori, ed. Cesare Segre (i\lilan, 19 54), p. 102: "Hicne rosas inter Veneris bulbosque Priapi /et Bacchus vites Palladis arbor ero? / lmmeritoque obscaena et adultera et ebria dicar,/ sobria quae semper casta puclensque fui? / Hine me auferte, aut me ferro succidite, quaeso, / ne mihi dent turpem probra aliena notam." 47 H yginus invents the myth, a translation of which is found in i\lary Grant, The il!J1ths of E-!Jigin11s (l,awrence, Kansas, 1960), p. 132 (169 A). 48 For the painting's history, see Leandro Ventura, Lorenzo

Leonbmno: Cn pittore a corte 11ella Lllanlol'a di pri1110 Cinq11ecento

(Rome, 1995), pp. 182-87. 49 The following verses by i\Iantuan are discussed and

translated by Julia Haig Gaisser, Catll!l11S and His Renaissance Readers (Oxford, 1993), p. 2w " Qui bi bit assiclue gelid.is de fontibus undam /Et vi trio siccam diJuit amne sitim /Ca rmina casta facit. Veneris commertia vitat, / ec movet ad versus ora puclica !eves. /Vina iocosque canunt veneris bacchique poetae. / Quocl later in vapido pectore carmen olet" (lines 85-90: The man who constantly drinks water from the icy springs and washes away his dry thirst with the clear stream creates chaste poems. He avoids the commerce of Venus and does not move his modest lips to frivolous verses. The poets of Venus and Bacchus sing of wine and jests. The poem that lurks in the wine-soaked breast has a stench.) 5° Giuseppe Gerola, "Un'irnpresa ed un motto di casa Gonzaga," Ri1•ista d'mie 12 (1930), pp. 381-402. See also i\lilla rd i\leiss, The Painter's Choice: Proble111s i11 the !11terpretatio11 of Renaissance Ali (New York, 1976), pp. 220-21; and Ventura, Lorenzo Leonbn1110, pp. 182-87. F The political and cultural exchange between the courts of Mantua and Ferrara was extensive. Dosso himself worked in Mantua early in his career and continued to recei1·e commissions from Isabella d'Este while he was a resident in Ferrara. In November 1519 1\lfonso I d'Este sent both Dosso and Titian to i\lantua in order to study the works of i\Iantegna owned by Isabella. Dosso no doubt also admired the inventions of Leonbruno, and did not disdain their ingenuity. The affinities between Dosso's 1l!J 1th of Pan and Leonbruno's A111)'111011e would seem to conflict with the statements made by Andrea De i\larchi, "Dosso versus Leonbruno" in Ciammitti et al., eels., Dosso's Fate, pp. 1 52-75, who claims that Dosso escaped the "hothouse atmosphere of Isabella's court," and the "ambiguities of Isabella's somewhat archaic ideals" evident in the paintings she commissioned. 52 Vasari, Le r'/te, vol. 5, p. 97 .

Chapter 13 REBECCA ZORACII 1 The Order of the Holy Trinity and Redemption of Captives. 2 Pierre Dan, Le lresor des 111m•eilles de la 111aiso11 r01ale de Fo11taineblea1• (Paris, 1642), p. 87: "diuers suiets d'histoires, d'emblemes, & de fictions poetiques," "ce sont suiets differens qui n'ont point de suite." 3 Dan, f,e lreso1; p. 93 . "II)' a de l'apparence, & c'est !'opinion de plusieurs, que le sieur Rousse qui a destine & ordonne tous !es Tableaux & ornemens de cette Gallerie; comme il estoit non seulement s<;:auanr & intelligent en !'Art de Peinture, ma.is aussi bien verse es ciences humaines, a voulu representer par Jes diuerses histoires, & suiets de ces Tableaux, !es actions principales de la vie du grand Roy Fran<;:ois, telle qu'estoit son inclination aux Sciences & Arts, sa piete, son courage, son adresses, ses amours, ses 1'ictoires . .. "

2 47

4 Horst Bredekamp gives a succinct accoum of the impression made by Celliru's sculpture as "machine" in The Lure of Antiq11i1Jâ&#x20AC;˘ and the Cult of the Machine (Princeton, 1995), p. 2Âˇ 5 Benvenuto Celliru, 11Ie111oirs, trans. John J\ddingron ymonds (New York, 1900), p. 310. Bk Il, xli. 6 The drawing is in the British :tviuseum, Department of Prints and Drawings, 1860-6-16-18. 7 Giorgio Vasari, Le vile de' pi1/ eccellenti pittori, smltori ed architettori, ed . Gaetano Milanesi, 9 vols. (Florence, 1878-85), vol.;, p.170. 8 Jean Correro (1569) in . Tommaseo, Relations des a111bassade11rs venitiens s11r /es affaires de France a11 ,,\'Tl'7e siecle (Paris, 1838), vol. 2, 140. "Perciocche nell'ltalia si vedono molro piu citta piu grandi e pii:1 magnifiche, ha edifizi piu nobili; e in fine esser tutto piu bello quello che depende, piu che dalla natura, dall'industria e dall'ingegno dell'uomo. All'incontro neila Francia si scuopre un paese tutto bello e tutto buono (che cosi non si puo dire d'ltalia) di sito vaghissimo, e di terreno fertilissimo, a tal che produce con facilita non solo quanto e necessario per uso e commodo delli abitanti, ma ancora ne somministra grandissima copia a'forastieri ... " 9 Cited in John Onians, Bearers of 1lleaning: The Classical

Orders in Antiq11i1J\ the 11IiddleAges and the Renaissance (Princeton, 1988), p. 281. 1 Â° Cited in Oruans, Bearers of Meaning, p. 281. " Andre Chaste!, "Le systeme de la galerie," Revue de l'a11 16-17 (1972), p. 149. "II est dommage d'en etre toujours a ne former que des hypotheses sur l'humaniste, archeologue, helleruste et iconologue averti qui a collabore avec Rosso et sans doute avec le roi lui-meme a cette etourdissante invention." 12 Kurt Kusenberg, Le Rosso (Paris, 1931), p. 110. "Le style du Florentin prend sous le crayon de Thiry quelque chose d'arrondi, de mignard, de badin, et une legere teinte d'erotisme; sa composition abrupte y gagne en concision, en regularite, en rondeur aimable." 1 3 In relation to the contributions of Rene Boyvin to the engraving of Thiry's oeuvre, those of Pierre Milan have, I believe, been exaggerated, on the basis of flimsy arguments made by Yves Metman in his 1941 article, "Un graveur inconnu de !'Ecole de Fontainebleau: Pierre Millan," Bibliotheq11e d'H11111anis111e et Renaissance 1 (1941 ), pp. 202-14. Metman argues that Vasari "commits an error, which has since had a singularly good fortune, in attributing [engravings of Ros o's Fontainebleau compositions] to Rene Boyvin. They were, for the most part, by Pierre :!vWan ... " Metman's own error has had its own singularly good fortune. He bases his attribution of "most" of these prints on the fact that Boyvin was asked to appraise a set of them in 15 57. Metman believed Boyvin could not possibly have been asked to appraise his own prints, which he claims is a basic truth of appraisal for the sixteenth century as today. But this rests on anachrorustic ideas about prints as works of fine art with investment value. With specialized expertise, and with his professional reputation at stake, there is no reason why he could not

have been asked to estimate how much they would sell for. At the time, Boyvin and Milan may have still been working together (Boyvin worked for :!vWan in 1549-51, though i\Wan seems to have become, more and more, a financial backer rather than a working engraver) . I address this problem at greater length in my dissertation, "The Figuring of Excess in French Renaissance J\rt" (Uruversity of Chicago, 1999). '4 Henri Zerner, L'art de la Renaissance en France: !'invention dn classicis111 (Paris, I 996), p. 11 5. "a pour ainsi dire monnaye ]'art de Rosso et en a tire un langage ornemental a la disposition de routes sortes d'artistes et d'ouvriers d'art." '5 Vasari discusses the massive quantities of prints, as does Bernard Palissy (who is even more critical about them). In 1 550, Pierre Milan agreed to pay a debt in 700 ecus worth of prints, plus 50 more ecus per month until the debt was paid off. In 1 557 Boyvin appraised a set of prints at anywhere from 2 to 4 deniers a sheet; at 12 deniers to the sou and 45 sous to the ecu, the number of prints needed to pay off the 700 ecus would be over a hundred thousand. These were not necessarily the same quality of print, but the numbers are suggestive. Grodecki, Histoire de l'a11 a11 XT 'le siecle, r5-10-r600 (Paris, 1985), vol. 2, pp. 22 3-24. It appears there was plenty of work to be done; Boyvin's 1 549 contract with i\Wan commits him to working fourteen hours a day in summer, less in winter. Grodecki, vol. 2, p. 22. See again my dissertation, "The Figuring of Excess." r6 Artisans' inventories include numerous prints and illustrated books; cf. Ponce Jacquiot's post-mortem inventory in which the Livre de la Conqneste is listed along with books by Cousin and Serlio, prints after Ivlichelangelo and Raphael, and books of geometry and antiquities (Grodecki, vol. 2, p. 101); and Barthelemy Prieur's of 1583, which also includes books of antiquities, costume, architecture, ornaments, "enrichissements," Rosso's "vingt planettes" (his Cods i111Viches series) and various "pourtraictures" (Grodecki, vol. 2, pp. 131-32). 1 7 Emmanueile Brugeroiles, in Brugeroiles and David Guillet, eds., The Renaissance in France: Dra1JJings fro111 the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, Paris (Cambridge, Mass., 1995), p. 104. r8 icole Dacos, "Leonard Thiry de Beiges, peintre excellent: De Bruxelles a Fontainebleau en passant par Rome," Gazette des Bea11x-Ai1127 (1985 ), pp. 199-212, and "Leonard Thiry de Belges, peintre excellent, de Fontainebleau a Bruxelles," Gazette des Bea11x-A1ts 138 (1996), pp. 21-36. Given the quantity of tapestry cartoons coming ro van Odey's workshop from Rome in the 1 pos, l am unconvinced that a trip to Rome on the part of Thiry must be assumed (however, it is also possible he helped transport them). '9 lnventa1is op het Archie[ van bet 011d St L11casgild, Library of the Royal J\cademy of Fine Arts, Antwerp, 70 (3), f. 89v. 20 Jacques Androuet du Cerceau, D11odeci111 frag111entai, 1 550, Bibliotheque Nationale de France, Paris. 21 The ve rb du Cerceau uses, obeo (ob-eo), may also mean that Thiry had recently left for Antwerp. Du Cerceau

states that he has acquired the drawings, using a phrase (" nactus sum") that implies passivity, that is, that the drawings were " left" to him, that he came upon them accidentally - but not necessarily through the death of their author. 22 A document dated r 551 in the Antwerp city archives refers to a painter named .i\Ir (probably Meester, the Flemish for master, or possibly Monsieur or Maitre) Thierry - used interchangeably with Thiry in France but not a common name in J\ntwerp - then living there and heading a workshop that employed at least one French apprentice. He remains a somewhat mys terious and thinly documented figure. ".i\ir. Thierry, peintre d'icelle ville." In Stadsarchief Ant:werpen, Collecta11ea 8, f. 1 1 Sv., 29 October 1 551. The document refers to the departure of "Thierry's" apprentice, George .i\Ioisant, for Lyon, after Philip Il's proclamations against the French. Cited in G. Hemeldonck, K1111stenaars 1;00-1600: 011tledi11g van archiefsteksten, unpublished index, Stadsarchief Anrwerpen PK 3524. Bernard Salomon's engravings for Ovid's lifeta1J101phoses, published in 15 57, may have been a source of Thiry's drawings for the Livre de la co11q11este, which also places Thiry much later than 15 50. Thiry might have been working in Lyon in the interim, since his apprentice was apparently bâ&#x20AC;˘o1111ais. 2 3 Benvenuto Cellini, D11e trattati (Florence: Panizzii & Peri, 1 568), f. 23r. "Questa fU vna Saliera d'Oro in forma ouata di lunghezza di due terzi di braccio, & il primo sodo della forma ouata era di grossezza di quatro di ta. Componeuasi l'inuenzione della detta Saliera principalmente di due Figure, vna intesa per ettuno Dio de! .i\Iare, l'altra per Berecintia Dea della Terra, dalla banda di ettunno vi haueua finto vn seno di mare dentroui vna Cocchiglia, sopra la quale si vedeua ii detro Iddio a sedere trionfante, e tirato da quatro Cauagli .i\Iarini, il quale tenendo nella sinistra mano ii suo Tridente, con iJ braccio destro tutto si appoggiaua sopra vna barca fatta per comodita de! Sale, ornata di varie battagliette di diuersi Mostri marini, & nell'onde medesimamente doue si posaua la barca andauono scherzando diuersi Pesci . . . dall'altra banda sopra il lito ui era vna Femmina della medesima grandezza, ritondita, & Metallo figurara per la Terra, la quale con disegno audaua a rincontrarsi con le gambe in quelle di I etunno, tenendone vna distesa et l'altra raccolta, impero sopraposta; volendo per la dett'attitudine intendere il monte & la pianura. Nella mano sinistra poi teneua vn Tempietto d'ordine Ionico riccamente ornato, ii quale seruiua per tener Pepe, & nella destra ii Como della copia pieno deUe sue vaghissime appartenenze. Nasceuano poi sopra la Terra 6 lito dou'ella si posaua, diuersi fiori & fronde, & vi si vedeuano varii animaletti che insieme andauono scherzando & combattendo, cosi veniua ad hauere la Terra e'l l\Iare ciascuno i suo propri animali, & ornamenti." 2 4 Paul Lacroix, ed., "Inventaire des joyaux de la Couronne de France en 1560," Re/Ille 1111iverselle des arts 3, no. 107 (1856), pp. 334-jO.

~tes

on the c:Authors ***

KIM ~. BUTLER completed her doctoral dissertation, "Full of Grace: Raphael's Madonnas and the Rhetoric of Devotion," in 2002 and is currently Assistant Professor at American University, W1ashington. In addition to revising her dissertation for publication, she is preparing several articles for publication tl1at explore, respectively, Raphael's training, stylistic interests, and the theological program informing .Michelangelo's Sistine Ceiling. ELENA CALVILLO completed a dissertation at The Johns Hopkins University in 2003 on the Roman work of Giulio Clovio and is the autl1or of "Giulio Clovio's Pauline Frontispieces for i\Iarino Grimani," A11 B11lleti11 82 (2000). She is currently Assistant Professor in History of Art at the University of Richmond.

C. JEAN CAMPBELL is Associate Professor in the History of Art at Emory University and the author of The Call!e of Co11rti11g and the Art of the Co1111l/1111e of San Ci111igna110, w;o-1320 (Princeton, r 997). She is currently completing one book entitled The Poeto 1 of

Co1111110111vealth: Art and the Praise of Nat11re i11 the Age of Danie and starting anoilier called ~, Si111011e's Hand路 A Poetic Biograpf?) of SiJJJ011e Jlla11i11i. 1

STEPHEN J. CAMPBELL is Professor in the I-:listory of Art at The Johns Hopkins University and the auilior of Cosllle Tlrra ef Ferrara: St]'le, Politics a11d the Renaissance Cil)11-150-1-195 I ew Haven and London, 1997) as well as the exhibition catalogue Cosll/e Tltra: Pai11ti11g and Design i11 Renaissance Ferrara (Boston, Isabella Stewart Gardner i\Iuseum, 2002). He is currently completing a book on the mythological paintings for the st11diolo of Isabella d'Este.

DAVID J. DROGIN is Assistant Professor in the History of Art at the Fashion Institute of Technology, State University of ew York. He holds a doctoral degree from Harvard University, where he wrote a dissertation on Bentivoglio patronage in fifteenth-century Bologna. He is currently working on a project addressing the artistic and political dialogues manifested in late-sixteenthcentury Italian and Ottoman portraits of Ottoman sultans and is contributing a chapter (a survey of Bolognese art, ca. 1350-1600) to a forthcoming volume on Bologna, Ferrara, Urbino, and northern Italian courts. FREDERIC ELSIG is maitre-assistant in the History of Iedieval Art at the University of Geneva, where in 2003 he was awarded a doctoral degree for a dissertation entitled "The Chronology of Hieronymus Bosch." He is co-author of the exhibition catalogue La Renaissa11ce e11 Savoie (Geneva, j\fosee d'Art et d'Histoire, 2002) and a contributor to the catalogue of the exhibition El Re11acilllie11to Jlfediterra11eo (i\Iadrid, Museo Thyssen-Bornesmisza and Valencia, j\foseu de Belles Arts, 2001). He has recently published articles on Jean Poyet and on various aspects of fifteenth-century Savoyard painting, and is currently preparing, wiili seminar students, a catalogue of Netherlandish paintings in the j\fosee d'Art et d'Histoire in Geneva. GIA CARLO FIORENZA received his Ph.D. from The Johns Hopkins University and has publi hed articles on art and court culture in 11Iodern La11g11age JVotes, I Tatti St11dies, and Art B11lleti11. He is developing a study of Dosso Dossi's mythological paintings and is currently a Visiting Assistant Professor in the Fine Art Department at the University of Toronto.

ETHAN i\lATT KAVALER is Associate Professor in History of Art at the University of Toronto. A specialist in Renaissance art of I orthern Europe, he is the author of Pieter Bmegel Parables of Order a11d Enterprise (Cambridge, i 999) as well as articles on Pieter Aertsen, Rubens, Dutch sculpture, and northern architecture. HERRY C. i\I. LINDQUIST'S recent and forthcoming publications appear in Gesta, 1\fallltscripta, So11rce,

Architect11re and the Politics of Gender in the Earf) 1Jlfodern W'l!rld, 1lfallltscripts, !J11ages and P11blics, Renco11tres de /'Ecole d11 Lo11vre, and L'Art a la co11r de Bo11rgogne: Le 111ecenat de Philippe le I Iardi et de ]ea11 sans Pe11r. She has been the recipient of research awards from The Andrew \Y/ i\Iellon Foundation, ewberry Library/Ecole des Chartes, J. Paul Getty Foundation, and Fulbright Commission. She is preparing a book-length study on agency, visuality, and society at the Chartreuse de Champmol, and her current project involves optical theory and art in the writings of Jean Ger on. LARRY SILVER is Farquhar Professor at the University of Pennsylvania and former president of both the College Art Association and the Historians of etherlandish Art. His books include The

Paintings of 011i11ten 1lJaS[J'S 1J1ith Catalog11e Raiso1111e (i\Iontclair, J, 1984); with Timothy Riggs, Gra1 en l111ages: The Rise of Professional Printlllakers in Ant1JJerp and Haar/ell!, 15-10-16-10 (Evanston, IL, 1993); and _,Jrt in HistOI]' (Englewood Cliffs, J). He has also edited 1

a collection of essays on Di.irer forthcoming from University of Pennsylvania Press.

252

LuKE SYSON is Curator of Italian Paintings r460-1500 at The National Gallery, London. He previously worked at the British i\Iuseum and the Victoria and Albert i\Iuseum. His publications include The llllage of the lndivid11al Portraits in the Renaissance (co-edited with Nicolas Mann; British Museum Publications, r 998), Pisane/lo: Painter to the Renaissance Co11rt (with Dillian Gordon; National Gallery Company, 2001 ), and Oijects of Virt11e: Art in Renaissance ltaf) 1(with Dora Thornton; British i\Iuseum Publications, 2001), as well as a series of articles and catalogue entries on medals, portraits, collecting, and court art. EvELY ' WELCH is Reader in the History of Art at the University of Sussex. She is the author of /:lrt and A11thorif_)1i11 Renaissance 1lfilan l ew Haven, r 99 5) and Art in Renaissance ltaf)11350-1500 (Oxford, r 997). Her book Shopping in the Renaissance: Cons11111er Clllt11res i11 Itaf)1, 1-100-1600 will appear with Yale niversit:y Press in 200 5. REBECCA ZoRACH is Assistant Professor in the History of Art at the University of Chicago. She is working on a book entitled Matters of Excess: Blood,

ink, Milk and Gold in the Vis11al C11/t11re of the French Renaissance, and has published articles on French and Italian Renaissance art in the journals Res, A11 HistOI)', and ]011mal of Jlfedie11a/ and Renaissance St11dies.

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Index *** academies 9, 13, 17, 164, 165, 221 Ady, Cecilia 72, Aeneas 141 Alberti, Leon Battista 11, 177, 201 i'Jbornoz, Cardinal Egidio d' 73 .Alciati, Andrea 194 Alfonso I of Naples, "the Magnanimous" (Alfonso V of Aragon) l 1, 12, 66, 98 Alexander the Great 38-39 Altdorfer, Albrecht 1 5 5, 15 6, l 57, l 58, 2 36 Amadeus VIII, Count of Savoy 57-59, 61; see also FELIX V, POPE Amadeus IX, Duke of Savoy 66 Ames-Lewis, Francis 106 Angelo da Siena, see MACCAG l 0, 1 GELO AnguissoJa, Sofonisba 11, 1 5, 29-32 Antiguity, antiguities, imitation of 93, 95, 98-99, 145, 169-174

Apelles 38-39, 44, 165 Appian 91, 93 Arch.into, Francesco di Bartolomeo, portrait of 120-123

Aretino, Pietro 14, 103, 104-105, 174 Ariosto, Ludovico 177, 183, 185-186 J\spertini, Amico 85, 90 Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae 171-172 Augsburg, Diet of 1 54 Augustine, St. 168 Augustus, Roman Emperor 97 Avignon, papal court at 33, 44-45 Badt, Kurt 141 Ballarin, Alessandro 1 2 1 Bandello, l'viatteo 106, 1 1 1 Bapteur,Jean 17, 59, 62, 64 Barbari,Jacopo de' l 52, 232 Bartolomeo Veneto 221 Basel, Council of 61 Baudichon, Jean 69 Baxandall, Michael 1 1, 1 2 Beaumetz,Jean de jl, 54, 5 5 Bellincioni, Bernardo 106 Bellini, Giovanni 177, 184 Bembo, Pietro 103, 142, 143, 147, 184 Benci, Trifone 164 Benedict Xll, Pope 34

Bentivoglio family 16, 72-90 Annibale I 78 Antongaleazzo 74-77 Giovanni I 73-74 Giovanni II 72, 80-90 Sante 72, 78-79 Berger, John 14 Bergognone 107-108 Berry, Jean, Duke of jl, 57, 59, 68 Bertolotti, Antonio l 6 3 Biagioli, Mario 1 3 Bibbiena, Bernardo da 143 Biondo, Flavio 92, 93 Bisticci, Vespasiano da 1 2 Bologna 16 Palazzo Bentivoglio 79 Republican government in 72-76 San Giacomo l\Iaggiore 76-77, 78, 79, 85-90 San Petronio 77, 79, 82 university 76 Boltraffio, Giovanni Francesco 1 1 1, 1 l 2, 115-1l7, l 2 l Bona of Savoy, Duchess of Milan 67, 108 Bono, Gregorio 58, 59, 61, 62, 64 Bonsignori, Francesco l 2 Boucicaut Master 59 Bourdieu, Pierre 9 Boyvin, Rene l 9 5 Bracciolini, Poggio 99 Bramante, Donato 221 Brasavola, Antonio Musa 183, r85 Broederlam, Melchior 48, 5l, 54 Bronzino, AgnoJo 13 - 14, 15 buffoons 26-27 Bugatto, Zanetto 1 07 Burgkmair, Hans 154, 15 5, 157 Burgundy, court of 17, 24, 46-56, 71 Calcagnini, Celio 139, 178-187 Callipygian Venus 171-174 Cammelli, Antonio ('ii Pistoia') 26-27 Capponi, en 78 Caro, Annibale 1 64 Caroto, Giovan Francesco 29 Carracci family 89, 102 Annibale 175 Cartari, Vincenzo 171, 173 Castiglione, Baldesar 14, 103, 138, r39, 140, 143, 147 Carrara family 20

Cellini, Benvenuto l 1, l 5, 188, 189, 197-198 Celtis,Conrad 153,235 Cennini, Cennino 55 Cerceau,Jacgues Androuet du 197 Chambery, ainte-Chapelle of 57, 58, 62, 66, 70 Champmol, Charterhouse of 48, 5 3, 58 hades\~ Holy Roman Emperor 102, 130, l 56 Charle V, king of France 47 Charles VI, king of France 48 Charlotte of Savoy 68 Chaste!, Andre 194 chivalry, chivalric literature 54, 161 Chrysoloras, i\Ianuel see IANUEL CHRYSOLORAS Clement VI, Pope 34 clientage 9, 19-28 Clovio, Giulio 17, 163-175 Farnese .Ho11rs 165, 167-175 poems about 165 Colocci, Angelo 17, 139, 140, 141, 143, I44, 147-148 Colombe, Jean 68 Colombe, :Michel 129 Colonna, Francesco f-i]pnero/omachia Poliphili 18 l, 183, 185 Colonna, Vittoria 164

co111itas 39 Conversini da Ravenna, Giovanni 20 Cordier, Jean 24 Correggio (Antonio Allegri) 101-105 Cortesi, Paolo 167 Coryciana 144, 146, 147 Cossa, Francesco de! 83 Costa, Lorenzo 12, 14, 85-90 Costabili, Antonio 178 Cotta, Cottino 22 court as bureaucracy 22-23 ceremonies and spectacles 12, 54, 61, 82-83, 99100 and consumption 12-13, 54 as representation I 5-16 a theater 20-23 court artist civic status and privileges of 11, 51-5 3, 5 5, 65-66, 149, 154, 157, I89 and collaboration I8, 46, 54-55, 61, JJ5-117, lj2, 1 95 and court style 15, 107-108, 110, 123, 125-129, I98 as designer 13, 61, 109, 118, I 5 5, I90-191, 195 intellectual status of 13, I64-I67, 175, 176, 189 myths of 9, I5-16, 19 as performer 1 5, 28-32

salaries and compensation 24, 31, 50, 52, 61, 106, 130, 149, 157, 167, 189, 241 and pectacle l 5, 61, 67-68, titles I9, 47, 50, 58, 6I, 80, 113, 178, 189 use of seals by jl, 96 and violence 14, 18, 51-52 visual wit 174-175, 176, I87, I98 Cranach, Lucas, the Elder I 31, I49, 1 52, I 53 j11dg111ent of Paris 1 51 Princes' Altaipiece l 5o- 1 51 crusades 1 54 D'Amico,John I38 Dacos, Nicole I 97 Danckert, Ghiselin 1 28 Dante Alighieri 33 Davies, Martin 120 de l'Arpe, Jean 70 della Quercia,Jacopo 77, 80 disegno 13, I 90 see also court artist: as designer d'Oggiono, i\Iarco 1 r 2, 11 5-1 17 Donatello 89 Donato, Pietro, Bishop of Padua 62 Dossi, Dosso 16, 176-187 i1f)ith of Pan I 79-1 87 St. Jero111e (Vienna) 176 Dufay, Guillaume 61 Durer, Albrecht I 1, 17, 163 civic privileges of 149, 1 57, 160

/ Jdoration of the 11fagi 1 52 Arch of Honor I 55-1 56 Dresden Tripl)'ch 1 50 Feast of the Rose Garlands I 53 Hercules Killing the St)'IJphalian Birds 1 51 Alartydo111 of the Ten Tho11sand Christians 152-153 Seven Sorro1vs of the Virgin I 51 Tri1lllphal Procession 1 57-160 Dvorak, :tviax 163 dwarfs

24-25

Egidio da Viterbo (Giles of Viterbo) 144 Eleanor of Austria, Queen of France I 90 Elias, orbert 13 Este family 72 Alfonso d' 26, 81, 178, 182 Beatrice d' 24, 117 Borso d' 2I, 178 Ercoleid' 12,23,28,8I Ercole ll d' 29, 178 Isabella d' 26, 28, 98, Io1, 102, III, 177, I82 Estienne, Robert I 94 Estouteville, Cardinal Guillaume d' 67

Eugenius IV, Pope 74 Eurialo d'Ascoli 164 Eyck, Jan van 54, 59, 64, 66, 149 Eyck, Barth elemy d' 68

familiar,familiaris see CUENTAGE Farnese family 1 7 Cardinal Alessandro 164, 167-174 see also PAUL Ill , POPE Felix\~ Pope 61, 62, 65 Felix Gem 217 Ferrara Belriguardo 28 court of, see ESTE FAi\IlLY Ferrari, D efendente 70, 71 Ficino, i\Iarsilio 1 76 Fiera, Battista 94 Filarete (Antonio Averlino) 1 1 , So Firpo, i\Iassi mo 1o5 Flan1inio, i\larc Antonio 147 Flandino, Ambrogio, bishop of i\Iantua 103 Florence 10, 16, 79 Folengo, Teofilo 103 Fontainebleau 18, 188, 194-199 Fop pa, Vincenzo 107 Fornovo, battle of 9 5, 182 Fortune 87-88, 99-100 France, court of 14, 189-195 Francesco di Giorgio i\lartini 1 1 Francia, Francesco 85, 90 Francis I, king of France 188, 189, 190, 199 Francisco de H olanda 164, 241 Frederick III, H oly Roman - mperor 78 Frederick the W'ise, duke of Saxony 17, 131, 132, 149-1 54, 161-162

Gandolfino da Ro reto 67 Gamulin, Grgo 163 Garzoni, Tomaso 27 Gauricus, Pomponius 1 l Ce111ma / lllg11Stea 14 5 Geneva, 65-66 cathedral of 58 Gentile da Fabriano 58 Gen tiles chi, Artemisia 1 1 Ghent, town hall of 13 1, 13 6-137 Ghirlandaio, Domenico 109 gifts II, 190, 201 Giotto 9, l 1, 34 Giovanetti, i\Iatteo 34 Giovanni da i\Iodena 83 Giovio, Paolo 171

Giraldi, Lilio Gregorio 246 Girolamo dai Libri 163 Giulio Romano 19, 22, 103, 163 goldsmiths 19, 58, 61, 65, 85, 197- 198 Gonzaga family 14, 22-23, 94 Federico I 94, Federico Il 101, 102-103 Ferrante 3 l , 102 Francesco 94, 97 Ludovico 94 Goritz,Jan 143, 144 Goswyn van Bomel 58, 65, Gozzoli, Benozzo r 6 Grimani, Cardinal D omenico 163 Grimani, Cardinal i\Iarino 163, 164 Guarini, Guarino (Guarin o Veronese) 177 Guas,Juan 134

J lalliday, Anthony 9 1, 92 J lautcombe, mausoleum church of 57, 70, 71 Jlenry Vll, king of England, chapel of 225-226 H ercules l 51-1 52, 171 J lorapollo 1 55 Huerta, Jean de la lo, 51- 53 J luizinga, Johan 10, 46, 48, 5 5, humanism, and pictorial invention 159-160, 177, 189 i111agi11es ageutes 168, 174 imitation 141 -148, 169-175, 181-182 see also ANTIQUIDT, ANTIQUITIES, li\llTATION OF intentionality 94-96, 191, 193-194 invention 196 see also COURT ARTIST: AS D ESIGNER; DISEG O; H Ui\IANISi\I A1 D PICTORIAL I l\TE TIO Isabella of Aragon, Duch ess of i\Iilan 107, 108, Jacquerio, Giacomo 59 Jaeger, Stephen 13 Jean de i\Iarville 5o John X.,'CIII, Pope 74 judgement 171-174 Julius II, Pope 72, 73, 78, 81, 138 Keldermans, Rombout II 130, 131, 136 Kemp, i\lartin 106, 110-111 Kent, D ale 94 Kolderer, Jorg 1 5 5, l 56, l 57 Lamy, Peronet 59, 62, 64, 67, Laocoon 103-105 Laurana, Francesco 26 Leo X, Pope 138, 140, 141, 142

LeonardodaVinci 15, 21,67, 106-111, 118, 122-123, q6, 230-231

Belle hrro11iere l 09 Cecilia Gallerani 109, 115 Last S11pper 109, 117-118, 1lfado1111a of the Yarmvi11der 1 1 o Portrait of a 111f11sicia11 109 r/i1;~i11 of the Rocks I 09, 1 l 1-1 I 2, 1 17, Leonbruno, Lorenzo 12, 186 Leto, Pomponio 138, 143 Lirnbourg brothers jI, 68 Lippi, Filippino 90 Livy 93 Lonhy, Antoine de 67 Lopez de l\Iendoza, Iiiigo, tomb of 134 Lorenzetti, Ambrogio 16 Lorenzetto 227 Louis, duke of Savoy 61-66, Louis Xl, king of France 66 Louis XII, king of France 8 r, 1 29 Luysel, Janin 64

I 23

l\Iaccagnino, Angelo (Angelo da Siena) 11 l\Ialaguzzi Valeri, Francesco 118 l\Ialouel, Jean 51 Malvasia, Giulio Cesare 89 mannerism 35, 163 l\fan tegna, Andrea 9, l 1, 14, 80, 107 Battle of the Sea Gods 93, 96 Ca111era Piela 22-23, 100 Tri11111phs of Caesar 91-1 oo Mantua 41, 97-98, 164 court of, see GONZAGA FAl\IILY Palazzo Te 103 l\Ianuel Chrysoloras 99 l\Iarani, Pietro 118 market for art 10-11, 65-66, 204 l\Iargaret of Austria, regent of the etherlands 18, 69, 124-137, 157, 158

l\Iargaret of Flanders, duchess of Burgundy 48, 69 l\Iarsyas r 04 l\Iartin \~ Pope 74 Martin le Franc, Cha1J1pio11 des Da111es 62 l\Iartindale, Andrew 38- 39, 4 3, 54 l\Iartini, Francesco di Giorgio see Francesco di Giorgio Martini l\Iaximilian, Holy Roman Emperor 80, 113-114, 149, 154-162

l\Iedici family 10, 16, 72 Cosimo il vecchio 72, 74, 79, 80 Lorenzo il Magnifico 9, 144 Meit, Conrad 17, l 31-131

l\Ielanchthon, Philip 162 Iichelangelo Buonarotti 14, 54-5 5, 84, 163, 177 l\Iichelino da Besozzo 58 l\Iichelozzo 79, 80 l\Wan 106, 107 court of, see SFORZA FAl\IlLY, VISCONTI FAMILY S. l\Iaria delle Grazie 109 l\Iocetto, Girolamo 186 models 110-112, 122, 156-157 modernity 9, ro, 1)2. l\Iolza, Francesco l\Iaria 139-140, 164, 165, 169 l\Iontefeltro, Federico da 84 l\Ionterchi, Francesco 164 music 116-12.8 musicians, at court 23-24, 61 Naples 11, 12, 24, 35, 40, 107, 108 eri di Bicci 65 icholas \~ Pope 78 ova, Alessandro 103

Orbo, Giovanni 24 ornament 34-35, 124-129, 189, 191 and eroticism 191-192, 198 and fertility 19 l and identity 125-12.6, 135-137 poetic 144-148, 167-168, 175 reproducibility 118, 195 Orsini, Fulvio 244 Orsini, Cardinal Napoleone 34 Ortega y Gasset, Jose 14 Ottoman empire 154 Pacioli, Luca 106 Padua 20 Pala Sforzesca, Master of the 117-122 Paride da Ceresara 94 Pasquino 105 Paul 111, Pope 164, 166, 168 Panofsky, Erwin l 50, 151, 190, 233, 234 Patterson, Annabel 43 Pavia, charterhouse (certosa) of 107-108, 109 Perreal,Jean 129, 131, 1)2. Perugino 90, 109 Petrarch, Francis (Francesco Petrarca) 1 5, 33, 38-39, 87, 88, 100, 147, 205

Philibert 11, duke of Savoy 66, 69, 1 24, 12 5, l 29 Philip the Bold, duke of Burgundy 46, 53, 57 Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy 51, 52, 54 Piacenza, cathedral of 21 Piccinino, Nicolo 77, 78

Piero della Francesca S4 Pirckheimer, Willi bald I 54, I 5 5, l 59, Pisanello I 1, 22, 177 Pliny the Elder 3S, 44, 144 Plutarch 9I-92, 99 Poitiers, Battle of 47 Pantano, Gian Gioviano 98, 147, 182 Pontormo 14 Portigiani, Pagno di Lapa 79-80, Preda, Ambrogio (de Predis) 109, 112-1 I4, u 1, 12 3 Priapus 183-1 S6 Prindal, Jan van 5S prosopopeia I39, 226 Raimondi, Marcantonio 163, 171 Raphael 16, 19, 90, 102, 163, I71, 172-173, 177 Fire in the Borgo I39, I4I, I42 Nladonna of the Oak I39, 143-I47 l/i1;gi11 of Orleans 70 poems about I39-I40 Reformation 17, 70 Rene of Anjou 59, 66 Ripaille (Savoy), priory of 58, 62, 64, Robert, icolas 67 Robert, Nicolet 57 Roberti, Ercole de' I4, 83-S4, Rolin, Chancellor icolas 4 7, 67, Romanino 103 Rome 92 academies 16, 13S, 164-167 Arch of Constantine 93 and "imaginary pilgrimage" 59 as model 45, 9S-100, 139-I40 Quirinal I4S and Roman style I 39 Sack of Io2-105, I63 S. Agostino I44 St. Peter's I45 Temple of Minerva Medica 145 Rosso Fiorentino I4, 1S8, 189, 194, 195-I97, 19S Rowland, Ingrid 14I Ruscelli, Girolamo I 67, I 69 Sandrart, Joachim 17 Sannazaro, Jacopo 144 San Severino, Galeazzo 24 Sansovino, Andrea I44 Sansovino, Jacopo 104 Santi, Giovanni 17 Savoy, court of 17, 24, 57-72, 124-I37 Saxony, court of, see Frederick the Wise Scaglione, Aldo I 3

Schaufelein, Hans Leonard I 57 Segovia, monastery of El Parral 134 Serlio, Sebastiano I92-I93 Servius 4I, I94 Sforza family 72 Bianca Maria I I 3-I I4 Francesco 7S, Io7 Francesco 'il Duchetto' IoS, 120, 117 Gian Galeazzo Io7, 108 Galeazzo l\ifaria 2 I, 2 3, 24, 67, I 13 Ginevra 78, So, S7 Ludovico, 'il Moro' S1, Io7, 10S, 109, 110, 1 I3, I15, I17-IIS, 123

Massimiliano I I4, I I 7, I I 9 Siena I6, 34, 42, 44, 204 Silenus 103 Simone Martini 9, I 5, 33-4 5 G11idoriccio da Foglia no 3 3, 204 M.aesta (Siena, Palazzo Pubblico) 42 Orsini polyptych 34-3 5, 40, portrait of Laura 43, 204 Virgil frontispiece 35, 40-43 singers see MUSICIANS Sluter, Claus lo, 46, 50, 5I, 51, 58, 224 Sodoma 71 Spain, court of 29-31, I33-I35, 22 5 Spanzotti, Giovanni Martino 67, 70, 71 Spranger, Bartholomeus I I sprezzat11ra I 3 Springinklee,Hans 155, 157, I5S Squarcione, Francesco So tabius, Hans I 5 5, 156 stained glass 62, 64, 67, 70 Stanga, Marchesino 117 Stefaneschi, Cardinal Jacopo 34 Strozzi family Io style see ANTIQUITY AND A TIQUITIES, IMITATIO OF; COURT ARTIST At'\JD COURT STYLE; IMITATION; MODELS; ORNAMENT Suetonius 93, 95 tapestries, tapestry makers Io, 19, 66, 102, 20I Thiry, Leonard I8, I95-I99 Thonon (Savoy), castle of 57, 58 Titian 29, 103, 177 Tizio, Sigismondo 34 Toledo, church of Sanjuan de las Reyes 133-134 Tolomeo, Claudio 164-165 Torrigiano, Pietro I 29 tournaments S2-83, SS, I 57 translation of empire (translatio imperit) 97-9S

Traut, \\'olf 1 55 Treitzsaurwein, 1\Iarx 1 55 Triboulet 26 Turbido, Francesco 29 Turin 57, 66, 71 Tura, Cosme 11, 83, r90 Uccello, Paolo

Van Bogh em, Loys r 7, 1 24, 1 29-13 i, Van Roome, Jan 17, 1z4, 1 z6, 129-130, 132 Varchi, Benedetto 165 Vasari, Giorgio 17, 19, z9, 5 5, 78, 90, 118, 163, 167, 177, 187, 196

Vegio, Iaffeo 144 Venice 58,152,154 Venus, Callipygian 171-174 Verrocchio, Andrea del 106 Virgil 35, 41-43, 97-98, 141, 144, 168, 18z, 186, 194 Vischer, Peter 1 57 Vi conti family 107 Gaspare 106, 221 Giangaleazzo, duke of 1\Wan 74 Giovanni, archbishop of i\Iilan 73 Filippo i\Iaria, duke of i\Iilan 58 Wallace, William 54-5 5 Warnke, 1\Iartin 9, 19, 32, 38, 46, 5 5, 64, 77, 80, 85, 138, 167, 188, 199

W'egener, Wendy 87 \'\'erve, Claus de 50, 51, 58 \'(/eyden, Rogier van der 61, 6z, Witz, Hans 62-64, 65, 67 Witz, 1 onrad 64 workshops 46, 5 5, 65-66, l 1 5 Yolande de France, Regent of Savoy 66-67 Zerner, Henri 1 9 5 Zoppo, Marco 80

Thoto Credits *** Abbey of Saint Maurice (fig. 4.I)

Sherry C. J\I. Lindquist (figs. 3. 3, 3-4, )

ALnari/Art Resource (figs. p-8, 6.I3-I6, 9.3, I 1.j)

Fr. Maurice .MacNamee (figs. 3.5, 3.6)

Jbrg P. Anders (fig. 7.6)

Musee du Louvre, Paris (figs. 1.3, 6. I3, 6. I 5)

Ardtivio di Stato, Mantua, Autografi, 7, C.I2)V (1489) (fig.6.ro)

J\Iuseo Archeologico Nazionale, Cividale (fig. z.z) Iuseo di Capodimonte, laples (fig. l.5)

Art Resource (fig. 4.6) Museo di Castel Vecchio, Verona (fig. I .4) Art Resource, 漏 Reunion des .Musees Nationaux (fig. I 3.9) Biblioteca del Iv!onasterio de El Escorial (fig. 9.6) Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 'Milan (figs.

2.),

The

ational Gallery, London (figs. 7. 1-3, 7.10, 7. I I)

ational Gallery of Art, Washington, D C. (fig. 7.4, 9-4, 10.8, 10.9)

7.8, 7.9) Osterreichische

ationalbibliothek, Vienna (fig. I I. I)

Bibliotheque Nationale de France, Paris (figs. 1.2. 4. 2, 4.3, 4.7, 1).3)

Pierpont Morgan Library, lew York (fig. 11.z-4)

The British J\Iuseum, London (fig. 12. 5)

Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan (fig. 7 .7)

Dean Brown (fig. 10.6)

Reunion des Musees Nationau,,/Art Resource (fig. I I .6)

Castello di San Giorgio, Mantua.(fig. u)

Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (fig. 13.10)

Church of the Eremitani, Ovetari Chapel, Padua (fig. 6. I 2)

The Royal Collection, by permission of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. RCI l 4039 58-66 (figs. 6.1-9, 7. Iz)

Clarendon Press, W'. Elders, Composers Co1111tries, 1991, fig. 20 (fig. 8.6) Frick Collection,

of the LoJll Scala/Arr Resource (figs. 9. 1, 9. z) Larry Silver (fig.

ew York (figs. 4-4, 4. 5)

Germanisches ationalmuseum, (fig. 10. 4, Io.7)

uremberg

J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles (figs.

I 2.2, 12.3)

than Matt I avaler (figs. 8.I-5, 8.7-I 5) KoninkLjk Museum voor chone Kuns ten, Antwerp (fig. 2. I) Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna (figs. 7. 5, 9. 5, I2.I, I3.2)

10.

Staatliche Kunstsanunlungen, D resden (figs. I .6, 10.1-3) Staatliche Museen, Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Gemaldegalerie, Berlin (figs. z. 5, 7 .6) Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool (fig. z.4) Trustees of the Boston Public Library (figs. r 2-4) University of Chicago, Special Collections Research Center (fig. I 3.6) University of Leiden Prentenkabinet (fig. I3 路7)

Lensini, Siena (fig. 2.6) University of Virginia, Special Collections (fig. I 3.8) J\I. P. Lindquist (figs. 3. I, p, ) Rebecca Zorach (fig. I 3. 1, 13-4, 13 . 5)

aab1r lanmn rnam. CllSlll1lOU1to Ullll lllCUlll

ISBN :

1,14

0-914660-23-3

660231

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