Changing Patrons: Social Identity and the Visual Arts in Renaissance Florence 0271023627, 9780271023625, 9780271031781

Citation preview

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page i

 Changing patrons 

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page ii

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page iii

 Changing patrons 

Social Identity and the Visual Arts in Renaissance Florence jill burke 

the pennsylvania state universit y press • universit y park, pennsylvania

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page iv

Disclaimer: Some images in the original version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Burke, Jill, 1971– Changing patrons : social identity and the visual arts in Renaissance Florence/Jill Burke. p. cm. ISBN 0-271-02362-7 (alk. paper) 1. Art patronage—Italy—Florence. 2. Artists and patrons—Italy—Florence. 3. Art, Italian—Italy—Florence. 4. Art, Renaissance—Italy—Florence. I. Title. N5273.B87 2004 707'.9'4551—dc22 2003022850

Copyright © 2004 the pennsylvania state universit y All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America Published by The Pennsylvania State University Press University Park, PA 16802-1003 The Pennsylvania State University Press is a member of the Association of American University Presses. It is the policy of The Pennsylvania State University Press to use acid-free paper. Publications on uncoated stock satisfy the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Material, ANSI Z39.48–1992.

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page v

contents

list of illustrations vii acknowled gments xii a note on transcriptions and transl ations xiv abbreviations xv introduction 1  part i: Families, Neighbors, and Friends  chapter 1 Family Self-Fashioning chapter 2 Private Wealth and Public Benefit: The Nasi and Del Pugliese Palaces chapter 3 Family, Church, Community: The Appearance of Power in Santo Spirito chapter 4 Patronage and the Art of Friendship: Piero del Pugliese’s Patronage of Filippino Lippi

17 35 63 85

 part ii: The Individual, the Family, and the Church  chapter 5 Patronage Rights and Wrongs: Building Identity at Santa Maria a Lecceto chapter 6 Framing Patronage: Beauty and Order in the Church of the Innocenti chapter 7 Differing Visions: Image and Audience in the Florentine Church

101 119 139

 part iii: Identity and Change  chapter 8 Painted Prayers: Savonarola and the Audience of Images conclusions and questions

155 189

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

vi

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page vi

contents

appendix Nasi Family Tree Del Pugliese Family Tree Unpublished Documents Poems Written About the Portrait of Piero del Pugliese by Filippino Lippi notes biblio graphy index

195 196 197 222 225 255 275

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page vii

list of illustrations

Figure 1.

Figure 2. Figure 3. Figure 4.

Figure 5. Figure 6. Figure 7. Figure 8. Figure 9. Figure 10.

Figure 11.

Figure 12. Figure 13. Figure 14.

Anonymous Florentine, Portrait Medal of Bernardo Nasi, Florence, Bargello Museum, inv. 6686, recto and verso. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Anonymous Florentine, Portrait Medal of Bernardo Nasi, formerly Henry Oppenheimer Collection, recto. (photo: author) Anonymous Florentine, Portrait Medal of Bernardo Nasi, formerly Henry Oppenheimer Collection, verso. (photo: author) Antonio Rossellino, attributed, Portrait Bust of Piero del Pugliese, formerly Berlin, Kaiser Fredrichs Museum. (photo: Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art, London) Former palace of Piero di Lutozzo Nasi, Via San Niccolò, Florence. (photo: author) Upper stories of facade of former palace of Piero di Lutozzo Nasi, Via San Niccolò, Florence. (photo: author) Detail of sgraffito decoration on the facade of former palace of Piero di Lutozzo Nasi, Via San Niccolò, Florence. (photo: author) Detail of sgraffito decoration in the courtyard of the Medici-Riccardi Palace, Florence. (photo: author) Detail of sgraffito decoration on the facade of the palace of the Arte della Seta, Florence. (photo: author) Former palace of Francesco di Lutozzo Nasi, now called Palazzo Mozzi, Piazza de’ Mozzi, Florence. (photo: Kunsthistorisches Institut, Florence) Site of former palace of Bernardo, Bartolommeo, and Filippo di Lutozzo Nasi, now Palazzo Torrigiani, Piazza de’ Mozzi, Florence. (photo: author) View of Piazza de’ Mozzi from the north bank of the Arno. (photo: author) Former palace of Piero and Francesco del Pugliese, Via de’ Serragli, Florence. (photo: Kunsthistorisches Institut, Florence) Detail of Del Pugliese arms on facade of former palace. (photo: author)

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

viii

Figure 15.

Figure 16.

Figure 17. Figure 18. Figure 19. Figure 20.

Figure 21.

Figure 22. Figure 23.

Figure 24. Figure 25.

Figure 26.

Figure 27. Figure 28.

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page viii

list of illustrations

Workshop of Domenico Ghirlandaio, Taking of an Inventory, Oratory of San Martino dei Buonuomini, Florence. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Domenico Ghirlandaio, Birth of Saint John the Baptist, Tornabuoni Chapel, Santa Maria Novella, Florence. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Plan of church of Santo Spirito, Florence. (adapted from Capretti, The Building Complex of Santo Spirito) Exterior of east wall of Santo Spirito, Florence, showing windows and coats of arms. (photo: author) Chapels in the left transept of Santo Spirito, Florence. (photo: Kunsthistorisches Institut, Florence) Raffaellino del Garbo, The Pietà with Saints John the Baptist, John the Evangelist, Mary Magdalen, and James, Munich, Alte Pinakothek. (photo: Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich) Piero di Cosimo, The Visitation with Saints Nicholas and Anthony Abbot, Washington, D.C., National Gallery of Art, Samuel H. Kress Collection. (photograph © Board of Trustees, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.) Raphael, Madonna del Baldacchino, Florence, Palazzo Pitti. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Filippino Lippi, Double Portrait of Piero del Pugliese and Filippino Lippi, Denver Art Museum, The Simon Guggenheim Memorial Collection. (photo: Denver Art Museum 2003) Domenico Ghirlandaio, Portrait of Giovanna degli Albizzi, Madrid, Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection. (photo: Alinari/Art Resource, N.Y.) Domenico Ghirlandaio, Old Man and Boy, Paris, Musée du Louvre. (photo: H. Lewandowski © Réunion des Musées Nationaux/Art Resource, N.Y.) Domenico Ghirlandaio, Francesco Sassetti and His Son Teodoro, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Jules Bache Collection. (all rights reserved, The Metropolitan Museum of Art) Church of SS. Filippo e Giacomo (formerly Santa Maria) a Lecceto, Lastra a Signa. (photo: Kunsthistorisches Institut, Florence) Cappella maggiore of church of SS. Filippo e Giacomo (formerly Santa Maria) a Lecceto, Lastra a Signa. (photo: Kunsthistorisches Institut, Florence)

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page ix

list of illustrations

ix

Workshop of Domenico Ghirlandaio, Annunciation to the Shepherds, Rotterdam, Museum Boijmans-Van Beuningen. (photo: Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam) Figure 30. Piero di Cosimo, Virgin and Child with Saints Nicholas, John the Baptist, Peter, and Dominic, Saint Louis Art Museum. (photo: The Saint Louis Art Museum) Figure 31. Filippino Lippi, The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard (fig. 40), Florence, Badia, detail of donor. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Figure 32. Interior of church of Ospedale degli Innocenti, Florence. (photo: Kunsthistorisches Institut, Florence) Figure 33. Domenico Ghirlandaio, Adoration of the Magi, Florence, Museo del Ospedale degli Innocenti. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Figure 34. Neri di Bicci, Coronation of the Virgin, Florence, Museo del Ospedale degli Innocenti. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Figure 35. Piero di Cosimo, Virgin and Child with Saints Peter, Elizabeth of Hungary, Catherine of Alexandria, and John the Evangelist, Florence, Museo del Ospedale degli Innocenti. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Figure 36. Andrea della Robbia, Annunciation, Florence, Ospedale degli Innocenti. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Figure 37. Bartolommeo di Giovanni, predella for Innocenti Adoration of the Magi, Florence, Museo del Ospedale degli Innocenti. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Figure 38. Bartolommeo di Giovanni, Saint Antoninus Consecrating the Innocenti Church, Florence, Museo del Ospedale degli Innocenti. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Figure 39. Filippino Lippi, The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, Florence, Badia. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Figure 40. Piero Perugino, The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, Munich, Alte Pinakothek. (photo: Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich) Figure 41. Master of the Rinuccini Chapel, The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, Florence, Accademia. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Figure 42. Filippino Lippi, The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, Florence, Badia, detail of books. (photo: Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence) Figure 29.

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

x

Figure 43.

Figure 44. Figure 45.

Figure 46.

Figure 47. Figure 48.

Figure 49.

Figure 50.

Figure 51. Figure 52.

Figure 53.

Figure 54. Figure 55.

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page x

list of illustrations

Unknown Florentine, Vita Sancti Bernardi, BNF, Conventi Soppressi B.1.2578, fol. 7r. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Pietro Perugino, Annunciation, Fano, Santa Maria Nuova. (photo: Alinari/Art Resource, N.Y.) Filippino Lippi, Crucifixion with Virgin Mary and Saint Francis, formerly Berlin, Kaiser Friedrichs Museum. (photo: Witt Library, Courtauld Institute, London) Filippino Lippi, John the Baptist and Mary Magdalen, Florence, Accademia. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Chapel of Sant’Andrea/San Michele, Sommaia. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Anonymous, Saint Michael with Saints John the Baptist, Paul, Christopher, and Sebastian, formerly Sommaia, chapel of Sant’Andrea/San Michele. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Paolo Schiavo, attributed, Virgin and Child with Saints Ignatius, Boniface, Francis, and Raphael, formerly Sommaia, chapel of Sant’Andrea/San Michele. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Fra Angelico, Last Judgment Triptych, Rome, Corsini Gallery. (photo: Archivio Fotografico Soprintendenza Speciale per il Polo Museale Romano) Sandro Botticelli, Saint Jerome, St. Petersburg, The State Hermitage Museum. (photo: The State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg) Sandro Botticelli, Saint Vincent Ferrer, St. Petersburg, The State Hermitage Museum. (photo: The State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg) Pesellino, Madonna and Child with Six Saints, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Bequest of Mary Stillman Harkness. (photo: Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York) Filippino Lippi, Adoration of the Magi, London, National Gallery. (photo: The National Gallery, London) Donatello, The Virgin and Child, London, Victoria and Albert Museum. (photo: Victoria and Albert Museum, London)

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page xi

list of illustrations

xi

Fra Bartolommeo, The Presentation at the Temple, and The Adoration of the Child, Florence, Uffizi. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Figure 57. Master of the Legend of Saint Ursula and Filippino Lippi, Sommaia Triptych, Venice, Pinacoteca Manfrediana. (photo: Curia Patriarcale, Venice) Figure 58. Filippino Lippi, Christ and the Samaritan Woman at the Well and Noli me Tangere, Venice, Pinacoteca Manfrediana, detail of fig. 58. (photo: Alinari/Art Resource, N.Y.) Figure 59. Sandro Botticelli, The Last Communion of Saint Jerome, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Bequest of Benjamin Altman. (photograph © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York) Figure 60. Death Showing a Man Heaven and Hell, illustration to Savonarola, Predica dell’arte del ben morire, Florence: Bartolomeo de’ Libri, 1494. (photo: Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence) Figure 61. Man Lying on His Deathbed, illustration to Savonarola, Predica dell’arte del ben morire, Florence: Bartolomeo de’ Libri, 1494. (photo: Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence) Figure 62. Man on the Point of Death, illustration to Savonarola, Predica dell’arte del ben morire, Florence: Bartolomeo de’ Libri, 1494. (photo: Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence) Figure 63. Raphael, Madonna del Cardellino, Florence, Uffizi. (photo: Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici, Florence) Figure 56.

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page xii

acknowled gments

i f i r st be c a m e acquainted with the Nasi and Del Pugliese families in 1995, when I started research for a doctoral degree at the Courtauld Institute of Art in London. Since that time, I have benefited immensely from the generosity of many people, and I am very happy to be given the opportunity to express my gratitude here. My thanks, first, to Patricia Rubin, who was a wonderful dissertation supervisor. As well as wielding her ready pen with stern but always constructive criticism, her intellectual generosity, support, and sense of humor helped me through the doctoral process and beyond. London provided a congenial and stimulating environment for research, and I had great conversations and help from many people, including Alixe Bovey, Alison Brown, Caroline Campbell, Donal Cooper, Jennifer Fletcher, Kate Lowe, Robert Maniura, Kevin Murphy, Susie Nash, Fabrizio Nevola, and Rupert Shepherd. Sally Korman and Alastair Dunning were always on hand to cheer me up and share ideas. The research community in Florence was equally welcoming and generous. I cannot thank Bill Kent enough for being so kind to me as a newcomer to the archives, and for his consistent and committed support and friendship ever since. Other people made my time in the archives a pleasure—especially Crispin de Courcey Bailey, Marybeth Benbenek, Sally Cornelison, Nick Eckstein, Caroline Fisher, Cecelia Hewlett, Amanda Lillie, and Jonathan Nelson. Thanks also to Sergio Tognetti, Roni Weinstein, Dorit Lerer, Gauvin Bailey, Peta Gillyat, Peter Howard, and Robert Maniura (again) who through their support and friendship helped me finish this manuscript during my year as a fellow at I Tatti. Various people have read the numerous drafts of this manuscript and made useful criticisms. Thanks especially to my thesis examiners, Alison Wright and Caroline Elam, and the readers for Pennsylvania State University Press who suggested many improvements to the original version. The research and writing of this book would not have been possible without financial assistance from the British Academy (for a major state studentship and travel scholarship for my doctorate), and postdoctoral fellowships from the Dutch Institute in Florence and the Harvard University Center for Italian Renaissance Studies, Villa I Tatti. I would also like to thank the staff of the archives and libraries I have spent many hours in during the course of my research, especially the libraries

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page xiii

acknowled gments

xiii

of the Warburg Institute and Courtauld Institute in London, and in Florence the Kunsthistorisches Institut, the manuscript room of the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, the Archivio di Stato, the Archivio Arcivescovado, the archive of the Innocenti hospital, and the Berenson Library at I Tatti. My parents, Mark and Barbara Burke, have been supportive in hundreds of ways since I embarked on this project and helped me in making the decision to do research in the first place. Thanks also to my sister, Lucy, and her family, Alan, Hannah, and Danny I first met my husband, David Rosenthal, in the Florentine State Archives one sunny winter Saturday. Without his brilliance, obstinacy, and encouragement, this book would not exist. Without doubt, the best thing to have ever come out of a chance meeting at the Archivio di Stato is our son, Joe.

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page xiv

a note on transcriptions and transl ations

all quotations appear in English in the text and in their original language in the notes. I have attempted to translate as closely to the original meaning and idiom as possible. I have expanded all common abbreviations in transcriptions for fluency of reading and separated elided words. I have retained original spelling throughout and used square brackets to indicate modern spellings where the sense of certain words could be in question. I have also added modern punctuation and capitalization.

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page xv

abbreviations

AAF AIF ASF BNF CRS

Archivio Arcivescovile, Florence Archivio del ospedale degli Innocenti, Florence Archivio di Stato, Florence Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence Corporazioni Religiose Soppresse dal Governo Francese C. Strozzi Carte Strozziane Dec. Rep. Decima della Republica JWCI Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes MKIF Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorisches Institutes in Florenz Lecceto Carte Strozziane, Ser. V, 1185, folder entitled “Varie Notizie e Ricordi Spettanti alla Chiesa di S Maria di Lecceto” NA Notarile Antecosimiano Seta Arte della Seta Sig. Leg. Signori, Dieci di Balìa, Otto di Pratica: Legazioni e Commissarie, Missive e Responsive Vasari-Bettarini/Barocchi Vasari, Giorgio. Le vite de’ Più Eccellenti Pittori, Scultori ed Architettori nelle redazioni del 1550 e 1568, edited by R. Bettarini and P. Barocchi. Florence: Sansoni, 1976. VP Visite Pastorali

01.Burke.00i-xvi.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:48 AM

Page xvi

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 1

introduction

this project began as a study of art patrons. I chose two Florentine families to concentrate on, the Nasi and Del Pugliese, and after some initial research in London, went to the Florentine archives to find out what I could to help interpret the paintings, sculpture, and buildings that they paid for during the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. This archival work made me rethink my whole project. If, as historians, we ideally read documents until they start talking, I found that the documents were not talking about the kind of art I was then interested in.1 Church documents talked about patronage rights, coats of arms, and liturgical duties. Notarial documents talked about land transactions and business deals; wills contained many instructions about bequests to family members and churches and very few references to paintings; inventories listed used handkerchiefs and old sheets in loving detail but were reticent in their descriptions of cassoni and domestic religious painting and sculpture. I started to feel as if I were looking for a needle in a haystack. It was then that I started to look at the haystack—to find that it was just as rewarding a subject for study. So what is this book about? It still looks at the Nasi and Del Pugliese families and uses archival research to illuminate their purchase and commission of a variety of display objects over the latter part of the fifteenth century. Yet it is no more “just” about two Florentine families than Carlo Ginzburg’s The Cheese and the Worms is “just” about an eccentric miller from a village in Friuli.2 Applying methodology taken from the study of mentalities, anthropology, and social history to both visual and verbal sources, this study considers the range of social personae open to the Florentine patrician at this time and how these could be created and expressed through the visual arts. Through these means, it seeks to reach more general conclusions about the role played by nonverbal culture in the formation of social identity and status in Florence during the Renaissance. Along the way, I consider how the role of “art patron” was, in itself, an identity that was created during this period. The case studies that form the basis for my analysis are largely founded on original archival research into the history of the two families. It also engages with the scholarship of many historians and art historians who have been researching the history of Renaissance Florence for many years. My particular debts are mentioned in

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

2

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 2

introduction

the notes to the text. Here, I would like to discuss some of the literature, about both art patronage and society in Renaissance Italy, that suggested possible avenues of investigation. Terminology and Chronology Threaded through this book is the involvement that both families had with “Renaissance” culture. The archival work of social historians from the late 1960s on—such as Gene Brucker, Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, Dale Kent, F. W. Kent, Anthony Molho, Richard Trexler, and Ronald Weissman—did much to revolutionize our view of the Florentine Renaissance. Moving away from previously influential Burckhardtian concepts, which characterized this period as a stark watershed between the medieval and modern worlds, the historiography tended to stress the continuity of social forms previously considered “medieval.”3 Neighborhood, friendship, and extended kinship ties were deemed not only to survive through the Renaissance but to be of key importance to our understanding of Florence and its cultural products. The building and decoration of family chapels could thus be seen as a form of “ancestor worship,” and the grand family palace a focus for pride for the extended clan—even for those who did not reside in it.4 Similarly, the idea that society became “secularized” owing to an increased interest in classical culture was questioned. The importance of Christian ritual and religious confraternities in shaping the tenor of everyday life, not just in Florence but in all of Europe during the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries, is now clear. This model of continuity has been rightly influential and tenacious. Indeed, the use of the word “Renaissance” in describing the period as a whole has itself been questioned, the logic being that the term would be more accurately used to refer solely to an influential set of cultural values stressing the revival of ancient culture, and fashionable among the elite.5 Notably, the tendency to go straight from “Late Medieval” to “Early Modern” is something that historians have taken up far more widely than art historians. This, in itself, speaks to a sense of disjunction between the two disciplines that remains a site of intellectual negotiation. The primary sources of traditional Renaissance art history—paintings, sculpture, and architecture—often seemed to argue against the findings of the social historians: the rise of independent panel and sculpted portraiture could be seen to suggest the importance of the individual, the widespread adoption of stylistic classical motifs, and new subject matter taken from ancient Roman and Greek sources could be interpreted as posing a strong challenge to the Christian spirituality of the Middle Ages. The challenge for scholars is to gain an insight into the period under question through these differences, rather than put them down to disciplinary conflict. The

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 3

introduction

3

sense that the “Renaissance” happened in visual culture has to be linked to a changing social world and indeed is now usefully being employed to nuance and complicate the picture painted by social historians of the 1970s and 1980s. For example, the selection of essays in a volume recently edited by Patricia Rubin and Giovanni Ciappelli brings together new work by Renaissance scholars to reconsider the relationship between family identity and visual culture during the quattrocento.6 Some scholars have concentrated on broadening their scope of inquiry to include objects—the “minor” or “low” arts such as clothing, pottery, or furniture—that are not in the traditional purview of art historians. Art historians such as Evelyn Welch have pointed out that the new forms of painted and sculpted object available for purchase in the fifteenth century represent only a small fraction of the “empire of things” newly available to the consumer. Culture can be expressed and refracted through spoons, sleeves, and salvers as much as it is through altarpieces or public statuary.7 Through considering such objects, Luke Syson and Dora Thornton have recently questioned the dominant model of historical continuity by arguing that the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries saw the creation of new—or newly interpreted—behavioral models derived from contemporary interpretations of classical texts. Stories illustrating these texts were broadly diffused through such varied objects as crockery, cutlery, clothing, and jewelry boxes.8 From the other side of the disciplinary divide, Dale Kent, through research on hundreds of fifteenth-century Florentine zibaldone and accounts of public performance, has shown that an appreciation of products of the new learning was not confined to a small literary elite; she argues that many Florentines of a much lower social status took part in and, concomitantly, created a “common culture.” This culture allowed a broad audience to appreciate the new style of artworks commissioned by their social superiors.9 The present trend in the historiography, therefore, seems to be toward a reemergence of the Renaissance as a meaningful idea to a large section of the population. Because my inquiry focuses on the people who purchased and owned display objects as opposed to those who made them, I was forced to consider how their production of art related to social mores. In this work, I hope to contribute to this reevaluation of the relationship between consumer and producer, and between the visual arts and social change. First, though, it is important to consider the concept of “art patronage” and how it has affected our interpretation of the artworks produced during the fifteenth century. Patronage and Art The study of patronage in its various guises remains a vibrant area of research. It is

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

4

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 4

introduction

now virtually undisputed that social patronage (clientelismo), intersecting with the social trinity of family, friends, and neighbors, fueled the engine of the Florentine social and political machine during the fifteenth century. In this usage “patronage” is defined as a long-term relationship between patron and client, where the patron holds the lion’s share of power or resources. Patronage has a moral and social rather than a legal basis, and the patron is expected to provide favors, mediation, and possible access to wider friendship and patronage networks for the client in return for loyalty.10 The interest in a patronage system by social historians has been matched by the emphasis on placing “art” in “context,” which by the end of the twentieth century became the norm in Anglo-American art historical scholarship. Studying the person (or people) who commissioned an artwork seems a relatively straightforward way of supplying the context in which that object was made. Renaissance survey courses now typically include the study of art patronage in some form. An Open University course book for its interdisciplinary Renaissance unit, for example, makes claims for the importance of studying patronage as the patron “would naturally pay close attention to the development of any commissioned work and expect to participate in the creative process as an active collaborator.”11 Even a more traditional art historical survey, Frederick Hartt’s History of Italian Renaissance Art, now includes the name of the patron in the captions to illustrations because “although some patrons are today no more than a name, even the name serves as a reminder of the formative and essential role that the patron so often played in the creation of a Renaissance work of art.”12 In the mid-1980s Gary Ianziti pointed out that the idea of art patronage fits uncomfortably with the notion of patronage as a social system favored as an explanatory model by many historians.13 Of course, artists and the people who bought their work could be involved in a patron-client relationship in the strict sense of the word. I discuss one such relationship—that between the wool merchant Piero del Pugliese and the painter Filippino Lippi—later in this study. There are also a number of reconstructions of the patronage networks surrounding some artists that have provided a useful insight into their social world.14 However, as I discuss throughout this book, it seems likely that most of the huge range of painted and sculpted objects that were made in the “Renaissance” were not the fruits of such a close and lasting rapport any more than most other consumable goods, and many “patrons” would better be described as “purchasers.” The terminology used by scholars here is crucial. To separate the concepts of social and art patronage, the use of the modern Italian terms clientelismo and mecenatismo (patronage of the arts) has been suggested. This, unfortunately, is an unsatisfactory solution, largely because these words were not used in the Renaissance and do not accurately reflect a contemporary understanding of either process.15 Indeed, the

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 5

introduction

5

fact of chronological change and the wish to avoid anachronism are at the heart of the problem. It is now generally accepted by art historians that the notion of “artist” was being developed through the quattrocento, as painters and sculptors experienced a rise in status from artisans to auteurs. By the early sixteenth century, it seems that Michelangelo, Raphael, and Leonardo could gain an aura of being almost outside normal social delineation by virtue of their particular visionary powers. The notion of the “art patron” and his or her place in society are greatly dependent on the notion of the “artist” and of “art,” the latter a term that had no equivalent in fifteenth-century Italy. The term “art patronage” implies a relationship, not between purchaser and practitioner, but between enlightened individual and the development of visual art. In this essentially more modern usage, it is “art,” an abstract concept, that is being “patronized,” not the person who makes the “art.” I approached my material with the assumption that “art patronage” as we understand it today was not a notion that was widely current in the period. Rather, it was part of the changes inherent in the development of “Renaissance” culture that created and eventually codified our ideas of what “art patronage” means. A number of scholars have pointed out that the motivations behind the purchase of the visual arts is a process with a historical dynamic of its own. Martin Wackernagel, in his groundbreaking Der Lebensraum des Künstlers in der florentinischen Renaissance, noted the transition from the “donor” of the later quattrocento to the “patron” of the High Renaissance, when collecting paintings with passion for their aesthetic value became more widespread.16 E. H. Gombrich stated his debt to Wackernagel in his essay “The Early Medici as Patrons of Art,” suggesting that “a deliberate patronage of ‘art’ . . . is impossible without the idea of ‘art.’”17 Tracing the development through analysis of the patronage of Cosimo and Lorenzo de’ Medici, Gombrich suggests that the “donor” is transformed to “connoisseur” in a mental shift that is perhaps implicitly modeled on the second and third ages of Giorgio Vasari’s Lives of the Artists. More recently, R. S. Lopez has suggested that the ethos of art patronage in the Middle Ages was collective, whereas in the Renaissance it was characterized by a “direct relationship between donor and the men of culture, and most of all is used to celebrate the patron.”18 Although my conclusions may differ, the main thrust of these scholars’ arguments— that the notion of “art patronage,” like the notion of “art,” is historically specific and operates within a distinct set of cultural values—was crucial to my approach. For these reasons, I have endeavored throughout to be careful in my use of language. I sometimes use the word “artwork” to describe painted and sculpted objects, but I do not employ the abstract concept of “artist” or “art” to indicate painters or sculptors and the objects they made. Concomitantly, I only use the word “patron” in its anthropological

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

6

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 6

introduction

sense, that is, when it applies to a long-term relationship of mutual benefit between two parties, rather than simply the purchaser of a painting or sculpture. It is worth the occasional awkwardness of expression to put distance between ourselves and these problematic concepts. The Patron as Artist The concept that the creation of an artwork involved two main figures, the patron and the artist, has affected our understanding of the visual arts for around a century. Aby Warburg claimed in 1902:“It is one of the cardinal facts of early Renaissance civilization in Florence that works of art owed their making to the mutual understanding between patrons and artists. They were, from the outset, the results of a negotiation between client and executant.”19 The idea that the patron not only provided money for a display object but also actively contributed to its form has become an assumption crucial to many analytical approaches to Renaissance art over the last century. The logical conclusion from Warburg’s assertion is that finding biographical details about the patron allows for a partial reconstruction of the circumstances in which works of art were made. The underlying reason for this reconstruction is that it allows the scholar to understand the meaning of these works. This approach concentrates on a “re-creation” of the artwork through the art historian’s narrative, with the work itself always the point of culmination.20 This idea has been used in various ways. The most obvious has been in monographic studies of individual patrons or artists. For Florence of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries there have been many studies of the “art patronage” of Cosimo, Piero, and Lorenzo de’ Medici, for example, as well as their wealthy contemporaries such as Filippo Strozzi and Giovanni Rucellai.21 In most of these studies, taste, political opinion, and social position are used to analyze the painting, sculpture, and buildings that were made under a given patron’s aegis. At the same time, monographic studies of painters, sculptors, and architects often now concentrate on those who purchased their work as a means to better understand the work they produced. Indeed, in some cases, for example in Jonathan Nelson’s work on Filippino Lippi’s later paintings and Andrew Blume’s analysis of the religious paintings of Sandro Botticelli, the taste of the patron is sometimes accorded more importance in visual analysis than the style of the painter, the maker of the works adapting his style to suit the person who paid for them.22 This approach has an illustrious precedent in Gombrich’s analysis of the architectural “style” of Cosimo de’ Medici. Gombrich’s argument is that in an era before the notion of the autonomous artist was widely accepted, Cosimo did not act as a “patron” for his buildings, with his ideas mediated

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 7

introduction

7

through the artist; instead, his character was directly expressed in them: “It is hardly fanciful to feel something of Cosimo’s spirit in the buildings he founded, something of his reticence and lucidity, his seriousness and his restraint . . . the work of art is the donor’s.”23 Thus an individual personality is seen to be somehow revealed and embodied by the objects he (and this type of patronage study is generally predicated on a single male subject) paid for. The idea of generation, almost in a biological sense, is replicated in a way reminiscent of Filarete’s dictum that the patron is the father of the building and the architect the mother.24 The actual maker of these objects is a vessel for the impulses poured into him by a patron and (implicitly) by the society that shaped this patron’s wishes. The mechanics of this relationship—how the patron could influence an object’s final appearance—have benefited from attention from art historians over recent years. Michelle O’Malley in her detailed study of fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Italian contracts, for example, has provided an important analysis of the financial and legalistic framework of this contractual transaction through the use of quantification of a broad range of source material.25 Other kinds of evidence have also been used in attempts to reconstruct the circumstances of the creation of a work, notably the ricordanze (record books) and account books of artists. Anabel Thomas, for example, has reconstructed the world of the Florentine artist’s workshop using the ricordanze of the painter Neri di Bicci, and Ellen Callman has made extensive use of the account books of Apollonio di Giovanni.26 Some scholars have had methodological difficulties in any use of the “patronas-artist” approach. Charles Hope, for example, in the name of “common sense,” questioned the viability of making any connection between the patron and the artwork beyond the basic choice of subject matter.27 Similarly, Creighton Gilbert, in his recent article on the Renaissance patron, through collecting as many examples of “Renaissance art patronage” as he could, resolves that “patrons usually indicated themes in a general way . . . but would seem chiefly to have sensibly thought the professionals could handle the details better. . . . At the opposite end, patrons sometimes had their own ideas.”28 As these conclusions would indicate, it seems to be difficult, if not impossible, to provide a one-size-fits-all model for the relationship between maker and purchaser in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The focus has often been on ascertaining the respective influences of artist and patron on the final form of an object. The artwork remains the culmination of analysis as scholars attempt to reconstruct the circumstances that led to its creation, in order to unlock its “meaning.” This meaning is implicitly understood to be reconstructable, singular, and unified. In other words,

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

8

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 8

introduction

only one individual is implied as the audience for the work, and that is the person who paid for it. The possibility of multiple interpretations is underplayed in favor of one that fits well with the historical details of the patron or, depending on the case in question, the artist or adviser. In this way, the complexities involved in the representation of patronal identity are reduced to a series of biographical ingredients, which when mixed together with some artist’s biography thrown in, result in the finished work. An important recent consideration of these issues has been Dale Kent’s Cosimo de’ Medici and the Florentine Renaissance. The subtitle of this book, The Patron’s Oeuvre, may suggest at first sight a straightforward consideration of the purchaser of an object, rather than its maker, as the creative force behind it. This would be to underplay considerably the sophistication of Kent’s approach, which, as I have mentioned, also considers the common culture of the Florentine patron, artist, and audience (to use her terms) as well as tracing networks of friendship and clientage between the Medici and the painters, sculptors, and architects who were in their employ. The concept of oeuvre, however, unfortunately poses a great many methodological problems to the study of Renaissance visual culture. In fact, Kent herself demonstrates difficulties with the use of the term in her discussion of Paolo Uccello’s Battle of San Romano series. Long considered a Medici commission, documentation brought to light just as Kent’s book was about to be published suggests convincingly that the paintings originally belonged to the Bartolini family.29 The dispute in itself questions her claim that, unlike an artist’s oeuvre,“the body of [the patron’s] work is at least a given, consisting by definition of commissions which can be documentably attributed directly or indirectly to his initiative.” For the Nasi and Del Pugliese—along with the vast majority of Florentine families—we often do not have enough evidence to link extant works with suggestive, but scant, documentation, let alone the majority of painted and sculpted objects that have been destroyed in the five hundred years since their creation, or those for which there are no documentary traces at all. Identity, Society, and Meaning The notion of “social identity” is particularly important to my analysis of the visual and verbal sources I consider in the following chapters. This connects the idea of “self-fashioning,” a concept that has relatively recently been taken up by Renaissance art historians, with a renewed interest in the role of the audience of images, and a consideration of the way that objects can function as mediators between the self and society. This broadens the notion of “consumer” as an analytic tool. The idea of economic consumption, generally confined to those who paid for goods, can be expanded to visual consumption, those who were intended to see and use them.

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 9

introduction

9

An important basis for my approach is the belief that all the objects that I examine—be they portrait medals, paintings, or building facades—can reveal something about the culture in which they were made as they could only produce meaning in reference to a broader mental framework. Thus, I often examine texts that are not directly related to the objects in question in the hope that creative juxtaposition of primary visual and verbal source material can help us understand more about Renaissance culture. In this way I am methodologically borrowing from a tradition of cultural history that, once again, can be partly traced back to Aby Warburg.30 That said, cultural values are difficult to define, not least because they are subject to change and are not necessarily shared by an entire society. Indeed, one of the issues that constantly presented itself during my research was the way in which images in this period seemed to cater to different types of audience, defining as well as reflecting differing social roles. Meaning is not monolithic and, clearly, is located in the eye of the beholder. An important part of my analysis has been to consider the intended audience, on the assumption that the vast majority of the artworks commissioned during this period were meant to be seen by a number of people who took no part in the commissioning process. It almost goes without saying that the constituencies that made up an audience or the reception of the work by individual onlookers cannot be exactly re-created. However, to paraphrase Michael Baxandall, people do not stop running one-hundred-meter races because they will never run them in no time at all: there are better and worse understandings of the contemporary meanings of images.31 In particular, the representative objects that I analyze in the following pages were created in reference to visual conventions. These conventions came from both an artistic tradition and a broader realm of social mores, such as dress, gesture, and role-playing in prayer and public festival, let alone a more general sense of everyday performance of civic identities on the public stage.32 With the help of texts contemporary with these paintings, I attempt to offer an interpretation of the meanings these objects could convey. I also, when possible, address the possibility of the existence of different audiences—the “elite” as opposed to the “poor”; men as opposed to women—who may have reacted (or may have been expected to react) differently to the works. Thus I often invert the traditional approach to art patronage: instead of looking at how the patron may have influenced the creation of the work, I look at how the audience of the work was meant to perceive the social identity of the purchaser. Throughout, it has seemed most profitable to work on the assumption that the relation of the represented person (or society) to the representation involves a complex, two-way process: visual objects transmit cultural values rather than simply mimicking them; and they act to organize and structure their social environment.33

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

10

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 10

introduction

Painting, therefore, has an affect on the way (social) patronage is understood as well as vice versa. For these reasons I base my analysis on the idea that the appearance of buildings and their ornamentation not only was central to the way that power was manifested but also actively organized power relations at official governmental and informal local and patronal levels. To borrow from one of Michel Foucault’s more general dicta, power—which in Florence was often constituted in the relationships of patronage networks—is not simply imposed from above but is accepted throughout society because it “traverses and produces things, it induces pleasure, forms knowledge, produces discourses.”34 Pleasure and pride were invoked through the beauty of the visual arts in Renaissance Florence, not only for those who paid for these objects but for a much broader constituency, the audience of images. Paintings, sculptures, and buildings were effective because they provided for a felt need in devotional and social practice, which could differ depending on their audience. Because their beauty was a key part of their power to affect the onlooker’s emotions, beauty was considered a virtue rather than merely an aesthetic delectation. In this way, knowledge was shown and imparted: paintings and sculptures paid for by the elite were used to teach correct modes of social behavior to those who were deemed unable to judge this for themselves, notably in this period, women, children, and the unlettered poor.35 Moreover, the understanding of newly fashionable classical texts needed to interpret many images could confirm the informed onlooker’s possession of the cultural capital so important for notions of social status, thus legitimizing social difference.36 Discourse was centered on justifications for spending money on the beautification of the city as opposed to giving it in alms. Social and political change affected the way that this spending was perceived and justified. Florence, Patronage, and the Medici The city of Florence has, over the last century, acted as a kind of laboratory for patronage studies, one commentator even suggesting that the study of Medicean patronage was “practically an industry.”37 It is true that the Medici offer a particularly compelling research subject for Renaissance scholars: evidence about their activities is abundant, and Cosimo, Piero, and Lorenzo were all undoubtedly important in furthering the new learning and reviving classicizing visual styles. Sixteenth-century sources, particularly Vasari, emphasize Lorenzo’s role as a patron of the new culture, and it seems likely that Vasari’s interpretation had roots in fifteenth-century rhetoric and, to some extent, behavior.38 However, because the Medici family tended to be at the vanguard of new cultural fashions, it is problematic to see them as somehow emblematic of Florentine culture as a whole. Indeed, it has been argued that the concentration on the Medici family and their immediate circle could distort our notions

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 11

introduction

11

of the visual arts in the fifteenth century. Very few Florentines, even among the patriciate, had the money of Cosimo de’ Medici or the education of Giovanni Rucellai to draw on when considering building a house or decorating a chapel. Others, even among the elite, may have had more prosaic or unfashionable motivations.39 Florence as a whole has also benefited from more scholarly attention than many other Italian cities. Rather than being discouraging, the array of secondary material on the Florentine Renaissance was crucial for my research because it permitted comparisons between my findings in the archive and a broader historical picture. Indeed, much of the following study relies on a synthesis of other scholars’ research in which to place my own readings of particular visual and verbal artifacts. I hope that the notes will make my debts clear. Another motive for choosing Florence as the focus for my investigations was its importance as a center for the production of the visual arts in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, many of the objects and buildings that made the city renowned for its beauty still surviving. Developments in artistic form that were to be influential all over Europe were initiated by Florentines throughout the period, and these practitioners of the visual arts were financially supported by their wealthy compatriots. The link between the social and political structure of this city and the visual arts in particular is likely to provide information that has broader implications for the study of patronage elsewhere in Europe and may, indeed, have produced a model of support for visual artists that was followed elsewhere. I originally chose the Nasi and Del Pugliese families for a variety of reasons. Neither of them had been extensively studied previously.40 They both commissioned a variety of artworks in the period I was initially interested in (from the 1470s to the 1510s), and, from my initial research, it seemed that there would be enough extant archival material concerning each family to provide a detailed study. Both living in the quarter of Santo Spirito (though in different gonfaloni [administrative districts], Drago Verde and Scala), they were relatively “new” families: their participation in Florentine government was recent, as was their wealth. It seemed that there could be rich documentation here for a consideration of how visual material was used strategically to confirm and maintain their newfound elite status. The Del Pugliese’s involvement with renowned artists—such as Botticelli, Filippino Lippi, and Piero di Cosimo—also made them an alluring subject of research. I make no claims as to the “typicality” of either family, though I hope that most of my arguments would be equally valid for a great many other Florentine patricians in this period. My choice of themes was largely suggested to me by the visual and verbal sources that the families left behind. While I hope that being led by the evidence has had some advantages in terms of looking at subjects afresh, it is important to point

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

12

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 12

introduction

out that this method has also led to some omissions. There is no substantial evidence, for example, of Nasi and Del Pugliese women commissioning or purchasing art objects, but they are discussed in the text as an important perceived audience for some of the goods bought by their husbands and fathers. There is now a great deal of literature on Renaissance women “art patrons,” and the omission of them here by no means denies the fact that women could and did take part in the production of Renaissance visual culture—though my lack of archival findings perhaps reflects the dominant position of men as purchasers of display objects.41 It is likely that much of the analysis about social identity here, and particularly the creation of the “art patron,” could be considered in relationship to changing gender roles, though any conclusions about this would be beyond the scope of my study.42 Similarly, although members of both families certainly belonged to their local religious confraternities, there was no material to suggest that they acted through these bodies to build or furnish meetinghouses or chapels; thus, my main treatment of corporate artistic decision making has been through my examination of the opera (works committee) of Santo Spirito in Chapter 3. Once again, this is not intended to underplay the importance of confraternities in Florentine religious and cultural life.43 More specifically, I do not deal with some works said to belong to the Del Pugliese family, but for which there is presently no known contemporary evidence. The most important example of this is Piero di Cosimo’s Early History of Man series, meant for the palace of Francesco del Pugliese, and Fra Bartolommeo’s now destroyed Saint George and the Dragon fresco, also made for this palace.44 Constraints of time also meant I concentrated on the property and purchases both families made in the city of Florence, with the exception of Francesco del Pugliese’s villa in Sommaia (Chapter 8). The Florentine countryside (contado) has recently become a vibrant area of research, and the activities of private family building in the contado have been discussed elsewhere.45 The first part of this book is concerned with structures of social identity. The first chapter examines the Florentine family. As well as introducing the Nasi and Del Pugliese lineages, it considers the different structures of these kin units, and how their identity and social status were manifested through the purchase of material goods such as portrait medals and family chapels. I also examine the importance of locating family identity within the context of civic history and civic space. This theme is expanded in the second chapter, which focuses on the family palace, a field that has much benefited from attention of social and architectural historians alike over the past two decades. After considering the families’ strategies for the conquest of local space (and power structures) through palace purchase and construction, I examine the disposition of space and display objects within the home, using three

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 13

introduction

13

unpublished Nasi family inventories, suggesting how public values could govern the organization of supposedly private palaces. Chapter 3 concentrates on the church of Santo Spirito, as the Nasi family played an important role in the opera of this Augustinian foundation as well as owning a family chapel there. At first I examine how patricians could express local identity and allegiances in the building of chapels as they did in the building of palaces, proposing that chapel allocation and the composition of the opera of this convent served to perpetuate local and communal power relationships. A change in these relationships after 1494 had direct consequences for the personnel of the opera and on the interior decoration of the church. I suggest how this decoration can be read as a public manifestation of political influence and relationships among the quarter’s elite. Chapter 4 examines friendship, tracing the beginnings of the notion of “art patronage” in Laurentian Florence. After a general consideration of the relationships between artists and the patriciate during this period, I take as the center of my analysis a double portrait by Filippino Lippi of himself and Piero del Pugliese and suggest that the concept of amicizia, consecrated in its purest form as a meeting of two minds, supplied a rhetorical trope in which the patron-artist relationship could operate, ennobling the actions of each party and modulating status differentiation. A vast proportion of the total production of painters, sculptors, and architects in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries went toward the decoration and construction of churches and chapels. The next three chapters of this study concentrate on display culture in ecclesiastical space and other religious settings. Concerned with the relationship between the church and the patricians who invested in it, Chapter 5 explains the legal concept of “patronage rights” and its moral implications. I suggest that these rights are a fundamental basis for understanding the motives and results of chapel and church decoration in this period and look in detail at Piero del Pugliese’s investment in the Dominican hermitage of Santa Maria a Lecceto. In particular, I consider how idealized roles for church patrons and donors affected the design of two altarpieces that were originally placed in the church. In the next chapter I examine who had control over the decoration of chapel spaces within churches, and how matters such as appearance, dedication, and decoration were negotiated. Developing a theme first mooted in Chapter 3, I suggest that the aesthetic of harmony and order in Brunelleschian churches had a more than metaphorical relationship with perceptions and ideals of an ordered society in late quattrocento Florence. I use as a case study the redecoration of the church of the Spedale degli Innocenti, which included the construction of a chapel paid for by Piero del Pugliese at the end of the 1480s. Both the Nasi and Del Pugliese families commissioned images of the Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, by Piero Perugino and Filippino Lippi, respectively.

02.Burke.001-014.FINALqu

14

4/1/04

9:53 AM

Page 14

introduction

Chapter 7 examines the reasons why these images, produced within fifteen years of each other, have such different appearances. I consider the audience of these works, the monks who said mass in front of them, and the role of religious imagery in providing exemplars for differing onlookers. The final chapter is concerned with the first major rupture in the accommodations made between church and political elite that were so prominent in the Laurentian period. Savonarola effectively separated the spending of money on “luxury goods” from the ideal of charity, taking away the prime justification used earlier in the fifteenth century, notably in the doctrine of magnificence. I also examine how the rhetorical style of his sermons can provide art historians with an indication of the workings of image-led devotional practice in this period and suggest how the paintings that his followers, such as Francesco del Pugliese, commissioned were perhaps intended to provoke responses in their viewers analogous to those produced by the friar’s sermons.

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 15

part i Families, Neighbors, and Friends 

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 16

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 17

chapter 1

Family Self-Fashioning It seems to me that just as the city is made up of many families, so, itself is almost like a very large family; and, equally, the family is a kind of small city. And if I am not in error, the existence of one as of the other originated from the congregation and conjunction of many joined and held together by some necessity and utility. —Alberti, De Iciarchia



L

eon Battista Alberti’s suggestion that the city and the family are one and the same thing is particularly pertinent in Florence’s case, where urban topography is closely bound up with familial presence. Administratively, the city was divided into four quarters and sixteen gonfaloni, ecclesiastically into parishes. That these neighborhood units exerted a considerable pull on Florentine loyalties is beyond question, but within and crossing these boundaries were the great families who claimed areas of the city as their own, leaving a permanent imprint through the names of streets dominated by their grand palaces. Florentine patrician families occupied—or sought to occupy—a permanent physical location within the city’s fabric. Although perhaps “medieval” family enclaves, such as the Piazza Peruzzi, no longer retained the same importance by the quattrocento, individuals with the same surname still most often clustered in their traditional gonfalone and often on the same street, sometimes sacrificing the appearance of their new palaces by tenaciously building in old family areas.1 This chapter and the next consider how the Nasi and Del Pugliese families, both relative newcomers to the Florentine civic stage, attempted to create a public identity for their lineages through material objects and buildings, thus confirming and making permanent their newfound social status. That family was a key component of identity in Renaissance Florence is not under dispute. Exactly what constituted “family” is more difficult to assess. A simple formulation from a sumptuary law of 1356 was of those “who are continually resident in the same house . . . sharing bread and wine,” in other words, people who live and eat together.2 Although this household group probably formed the basic unit of family, in reality lines of kinship extended far beyond a common table to relationships of blood and marriage that could take in a very large number of people, living and dead. The now classic debate in late twentieth-century Renaissance scholarship has been

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

18

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 18

changing patrons

between those who believe that small family groups, the protonuclear family, were replacing the extended lineage in the fifteenth century and others who believe that the broader kin group retained its importance.3 This is a complex question, not least because of the conflicting nature of some evidence and the characteristics of family structure that undergoes generational change. Indeed, in recent years, the clash between these two seemingly opposing points of view has been softened precisely because these difficulties of finding an exact definition of family have been recognized.4 Moreover, as other scholars have noted, a distinction needs to be drawn between the ideology of lineage—which certainly remained important—and the practice of familial relationships.5 As has also been pointed out in recent years, the study of family life in Florence is largely restricted to elite males. This is partly due to the availability of source material about this group, and also because whatever definition of family is decided on, it tends to reflect the obsession with patrilineage that was the norm in Renaissance Florence. Genealogies were constructed along male lines, female children serving as the means of a link between men: either horizontally, in the joining of two patriarchal families through marriage, or vertically, through the birth of male children to carry on the kinship line.6 Even within this group of elite males, however, different levels of status were delineated.7 The Florentine governmental system meant that, unlike the case in other Italian cities, being a member of the ruling class was an uncertain privilege. It was not until the formation of the Great Council in 1494 that qualification for government was permanently circumscribed through the eligibility of a father or grandfather for office, family being officially made the basic governmental unit. Before this time, the listing of important houses of the city was done on a more individual, haphazard basis in the work of chroniclers like Benedetto Dei or poets such as Ugolino Verino.8 Recent studies have shown that membership in this elite was conferred on those with a combination of economic wealth and antiquity of political participation.9 This seemingly simple formula, of course, hardly does justice to the exertions made by Florentine citizens to reflect and maintain their social standing through material and visual means. For status to be conferred by the wider civic world, it had to be visible. Claiming an area of Florence by building or buying a palace, patronizing the local church, or providing wine on festive occasions were tangible statements of belonging to an elite group. Indeed, as I shall argue, this expected behavior justified and maintained status differentiation. The Nasi and Del Pugliese were not old Florentine families. Both of them rose to increased prominence during the fifteenth century, gaining wealth like many of their compatriots through networks of international trade. Their increased fortunes

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 19

family self-fashioning

19

coincided with the de facto rule of the Medici family over Florence and, in the case of the Nasi, were directly related to Medici favor. How did this change in status affect their family identity and vice versa? This chapter introduces some of the individuals within the two families and discusses how the lineages were structured into households. I then look at how both families used the purchase and commission of objects to reflect and enforce family identity, both to themselves and to the broader civic world. Ennobling the Lineage: The Nasi In France they declare that amongst its citizens They counted the Nasi in ancient times, Not far from the Rhone they resided; Insignia and monuments of their clan In the temples and ancient tombs there Are marked; and through their fame it is known That they used to live in Gaul. —Verino, De Illustratione Urbis Florentiae That Ugolino Verino chose to declare the Nasi family’s origins as French is significant. Members of the lineage worked hard to prove that they had foreign (implicitly noble) roots, and the perpetuation of this idea in a poem dedicated to the greatness of the city of Florence and her families would suggest that they met with some success. There is absolutely no indication in more prosaic documentation, however, that there is any truth in these romantic origins. The first secure mention of the Nasi line in Florentine documents is found in the matriculation books of the Arte della Seta in 1297, when a Luto di Giunta Nasi appears.10 This would suggest that the family was a relative latecomer to the Florentine political scene and probably originated, like so many other merchant families, from the contado, becoming politically active after being successful commercially.11 As noted, duration of membership in the most important government councils, the Tre Maggiori (comprising the Signoria, Dodici Buonuomini, and Sedici Gonfalonieri di Compagnia), was a key indicator of status for Florentine families, and the first time a member of the Nasi clan sat on the Signoria as a prior was in 1375, a date that placed them in the middling-to-low ranks of the Florentine ruling group.12 The branch of the family that will appear in this study are the sons of Lutozzo di Jacopo, the richer and larger side of the lineage. Lutozzo had six sons from three marriages. Though their primary source of identity may have been the patrilineage, as was often the case in fifteenth-century Florence, they arranged themselves into

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

20

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 20

changing patrons

households depending on their mother. Piero (1421–91) and Lorenzo (b. 1423) were both the sons of Nera di Mariotto Banchi; Francesco (b. 1429) was the only son of Ginevra di Piero del Palagio; and Lutozzo’s third wife, Francesca di Jacopo Cattani, had three sons—Bernardo (1443–1509), Bartolommeo (1445–87), and Filippo (1447–c. 1512). The family’s rise to political and social prominence over the fifteenth century was prodigious. A long list of appointments in the Tre Maggiori and other communal offices testifies to the lineage’s increasing political importance. The paterfamilias, Lutozzo, had obviously been on the winning side in Cosimo de’ Medici’s expulsion and triumphant return in 1434: he was granted the right to bear arms by the balìa (emergency council) created that year.13 After this, a member of the family appeared on every Medicean balìa of the century.14 This political success was prompted and matched by financial gain throughout the quattrocento. After beginning as silk merchants, the Nasi became a family of bankers. Francesco Nasi started off in company with Guglielmo de’ Pazzi in Geneva, before transferring to Lyons with the Medici and other Florentine banks in the mid-1460s.15 Bartolommeo Nasi and his brothers, Bernardo and Filippo, were also in business in this city. By the later part of the quattrocento, Lyons had become a key location for banking activity throughout Europe and was home to several Florentine companies at this time.16 Their business weathered the political changes of the 1490s and was sufficiently successful by 1506 to be able to cede a loan of fifty thousand ducats to the king of France.17 Lutozzo’s eldest son, Piero, started his political career in 1451, being one of the Dodici Buonuomini when he had just turned thirty.18 He was the Gonfaloniere di Giustizia in December 1469, when Piero de’ Medici died, and was presumably one of the “leading men of the city and the regime” who favored power being passed smoothly into Lorenzo’s hands.19 Piero di Lutozzo’s first ambassadorial position came in 1469, when he was sent to Urbino, and he became the resident ambassador in Naples between 1480 and 1483, and again in 1491. He was to die there, rather suddenly in November of that year, probably of a heart attack.20 As the quantity and tone of existing letters between him and Lorenzo testify, Piero Nasi became one of the group of Florentine patricians specially favored by Il Magnifico: he was a member of the balìe of 1471 and 1480 and subsequently in the Laurentian Council of Seventy.21 The fraternal household of Piero and Lorenzo Nasi also had a more intimate link with Lorenzo de’ Medici. According to Francesco Guicciardini, Bartolommea di Lorenzo Nasi was Lorenzo il Magnifico’s mistress for many years, despite her marriage to Donato Benci and despite the fact that she was “neither young nor beautiful”: Bartolommea was about thirty-three years old when Lorenzo died in 1492.22

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 21

family self-fashioning

21

Lorenzo and Piero’s half brother, Francesco, was the highly able manager of the Naples branch of the Medici bank from 1475 to 1489, after his initial stint in Geneva and Lyons. Neapolitan opposition to Lorenzo de’ Medici in 1478–79 led to the seizing of Medici assets during the Pazzi conspiracy war, but Francesco salvaged the bank. The Medici were so pleased with his management of their affairs that in 1487 a company was set up under his name.23 Francesco, like his brother Piero, also represented the Florentine republic abroad, being the ambassador to the French king in 1474.24 His son, Alessandro, aged twenty-two, was sent as a Florentine representative along with Piero di Lorenzo de’ Medici and Pierantonio Carnesecchi to the wedding of Isabella of Calabria and Gian Galeazzo Sforza in 1488.During the period after the Medici expulsion, Alessandro was to capitalize on this early ambassadorial experience, becoming the Florentine resident to the French court for several years. He—or the Nasi bank’s money—eventually became sufficiently valued there for King Louis XII to grant him the right to place three golden lilies on the Nasi coat of arms.25 His success as an ambassador may have been celebrated by his son in a pair of paintings, attributed to Francesco Granacci, of Charles VIII’s triumphal entries into Florence and Rome.26 Though this particular commission goes beyond the chronological scope of this study, it does suggest that the Nasi’s position as ambassadors played an important part in the creation of family identity and, as I shall delineate, had a direct effect on the manipulation of the Nasi genealogy in the fifteenth century. In 1580 a Fra Gabriello Nasi wrote a chronicle of his lineage. Largely dependent on two ricordanze he had found that had been written by his ancestors Piero and Francesco di Lutozzo Nasi, he gives an account of the clan’s origins. The Nasi were the “successors and true heirs of a most noble and most ancient progenitor,” Guido, count of Saxony, a “valorous knight” of the tenth century.27 By the thirteenth century one of his descendants had come to Florence to live in the ward of San Piero Scheraggio, where the clan owned a tomb in a chapel adorned with the arms of Count Guido.28 In his record of 1488, Piero noted the dates of the wills of Luto di Giunta Guidi and his son Nasi, and then traced his descent from these noble ancestors: Guido di had a son who had the name Giunta; Giunta di Guido, [had] one who had the name Luti; Luti di Giunta had Naso and Simone; Naso di Luti made Lutozzo and Nicolo who were friars of Saint Augustine. Of Simone di Luto four sons remained, of whom lived Jacopo, Francesco, and Agostino di Simone di Luti Of them remained four boys: Sandro, Filippo, Giunta, Simone: from whom there is no one. So that of this family there are no others today than [those who descend from] Jacopo, Francesco, and Agostino di Lutozzo di Nasi, of Luti di Giunta di Guido.29

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

22

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 22

changing patrons

We learn more about the Nasi ancestors from Fra Gabriello. Because of the heroic ventures of Guido di Naso di Simone Guidi, who won many glorious victories for the commune, he received from the Council of the Popolo the arms of the district,“a white wheel on a blue field,” which was adopted into the Nasi insignia of three white wheels on blue. In addition to using these documents, Fra Gabriello, like Ugolino Verino, was guided in his account by the Nasi coats of arms that he saw around the city and the contado, and he even provides signed attestations as to their authenticity and antiquity.30 Both the Nasi and the Del Palagio families traced their descent from Count Guido and most probably fabricated the story of their glorious ancestry between them at the time of the linking of the two families through the marriage of Ginevra di Piero del Palagio (Francesco’s mother) to Lutozzo di Jacopo Nasi about 1426.31 The creation of this glorious martial history is significant. Many Florentine families had histories similar to that of the Nasi. Having been successful in business and then politically prominent in the commune, they did not feel the need to create a noble military past for themselves. The reasoning behind these imaginative genealogical fabrications, however, is probably due to members of the family becoming ambassadors. In some ways the Nasi would seem to be an obvious choice for embassies abroad. As I have mentioned, they had business in many countries in Europe and frequently captained the commune’s galleys that transported goods for sale all over Europe and the Mediterranean.32 Florentine perceptions of the kind of people ambassadors should be, however, did not favor this pragmatic link of business and politics. It went without saying that ambassadors had to be rich and from old families, but how they earned their money was a matter for scrutiny. In a sermon on this subject of 1436, it was claimed that as well as being eloquent and well educated it was crucial that the ambassador should not undertake business while on his missions, “nor do anything for his own profit or gain, or for his friends or relatives.”33 Perhaps for this reason, it was customary to choose ambassadors from old families, originally those of magnates, who were perceived to have little interest in business and to know how to comport themselves in front of foreign dignitaries.34 As Richard Trexler has pointed out, ambassadors were very much subject to the public gaze, as they made ceremonial exits from and entrances into the city, dressed in suitably rich garb.35 Piero Nasi, for example, on his arrival in Naples in April 1491, described how “all the city” came to see him and his entourage disembark from their galley and lined the streets on the way to their residence.36 His description of this reception in a letter to the Signoria could also have been intended to be reassuring about the city’s status abroad. For the Florentines, living in a republic with no fixed

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 23

family self-fashioning

23

rulers or courts to impress foreign potentates, it was perhaps especially important that their representatives should not be seen as out of place in the courts of princes and kings, either in their appearance or their demeanor. Eloquent and magnificently dressed, with clothes that they had to be sufficiently wealthy to afford themselves, these ambassadors served both as a symbol of the greatness of the city to foreigners and as a didactic example to its citizens.37 How much more suitable to this hallowed task, therefore, was a family with martial and noble roots away from Florence than one that had simply made a great deal of money through business acumen. By tracing their origins to the valorous Guido of Saxony, the Nasi could be seen as honorable representatives of Florence as the family’s history set them apart from its citizens with more mundane mercantile origins. The donning of this familial identity affected the way individuals represented themselves visually and materially. Perhaps the most extreme example of this is Francesco Nasi’s purchase of the Palazzo Mozzi in the 1460s (fig. 10). I talk in more detail about the family’s palaces in the next chapter, but it is worth noting here that this medieval palace was formerly owned by a great magnate lineage and had an important role in the history of Florentine diplomacy. According to Giovanni Villani, a short-lived peace was brokered by Pope Gregory X between the Florentine Guelfs and Ghibellines in 1273 in the Piazza de’ Mozzi, at the foot of the Ponte Rubaconte (now called Ponte alle Grazie). The pope was staying in the Palazzo Mozzi at this time and founded the now destroyed church of San Gregorio in memory of the event.38 By purchasing this palace, Francesco was linking the past of both place and magnate family to his present activities as an ambassador, naturalizing his elevated position and justifying his holding of this role. Other rather smaller visual statements should be seen in relation to the Nasi’s ambassadorial duties. According to Fra Gabriello, a bust of Piero di Lutozzo stood in the royal palace in Naples ever since his time as an ambassador there in the early 1480s. This bust is lost, and no reference to it can be found in the surviving letters. Indeed, given that Piero died while an ambassador to King Ferdinand, it may even have been a posthumous memorial. Two portrait medals of Bernardo di Lutozzo Nasi, dating from the early sixteenth century, present a parallel to the self-consciously classicizing commemoration of his older brother (figs. 1–3).39 The front of both medals shows a profile relief of Bernardo, staring to the left, wearing a hat with upturned flaps. Their inscriptions and reverses differ. On the back of the smaller medal, now in the Bargello in Florence, is an engraving of Mercury, the messenger of the gods, the lithe figure forming a probably unintentional contrast with the portly Bernardo on the obverse.40 Around this image is the inscription “nuntius pacis” (messenger of peace), while around

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

24

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 24

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 1 (a and b). Anonymous Florentine, Portrait Medal of Bernardo Nasi, Florence, Bargello Museum, inv. 6686, recto and verso

Bernardo is written “b.n.v.p. m.q.m.” As G. F. Hill pointed out, the first part of these initials stand for “bernardvs nasivs virtu te preditvs ” (Bernardo Nasi, gifted with virtue), as revealed by the inscription on the larger medal. What the “m.q.m.” stands for has so far eluded interpretation. The other side of the larger medal (fig. 3) does suggest, however, a means of interpreting the significance of the commission for the Nasi family. It depicts three men seated on stools on a stage. At the center, his legs apart and firmly planted on the ground, is a figure who wears the belted tunic of a Florentine citizen. To either side are seated knights in full armor. Behind them are soldiers’ tents topped with fleur-de-lys, the symbol adopted by both the Commune of Florence and the king of France, and on the left flies a flag with the sign of the cross, the insignia of the Florentine popolo. Around the scene is written “venit . vidit . et . vicit.” (He came, he saw, and he conquered). This phrase puts into the third person the “veni, vidi, vici” that Suetonius tells us was written on one of the wagons of Caesar’s Pontic triumph, celebrating his remarkably swift victory against Pompey.41 Here it presumably refers to Bernardo Nasi. It seems reasonable to assume that it is Bernardo who is depicted as the Florentine citizen at the center of the group of men. His right hand raised, he appears to explain a point to the military man on his right, while the other raises his hand to contribute to the discussion. There are several moments in Bernardo’s ambassadorial and military career that could be linked to this representation. He was one of the commissaries, along with Gino Capponi, in Pisa at the time of the revolt there in November 1494 and over the

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 25

family self-fashioning

Image not available

Figure 2. Anonymous Florentine, Portrait Medal of Bernardo Nasi, formerly Henry Oppenheimer Collection, recto

25

Image not available

Figure 3. Anonymous Florentine, Portrait Medal of Bernardo Nasi, formerly Henry Oppenheimer Collection, verso

next couple of years was the head of military forces in several towns subject to the Florentine republic, which had used the confusion caused by the expulsion of the Medici to rebel.42 On the basis of the insignia in the background it has been suggested that this is a depiction of Bernardo mediating between the French king, Charles VIII, and Piero de’ Medici in 1494.43 It seems unlikely that he actually did this: one would think that a meeting in such august company would be mentioned by the family chroniclers cited by Fra Gabriello, and I have found no trace of this story. It seems to me that this representation goes beyond the recording of the particular and is rich in associations for civic, family, and individual histories. Examining both medals together, it is clear that Bernardo Nasi is depicted as Mercury, messenger of peace, echoing the role of Pope Gregory X who played the part of peaceful arbiter when staying in Bernardo’s brother’s house more than two centuries earlier. An embodiment of the ideals of the Florentine republic, Bernardo not only deserves his place on the (literally represented) diplomatic stage along with his chivalric contemporaries but occupies a central location, winning a victory of words through his virtue and eloquence. Just as he is an example to the city, the city embodied in him—present in the medal in the signs of the commune and popolo—is an example to other powers. Read in the context of the family chronicles mentioned earlier, here we can see how the image of Bernardo was used to locate him both within the history of the city and as a contributor to that history. The allusion to classical portraits here, in the form of representation—the portrait medallion—and in its inscription, is particularly potent. Julius Caesar, the legendary founder of Florence, lives on in his words of

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

26

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 26

changing patrons

victory, his legacy transmuted through new republican values.44 Here the victory lies in the control of a dialogue that can bring about an era of peace created by the efforts of the city’s premier citizens. In family chronicle, Verino’s poem, and the portrait medal, a web of relationships links the individual accomplishments of members of the Nasi family to aspects of an honorable past—to the military feats of glorious ancestors through a fabricated family tree or to the exploits of a great classical leader, Julius Caesar. A series of historical precedents is called on to make sense of and justify the family’s position in contemporary life. Ugolino Verino saw Alessandro Nasi’s success as ambassador to France and placed the origins of the family there, relating the clan to the country of Charlemagne, who brought about Florence’s rebirth after the entrance of the barbarians.45 As I shall relate below, this ideal was also borne out by the Nasi acquiring palaces during the fifteenth century. The family, conscious of their martial present, created a glorious military past for themselves, far more suitable for their position as ambassadors of the state than their more likely roots as successful merchants who had entered Florence from the contado. Nasi family memory was created to make sense of their present position in society, naturalizing their roles as ambassadors to foreign potentates for family and city alike. Creating a Paterfamilias: The Del Pugliese From our contado descended The Pugliese to live within the walls Of Florence: Celebrated merchants In the most prestigious Wool Guild. —Verino, De Illustratione Urbis Florentiae Ugolino Verino’s characterization of the Del Pugliese is both less fanciful and more accurate than his comment on the Nasi. The Del Pugliese family were, indeed, cloth merchants who had become very successful in the international trade in wool and silk during the fifteenth century. The earliest notice we have of the Del Pugliese name dates from the mid-thirteenth century, when a Messer Ridolfo del Pugliese is said to be one of the original founders of the church of Santo Spirito, though whether this man bears any relation to the Del Pugliese studied here is uncertain, as I have been unable to find any other references to this line for the next hundred years.46 By the fifteenth century, there were two branches of the family living in Florence. They were descended from the sons of a Francesco di Pugliese who died in 1375, leaving a tomb in Santa Maria del Carmine complete with his date of death and profession:“mercatoris.”47 Since Florentines generally preferred to be buried in a local church, it is likely

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 27

family self-fashioning

27

that the family lived in the gonfalone of Drago Verde in the quarter of Santo Spirito from at least the mid-fourteenth century onward. The first Del Pugliese to serve on the Tre Maggiori was Francesco’s grandson, Giovanni di Iacopo, who became one of the Dodici Buonuomini in March 1442.48 There was no Del Pugliese in the Signoria until more than twenty years later, when Giovanni’s nephew, Filippo di Francesco di Iacopo, became a prior.49 The Del Pugliese were clearly keen to involve themselves in the public life of their district as their wealth increased over the quattrocento. Nicholas Eckstein has pointed out in his work on the district of Drago Verde that the family’s presence at gonfalone meetings grew exponentially during the course of the century: after only one attendance at these meetings between 1423 and 1434, during 1438–48 the family attended twelve times.50 Moreover, eight members of the family were appointed as Gonfalonieri di Compagnia for Drago between 1454 and 1496.51 Eckstein suggests that this upturn in family fortunes “would have been impossible without Medicean support and approval.”52 As Lorenzo il Magnifico increased his political control over the city as a whole, and over the Oltrarno in particular in the 1480s, this idea cannot be discounted. However, there is little that directly connects the Del Pugliese with the leading Florentine family. Although they appeared in the Medicean balìa of 1466, they were not involved in the later balìe of the fifteenth century, and, so far as I have been able to discern, there were no links of trade or politics between the two families.53 Indeed, the Del Pugliese’s political involvement on a communal level during the Medici-dominated republic is relatively limited. Three seats in the Signoria between 1463 and 1494 are respectable but could hardly have made a great impact on government. Rather, as compared with the Nasi, their rise in fortunes should be examined within the role of local politics, a process compatible with, rather than dependent on, Lorenzo’s aims. The Del Pugliese became important locally, almost certainly, because they grew sufficiently wealthy to be a potential source of local patronage. In 1427 Jacopo and Buonaccorso di Filippo del Pugliese declared a fiscal wealth of 6,032 florins.54 While this may not have matched the vast wealth of some of the heads of grand Drago Verde lineages, such as Francesco di Tommaso Soderini (15,857 florins) or Nannozzo di Giovanni Serragli (22,857 florins), it certainly put the family among the richest ten or so of the district and was not much less than the declaration given by Lutozzo di Jacopo Nasi of 6,629 florins.55 To put this amount of money in perspective, it is worth noting that the Nasi’s manservant earned 60 florins a year in 1469, and their (female) cook just 10.56 Del Pugliese wealth was founded on their work in the textile trade, buying and selling cloth and raw materials for processing. Like the Nasi’s banking interests, it

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

28

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 28

changing patrons

was an international business, which involved contacts with Flanders in particular, although the family seems to have had no permanent presence outside Florence.57 They were not, as Ugolino Verino’s verse may suggest, just interested in wool but also dealt in silk and were members of both the Arte della Lana and the Arte della Seta. This diversity of interests probably helped them survive the decline in the wool industry in Florence that occurred during the fifteenth century. The declarations of wealth of the major branch in the catasti (tax surveys) of 1469 and 1480 (3,947 and 2,271 florins respectively) appear as if the family was becoming increasingly impoverished, but this can largely be explained by the rise in value of the florin by about 75 percent over this period, and an apparent lowering in wealth is noticeable in all declarations over the century.58 The pattern of continuing acquisition of botteghe (workshops), often from the younger branch of the family, would suggest that business was buoyant.59 Things appeared to be going well at any rate: in 1472 Benedetto Dei counted Piero del Pugliese among the richest men in Florence.60 In 1480 the main and cadet branches consisted of one household each. Piero di Francesco lived with his wife, his four children, and the two children of his brother Filippo (who had died in 1467) in his newly built palace on the Via de’ Serragli. His second cousin, Buonaccorso di Filippo, lived with his wife and ten children in rented accommodation on the Via del Fondaccio, actually along the road in the gonfalone of Ferza, though he chose to declare his income in Drago Verde. By 1495 he had moved his household even farther away from his traditional lineage area, renting a house in the parish of San Procolo, across the Arno in the quarter of Santa Croce.61 The difference in habitation choices for the two branches is significant. There was considerable financial disparity between Piero’s household and his poorer relatives. Notably, the cadet branch was also consistently less represented politically than the major side of the family throughout the fifteenth century, despite having a larger number of male sons. A difference in social status between the two branches seems to have been established by the mid-quattrocento. The sources give some indications as to how this disparity in fortunes was manifested. For example, in Filippo di Piero’s will of 1527, he gives the use of his palace to his daughter for life after his widow dies. However, if she did not want to live in the house, she was to rent it to the cadet side of the family for no more than eighteen florins a year, and she was strictly prohibited from renting his property to anyone outside the Del Pugliese lineage. His goods would only actually be ceded to that side of the family on the death of his brother, Niccolò, and all of his male children and their descendants, both legitimate and illegitimate.62 Thus, although it was considered important to keep the palace in the family, the terms of the relationship maintain a distance between the two sides of the lineage. It should be noted that although

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 29

family self-fashioning

29

eighteen florins would have been a very reasonable rent for Filippo’s half of the Del Pugliese palace, it was still far from nominal.63 Similarly, all the Del Pugliese shared one tomb, that of their common ancestor, Francesco, in the Carmine. However, when Piero and his brother, Filippo, attained the patronage rights to a chapel in the church not far from this tomb in 1465, they did so in their name and that of their descendants, rather than in the name of the lineage as a whole. Although a sense of sharing a surname was clearly important, in practical terms it seems that the side of the family that was rising in social status wanted to keep its good fortune to itself. It was not only through attendance at gonfalone meetings that the main branch of the Del Pugliese family sought to integrate itself in the local community. After the systematic buying of land on which to build its palace (for which, see the next chapter), Piero and his brother, Filippo, managed to gain the patronage rights to a chapel in the church of Santa Maria del Carmine. Obtaining a chapel in the Carmine was a declaration of social arrival. This large mendicant church, dominating the district of Drago Verde, was largely funded by the old families of the area such as the Serragli and Soderini, who had chapels around the high altar. The Del Pugliese brothers attained their chapel in this prestigious part of the church in 1465, taking it over from the Guidoni family.64 Neither the dedication—to Saint Jerome—nor the decorations, frescoes by Gherardo Starnina, were altered.65 This, in itself, is significant. As will become abundantly clear throughout this study, Piero del Pugliese had both sufficient wealth for and a great deal of interest in the construction and decoration of chapels. Keeping the trecento decoration and the chapel’s dedication but changing the coat of arms that signified the chapel’s patrons allowed the aura of age to be taken on by the Del Pugliese, suggesting that this family represented “old money.”66 Because the greater wealth of the main branch of the family allowed it to invest more in such display items as chapels, palaces, and their decoration, I concentrate on it in the following study, and in particular two individuals: Piero di Francesco del Pugliese and his nephew, Francesco di Filippo. Piero matriculated in the Arte della Seta in 1438 and the Arte della Lana fifteen years later.67 His first civic office was as a Gonfaloniere di Compagnia in 1458, about the time that he married Pippa di Jacopo Arrighi, and this was a position he was to take up twice again, in 1467 and 1480.68 He was a prior in September 1474 but apart from this seems to have taken more time developing and protecting his business interests, playing an important role in both the silk and wool guilds, as Ugolino Verino’s verse suggests.69 Piero is an intriguing figure. Seemingly unconnected with the fashionable humanistic circles surrounding the Medici and involving other famous Florentines such as Giovanni Rucellai, he was, nevertheless, well educated and interested in the new classical learning that had become the fashion among some of his grander peers.

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 30

30

changing patrons

Figure 4. Antonio Rossellino, attributed, Portrait Bust of Piero del Pugliese, formerly Berlin, Kaiser Fredrichs Museum

Image not available

In the Biblioteca Laurenziana there is a manuscript copy of Virgil’s Aeneid, dating from 1454. The remarkable thing about this text is not that Piero should have owned it (the Aeneid was standard in the education of children, and a copy of it was owned by many Florentine patrician families), but that he copied it himself in a neat humanistic book hand.70 There are other tantalizing references to Piero having manuscripts illustrated at the Florentine Benedictine abbey, the Badia, that suggest he maintained his interest in written texts at least until the 1470s.71 As I discuss below, Filippino Lippi’s Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, which Piero commissioned, would suggest a keen involvement on the part of its patron in the knowledge of the writing of manuscripts. In 1467 Piero was rather suddenly thrust into position as the head of the main branch of the family. His elder brother had died at forty-two, leaving his son, Francesco, in Piero’s care. Moreover, a son was born to Piero the year after this. He was named Filippo, in memory of his recently deceased uncle, a normal practice among the Florentine elite.72 It was also probably around this date that Piero had a portrait bust made of himself (fig. 4). The marble bust, attributed to Antonio Rossellino and dated to the late 1460s, was recently identified as Piero del Pugliese by Francesco Caglioti through connection with another portrait.73

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 31

family self-fashioning

31

The growth of the independent sculpted and painted portrait during quattrocento Florence has traditionally been connected with the Burckhardtian idea of a growth in a sense of individual, as opposed to group, identity at this time. Connected with the other evidence about the main branch of the Del Pugliese family acting quite separately in purchasing chapels and houses from the cadet branch, this seems to support the view that in this period the extended kinship group was becoming increasingly dislocated. However, I would argue that through this representation of himself, Piero was playing a part in the discourse of lineage that was diffused in Florentine society: the role of the paterfamilias. The pressures and expectations of fatherhood in Renaissance Florence have been rehearsed elsewhere. Indeed, the role of the father in leading the family and educating his sons is not only a constant preoccupation of ricordanze and zibaldoni (commonplace books) of this period but often a stated motivation for writing memoirs and maxims in the first place.74 Giovanni Morelli discussed the dangers of growing up without a father as a role model, recounting in his ricordanze his own experiences as an orphan at an early age: “whereas children take teaching and direction and status and every good habit from their father, we remained without a head and without a guide.”75 If, like Trexler, we can see a “pathology” in Morelli’s attitudes because of his own unhappy experiences, it was a particular mental state that could have been shared by many other Florentines, not least Piero del Pugliese, whose own father, Francesco, died when Piero was very young. Through having a portrait bust made at this time, Piero was ensuring that both his natural and adopted sons had an enduring memorial of a father figure and providing them with a permanent exemplar to follow. Dressed in the sober mantle of a Florentine citizen, he wears a stern expression perhaps meant to incorporate the authoritative control that some Florentine prescriptive texts stressed as the duties of a capofamiglia. As Geraldine Johnson has recently pointed out, there is an inherent ambivalence in the portrait bust form. Most of these sculptures do not have inscriptions that inform the viewer of the sitters’ identity, and those that do tend to be invisible from normal viewing angles.76 It is significant that this is just the first of several representations of Piero that occur in a variety of contexts from the 1470s up to his death in 1498. There are many motivations for these portrayals, which I discuss in more detail later, but the idea of his providing an exemplar to his sons and ward should be thought of as an underlying motivational theme throughout. In his appearance as Saint Nicholas on the Lecceto altarpiece (discussed in Chapter 5, figs. 32 and 40), for example, he is playing the role of the name-saint of his recently born younger son and, implicitly, showing him correct modes of behavior by dispensing charity to good causes in his gift of gold

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

32

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 32

changing patrons

to the Madonna. Far from these portraits being artifacts of a newfound individualism, the motivational structures for their creation are bound up with ideas of lineage: in particular, the role of the Florentine father as exemplar for his heirs. Piero seems to have been extremely interested in the visual arts and is recorded as having commissioned and owned many works by the best masters of his day. This interest was passed down to his ward, Francesco di Filippo, who is the other member of the Del Pugliese family who concerns us here. Born in 1460, he was around six or seven years old when his father died, and, as noted, he was placed in the care of his uncle.77 In 1485 he married Alessandra, the daughter of a prominent local lawyer, Domenico Bonsi, and a year later gained his own household, taking over half the Del Pugliese palace on the Via degli Serragli.78 Over the next ten years, he bought various properties both for business, in the city, and for relaxation, in the countryside; I shall discuss his estate at Sommaia in more detail later on. Like his uncle, he was respectably rather than effectively involved in communal politics, being a prior in 1491 and 1498. During the later 1490s and 1500s Francesco was inextricably linked with the Savonarolan cause. His name appears on the petition sent to the pope to overturn the friar’s excommunication in 1497; he was present at San Marco, “breathing like a bull” during the siege of April 1498; and he was fined and disqualified from government in May of that year due to allegations that he had acted in Fra Girolamo’s interests when he was a prior from January to February 1498.79 After Savonarola’s death, he maintained his loyalty to the friar.80 Eventually, his continuing antiMedicean views, too fervently expressed in his description of Lorenzo di Piero di Lorenzo de’ Medici as “the Magnificent Turd,” resulted in his expulsion from Florence for ten years in 1513. Although he was actually allowed to return in December 1515, the expulsion led to the sale of much of his property, and he died, childless, five years later.81 Unfortunately, all the decoration that was undertaken during his ownership of the Del Pugliese palace has been lost, but it possibly originally included a series of panels by Piero di Cosimo and certainly a fresco of Saint George and a crucifix by Fra Bartolommeo.82 Besides his private space for prayer attached to his villa at Sommaia, the only chapel project Francesco was involved in was in the church of Santa Maria a Cestello. Displaying the Del Pugliese arms crossed with that of the Bonsi, his wife’s family, this chapel once again indicates the wish to claim sacred space for a particular family grouping. However, its dedication to Saint Jerome may well be a reference to the chapel at the Carmine, which his father and uncle had founded about thirty years earlier.83 

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 33

family self-fashioning

33

The experience of family and the representational choices made by the Nasi and Del Pugliese were relatively diverse. As one would expect, individuals linked by a common surname could perceive and represent their interrelationship in different ways, depending on the resources available to them. From the declaration of the tombstone of their paterfamilias to the verses of Ugolino Verino, the Del Pugliese’s identity was bound up with their trade, living in a gonfalone whose inhabitants, both rich and poor, were overwhelmingly involved in the production and sale of wool. This district was a relatively new addition to the Florentine cityscape. There were never any clan towers or great castellated palaces there in the fourteenth century, but by financially supporting ecclesiastical and domestic building in their area, the Del Pugliese could be seen to be investing in both future generations of their family (whether through a patrilineage or a broader definition of kinship) and in their neighborhood.84 Piero seems to have been extremely self-conscious of his role as head of the household and, perhaps, as the paterfamilias of a relatively recently founded patrician lineage. Material objects made in the fashionable classical style could be used to justify and maintain the family’s newfound social status even after his death. The Nasi, one of the inner group of Medicean families, sought to construct their identity around a different history, one of martial and noble greatness, which had implications for the past and future of the Florentine commune as a whole. As I will discuss further in the next chapter, there were close links of business and property purchase between the brothers of the main branch and the cadet side of the lineage. What they shared with the Del Pugliese, and many other Renaissance patricians, was the perceived need to manifest and make permanent family identity and status, born from the sense of forming a link in a genealogical chain that stretched behind and before them. I have mentioned here only a few of the building and decorative projects the families paid for, but the very act of spending money on permanent structures and decorative objects, to be handed down through the male line, was always implicitly motivated by the ideology of lineage to a greater or lesser degree. The linkage of the family to the material world is nowhere closer than in the building and purchase of family palaces, the subject of the next chapter.

03.Burke.015-034.FINALqu

4/1/04

9:58 AM

Page 34

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 35

chapter 2

Private Wealth and Public Benefit The Nasi and Del Pugliese Palaces



T

he fifteenth-century Florentine palace has provided a dynamic area of research over the last two or three decades, interest in the physical manifestation of the casa accompanying the renewed consideration of the family as a social unit. There are now several excellent interdisciplinary studies of individual palaces, especially the Corsi-Horne, Rucellai, Strozzi, and Medici houses, as well as analyses of the phenomenon of palace building in Florence as a whole.1 The family house was clearly of the greatest importance to Florentine patricians and, as Richard Goldthwaite has shown, they often spent a great proportion of their wealth in buying, building, and decorating their dwelling places.2 Both the Nasi and Del Pugliese took part in this palace craze, spending large sums of money on purchasing and constructing their homes and decorating them honorably. What motivated them to do so? Before discussing the two families’ houses in particular, I wish to introduce an important theme that runs throughout this study: Florentine attitudes to wealth and spending. Scholars have devoted much attention to Florentine Renaissance notions of wealth and in particular to the “theory of magnificence,” concentrating on the writings of such humanists as Poggio Bracciolini, Leon Battista Alberti, and Matteo Palmieri. In these texts, adapting the writings of Aristotle and Cicero, wealthy people were exhorted to spend their money wisely in praise of God and for the good of the common weal, adopting the mean between shabbiness and vulgarity. Virtuous projects included church and chapel building, palace construction, rich clothing, and lavish festive entertainments.3 These works were typically written by members of the elite and addressed an elite audience, and this connection has led some historians to portray them as putting forward a classically inspired cynical justification for the “conspicuous consumption” of the very richest in society, such as Cosimo de’ Medici and his descendants, Giovanni Rucellai, or Filippo Strozzi.4 To put it simply, these wealthy men’s innate greed and vain wish to display their riches were justified by the work of humanists whose interests it served to collude with their patrons.

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

36

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 36

changing patrons

However, the rhetoric of magnificence in Florence, while perhaps dressed in classical clothes, also owed much to late medieval spirituality, stemming from a set of values that were more diffuse than these classically inspired texts may suggest. The idea that wealth was acceptable if spent wisely was, as Hans Baron noted sixty years ago, a key part of Franciscan ideology.5 The symbiotic relationship between the mendicant movement and the urban mercantile elite has been extensively discussed in reference to the importance of charitable giving, essential for the maintenance of mendicant communities and well-ordered cities.6 Giving to the “poor” was an aspect of the devotional life of this period that was readily understandable throughout urban society, and it was participated in by all but the most destitute, particularly by the confraternal groups that were such an important part of civic devotional and charitable life.7 Marvin Becker calculated that in 1427, one-sixth of the declared wealth of Florentine citizens was given as alms and charitable legacies.8 Charitable giving was beneficial for the recipients, for their daily needs; for the donors, for the good of their souls; and for the city, which would enjoy peace between its inhabitants and the blessings of God, pleased to see such charity. These notions inspired by the urban spirituality of the mendicant movement held sway in Florence during the entire period under investigation. The central idea of “magnificence” was effectively to elide the expenditure of wealth on display objects such as buildings, paintings, clothes, or festivities with a wider concept of charity, claiming that this type of spending was equally pleasing to God and beneficial to the entire population. These claims were by no means universally accepted—I discuss the opposing arguments in my chapter on Savonarola, below—but neither were they restricted to a narrow elite: the morality in the virtuous nature of spending to make Florence visually pleasing was shared by a broad constituency. As Benedetto Dei repeats like a mantra in his Cronica, Florence was beautiful. It was beautiful not only because of the skill of its craftsmen in the visual arts but because these skills were bountifully employed in building and decorating great palaces and churches, in making rich clothes for citizens to wear, and in creating floats and costumes for the lavish festivals that foreigners flocked to Florence to see.9 Wealth created the beauty that impressed foreigners and natives alike. Praise for spending on visual display was given not only by the elite but also by less wealthy members of society. The coppersmith Bartolommeo Masi, for example, describes the beauty and riches of the company led by Giuliano de’ Medici with pride and awe.10 Luca Landucci, an apothecary, mentions favorably how the “estimable Messer Jacopo Manegli” spent five hundred florins on the setting for the relics of Saint Jerome, a setting the whole city could enjoy when the relics were processed annually through the city. He praises God for the gift of twenty thousand florins given to the new Cardinal

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 37

private wealth and public benefit

37

Giovanni de’ Medici by the Florentine Signoria and is pleased to see the “triumph” of the decorations made for the French king at Piero de’ Medici’s house in November 1494, as “everything was done so well, and on such a grand scale.”11 The poorer inhabitants of Florence not only admired the magnificence and beauty paid for by wealthy citizens but also contributed to the ornamentation of the city themselves, through participating in processions, plays, and spectacles staged by guilds and confraternities. One has only to look through the inventory of the Confraternity of Sant’Agnese, which met in the church of Santa Maria del Carmine, to see how rich and expensive materials could be appreciated and utilized by the less well-to-do.12 Similarly, through group participation, poorer men and women could help to pay for chapel and church decoration, street tabernacles, and honorable burial locations. An aspect of this collective desire to make Florence seem both wealthy and beautiful was manifested on the first day of the festival of Saint John the Baptist, Florence’s patron saint, when it was customary for all the shops and botteghe in the city to line the streets with their richest wares. Piero Cennini described the scene in 1475:“they ostentatiously show their things in the more frequented places of the city. For almost all the artisans and those with warehouses who do business in such places put whatever precious things they have outside.”13 This was on the first day of Florence’s prime religious festival and indicates, I think, how beauty, wealth, and piety could be elided in this period. This flaunting of “precious things” was done, after all, to give honor to a saint. The display of beauty was connected with moral goodness. The claim that God was pleased to see wealth spent on the building of churches was a commonplace, one that was often extended to other forms of display, as in Francesco Altoviti’s avowal that “with the sacrifices and vows and solemn diversions and the adornments of his people, a delighted God becomes a placable friend and the benefactor of great cities.”14 If you were wealthy, therefore, it was surely better to spend as much of your money as was feasible on grandiose projects for the good of religion and the city, rather than avariciously hoarding it away. Altoviti goes on to explain that a key opponent of this point of view, Savonarola, was wrong, as through making Florence beautiful, it becomes like an earthly paradise:“when one goes to paradise, they say that one finds there flowers, little birds, and joy, and pearls and clothes of imperial purple (porpora) and silk of every color, and that there would be playing, dances and songs.” He complains that Savonarola “wants to reduce [Florence] to primitive poverty, and he doesn’t want us down here on earth to dance or play music or sing chastely with modesty like the angels of heaven.”15 Opponents to spending on beautiful things, therefore, could even be polemically cast as unholy. The arts that benefited from this spending were, in themselves, a source of pride to Florentines, who felt that in their skilled painters, sculptors, masons, and other artisans,

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

38

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 38

changing patrons

they had a civic resource outshining that of other Italian and foreign states. Ugolino Verino in his De Illustratione Urbis Florentiae stresses how important the contribution of these craftsmen was to the history of the city; the first part of his poem culminates in a celebration of its most worthy citizens, including painters, sculptors, and architects. Similarly, Benedetto Dei claimed that one of the reasons that Florence could be called a “perfect city” was that “all the arts [are] complete and in perfection,” and he went on to compile lists of the goldsmiths, jewelers, painters, sculptors, and “masters of perspective” who had done so much to make the city beautiful.16 That a private citizen could be crucial in encouraging the development of the visual arts was suggested in Vespasiano da Bisticci’s biographical account of Cosimo de’ Medici, written in the 1480s, where it is claimed that the pater patriae showed favor to Donatello although “in his time sculptors found scanty employment.”17 This concept, central to the development of the notion of “art patronage,” was later perpetuated by the hagiographers of the Laurentian golden age in Florence in the 1500s and beyond.18 Once the spending of wealth on visible objects had become such a widely understood aspect of civic virtue, there was an obligation for the wealthy patriciate to spend money not only on explicitly charitable acts such as almsgiving or church building but also on the beautification of the city—directly through the building and ornamentation of private palaces and the wearing of rich garments, as well as indirectly through providing employment and encouragement for the masters of the arts who had attracted praise from other states. Certain patterns of behavior were codified as correct, and any diversion from this could lead to dishonor and shame. In the words of Matteo Palmieri, “in every way [the wealthy citizen] should conform to the approved customs of others, according with the ways of his equals so that together they live liberally in their own city.”19 In Florence, the “approved custom” was to make the city beautiful. An individual’s palace was held to embody his personality. Dei describes the quarter of Santo Spirito as if its inhabitants were topographical monuments: “a street from Mariotto Lippi, to the piazza of Santo Spirito . . . a street of Antonio Fantoni to Matio Clari to the Convertite in Guascania . . . a street from the bridge of Santa Trinita to Nanni Bello to the Paghini to the Ghucciardini” and so on.20 Palmieri, exhibiting his reading of Cicero, claims that those who have built “magnificent houses”“merit blame if firstly they have not added to or increased their virtue,” precisely because these buildings could be held to be a cipher for civic good.21 Indeed, the spending of money affected the identity of these individuals, who could earn the epithet “magnifico” in recognition of their efforts to beautify their surroundings.22 To see this praise for spending as a celebration of a new individualism is now generally, and quite rightly, perceived to be a misinterpretation. The studies on families

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 39

private wealth and public benefit

39

completed over the last three decades have revealed just how significant—and almost sacred—a great family palace could be for an entire lineage.23 Moreover, the ramifications of these buildings went beyond the family. Controlled by Florentine statute, new buildings had to be in conformity with immediate neighbors, and city authorities stipulated certain regulations regarding the size of new structures. The buildings on Via Maggio, one of the main thoroughfares into the center of the city from the Porta San Piero Gattolini, were singled out as having to be “large and beautiful.”24 As the palace builders were also held responsible for paving the area of street directly in front of their buildings, they benefited all those who walked past them.25 Large projects could constitute, as Caroline Elam has pointed out, programs of urban renewal.26 The “consumers” of buildings formed a greater constituency than those who paid for and lived in them, as they acted as a source of pride and civic identity for the wider population, let alone the financial benefits they provided for those employed in their construction.27 This is not to claim that there were no contrary currents in Florence regarding the building of palaces. Savonarola, for example, was later to claim that these edifices were built “with the blood of the poor.” The rhetoric of “magnificence” was more than merely empty justification; it provided a motivating framework for palace builders that took the well-being of society as a whole into account. Whether it worked in practice or not is another question. Of course, there were many self-interested reasons that prompted the wealthy Florentine to build palaces. Giovanni Rucellai famously claimed that “there are two principal things that men do in this life: the first is to procreate; the second is to build.”28 His juxtaposition of building with continuing a lineage is significant. Not only did building a palace carve out a piece of the city for a family, it also acted as insurance for the family’s continued prominence in the future. Palaces were a vital part of the patrimony to be passed from father to son through generations. It was common for palace builders to protect their investment in building from alienation outside the family in their wills.29 In this light, we should perhaps see the apparent anomaly of the Florentine patriciate spending money on palaces that were much larger than they needed and stretching their financial means to the limit as being an investment in the future, going beyond the demands of economic rationalism as we understand it today.30 Investment in building secured a family’s status through occupying time as well as space. It is against this background that we should consider the building and buying projects of the two families under consideration. The Nasi Palaces The earliest verifiable date we have for the Nasi confirms that the family lived in the parish of Santa Lucia de’ Magnoli in the gonfalone of Scala, Santo Spirito from the

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

40

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 40

changing patrons

Figure 5. Former palace of Piero di Lutozzo Nasi, Via San Niccolò, Florence

Image not available

end of the thirteenth century.31 Typically, they showed a remarkable degree of tenacity to their area, living there until the family died out in 1667.32 In the first catasto of 1427, we see that the two Nasi households who submitted declarations owned three houses on the Via de’ Bardi. One of them was the home of Lutozzo di Jacopo; one belonged to his brother, Giovanni; and their uncle, Francesco, lived in the small central house belonging to Lutozzo di Jacopo.33 By 1469 the only member of the family still living on the Via de’ Bardi was Monna Checcha (Francesca di Jacopo Cattani), the last wife of Lutozzo, who had been given his house for life on the condition that she remain a widow.34 Lutozzo’s eldest son, Piero, was given a house on the Via San Niccolò, just along the road from the Via de’ Bardi, which had been purchased by his father in 1446.35

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 41

private wealth and public benefit

Image not available

Image not available

41

Figure 6. Upper stories of facade of former palace of Piero di Lutozzo Nasi, Via San Niccolò, Florence

Figure 7. Detail of sgraffito decoration on the facade of former palace of Piero di Lutozzo Nasi, Via San Niccolò, Florence

This was a year after Piero’s marriage to Margherita di Bartolommeo Corsi, and Lutozzo presumably gave his son the house to allow him to establish a home for his new family. After the Nasi died out, it was sold to the Quaratesi, and is now Via San Niccolò, 107 (fig. 5).36 Lorenzo, who shared the same financial household as Piero in his catasto declaration, actually rented accommodation during this period and was eventually to move back to his father’s house after the death of Monna Checca in 1476.37 No trace of this house was left after it was destroyed in a landslide in 1547.38 Piero’s house, of quite modest proportions compared with his brothers’ palaces, is best known in the art historical literature for the decoration of its facade. Although much restored, indications of the quattrocento sgraffito decorations remain (fig. 6). Above a ground floor of painted brickwork, the two upper-story windows are inter-

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

42

Page 42

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 8. Detail of sgraffito decoration in the courtyard of the Medici-Riccardi Palace, Florence

Image not available

Figure 9. Detail of sgraffito decoration on the facade of the palace of the Arte della Seta, Florence

spersed with fictive fluted pilasters. The top of each window is flanked by pairs of putti holding a circular wreath that surrounds a wheel-like motif, possibly a reference to the wheel on the Nasi insignia. At either end the putti hold a coat of arms, which was probably changed to that of the Quaratesi family on the sale of the property in the early sixteenth century. On top of the pilasters rests a shell ornament frieze, and the pilasters in turn stand on a stringcourse under which is another frieze of putti alternately holding and riding foliage festoons (fig. 7). Gunther and Christel Thiem dated this decoration to the 1460s, an addition by Piero to the house he had been given by his father.39 This design is reminiscent of the courtyard of the house of Piero’s powerful friends, the Medici. There, too, sgraffito brickwork is topped by a frieze of swags of foliage (fig. 8), though the playful putti are replaced by sculptural reliefs. The Nasi palace facade is also reminiscent of the facade of the silk guild palace, which was probably executed just a little earlier. This is particularly true of the frieze underneath the first-story stringcourse, which, again, is decorated with putti and festoons (fig. 9). That Piero should have chosen to decorate his house in a style that had such august precursors is significant. Without incurring the expense and inconvenience of building anew, he managed to transform his rather plain palace into an elegant edifice that displayed its owner’s fashionable classicizing taste. Moreover, it may have been intended to evoke in the minds of its viewers an association with two Florentine repositories of financial and political power. By the time Piero was having the facade of his palace decorated, the rest of the family had moved from the Via de’ Bardi around the corner to the Piazza de’ Mozzi. From 1460 Francesco di Lutozzo lived in the oldest, and the most prominent, house on the piazza. Facing the Ponte Rubaconte, the palace originally belonged to the Mozzi lineage and, as I noted in the previous chapter, had played a significant part in Florentine diplomatic history. Francesco bought the property in two parts, the first

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 43

private wealth and public benefit

43

Image not available

Figure 10. Former palace of Francesco di Lutozzo Nasi, now called Palazzo Mozzi, Piazza de’ Mozzi, Florence

from Lorenzo di Niccolò Gualterotti in 1460, and the second from Monna Cassandra, the widow of Ridolfo di Tommaso Bardi, three years later. In total it cost him 1,400 florins, though this debt was offset by the annual rent of 330 florins he took from the heirs of Ridolfo Bardi, who continued to live in their half of the palace after the sale.40 It was eventually to go back into the hands of the Mozzi in 1551. It has been much restored over the succeeding years and is now Piazza de’ Mozzi, 2 (fig. 10).41

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

44

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 44

changing patrons

Judging by the catasto records, Francesco also helped his younger brothers, Bernardo, Bartolommeo, and Filippo, set up a household, paying 500 florins toward the purchase of their palace on the northern side of the Piazza de’ Mozzi in 1469.42 In doing this, they were taking advantage of the financial difficulties of the Banchi family, whose property was in the hands of auditors and being sold off to repay creditors.43 Bernardo had just married and the purchase was probably connected with this event.44 The rebuilding program started by Bernardo’s son, Roberto, employing Baccio d’Agnolo as architect, greatly enlarged the palace.45 Giovanni Cambi’s inclusion of the building project as one of the notable events in 1516 indicates the stir it caused in Florence, as the house was extended 20 braccia (about 12 meters) up to the banks of the river, knocking down a small dwelling and altering the Ponte Rubaconte in the process. This “beautiful adornment to the piazza and the bridge” was, according to Cambi, a result of the success of the Nasi business.46 The collapse of the Lyons branch of this business may have led to the sale of the palace, as yet incomplete, to the Del Nero family in 1552. It eventually came into the hands of the Torrigiani and is now Piazza de’ Mozzi, 5 (fig. 11).47 If Roberto di Bernardo Nasi was publicizing the family’s wealth by starting the construction of a grand new palace, his uncle Francesco was making just as large a statement by buying a very old building. This was a period when Florentine citizens were building palaces that deliberately looked old-fashioned, to suggest the antiquity of their lineage: the connotations of the purchase of the Palazzo Mozzi are clear.48 The family had bought itself a part of history and suggested noble origins for its clan that justified its appointment as ambassadors for the republic. It was an act of identity creation—and fabrication—colluded in by the entire Nasi clan. It was not only the sons of Lutozzo Nasi who were moving on to the Piazza de’ Mozzi. Lutozzo’s brother, Giovanni, had three sons who also purchased palaces on the piazza between 1427 and 1468. Battista di Giovanni lived next door to Bernardo and his brothers, and Agostino and Jacopo di Giovanni next door to Francesco.49 This wholesale relocation on the part of both branches of the Nasi has to be considered as self-conscious family strategy. By transferring to the Piazza de’ Mozzi, the loyalties to the parish of Santa Lucia de’ Magnoli were retained, yet the family literally achieved a higher degree of visibility, as their houses could be easily seen by their fellow citizens across the river in Santa Croce (fig. 12).50 Moreover, even in the relatively peaceful fifteenth century, it was still perceived that the domination of piazzas forming the termination of bridges could have a tactical function: the revised city statutes of 1415 reasserted the city’s ownership of these sensitive spaces so that they ensured free access across the river.51 This was particularly true in Santo Spirito, the quarter always perceived as the most ready to rebel.52 No wonder, then, that the other

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 45

private wealth and public benefit

45

Image not available

Figure 11. Site of former palace of Bernardo, Bartolommeo, and Filippo di Lutozzo Nasi, now Palazzo Torrigiani, Piazza de’ Mozzi, Florence

piazzas at the mouth of bridges on the Santo Spirito side of the Arno were dominated by old and rich lineages such as the Soderini and the Frescobaldi. By moving to this piazza the Nasi were making a statement about the family’s place within the commune. By the end of the 1460s, Nasi households undoubtedly dominated this part of civic space.

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

46

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 46

changing patrons

Figure 12. View of Piazza de’ Mozzi from the north bank of the Arno

Image not available

The Del Pugliese Palace The Del Pugliese palace suggests quite a different attitude to lineage identity. In the first catasto of 1427, both branches of the family lived together in a house on the Via della Cuculia (now Via de’ Serragli), backing on to the Via d’Ardiglione. Although the younger branch, all minors at this time, owned a house on the prized Canto della Cuculia, this seems to have been a rather small property, which they rented to a Matteo di Bartolommeo for the paltry sum of one florin a year, compared with the twenty-two florins they paid for their own domicile.53 In 1428, the year after these declarations, the main branch of the family, headed by Francesco and Giovanni di Jacopo, bought a house more suitable to their requirements from the auditors of Nicola Serragli, just along the road at the far side of the Borgo della Stella.54 In 1450 two more houses were purchased to extend Del Pugliese property toward the Borgo. Soon after that, the building work on the new palace was under way, Giovanni del Pugliese employing Maso di Bartolommeo to make the well and stairway for the courtyard in 1452.55 As has been recorded in many other incidents of palace building at this time, construction of the main palace must have continued over several years, with property in the surrounding area being bought up as the work continued. It was only in 1475 that

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 47

private wealth and public benefit

47

Image not available

Figure 13. Former palace of Piero and Francesco del Pugliese, Via de’ Serragli, Florence

the last piece of property was bought from a man simply named Bartolommeo rimendatore (sewer of wool cloth), whose house had previously been jammed right in the middle of the Del Pugliese property.56 It is still possible to see the effects of this jumbled pattern of acquisition through the appearance of the side facade on the Borgo della Stella. By 1480 the main house and garden were completed, and Piero was turning a neighboring tavern that he had bought into stables with a woodshed and cellar.57 The Del Pugliese palace still stands today, now Via de’ Serragli, 8 (fig. 13). Extensively refashioned internally during the eighteenth century, the original facade

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

48

Page 48

changing patrons

Figure 14. Detail of Del Pugliese arms on facade of former palace

Image not available

is at least partially intact, and the Del Pugliese arms can still be seen at either side of the building (fig. 14), marking out an area of the street that was known as the Via del Pugliese for a period at the beginning of the sixteenth century.58 Although the family seemed to have lived in Drago Verde for several generations by this point, this was the first palace they owned in the district. The correlation between social and physical expansion is surely more than a convenient metaphor: by building, the Del Pugliese were not only reflecting their rise in status but ensuring its continuity by literally staking a place for themselves in the neighborhood, which could be handed down through the generations of the family. Building a palace adorned with their coat of arms in a location that physically aligned them with the more wealthy families of the district was an investment in future memory—an inheritable and physical act of self-location. Moreover, the Via della Cuculia offered their new status ample exposure. A route for traffic from the Porta San Pier Gattolini to the Ponte alla Carraia, this street, like the Via Maggio, was one of the most traveled by those passing from the gate to the center of the city. On the corner of the palace at the intersection of the Via della Cuculia and the Borgo della Stella, there was once a tabernacle with a Virgin and Child with Saints Catherine and Barbara, which Vasari claims was painted by Raffaellino del Garbo.59 Perhaps paid for by Francesco di Filippo del Pugliese, who was living in the palace at the height of Raffaellino’s career, this painting highlights the complex nature of the public benefits that private building and decoration could be thought to bring. The choice of saints links it to the community of German and Flemish woolworkers living in the western part of Drago Verde. Santa Barbara was a German saint adopted by a confraternity of mainly northern European weavers from the parish of San Barnaba near San Lorenzo, whereas the equivalent company south of the river was dedicated to Saint Catherine and met in the church of the Carmine from 1435.60 The

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 49

private wealth and public benefit

49

symbols of these two groups were again put together on a glazed terracotta tabernacle that can still be seen on the Via Nazionale, executed by Giovanni della Robbia in 1522.61 Given the proximity of the palace to the church of the Carmine and the Del Pugliese’s position as an employer of many woolworkers, the evidence for the connection of this image to these groups is compelling. Through the tabernacle, therefore, the Del Pugliese palace was linked with the men employed by the family, the holy site a permanently visible act of patronal largesse. The relationship between patron and worker was given sacred connotations; the patrician employer could be seen to be caring for his charges’ spiritual as well as physical sustenance. Moreover, the Borgo della Stella, leading from the Via della Cuculia to the Carmine, was one of the poorest streets of the district, being home mainly to poverty-stricken unskilled workers and laborers.62 With a tabernacle on this corner, the poor of the district were provided with a permanently available sacred painting of a quality that they would not have been able to afford themselves. Through this image Francesco was also making the family home sacred and hoping, perhaps, that those men and women who prayed to the Madonna and saints would remember him and his house (in all senses of this word) in their prayers.63 Finally, it may be that this image provided illumination at nighttime: the torches burning around tabernacles supplied the few points of light permanently available in a dark city.64 The addition of this tabernacle to the exterior of a family home drew attention to the piety and civicmindedness of its builder, an explicit reminder that the wealthy family that lived inside the property spent their riches for the good of the surrounding community. the nasi inventories The contents of palaces, like the buildings themselves, constituted an important asset to be handed from generation to generation. As with the construction and purchase of palaces, their furnishing (masserizia) could be conceived as a test of virtuous spending. Giovanni Rucellai urged his sons to be “massaio” in their use of wealth in the home: to take the balance between prodigality and avarice, to esteem honor more than they esteemed wealth.65 Household management was clearly a virtue to be praised in young men, as the goods they purchased added to the patrimony that was to become part of the identity of the lineage as a whole; Luke Syson and Dora Thornton’s recent book has served to remind us that domestic objects were often used in an attempt to inculcate desirable social behavior, displaying examples of conduct for the members of the household to follow.66 In the remainder of this chapter I examine three inventories that reveal how both the type and placement of goods owned by the Nasi sought to bolster the family’s social position, as well as providing insights into the texture of their everyday life.

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

50

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 50

changing patrons

As was normally the case, all three of the Nasi inventories were drawn up as the result of the death of a man who had left children too young to take care of their own finances. The earliest document, of August 1488, lists the belongings of the heirs of Bartolommeo di Lutozzo Nasi; the second, those of his eldest brother, Piero di Lutozzo; and the third, of their nephew Alessandro di Francesco di Lutozzo.67 Bartolommeo Nasi died in December 1487. In his will of October of that year he had given the custody of his six children, and one yet to be born, to his two brothers and his second wife, Lisabetta di Ristoro Serristori.68 Soon after his death and the birth of their youngest daughter, however, Lisabetta renounced the guardianship of her children and stepchildren, presumably because she was young enough to remarry.69 A new guardian had to be found to protect the heirs’ interests, and the children were placed in the care of Lactantio di Papi de’ Tedaldi.70 As Bartolommeo had requested in his testament, money for the girls’ dowries was put in the Monte delle Doti (the communal dowry fund), and an inventory of goods was taken for his universal heirs—his sons Lionardo, Raffaello, Lorenzo, and Alamanno. The second Nasi inventory is a shorter document. The goods it describes belonged to Bartolommeo’s half brother, Piero, who died in November 1491 while acting as the Florentine ambassador in Naples.71 His will of that year names as his universal heirs his two sons, Dionigi and Lutozzo, and his grandson, Antonio di Lionardo, whose father had died some years before. As Antonio was still a ward, Piero’s wife, Margherita di Bartolommeo Corsi (Monna Tita), was named his guardian, and they lived in Piero’s house together until her death in 1496.72 The third inventory records the belongings of the heirs of Alessandro Nasi, his two sons, Francesco and Giovanni.73 Like the other members of the Nasi family, he too named his wife as his children’s guardian in his will of 1511. Typically, he laid down certain conditions about his wife’s conduct: she could stay in the family palace and use their room and its furnishings as long as she stayed a widow and took care of their four remaining children with the advice of three relatives: Filippo di Lutozzo, Roberto di Bernardo Nasi, and Marco di Simone del Nero.74 She agreed to this, and four months after her husband’s death appointed another guardian to help her bring up her children, Leonardo di Leonardo da Filicaia.75 These inventories have a number of properties in common: first, the key role that the women of the household played in the taking of the inventory. In the latter two cases, the inventories were taken at the behest of the mother and grandmother of the heirs, who were present during the process. It is logical to surmise that these women’s attendance was essential for the inventory taker, a notary who would not necessarily have been familiar with the household. They could help by naming goods and explaining to whom they belonged. Indeed, the constant appraisal of items as “used,”

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 51

private wealth and public benefit

51

Image not available

Figure 15. Workshop of Domenico Ghirlandaio, Taking of an Inventory, Oratory of San Martino dei Buonuomini, Florence

“worn” (triste), or new is reminiscent of Matteo Palmieri’s injunction to wives to be aware of all the objects in the house made for the family’s needs, to suggest what was lacking and what needed replacing.76 In this way, these documents concerned with the annotation of objects owned by men for their transmission through the male line reflect the central importance of women in running the home and, perhaps, in the way the individual items that made up the patrimony were described. Notably, in the only fifteenth-century representation we have of an inventory being taken, the woman of the household is literally central to the painted narrative (fig. 15).77 Because of the understandable interest in identifying works of art, many of the partial inventories that have been published to date perhaps give a rather skewed picture of the nature of these documents.78 They are generally not confined to recording the movable belongings in the family palace but also include the buildings in the contado and the goods in them, as well as the land belonging to the heirs. The Nasi inventories are not atypical in that, with the exception of jewelry, they do not give valuations of the objects listed.79 What seems to be at stake is the inheritance in its entirety. Even the belongings that are explicitly stated to be of “little value” or “second rate” are parts of the totality of the deceased man’s legacy to his heirs. In

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

52

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 52

changing patrons

Bartolommeo’s case, his life was explicitly remade in the renaming of his youngest son after his father a short time after the inventory was taken.80 Because of the urge to catalogue each object, making an inventory was a major task. It involved the presence of three to four people, and could take several days: it took four sessions over a period of almost two weeks to list Alessandro Nasi’s goods.81 In his valuable dissertation, “The Domestic Setting of the Arts in Renaissance Florence,” Kent Lydecker found the inventories he studied were rationally organized and followed a regular pattern.82 This is not the case with the Nasi inventories. In fact, in the documents I have consulted in the archive of the Magistrati dei Pupilli, it seems that there is little consistency of form. Religious paintings, for example, are only occasionally mentioned as the first objects in a room, as they are in Lydecker’s examples. Sometimes clothing is listed by the chest in which it is kept and sometimes not. Indeed, occasionally, names of items are noted with no reference to their location, the rooms where they were found not being mentioned.83 This lack of consistency in the ways in which inventories were taken, and the discrepancy in the description of objects contained in them, means that the evidence from these documents is not easily reduced to quantifiable units and has to be treated with care. There are, however, certain patterns of inventory taking. Beni immobili (the land and buildings owned by the family), for example, always seem to be catalogued separately from movable goods. This list can be located at the beginning or end of the same inventory or in another place entirely.84 Taking its pattern from the catasto, the beni immobili list invariably starts with property owned in the city before itemizing country possessions. The form of the 1488 document is particularly interesting because it shows how the family perceived the inheritance that was to be passed to Bartolommeo’s heirs. Starting with beni immobili, primarily tying the inheritance and its heirs to the family’s locality in Florence and the contado, it then notes the account books owned by Bartolommeo and the Nasi company, which are concerned with transactions made in Florence, Lyons, and England. The contents of the palace in Florence are then listed room by room. This is followed by the contents of the villas in the contado. On the final page, there is a section for books owned by the Nasi, not connected with any particular building, followed by the family’s revenue from farming and its monte comune credits, the money the brothers had lent at interest to the Florentine commune. The objects representing commercial and intellectual life are, therefore, separated from the house’s contents as a whole: they are seen as distinct from other material belongings, requiring a different categorization on the part of the guardian and heirs. The other two inventories both start by listing the contents of the main family house. The 1492 document ends with beni immobili, whereas the 1511 inventory goes on to annotate the items in the family villa. The fact that neither

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 53

private wealth and public benefit

53

of the later inventories lists any commercial interests is probably because both Alessandro and Piero also had adult sons, who presumably had already taken over much of the running of the family business. The largest sections of the inventories—the detailing of the contents of the family palaces—are the major concern here. As stated above, these houses were all in the parish of Santa Lucia de’ Magnoli, in the gonfalone of Scala, Santo Spirito. The 1488 inventory enumerates the belongings in the palace on the west side of Piazza de’ Mozzi, overlooking the Arno, whereas that of 1492 was concerned with the house on the Via San Niccolò (fig. 5), and the 1511 document lists the contents of the Palazzo Mozzi (fig. 10). Reconstructing the interior of these palaces from the rooms named in the inventories would be a hazardous procedure, as the route taken around the house by the inventory makers is uncertain in each case. Nevertheless, the information given does furnish us with an idea of the disposition of space in the interior of the buildings.85 Bartolommeo Nasi and his brothers lived in a house with at least thirteen rooms, Piero’s had sixteen, and Alessandro’s inventory lists eleven. In the palace on the Arno, the rooms seem to be distributed in two main blocks. On the first floor, at one side of the sala (central hall) were the kitchen, servants’ chambers, the children’s room, which overlooked the balcony, and the place where Costanza, the widowed sister of the Nasi brothers, slept. At the other side of the hall were the suites of rooms belonging to the brothers and their wives. Although three chambers with their antechambers are mentioned, the eldest brother, Bernardo, is not listed at all, though his room in the Nasi villa at the country property at Villamagna is inventoried.86 Richard Goldthwaite depicts the “renaissance palace” as an empty place, far too large for the family’s needs and at best semifurnished.87 Whereas this may have been true of vast edifices such as Palazzo Strozzi, fraternal households also could become very large indeed. By 1488 the Nasi brothers between them had seventeen children.88 This meant that when all the family members and their servants were at the house in Florence, it would have contained at least thirty-one individuals, not counting any possible guests. As well as the main family, all three houses were the dwelling places for several domestic servants. In Bernardo, Bartolommeo, and Filippo’s catasto declaration of 1480, seven servants were mentioned: three wet nurses—who may have lived in the Nasi palace or in their own homes—a female slave, a maid (fante), and a manservant (famiglio) for Bernardo.89 It seems likely that during the next eight years this situation would have changed: female servants, at least, tended to have relatively short tenures of employment, and the number of wet nurses employed presumably varied according to the number of breastfeeding children.90 There are no domestic servants men-

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

54

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 54

changing patrons

tioned in Piero or Francesco di Lutozzo’s catasto entry, but this is probably owing to the varying status that servants held, sometimes not being declared as members of the household.91 Very little work has been done on domestic service in Florence in this period, and it is difficult to determine exactly the different roles of the servants.92 However, the inventories do give an idea of their comparative status. Only two kinds of servants were given a dedicated room, the serva and the famiglio—an indication that they were of a higher status than the rest of the domestic staff. This is confirmed by the salaries of the famiglio and the maid, the fante, in 1480. He received sixty florins a year as opposed to her ten.93 The famigli in Bartolommeo’s house enjoyed a relatively wellfurnished room. The chamber contained a bed with its covering and a chest, all described as in decent condition. The chamber for Piero’s famiglio, however, had no bed, just bed linen.94 Judging by the inclusion of her “dosso grande,” it seems that the fante, the maid, was expected to sleep in this room, and this perhaps casts doubt as to whether there was a famiglio living in the house at all at that time. The fact that Bernardo’s famiglio, Barvino, worked for a specified member of the family in 1480 suggests that these male servants worked as valets or personal assistants; given that there were no adult males in the house, the service of a famiglio may not have been required. The other dedicated servant’s room was for the serva’s use. In all three palaces, this servant slept in the room next to the kitchen, always with a bed of her own, though the serva in Bartolommeo’s house was slightly worse off than the famigli, with a similarly furnished room except with old furniture in poor condition (trista).95 The serva had no escape from her job, which was to prepare food for the family. In all of the houses, either her antecamera or her bedroom itself contained such items as a “lettuccio dappane” (a kneading trough for dough) and a jar to hold flour. Still, despite the discrepancies in the quality of furniture in her room and that of the famigli, her role as a cook was sufficiently prized for her to have a bedroom of her own. The other servants presumably had to make do with sleeping wherever they could find a place. Given that almost every room had a bed in it, this option may not have been as harsh as it sounds.96 Alessandro Nasi’s house and villa also contained chambers for the maestro, the teacher of his children. The high status of this member of the household is attested to by the large size of the room in the house, a “chamera grande,” and its position in the villa, next to the loggia, where Alessandro and his wife also slept.97 Moreover, these rooms seem to have been richly furnished, with a gilded tabernacle of the Virgin, two walnut beds, and several intarsiaed chests. Interestingly, apart from the sala, it is the only room in the house that contained a table with benches. Perhaps this was a place where lessons could be taught.98

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 55

private wealth and public benefit

55

Significantly, the maestro in Alessandro’s home fared better than one of the members of Bartolommeo’s family. The widow Costanza’s room was between that of the famigli and the kitchen. This location is enlightening about Florentine attitudes to widows who were too old to remarry. Costanza, who was about fifty-three years old at the time of the inventory, had outlived no fewer than three husbands before returning to her brothers’ house sometime between 1480 and 1488, probably having no children in her last marriage to Andrea di Matteo Albizzi.99 Klapisch-Zuber has discussed the problems of widowhood in Renaissance Florence, suggesting that these women represented a threat to the reputation of the casa if not taken under male protection.100 Placing Costanza in the less-honored part of the house perhaps reflects her lowly role in the family. It is a relationship with the rest of the household that is replicated in the country property at Villamagna. Here she was placed on the first floor, where the famiglio slept, whereas Filippo and Bernardo had rooms on the cooler ground floor. Although her room in the palace was fairly well furnished, with a bed and a lettuccio (generally translated as “daybed”), an intarsiaed chest, and six forzieri (great chests), the latter were “in bad condition, and old of little value.”101 Perhaps each pair of chests corresponds with one of her three marriages. In the account books of the cassoni painter Apollonio di Giovanni, there are records of payments for a forziere painted in honor of her first marriage to Matteo di Sandro Biliotti in 1453.102 Although the remarriage of widows met with some ambivalence in fifteenthcentury Florence, at least the married woman had easily ordained social roles laid out for her.103 Unlike her mother, Monna Checca, or her sister-in-law, Monna Tita, however, Costanza was not the head of her own household with responsibilities toward her children. Neither was she fulfilling the role of producing babies, like Bernardo’s or Bartolommeo’s wives, who spent the 1480s more or less constantly pregnant. Judging by the location of her room, she was hardly considered to be a full adult member of the family at all and may, perhaps, have been expected to help with the running of the household and the care of the children. The room where the children slept was on the first floor in this house.104 The “camera dove dormono i fanciulli” had a balcony and contained a greater range of furniture than in any of the servants’ rooms. There were a lettiera and a lettuccio with one forziere, a cassone, and two smaller chests. There was also a greater range of decorative objects in this chamber: a number of tapestries, some of which were used to cover the entrances to the chamber, like the one that can be seen in Ghirlandaio’s painting of the birth of the Baptist in Santa Maria Novella (fig. 16), and two pairs of spalliere. Normally translated as “wall panels” or “wainscoting,” it is unlikely in this case that these items were made from wood; given their presence among tapestries and other cloth household items, it seems more probable that they were made from some kind

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

56

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 56

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 16. Domenico Ghirlandaio, Birth of Saint John the Baptist, Tornabuoni Chapel, Santa Maria Novella, Florence

of fabric, one pair decorated with arms and the other with figures.105 Although the children enjoyed a greater range of decorative furniture than the servants, this was often described as being old and in bad condition: the best items of the house were, as we shall see, reserved for the rooms of the brothers and their wives, and the sala. It may well be, given the number of children and servants in the household, that other rooms whose function was not specified in the inventory were also given over to their use. Every chamber, with the exception of the two sale and the kitchen, contained one or two beds. In the earliest inventory, the contents of Bartolommeo’s main chamber are listed in the most detail, presumably because the inventory was for the benefit of his heirs. The largest piece of furniture was the bed with a bedstead of five and a half braccia (about three meters), with a gilded and painted frame and two intarsiaed chests attached. There was also a smaller lettuccio, of four and a half braccia, also intarsiaed and gilded. These beds were covered with two lengths of cloth (sargia) painted with animals and figures. On the wall was a painting of the Virgin,“of inferior quality.”The room also contained freestanding chests of various sizes, some with coats of arms,

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 57

private wealth and public benefit

57

and all lavishly decorated with painting and intarsia. Presumably these chests stored the extensive collection of household linen, as well as the large collection of men’s and women’s clothing.106 Piero’s widow, Monna Tita, also lived in some luxury, again with two rooms for her use.107 The principal chamber contained a bed of intarsiaed walnut and no fewer than eight chests, including a pair of painted forzieri, whose contents are carefully and systematically noted. Like Bartolommeo’s, her room contained an effigy of the Virgin, and in this case, we have evidence of its use for domestic devotional ritual. In a first-floor room, along with horse blankets and plates, there was kept “a candlestick of iron, tin-plated and painted, to place in front of the Virgin Mary.”108 Alessandro also had a series of rooms devoted to his use, one on the ground floor of the house and one upstairs next to the great hall, with an antechamber attached. These had an impressive array of furniture, both main rooms containing three beds each with a total of ten freestanding chests. The downstairs room contained his clothes and a large mirror with a gilded and carved frame.109 The main difference between his possessions and his uncles’, however, is the number and variety of religious images. The other two households possessed a total of five religious effigies, all paintings and/or sculptures of the Virgin. Alessandro, by contrast, had three religious paintings in his ground-floor chamber alone: a tondo of the Virgin, a crucifix in a tabernacle, and a Flemish painting of the Virgin.110 There were three other images of the Virgin around the house, as well as a painting of Saint Catherine, a Nativity, a Flemish Crucifixion, and a Flemish tapestry of Christ on the wall of the great staircase.111 Alessandro was a follower of Savonarola, and it may be that his religious beliefs influenced his taste in devotional objects: I will discuss the way that Savonarola may have affected the purchasing and commission of images in Chapter 8. Particularly interesting here, however, is the way that these items are described. In the earlier two Nasi inventories, they are simply summarized as “una Vergine Maria” or “una Nostra Donna.” This is true whether they are painted panels or sculpted wood. The subject represented and the devotional value of the object supersede its form. A different set of concerns is revealed in the near-contemporary inventory of Lorenzo de’ Medici: “A tavoletta of marble, by the hand of Donatello, in which is an Our Lady with the baby at her breast.”112 The physical form of the representation is stressed, the hand of the master, Donatello, giving this object its value, as well as the subject it depicts. Perhaps this kind of description gained currency as the years went by. Alessandro’s inventory, although not giving the makers’ names, always starts by mentioning the physical characteristics of the object before saying what it represented:“a painting on linen with a crucifixion in the Flemish style” or “a painting in which there is a Saint Catherine with a gilded frame.”113 More work would need to

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

58

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 58

changing patrons

be done on this subject to see whether this mode of description became more common in most early sixteenth-century inventories. If this is the case, it would indicate a mental shift in the understanding of religious images during this period. It has frequently been noted that Florentine furniture is often decorated with coats of arms. Despite their ubiquity, the placing of family symbols on household objects was far from being indiscriminate or arbitrary. There were certain locations in the Nasi houses where the family’s emblems appeared: the main camera of the head of the household and the sala grande. This distribution is partly explicable because family coats of arms were only placed on the more luxurious objects: the chests that had been painted, inlaid, or gilded; the large silver knives; or maiolica plates. However, there was also, almost certainly, a more symbolic reason for the disposition of insignia around the house. In Bartolommeo’s palace, the sala formed the hub of the fraternal household. The individual family units of each of the two brothers, represented by their separate suites of camere, are ceded to the unity of the casa in this room. The sets of brass ewers and basins in the great hall carried coats of arms. One had the stemme of the Nasi and the Albizzi family, referring to Filippo’s marriage to the daughter of Maso Albizzi in 1480, the other had the arms of the Serristori and Nasi, referring to Bartolommeo and his second wife, and one had only the Nasi arms.114 The marriages here are shown in their role as auspicious family alliances for the consorteria as a whole, to be shown off in a room used by the entire household and guests. Moreover, it is significant that in the halls of all three palaces the objects decorated with the family insignia were not tables, benches, or chairs but the bronze basins used for washing hands before dining. Eating together, in this case at a table specifically designated as “per la famiglia,” was an act that defined the notion of family, those who share bread and wine under one roof.115 Indeed, after the settling of marriage negotiations between two families, the groom-to-be would dine at his betrothed’s family’s home as part of the ritual sealing of the agreement.116 Before sitting down to eat, the Nasi would wash the dirt of the outside world from their hands in basins that displayed the emblems of the lineages that came together conceptually and actually to “make” the family, a daily ritual that acted as a reminder of the sanctification of family life and of the ties binding these individuals together. Guests also would use these basins; as Alberti stressed, during the period of staying in a house and eating meals there they would become part of the family.117 The other main locus for the family arms was the chamber of the married head of the family, the camera, the center of key events—procreation, birth, and death—that altered the physical constitution of the lineage. Although the coats of arms that appear on the furniture in the 1488 inventory are not specified, they are identified in

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 59

private wealth and public benefit

59

the other two documents. They appear on beds, their pillows and covers, a sculpture of the Virgin Mary, and on many of the forzieri. Not surprisingly, a single coat of arms is always that of “la casa,” the Nasi, and when two appear together, they celebrate the union with the Corsi and the Tornabuoni, the families of Piero’s and Alessandro’s wives.118 The presence of arms here, in a part of the house that was specifically given over for the use of named individuals, reminded those members of the family of their role in the lineage. Perhaps, like the idea that beautiful paintings could bring forth beautiful children, the profusion of coats of arms in the camera had an almost totemic purpose, intending that the issue of the union between two families would be worthy inheritors of the values of the lineage and perpetuators of its success.119 Rather than marking out these rooms as “private” spaces, I would argue that these coats of arms act as a reminder to the owner of the chamber that he has a broader duty to his kin: this was the location where the union between two families was finalized in its consummation and, perhaps, that the only worthy acts of sexual union were those that had the continuation of the lineage as their end.120 The careful annotation of bed linen and clothes dominates the inventories of all the Nasi camere. The number and range of garments listed, as well as the trouble taken over their description—which is often far more detailed than for items of furniture like cassoni—attests to their importance as luxury goods. One of Benedetto Dei’s requirements for a “perfect city” was that “she has a large number of people who are rich and well-dressed.”121 Just as living in a great palace and spending money charitably were expected of wealthy citizens, so were they obliged to dress suitably according to their station, adorning the city as they did so. Catherine Frick has recently outlined the time and expense lavished on the design of a wedding dress by the Alamanni family in the 1440s, the honor of the entire clan seemingly being at stake, and Jane Bridgeman has illustrated just how much Florentines’ wardrobes could cost, making fines from sumptuary legislation an affordable tax rather than a punishment.122 A sermon of 1488 compared the incongruity of a citizen dressed in a peasant’s clothes with the purity of the soul wrapped in the sinfulness of flesh.123 Alberti notes the difficulties of having to be well-dressed at all times; he recommends that the country house of a patrician should be close to the gates of the city nearest his home so that he could leave for his villa without being observed and “without the need to dress up.”124 Moreover, as Bridgeman’s work has shown, sumptuary laws and tradition in Florence meant that clothing, in a quite straightforward way, could be an index of status, creating a series of easily legible social codes.125 In this connection, it is, once again, relevant that the Nasi were ambassadors for the republic. They, perhaps more than any other citizens, were expected to dress richly

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

60

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 60

changing patrons

to maintain the honor of the city in front of foreign potentates. An ambassador’s dress was keenly observed and noted by contemporary chroniclers. Vespasiano da Bisticci, for example, noted that when Piero Pazzi left Florence for France in 1461 he and his entourage were “covered with infinite garments and jewels.”126 The coppersmith Bartolommeo Masi was similarly impressed at Piero de’ Medici’s bejeweled finery when he left on an embassy to Pope Alexander VI in 1493.127 Piero di Marco Parenti spent one hundred florins on crimson cloth for suitable garb for his embassy in 1477.128 Indeed, it could be argued that the way an ambassador appeared was as important as what he said.129 Alessandro Nasi spent protracted periods of time in the court of the French king, and the long list of clothing in rich materials such as velvet, silk, and taffeta in his inventory is a reminder to his heirs of their father’s grandeur. The women’s clothing kept in the Piazza de’ Mozzi palaces is even more opulent, including girdles of gold brocade, embroidered with roses of silver and gold thread. Bartolommeo and Alessandro also owned several jewels, some of which are specifically marked out for use by the women of the household. As well as items for Bartolommeo’s wife, which we perhaps would expect to see listed in the room she occupied, there is jewelry belonging to Monna Checca and Bartolommeo’s widowed sister, Costanza. Indeed, the latter owned several pieces: a table-cut diamond, a ruby, and a pearl, all separately set in gold.130 As with the traditional swapping of rings between women of the family on the Sunday after a wedding, these objects were owned by the paternal family, being lent rather than given to the women who wore them. Indeed, it may well be that several of the rings mentioned in these inventories were used for this purpose.131 Through dressing up in luxurious materials and sparkling jewels, the women of the family themselves became commodities for the family to display, as women were ritually shown off each year during the festival of San Giovanni.132  If the amount and quality of the furniture in the three palaces differ somewhat, its similarity in kind and arrangement outweigh the differences: basic ways of categorizing objects and people through the space they occupied remained the same. One of the notable factors brought out in the comparison of these inventories is the similarity of furniture in each house. This cannot be explained away by the fact that they belong to the same family. Both Lydecker and Attilio Schiaparelli note patterns of placing certain types of furniture in certain rooms: the ubiquity of beds and chests in camere as opposed to the placing of tables and benches in sale. Rooms were disposed according to function and status of the room’s inhabitants, which affected both their location and their contents. The seemingly private locus of the patrician home was clearly governed by a set of cultural expectations that were not only well known but also well

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 61

private wealth and public benefit

61

adhered to. As is becoming increasingly clear, one of the reasons for this is that the patrician home was, in reality, far from being a private space in the quattrocento. Brenda Preyer has convincingly argued that palaces were planned on the assumption that their interiors would be used as “theaters for social interaction,” as a series of reception rooms for visitors on formal and everyday occasions.133 Much of the domestic decoration—the spalliere and cassoni panels, the painted and sculpted Madonnas— that are now displayed in art museums were, of course, bought or commissioned partially for their aesthetic qualities. Visitors could be impressed with the good taste of the head of the household, and his wealth would quite literally be on display for them to see. For some patricians, as I will discuss later, this desire to impress may have been coupled with a sense that they were aiding the revival and development of the visual arts by commissioning work from promising young artisans. I find it hard to believe, however, that this was a primary motivation for the Nasi’s choices in purchasing decoration of their homes. Their painted and carved furniture formed the setting that contributed to and confirmed their notions of family status and honorable display and was executed within the boundaries of expectation and honor that provided a model for many aspects of Florentine patrician life, from the palaces people built to the clothes they wore. In following these models, individuals and families together made Florence a city where beauty was a key element of civic identity. Private spending on display objects was predicated on a notion of public good. In Matteo Palmieri’s words,“private citizens . . . make cities glorious.”134

04.Burke.035-062.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:02 AM

Page 62

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 63

chapter 3

Family, Church, Community The Appearance of Power in Santo Spirito



I

n 1445 the friars of Santo Spirito and Santa Maria del Carmine, the two great mendicant churches south of the Arno, petitioned the Signoria for funds from the salt tax. They explained why the money was required:“because it would be so pleasing to both God and to his holy mother to adorn and complete their most sacred temples, and, in addition to the praise and honor that would follow for the city, we should hope that our Lord God, through his clemency, and through the intercession of his most glorious mother, will concede to us peace, tranquillity, and well-being, both to the community and to each person who gives favor to [the church].”1 God and the intercessory saints, seeing the beauty and expense of the buildings built and decorated in their honor, would be encouraged to benefit those who contribute to them. Not only those who directly gave money for the building would be granted God’s favor, but the whole community would benefit from “peace, tranquillity, and well-being.” An ordered and “complete” church was, perhaps, a figuration of a well-ordered society, but it also had power beyond the metaphorical. Divine aid could be attracted to achieve the peace required for a community to flourish. The Nasi secured a chapel in the new church of Santo Spirito during the course of its construction in 1445, and, as noted, the Del Pugliese gained the patronage rights over a transept chapel in the Carmine in 1464.2 Both families also became involved in the maintenance of these convents through participating in their opere. Other studies of Florentine families would suggest that this behavior was fairly typical, and there have been several examinations of this kind of investment from the family’s point of view over the last decade.3 In this chapter, I wish to concentrate on the church of Santo Spirito from a slightly different perspective, seeing the building and interior decoration of the church, not as the result of separate family or individual initiatives, but of the interrelation of corporate entities: the chapter of friars, the opera, and the commune of Florence, in the belief that the stress on the force of fam-

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

64

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 64

changing patrons

ily identity in shaping church space has sometimes been overstated and can obscure the church’s role as a focus for a broader neighborhood and civic identity. Although the underlying moral to the friars’ rhetoric should be familiar from the discussion of the virtuous use of wealth in Chapter 2, the construction and decoration of Santo Spirito form a useful case study to demonstrate the ways that power relationships, at both a local and a communal level, could be manifested, understood, and organized through the structure of church buildings and their ornamentation. Churches, increasingly lined with family chapels, were locations where several of the wealthiest families from the district could display their riches and piety. They were more than an arena for competition between lineages, however; they also provided a place where the surrounding community could be served, where families had to cooperate with each other and with the ecclesiastical authorities to produce an honorable decorative scheme for the whole building. As we shall see below, chapels were not allocated haphazardly to anyone with sufficient money; the disposition of chapel space was a carefully thought-out business, the cost varied depending on the applicant, and the most prized areas of the ecclesiastical interior were reserved for the most worthy citizens.4 In this way, church space could be a microcosm of the social relationships manifested through palace building in city streets. Across the Arno from the political and religious center, the quarter of Santo Spirito was actually and conceptually set apart from the rest of Florence. Its inhabitants included some of the most prominent and ancient families of the city—such as the Capponi and the Soderini—as well as some of the poorest unskilled laborers who lived especially at its western edges in the gonfalone of Drago. This combination could be politically explosive. Throughout the period, people from Santo Spirito were involved in major plots against the ruling regime, and there was always a risk that the bridges could be seized by hostile families, thus effectively cutting off the center of Florence from the south.5 As part of the new administrative divisions of Florence, since 1343 the quarter had been divided into four gonfaloni.6 The most populous and most poverty-stricken by far was where the Del Pugliese lived, Drago Verde, which took up the western area of the quarter, roughly from the Ponte Santa Trinita to the Porta San Frediano.7 The church of Santa Maria del Carmine was in this gonfalone, and it is no coincidence that the Carmelite friars and companies that met in the church had a special responsibility for poor relief.8 As Nicholas Eckstein has pointed out, Drago was a fiercely independent and self-contained neighborhood in the fifteenth century. This contrasts with the other three gonfaloni of the quarter, Ferza, Nicchio, and Scala, where less attention seems to have been paid to gonfaloni boundaries than elsewhere in Florence, many large Santo Spirito families having dwellings in two or three of these districts.9

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 65

family, church, communit y

65

The relative isolation of Drago in the quarter is reflected by the chapel ownership within the churches of Santo Spirito and the Carmine. In the old church (founded in 1250 and burned down in 1471) most chapel owners were from the gonfaloni of Nicchio and Ferza, the central areas of the quarter, bounded by the Ponte Vecchio and the Ponte Santa Trinita on the north side and the Porta Romana and Porta San Giorgio to the south. The allocation of chapels in the new church of Santo Spirito from 1445 onward maintained this pattern, the transept again being dominated by grand lineages from Ferza and Nicchio such as the Frescobaldi, Corbinelli, and Capponi. The only significant additions from a new area were the Nasi, from the gonfalone of Scala to the east of the quarter. There were no patrons from Drago in the old church, and of the twenty-one families who paid for chapels in the new church between 1445 and 1500, only one of them, the Antinori, was from this area.10 Conversely, chapel ownership in Santa Maria del Carmine was almost exclusively dominated by families from Drago.11 This clear difference in patrons cannot be explained simply by geography. For the Del Pugliese, for example, living on the Via de’ Serragli, each church was a brief walk in either direction from their palace. Yet, because they lived in Drago, they invested in a chapel in the Carmelite church, along with their “neighbors,” the other wealthy families of their gonfalone. The “neighborhood” that the church of Santo Spirito embodied was more spatially diffuse and perhaps more socially coherent, including patrician houses from all the rest of the quarter. The relationship of the disposition of internal ecclesiastical space to civic topography was complex. It had less to do with physical proximity than with conceptual boundaries, which by the fifteenth century were largely delineated by gonfalone divides. Unlike parish churches, which were necessarily the central points of a defined area, these mendicant institutions could become the repositories for a local identity that was outside the control of diocese organization: because they were not connected with a predetermined section of city space, they were better able to reflect the shifting loyalties and mental divisions of the changing urban fabric of Florence.  The convent and church of Santo Spirito were unique among the mendicant institutions built in Florence in the late thirteenth century in that the fabric of the buildings wholly belonged to the Florentine republic, the commune being responsible for all the construction work. A later chronicle of the convent explains why:“Because it was a most magnificent building, so that to maintain it would have been a huge expense to this monastery, the Republic retained the ownership themselves, and conceded its use to the order.”12 Although the old church may have been extremely grand, and the men of the commune were no doubt acting most piously in extending their generos-

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

66

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 66

changing patrons

ity toward the Augustinians, it is hard not to see political motivations behind this decision. In placing a building owned by the commune at the heart of the recalcitrant district across the river, they were stamping the locality with the authority and grandeur of the republic while simultaneously encouraging devotion to the civic government among the people of the district who entered the church under the city’s coats of arms. It was an action that sought to include the Oltrarno in the commune of Florence. The “old church” of Santo Spirito no longer exists, partly because it was gutted by a disastrous fire in 1471, and partly because of the construction of the Brunelleschian “new church” that still stands today.13 The construction of the later building was also deeply enmeshed in communal politics. The first proposal for the construction of the new church was in a provvisione (statute) of 1397. To give thanks to God for Florence’s victory over Gian Galeazzo Visconti of Milan on Saint Augustine’s Day (28 August), the Signoria ruled that “the operai [works committee members] of Santa Reparata are obliged in the space of five years to build a church for the mendicant friars of Saint Augustine, under the name and insignia of the said commune. And this building should be splendid and remain a record of this victory in perpetuity, and this church should be made, built, ornamented, and beautified as seems most fitting.”14 In this project, as with the original church, the city government intended to provide a building for the Augustinians that the friars would occupy rather than control. The new church was to be a homage to the military virtues of the city as a whole, an attempt to affirm communal values in a potentially maverick area. Rather than appoint an independent board of operai, the task of supervising the building was entrusted to the Opera del Duomo, the ecclesiastical building that marked the geographic and conceptual center of the diocese of Florence. Santo Spirito (both church and quarter) was therefore being notionally related to two key embodiments of Florentine political and religious life. Nothing, however, came of this plan, and the next significant event relating to the new church took place on 19 January 1434. The priors and friars of the convent elected two operai, Piero di Gregorio del Benino and Stoldo di Lionardo Frescobaldi, who were given the power to collect money and employ functionaries to help with the building of a new church. These certainly were not the first operai elected by the friars of Santo Spirito—a list exists of a committee from 1425—but they were the first documented specifically to concern themselves with this new construction project.15 They were elected when Florence was in considerable factional turmoil, and just as the anti-Medicean conservative group was enjoying a temporary victory. Cosimo de’ Medici had been exiled in September 1433, but his political opponents did little to shore up their advantage and could not resist the powerful networks of Medici

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 67

family, church, communit y

67

friends who worked to bring about Cosimo’s return almost exactly a year later.16 Nerida Newbigin, noting the date of the election of these operai, has suggested that the impetus for the project was led by the opponents of Cosimo from former magnate houses asserting their dominance in the Santo Spirito quarter. As already suggested, Santo Spirito was always a potential hotbed of magnate rivalry to those in power, and the fact that Stoldo Frescobaldi, a member of an old magnate clan, was deprived of his right to hold office on Cosimo’s return in 1434 would seem to support her view.17 The other operaio chosen, however, was from a pro-Medicean family, the Del Benino, and had delivered a speech unfavorable to Cosimo’s opponent, Niccolò da Uzzano, when he was spokesman of the Dodici.18 It seems likely to me that rather than being the pawn in the anti-Mediceans’ game, the friars of Santo Spirito took advantage of the divisions in the city to recapture the initiative for the building project, electing an opera that would not be in thrall to any one interest group. They had already successfully petitioned the Signoria for the proceeds of the salt tax in June 1433, and the election of the operai was partly concerned with the administration of this money. Like the rest of the city, the Augustinian chapter was presumably aware of the potential power of Cosimo’s friends, despite their temporarily reduced circumstances, so elected two operai who had ties with both factions. As we shall see below, this astute political maneuvering would perfectly accord with the chapter’s election of operai in the years to come. According to Antonio Manetti, it was Stoldo Frescobaldi who asked Filippo Brunelleschi to provide the designs for the new church at around this time.19 Two years after this, in March 1436, the salt tax money was given to the opera.20 Here, once again, the central communal authorities found an opportunity to interfere with the building of the church. The administration of the tax was put into the hands of the Sei di Mercanzia, a cross-city, cross-guild judicial body. The opera elected that year by the friars of the convent—and “the men of the quarter of Santo Spirito” according to one commentator—was expanded to include three candidates elected by the Mercanzia, including Giovanni di Jacopo Nasi, as noted, a member of a family favored by Cosimo il Vecchio.21 Tracing the payments in the Mercanzia accounts, Howard Saalman has found that the next opera to be elected, two years later, was entirely nominated by this communal body rather than by the friars.22 Although they seem to be acting on suggestions given by the convent, as all the men named had been previously connected with Santo Spirito either as chapel owners or operai, this change in nomination does suggest that the commune and its leading figures once again were attempting to exert their power over this neighborhood church, with important tactical implications.

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

68

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 68

changing patrons

However, the Mercanzia’s influence seems to have been confined to a limited period. The next documents concerning the building of the church date from 1445. In May of this year, the first column of the new building was erected, just a month after the joint petition by the Carmine and Santo Spirito to the Signoria for a division of the salt tax funds.23 In February of the next year, a new opera was elected with, seemingly, no interference from the Mercanzia.24 From this date onward, the chapel spaces in the new church started to be allocated to families. It seems likely that the money from this gave the opera and Augustinian chapter a degree of financial autonomy, and it may be for this reason that it was possible to cede some of the salt tax to the Carmelites. Building work seems to have gone on rather slowly until early 1471, when disaster struck. After the sacra rappresentazione of the Pentecost, held in honor of the visit of Galeazzo Maria Sforza, the old church caught fire and was ruined.25 An element of urgency was now injected into the building program, as money was needed quickly to make the new church ready for use. The Signoria responded in June of that year by imposing a new catasto on the city, the proceeds going to the opera of Santo Spirito over the next four years. There is no record of the constitution of election of operai over those years, so whether the civic authorities sought to exercise their control through nominating members of this committee is not known. However, what is clear is that the commune sought to remind the citizens of Santo Spirito of the importance of the central government. The provvisione concerning the new tax ends with the declaration that on the pain of five hundred florins each “the operai of the said church should have the arms of the people and the commune of Florence placed in the body of the church of Santo Spirito and on the facade outside in the most prominent place.”26 The commune had effectively declared ownership over the building of the Augustinian church once again.27 While the church was being constructed, the arms were put on the facade of the opera building, but these were taken down just as the church started to be used, in early 1482.28 As noted in the ricordanze of the opera of 1481, on 11 May “the mandorla on the facade of the opera, where the arms of the people and commune of Florence are, was taken down, to put it in a worthy place in order to please those of the Compagnia del Pippione, and this was requested by Lorenzo di Piero di Medici, a most worthy man.”29 The arms of the Councils of the People and the Commune were not placed on the exterior facade of the church, as originally requested, but less prominently on the church interior.30 This comparatively ignoble end possibly reflects the dwindling powers of this council, which had been gradually stripped of its powers by pro-Laurentian reforms during the 1470s and 1480s.31 Typically, Lorenzo’s influence was felt, not through official governmental

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 69

family, church, communit y

69

channels, but through his careful participation in and manipulation of groups, in this case the most important confraternity meeting in Santo Spirito, the Compagnia del Piccione. As detailed below, his later involvement in the opera of the church was to be equally as effective, and to have a more lasting effect on the building, than the comparatively heavy-handed attempts of the official city government.  Examining the opera of the new church of Santo Spirito is crucial for our understanding of the relationship between the church and its local area, as well as for indicating how central government sought to maintain control over this quarter. Opere—appointed boards of works—have received renewed attention over the last ten years, notably in the important collection of papers recently edited by Margaret Haines and Licio Ricetti.32 However, their importance for understanding the relationship between church and laity and the context for ecclesiastical building and decoration has not yet been fully exploited. Following the groundbreaking work on this subject done in the 1940s by Nicolai Ottokar, the traditional mode of inquiry is to see the opera at the nexus of the relationship between ecclesiastical and communal institutions, a sign that the lay commune and other lay corporate bodies were wresting control from an often unwilling church.33 The evidence from Santo Spirito complicates this picture. Most of the work to date on Florentine opere has concentrated on examples connected with large civic building projects, notably the Palazzo della Signoria, Orsanmichele, and the Duomo. All of these buildings had an opera whose composition was decided by nonecclesiastical bodies. However, these constitute only a small fraction of such committees, which were near ubiquitous in Florence by the fifteenth century, ranging from those charged with the care of one chapel to huge ecclesiastical edifices. This difference in scale and intention means that generalizing about the nature of opere is problematic; the creation of such bodies does not necessarily indicate a “laicization” of control over religious building. Besides the guild-run opere like those of the Spedale degli Innocenti, San Giovanni, or the Duomo, in some parishes, like San Giorgio sulla Costa, the opere were elected by the men of the parish; some confraternities, such as Sant’Agnese in the Carmine, elected operai to look after their chapels or meetinghouses; and in large mendicant and monastic churches such as Santa Trinita, Santa Croce, Santo Spirito, and the Carmine, the operai tended to be elected by the chapter of the convent.34 Undeniably, as suggested above, the commune was interested in controlling appointments to the opera of Santo Spirito, but from at least the mid-fifteenth century onward, the Augustinian friars themselves seemed to exercise considerable authority

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

70

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 70

changing patrons

over this body and, subsequently, the appearance of their church. After the interference of the Mercanzia in the 1430s, there is no evidence that any communal body wielded influence over the selection of operai, and later in the century the documents betray an eagerness on the part of the prior and friars to keep a close watch over the membership of the opera, at least after the Medici expulsion of 1494. In 1498 the means of voting was changed to guarantee that each operaio elected received at least half the vote of the chapter. In 1511 it was decided to keep the same operai for an extra year:“seeing that the aforementioned [operai] have conducted themselves well, they were reformed.”35 The implication, clearly, is that if the chapter had not been happy with the committee, it would have been dissolved after the yearlong tenure of office. The reason for so much interest in controlling the opera is that its powers were extensive. In common with most opere, it was the Santo Spirito committee’s main task to organize finance for the building work—the provvisioni of the commune concerned with the formation of opere almost always explicitly gave these committees special authority for collecting money. Thus, when the opera of the Innocenti was created in 1439, it took the foundation document of the opera of Santa Reparata as its model: this was almost entirely concerned with its rights to collect money from debtors.36 This is also one of the tasks specified for the two operai named in 1434 for the new church of Santo Spirito.37 Not surprisingly, the records of this building campaign recount several episodes of the operai attempting to get money from the recalcitrant relatives of those who bequeathed gifts to the convent in their wills. Of course, operai were also charged with spending the money they had recovered. In the earliest document pertaining to the new church, Piero di Gregorio del Benino and Stoldo Frescobaldi, as well as being given power to recoup debts as mentioned above, are specifically elected as “operai and constructors and builders of the opera, church, chapter, and convent of Santo Spirito” and charged to employ various functionaries to carry out necessary tasks.38 Clearly, operai were in a good position to dispense employment and favors. The building of the new church was a large operation that provided many people with livelihoods. Richard Goldthwaite has estimated that the opera of Santo Spirito spent 83,172 lire between 1477 and 1491, the equivalent of 554 years of labor for an unskilled worker.39 The committee engaged a supervisor, known as Scorbaccia, and a master builder, Salvi d’Andrea, who had as many as thirty laborers working on the building at one time. It was the opera that determined how much these men should be paid. Moreover, they kept many suppliers of building fabric well paid throughout the latter half of the fifteenth century.40 For this reason alone, an operaio could be an important source for patronage in the quarter. Moreover, in common with many other opere, the Santo Spirito committee had the power to allocate chapel and tomb space from an early date, as the surviving ricor-

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 71

family, church, communit y

71

danze make clear. In the case of Santo Spirito, prospective chapel owners were voted on using black and white beans.41 The chapter of the convent itself could intervene in the making of these decisions, as it did in 1458 when it granted a free chapel to Luca di Buonaccorso Pitti.42 However, because the opera was in charge of finances for the church building, the friars of the convent were answerable to it when they wanted a chapel for themselves. This occurred on two occasions: the first, in 1485, when Jacopo Guicciardini offered to pay for a chapel for the friars, provided it was dedicated to Saint Augustine and decorated in the way he chose; then again in 1493, when the friars were conceded the Luti chapel as the family had not been able to pay the remainder of their account.43 It also seems that, in the case of Santo Spirito, the opera maintained a degree of visual homogeneity in the decoration of chapels, as is discussed more fully below. The building history of Santo Spirito would suggest that control over appointments to the opera of the convent was important to those civic institutions and private individuals who wished to assert their position in the neighborhood church through chapel ownership and display of family and group insignia. There is abundant information to tell us the names of the men on the committee, including a near complete record for the period 1477–1500.44 All the men elected up to 1490, and the great majority of them afterward, came from the same quarter. Although the opera of Santo Spirito was dominated by members from the gonfalone of Nicchio, it consistently had representatives from two other gonfaloni in Santo Spirito, Ferza and Scala. This is such a regular pattern that it must have been deliberate; it can be seen even after the changes in personnel that occurred following the Medici expulsion of 1494. As with chapel ownership, the leading families from Drago, the fourth gonfalone of the quarter, were not represented; they concentrated their energies in the opera of the Carmine.45 Apart from this obvious omission it seems that, like the pratiche, the advisory committees held by the Florentine magistracies, it was important for the opera of Santo Spirito to be seen as representative. Notably, in his ricordanze entry for 1436, one of the operai elected in that year, Francesco de’ Giovanni, claims that in addition to the friars of the convent, the “men of the quarter of Santo Spirito” gathered to decide the election of the opera.46 It is perhaps indicative of the disposition of patrician homes throughout the quarter that the operai of Santo Spirito tended to be next-door neighbors. With the exception of the Nasi, almost all of them lived on the same two streets: either the Via Maggio or the eastern end of Via del Fondaccio (now Via Santo Spirito), which runs parallel to the Arno between Ponte alla Carraia and Ponte Santa Trinita. These two streets formed part of the most well-to-do area of the city south of the river.47 Between 1468 and 1483 the same five families—the Corbinelli, Frescobaldi,

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

72

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 72

changing patrons

Guicciardini, Nasi, and Ridolfi—provided the five operai of Santo Spirito, the individuals concerned changing only when one of them died or was unavailable for some reason. After the latter date, the Frescobaldi no longer appear on operai lists, being replaced by the Capponi and/or the Corsini. For the opere of both the Carmine and Santo Spirito, the individuals concerned acted as representatives of their lineage. If the elected operaio could not attend, he was always replaced by a stand-in from his own family. If he died, his place was generally taken by his heir. The changes that do exist in the composition of the Santo Spirito opera are significant for the convent’s ongoing relationship with civic politics. Previously confined to a small group of the Santo Spirito patriciate, in March 1490 the chapter of the convent elected a new operaio, Lorenzo de’ Medici. After his death two years later, his eldest son, Piero, replaced him on the committee.48 These new additions had a disproportionate influence on the decisions of the opera. In April 1492 the committee told Giuliano da Sangallo to design the sacristy according to “the will of Lorenzo.”49 A year later, it was decided that the columns of the new building should be designed as seemed best by Lorenzo’s son, Piero.50 Lorenzo de’ Medici’s influence on other opere of the city has been noted by F. W. Kent and Melinda Hegarty.51 There has, however, been little work completed on any Florentine opera after the Medici expulsion. The case of Santo Spirito suggests that this topic would reward greater investigation. At some time between 1496 and 1505, the composition of this opera changed completely. By the latter date, none of the families whose names had become so familiar in the earlier documents appeared on the committee. They had been replaced by men who were largely from newer families: Giovanni di Ser Antonio de’ Bartolomei, Bernardo di Stefano Segni, Niccolò di Giorgio Ugolini, and Rinieri di Bernardo Dei. There were two exceptions: the representative of Scala, Angelo di Bernardo de’ Bardi, and the nephew of the new leader of the republic, Tommaso di Paol’Antonio Soderini.52 As the earlier analysis of the opera’s composition would suggest, it was absolutely unprecedented that the Soderini—a prestigious old Drago Verde family who possessed the patronage rights to the cappella maggiore of the Carmine from 1318—should be represented on the opera of Santo Spirito.53 The evidence of political involvement in the opera of Santo Spirito should not be seen simply as an act of “colonization” by the political elite with the Augustinian friars playing a passive role. In fact, it seems likely that the friars actively invited those with influence to sit on the opera because it was good for the church. Influential and wealthy men, unlike their poorer counterparts, were able to supply urgent funds in times of need. The Nerli, for example, were frequent creditors to the opera of Santo Spirito in the 1490s; similarly, Richard Goldthwaite mentions several instances of

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 73

family, church, communit y

73

operai lending funds to the building project.54 They also had political influence at the center of government, which could reap rewards for the church: the proceeds of the salt tax, after all, were an important part of its funding. When a member of the opera of Santo Spirito had a seat on the priorate, the meetings took place in the Palazzo della Signoria. As priors had to stay in the palazzo during their tenure of office, no doubt this was partly to avoid their missing the meetings or needing to send a replacement. It also seems likely that it was hoped decision making would go in the opera’s favor.55 Indeed, the canniness of the prior’s political maneuvering is shown by the composition of the opera in October 1512, just over a month after Piero Soderini was expelled: it included Giuliano di Lorenzo de’ Medici.56 In this way, although the institution of the opera is characterized through consistency in its membership over much of the period, the mode and frequency of election of these committees allowed the convent authorities considerable flexibility if and when necessary.  When allocating chapels for the new church of Santo Spirito, two types of donor had precedence over all others: owners of chapels in the old church and operai, who often tended to be the same people. For example, in August 1455 the first two chapels to be allocated in the as yet unbuilt church were ceded to Stoldo di Lionardo Frescobaldi, a stalwart of the opera, and he received a discount on one of them because of his past service as an operaio and because his family were patrons of the cappella maggiore in the old church.57 Three years later, Luca di Buonaccorso Pitti, an operaio and one of the richest men in the quarter, who “with his wisdom has increased the income of the said opera,” was awarded a chapel without cost to demonstrate the friars’ gratitude.58 Both these men, in common with the rest of the operai, were granted chapels in the transept of the church. Moreover, these operai tended to offer the patronage of other chapels to friends and relatives. Occasionally this was explicit: Tanai de’ Nerli, for example, an operaio in 1493, tried to acquire the chapel at the right-hand side of the entrance for one of his friends, but normally these relationships were not noted in the records.59 Certainly the Nasi were related by marriage or business to at least six of the other chapelowning families. They had ties of marriage to the Capponi, Guicciardini, Pitti, and Biliotti, they were neighbors of and had property dealings with the Bardi, and undertook business transactions with the Della Palla. Elena Capretti has noted similar networks in relation to the Capponi family.60 As operai tended also to be chapel owners, it is easy to see how the dynamic between the opera and chapel ownership became self-perpetuating during the latter half of the quattrocento.

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

74

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 74

changing patrons

The design of the new church of Santo Spirito encouraged direct comparisons between the ownership of space by different families of the area, similar-sized chapel niches without gates lining the walls at regular intervals (fig. 17). This has led some commentators to read a “democratization” of ecclesiastical space into the arrangement of chapels in this and other Brunelleschian churches.61 Whether this was the intention of the builders is questionable, and if the way this space was used is examined, it becomes abundantly clear that these lofty ideals did not inform the way chapel ownership was managed in practice. Just as possible locations for palaces in city space were hierarchically encoded into areas of lesser or greater status due to their visibility and/or strategic importance, the location of chapels within the church interior could be read as a sign of relative social position. The Santo Spirito records are typical in indicating a clear demarcation in the desirability of certain parts of ecclesiastical space. The most sought-after chapels were those nearest the high altar. The economic ramifications of this were shown when, in 1490, Marco di Mariotto della Palla complained that he was paying too much for his chapel in Santo Spirito as it was “fuori della croce,” outside the more desirable transept area, and the operai agreed with him.62 In the earliest extant notebook of the opera’s decisions over chapel allocation in the as yet incomplete church, from 1455 to 1460, most of the chapels conceded were in the most potent location of all, behind the high altar (chapels xiv to xxv on the plan, fig. 17) and went to prominent families of the quarter who had owned chapels in the old church, like the Frescobaldi, Biliotti, and Capponi, or rich and prominent citizens of the quarter who had not previously owned a chapel, such as Luca di Buonaccorso Pitti.63 Throughout the fifteenth century, the chapels farthest from the high altar were always ceded to men who were not on the opera and, typically, were of a lower social status than men whose chapels were closer to the altar. For example, Mariotto della Palla and Francesco Petrini, neither from distinguished families, were both given chapels on the nave, despite the Della Palla being patrons of a chapel in the old church (chapels vi and vii).64 This was not a matter of these smaller families having less money. The Petrini and Della Palla chapels each cost 150 florins, as opposed to the 50–100 paid for the transept chapels by the operai some years earlier. By 1495 the Segni bought a chapel on the left transept for 500 florins, a considerable increase, even when inflation is taken into account.65 The earliest nave chapels to be given away were to corporate bodies rather than families: the Company of the Archangel Raphael (given chapel ii in 1483) and the nuns of the Mantellate, who were conceded chapel xxxviii in 1487.66 Each of these groups seems to have received its chapel free of charge, on the condition that the spaces were decorated. Apart from this social delineation of church space, families had other ways of

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 75

family, church, communit y

75

Image not available

Figure 17. Plan of church of Santo Spirito, Florence

stressing their status. Instead of having the biggest chapels in a church, wealthy consorteria would purchase two or three chapels next to each other. The Frescobaldi dominated the space to the right rear of the high altar, owning chapels xx, xxii, and xxiii. Three branches of the Corbinelli owned four chapels—including the Chapel of the Sacrament—on the right transept of the church (xxvi–xix). It is even possible to see who owned which chapel on the church exterior. Coats of arms are dis-

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

76

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 76

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 18. Exterior of east wall of Santo Spirito, Florence, showing windows and coats of arms

played both in the glass of the windows and in stone on the outside walls of each chapel (fig. 18). It would be difficult to have a more convenient or public way of comparing relative family status in the quarter. It must have been partly the demonstration of status and influence among the Santo Spirito patriciate that led authorities of the central government and Florence’s “leading citizen,” Lorenzo de’ Medici, to show so much interest in the opera of the church. The chapels in Santo Spirito together formed a microcosm of the elite community of three gonfaloni of the quarter, showing which individuals and families deserved the most respect and consideration from the less wealthy citizens who used the church, and provided a central and easily legible guide to the most prominent in the community.  We should not understand chapel ornamentation in this church, however, simply on the model of families competing for prestige and honor. It seems to have been important that the overall appearance of the church not be spoiled by a clash of individual aesthetic impulses. As several commentators have pointed out, the original altarpieces and paliotti (altar frontals) still in the church suggest that there was a scheme used to regulate chapel decoration in the fifteenth century, one that is particularly

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 77

family, church, communit y

77

Image not available

Figure 19. Chapels in the left transept of Santo Spirito, Florence

noticeable in the left transept (fig. 19).67 Judging by this evidence, each space was to have an altar table flanked by a paliotto with a prescribed design, a near-square altarpiece of just less than two meters on each side, a stained-glass window, and most had a marble tomb slab right under the altar.68 Just how fashionable the regulation of chapel ornamentation became in churches in this period will be discussed later. Here, I am concerned both with how family and local identity could be expressed within the boundaries of this decorative plan and how the scheme changed alongside political upheavals in the 1500s. The opera seems to have policed homogeneity within the church. For example, in 1485 they note that the Velluti chapel needed a glass window, and two years later they are concerned that a tomb should be made there “like in the other chapels.”69 There were, once again, some advantages of being a member of the opera for those who wished to bend the rules. On 12 September 1488 the committee agreed to a petition from the sons of Gino di Neri Capponi. It was decided that they could knock down the wall of their chapel and replace it with a grill so that Neri’s tomb could be seen more easily. A relative of Neri, Niccolò di Giovanni, was an operaio.70 The decoration of the Nasi chapel (no. xiii on fig. 17) was provided for in the will of Bartolommeo di Lutozzo Nasi, made just before he died in 1487: “the house and

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

78

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 78

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 20. Raffaellino del Garbo, The Pietà with Saints John the Baptist, John the Evangelist, Mary Magdalen, and James, Munich, Alte Pinakothek

family of the Nasi have a chapel in the church of Santo Spirito of Florence, called the Nasi chapel, which lacks a glass window, [altar] table, and tomb . . . he elects that his heirs, within a year of the death of the aforementioned testator . . . should have a glass window made for the chapel and a panel for the altar of the chapel painted and decently furnished . . . and in the said [place] in perpetuity have made a sepulcher or tomb with a marble slab.”71 Bartolommeo could be so precise about what was “lacking” in the chapel because precedent established what was required. The will took some time to fulfill, but about 1500 Raffaellino del Garbo completed the altarpiece for the chapel: The Pietà with Saints John the Baptist, John the Evangelist, Mary Magdalen, and James (fig. 20).72 This panel, now in the Alte Pinakothek in Munich, shows the Virgin Mary with the crucified Christ extended over her lap. His shoulder is supported by Saint John

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 79

family, church, communit y

79

while Mary Magdalen cradles his feet, gazing at his wound. The emphasis on Christ’s stigmata here is reflected by the angels holding instruments of the Passion who fly above the Virgin’s head. The biblical tableau is framed by two saints: Saint John the Baptist and Saint James. As the subject of this panel would suggest, the Nasi chapel was dedicated to the Pietà. It seems likely that this dedication was suggested by the Augustinians. The chapel occupies a corner of the transept between two others dedicated to mysteries of the Virgin and Child. The Nerli chapel on the right is dedicated to the Nativity, and the Capponi, on the left, to the Visitation: together they constitute a group representing pregnancy, birth, and death. The presence of the Nasi is very much felt in the Raffaellino panel through the inclusion of Saint James, standing to the right of the central group. Jacopo was the name of Lutozzo’s father, the founder of the family’s two main branches. Notably, in a later family chronicle, the chapel in Santo Spirito was referred to as the “Cappella di San Jacopo.”73 John the Baptist, as well as being the patron saint of Florence, was the name of Lutozzo’s brother, the head of the cadet branch of the family. His prominent position in the altarpiece indicates that this chapel very much belonged to the lineage as a whole rather than to any one household and reminds the viewer that the remains of all the Nasi were to be buried in the sepulcher in the floor of the chapel niche. Raffaellino painted altarpieces for three other chapel owners in Santo Spirito, and the Pietà also shares several characteristics with panels painted for the church by other masters. These altarpieces tend to be dominated by a symmetrical tripartite composition of a Virgin and Child flanked by one or two saints at either side.74 The central motif of the Nasi altarpiece, the Virgin with her dead son draped over her, would have presented a sad parallel to the other similar compositions in the church, the Virgin gazing lovingly down on her son, cradling his neck as if he were a baby. The mournful faces of the two standing saints and the direct gaze of the central angel, who displays nails, a crown of thorns, and the cross, are designed to evoke pathos and identification in the viewer. The landscape setting, with its craggy rocks and cityscape of spires, owes a debt to Piero di Cosimo’s Visitation panel in the neighboring Capponi chapel (fig. 21), yet has none of the iconographic complexities of this earlier work, which, as Elena Capretti has pointed out, was probably designed with Augustinian advice.75 In this way, the Nasi altarpiece served the devotional needs of the congregation and friars, reflected the decorative program of the church, and honorably represented the lineage that funded the chapel’s construction. As this suggests, three main constituents—the family, the opera, and the Augustinians—came together to decide on the ornamentation of the church. As the opera was elected to represent the friars’ interests and many of the chapel owners took part in the meetings, negotiation over

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

80

4/1/04

10:04 AM

Page 80

changing patrons

Figure 21. Piero di Cosimo, The Visitation with Saints Nicholas and Anthony Abbot, Washington, D.C., National Gallery of Art, Samuel H. Kress Collection

Image not available

chapel decoration was probably less complicated than this tripartite division would suggest. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that the change in the composition of the opera during the first decade of the sixteenth century, discussed above, had repercussions on the decorative scheme. The visual rhythm was first partially disrupted in the Segni chapel altarpiece of 1505. Raffaellino del Garbo’s Virgin and Child with Saints John the Evangelist, Lawrence, Stephen, and Bernard shares many features with the earlier altarpieces. It is set in an architectural space within a landscape, the Madonna seated on a slightly raised throne. The blue frame with its gold ornamentation and the paliotto below it are also similar to many others in the church. In fact, the main difference is simply one of scale: the Segni altarpiece retained the just off-square landscape format of its predecessors but is about double the size of the works made in the 1480s, which were all about two meters square.76 Significantly, the man who commissioned it, Bernardo di Stefano Segni, was, as already mentioned, an operaio at this time. The real break with tradition came with the altarpiece for the Dei chapel. The commission for this well-studied work came from the testament of Rinieri di Bernardo Dei of 1506. He left money for “a painted panel to ornament this altar and chapel . . . with a glass window above this altar . . . in the memory of Saint Bernard.”77 The result of this was the unfinished panel known as the Madonna del Baldacchino, now in the Pitti Palace, begun by Raphael between 1506 and his departure for Rome in 1508 (fig. 22).78 The articulation of this work is completely different from the previ-

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:05 AM

Page 81

family, church, communit y

81

Image not available

Figure 22. Raphael, Madonna del Baldacchino, Florence, Palazzo Pitti

ous altarpieces made for Santo Spirito. It is much larger and has a vertical format; the figures are located not within a vague architectural setting in a landscape, but in a rounded side chapel, which is surely meant to echo those in Santo Spirito.79 The columns that frame the image, with composite capitals, are directly related to the columns in the church itself. There is a real sense of interaction between the figures

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

82

4/1/04

10:05 AM

Page 82

changing patrons

on the panel: Saint Peter actually turns away from the viewer to converse with Saint Bernard. The involvement of the other three saints with the onlooker—a pictorial device suggested in the panels by Raffaellino del Garbo previously—is clearly a crucial part of this painting; Saint Augustine turns to the viewer quizzically, his right hand pointing us toward the Virgin and Child. The angels, raising the curtains of the baldachin, are portrayed in the act of revealing the figure of the Virgin, both to the worshiper and to the saints standing at either side in the image—a circle of figures that is closed by the presence of the onlooker. This painting is not a window onto a separately conceived perspectival world, but a continuation of reality in which the viewer becomes a participant.80 This forms a strong contrast with the works in vogue in the 1480s and early 1490s, represented most clearly in Santo Spirito by the complex iconography of the Piero di Cosimo Visitation panel (fig. 21). The importance of the Augustinians in bringing the word of God to the laity is stressed in both paintings, but in different ways. The Piero di Cosimo panel demands reading in a literal sense. It presupposes a select audience able to read Latin and versed in the interpretation of texts, whereas Raphael’s painting stresses the importance of the Augustinian order through gesture alone, with Saint Augustine acting as mediator, bridging the painted and real worlds. In several ways, therefore, the Madonna del Baldacchino disrupted the conformity of the chapels in Santo Spirito. The Dei family, recently returned to Florence from Lyons, was already consolidating its claims in the neighborhood by building a family palace on Piazza Santo Spirito; perhaps they saw the altarpiece commission as an opportunity to assert family pride while identifying themselves with a newly fashionable artistic style.81 The fact that Rinieri di Bernardo Dei was an operaio, however, would suggest that this new form had institutional consent. Raphael was an artist actively promoted by Soderini allies, and the opera connection may well explain the choice of painter for this commission.82  The new church of Santo Spirito, designed by Filippo Brunelleschi with the sacristy by Giuliano da Sangallo, had always been associated with the most fashionable practitioners of the visual arts. Though south of the Arno, it was visually connected with church projects on the other side of the river, often with strong Medicean connections. For both the design of its chapels and the adoption of the tavola quadrata (unified field altarpiece) in a homogeneous decorative scheme, the most obvious counterpart is San Lorenzo, the church at the notional and geographic heart of Medici territory. In this way the church and, by implication, the quarter of Santo Spirito were brought into the Medicean fold, and through this visual “bridge” across the Arno seen to be contributing to the beauty of the city as a whole.

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:05 AM

Page 83

family, church, communit y

83

Moreover, the ordered appearance of the church, the evenly spaced and proportioned columns and chapels filled with altarpieces of the same size, is perhaps conceptually linked to a wider social order: the great families of Santo Spirito, as represented by a spatially coherent set of chapels, together contributed to the grandeur of the church as a whole, and implicitly to the greater good of God and the city. “Peace, tranquillity, and well-being” were suggested through the visual clarity of the interior as well as being evoked in a wider world through the piety of those who funded the building. (I discuss these ideas in more detail in Chapter 6.) By the early 1480s, when the church was in use, Lorenzo de’ Medici sought to become associated with this metaphoric (and literal) order through his involvement in the Compagnia del Piccione and, more important, by becoming an operaio. Whether the Medici were directly associated with the construction project at an earlier stage is debatable. Friends of theirs, such as the Nasi, played a prominent part in the opera. By the early 1490s Lorenzo and then his son took the initiative for new designs, guiding the friars and opera to their favored decorative solution. The disruption of this ordered scheme in the era of Soderini must have had political as well as aesthetic motivations. The change of scale and mood of the altarpiece declared that the church—and Florence—was moving into a new era, one that the Augustinians and their operai were eager to show they embraced. The importance of visual rhetoric in signaling, confirming, and helping to achieve political change in the period after 1494 has been largely ignored by historians, who concentrate on written texts to form their narrative version of events. The wish to place “art in context” has led to discussions of the distribution of power through patronage relationships as a possible contributing factor in choice of artist, subject, or location for investment. I would like to suggest, however, that in the case of Santo Spirito, the art and architecture of the church supplied the context in which political change was understood and manifested. The distribution and decoration of chapels were visual attestations of power relationships and changing allegiances, which had a far wider audience than any written text in this society, whose constituents were still mainly illiterate or unlettered but versed in interpretation of visual material such as coats of arms and devotional images. Through being allocated their section of sacred space, the patrons of chapels in Santo Spirito were publicly announcing their position within a set of patronage networks that encompassed the quarter and the commune, setting their elite status and political allegiances in stone.

05.Burke.063-084.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:05 AM

Page 84

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 85

chapter 4

Patronage and the Art of Friendship Piero del Pugliese’s Patronage of Filippino Lippi



M

uch of this study is about how material objects can embody, maintain, and affect social relationships. As Michael Baxandall has pointed out, their creation is also the result of a relationship.1 Most often, this was probably closest to a relatively simple commercial transaction, the customer specifying his desires, the work being done and paid for at an agreed amount and in an agreed period of time. Larger-scale projects could involve written contracts, several of which have survived and have been discussed elsewhere.2 These documents can illuminate the mechanics of commissioning well and in particular have been used to attempt to ascertain the respective degrees of influence of maker and purchaser on the finished appearance of a work. This chapter aims to look at the broader social change in relationship between these two parties during the quattrocento. The notion that the status of the “artist” changed during this time is now accepted almost as a truism, but comparatively little attention has been given to the self-perception of those who bought work from the craftsmen who had been newly elevated in status. Just as the concept of the autonomous artistic creator was being developed, so too was the relationship between those “artists” and the people who funded their activities, the people we now call patrons. What models of behavior they followed in working out these new social roles is the focus of investigation here. Using a recently rediscovered painting of Filippino Lippi and Piero del Pugliese, and the poems that were written about it by contemporaries, I examine how the portrait reflects discussions of friendship in Medicean Florence and, finally, consider if the concept of amicizia—friendship—can help us understand the changing perceptions of artistpatron relationships. The existence of a double portrait of Filippino and Piero was noted in the 1950s by Alessandro Perosa, who found two poems on the subject by Alessandro Braccesi.3 Along with these poems, there exists a short Latin verse by Ugolino Verino, which also celebrates a portrait of Piero del Pugliese.4 Identification of these poems with

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

86

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 86

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 23. Filippino Lippi, Double Portrait of Piero del Pugliese and Filippino Lippi, Denver Art Museum, The Simon Guggenheim Memorial Collection

existing paintings is problematic, but it seems likely that the Braccesi poems at least should be examined in reference to a painting now in Denver, Colorado (fig. 23).5 This painting is extremely unusual. It is the only fifteenth-century Italian example I know of a double portrait of a patron and painter.6 It shows Piero del Pugliese to the left-hand side, torso positioned at right angles to the picture plane, his face looking slightly to the right. The profile bust of Filippino seems uncomfortably inserted in the right half of the painting, the head being rather too large in comparison with Piero’s to be spatially convincing. There are piles of books on the shelf behind the two men, and in the upper right-hand corner stands an open book with writing that is now largely illegible. The only word that can be read with any clarity is on the third line: convegnono. In modern Italian, convengono tantalizingly means “they come together,” and hopefully restoration will reveal more of the text. Apart from the poems mentioned above, there are no contemporary references to this portrait. Before it entered the Guggenheim collection in 1933, it belonged to the Contini Bonaccossi in Florence, but its location before this is not known.7 On stylistic grounds, Patrizia Zambrano considers this double portrait to be autograph and, therefore, the one described in the poems. She has suggested that the seeming awkwardness of the composition may be due to the fact that it was intended to be placed in an elevated position, well above eye level; this would correspond to the information

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 87

patronage and the art of friendship

87

we have about the placing of portrait busts above doorways and fireplaces.8 Even if the panel is by a follower of Filippino, the uniqueness of the composition, taken with the poems, and the fact that the painting is almost certainly datable to the late fifteenth or early sixteenth century, would suggest that it is at least a workshop copy of the original subject.9 How would this painting have been understood by its viewers and creator? The poems offer a starting point. There was a long tradition of poetry about painted portraiture, ultimately derived from a collection of Greek poetry, the “Iconic Epigrams,” which were known in Italy from about 1460. Before this date, the form was transmitted through Latin poets, notably Martial. The nearest precedents for fifteenthcentury poems about portraits, however, were Petrarch’s two sonnets on Simone Martini’s portrait of Laura. All these poems have certain elements in common. The most important feature explicitly claimed for written and painted portraiture was that it conferred immortality on the sitter. A portrait could bring the dead alive, make the absent present. Which medium did this most effectively was to become a key argument in the paragone of the next century.10 Quattrocento poems about portraits tend to share a literary device that John Shearman has described as a “bathetic cliché.” The skill of the artist is praised for representing with all accuracy the outward appearance of the subject, but painting fails to capture the life of the sitter: the portrait lacks breath, or speech.11 This trope occurs in the later Braccesi poem, which claims that “for the painted [portraits] only voice and breath are wanting.” That accurate external representation could be achieved in this period was taken for granted: what was at stake were the limits of painting for showing internal truths. Given his literary connections, it is not surprising that Filippino would be aware of this tradition.12 His double portrait forms a visual contribution to the debate framed by poets. Domenico Ghirlandaio’s portrait of Giovanna degli Albizzi (fig. 24), now in Madrid, refers to the bathetic topos in the inscription on the wall behind the sitter. This verse, derived from an epigram by Martial, reads “Art, would that you could represent character and mind, there would be no more beautiful painting on earth.” Because the painting cannot speak, the verse of a poet is made to speak for it. In the Filippino double portrait and the poems that describe it, however, it seems that character and mind are just what the painter is seeking to represent. The figures are presented with their torsos cut off just below the shoulders in a truncation reminiscent of that classical purveyor of immortality, the sculpted portrait bust. Indeed, as noted previously, Piero del Pugliese had a portrait bust made some years before, whose form is possibly echoed in this composition (fig. 4).13 At the same time as taking advantage of the connotations of an honored prototype, Filippino

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

88

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 88

changing patrons

Figure 24. Domenico Ghirlandaio, Portrait of Giovanna degli Albizzi, Madrid, ThyssenBornemisza Collection

Image not available

changes the pose of Piero, making the sitter less static and archetypal. His head leans slightly to the right, toward Filippino, his gaze downward, his right ear picked out prominently against the dark cover of a book behind his head. Filippino stands in profile, his lips slightly open. What is represented here is a verbal exchange. Filippino is telling Piero something, and the older man is listening intently. The portrait has, effectively, been given a voice. This attempt to go beyond the perceived strictures of painted portraiture was recognized in the poems. Braccesi avers that “Piero del Pugliese scarcely resembles himself as, in truth, how closely the painted panel resembles Piero,” then explains that

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 89

patronage and the art of friendship

89

Filippino “bestows to any of those painted the truth of themselves.” Verino goes further, stressing the confusion that would be provoked in the viewer of this panel: Anyone who has seen the painted Piero del Pugliese claims Here is Piero! and he would not say it was an image of Piero! Nature has yielded to artifice! as the art is truer! The painted panel surpasses the breathing man. Filippino’s skillful rendering of Piero del Pugliese has produced a visual truth. He captured the appearance of this man so accurately that not only would the panel fool the onlooker but paradoxically it represented the sitter more genuinely than even his own external features. In this case the “bathetic cliché” is spurned in favor of a declaration of painted victory. Filippino and Piero appear on the panel together, joined for posterity, the painter’s profile gaze locked on his patron’s face. An interesting precedent is the now lost painting by Andrea Mantegna of Janus Pannonius and Galleotto Marzio da Narni, documented in a poem by Janus of 1458. This allowed the two men, according to the poem, to be combined in “a knot of unbroken friendship.”14 The Filippino panel, too, I believe, is a permanent visual attestation of the friendship between painter and patron. Filippino’s representational skill as portrayed in the rhetoric of the poems comes partly from his own divinely fueled gift as a painter but also, in this case, from the God-given friendship he had with Piero del Pugliese. Alberti in De Pictura explicitly elides the powers of painting with the powers of friendship to “make the absent present.”15 The friend, like the painter, has special powers of vision. As Ficino claimed,“a friend sees deep in a friend not merely his own image, but his very self.”16 Much external evidence suggests that Piero del Pugliese and Filippino Lippi were friends. Their relationship started at least at the beginning of the 1480s and continued until Piero’s death in 1498. Even after this date, Filippino maintained his connection with the family. Francesco di Filippo, as executor of his will, was one of the people responsible for making up an inventory of the painter’s belongings on his death in 1504.17 In a previous will of 1488, Francesco was given the task of obtaining payment from Matthias Corvinus, the king of Hungary, for paintings that Filippino had executed for him, and in the same year he acted as a guarantor for a loan for a house purchase.18 About ten years later, Piero acted as guarantor for another loan to the painter.19 How the two men met is not known, though it was possibly through Piero’s contacts with the convent of Santa Maria del Carmine, where, of course, Filippino’s father, Filippo, had been a friar. As well as gaining the patronage rights of a chapel

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

90

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 90

changing patrons

Figure 25. Domenico Ghirlandaio, Old Man and Boy, Paris, Musée du Louvre

Image not available

there in 1465, Piero was an operaio of the church from at least 1488 and almost certainly before this date.20 It is possible that he helped Filippino to secure the commission for the restoration of the Brancacci chapel, part of a series of restorations that occurred in the church during the mid-1480s.21 At any rate, he was one of the first Florentines to entrust Filippino with a major commission, the altarpiece of the Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, which was probably executed about 1480–81.22 He later commissioned work from Filippino for his house, the “storie di figure piccole” mentioned by Vasari.23 His nephew and son also bought works from the artist. Filippo di Piero commissioned a tondo, left incomplete at Filippino’s death, and Francesco di Filippo owned the sportelli panels (wings) and the Adoration of the Magi that he put in his chapel at Sommaia, discussed in Chapter 8.24 The Denver double portrait operated within the boundaries laid out for it by rhetoric of friendship of the period. True friendship and its instrumental counterpart were issues that occupied the minds of quattrocento Florentines. As well as the more

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 91

patronage and the art of friendship

91

formal sources—notably Alberti in Della Famiglia and the entrants in the poetry competition, the Certame Coronario, that he organized on the subject—ideas and expectations about how friends should act were discussed in letters, ricordanze, and zibaldoni.25 Work of the last twenty years on this subject has demonstrated the prime importance of amicizia for the workings of the Florentine political system and social life.26 Indeed, the linkage of friendship to patronage means that these words have been used almost interchangeably by historians.27 Florentines themselves, as Alberti did in Della Famiglia, separated ideal friendship, a disinterested linkage between like minds, from instrumental friendship, which could be more akin to patronage. In practice, however, this distinction was blurred: if you were true friends with someone, you would clearly want to help him or her succeed; if you were in a position to further someone’s career or general well-being, you were acting as a friend would. Thus, when requests for patronage were turned down, the person’s ability to act as a friend was questioned. When Piero del Pugliese refused to give Ser Bartolommeo Dei a loan in 1491, the latter was outraged: “he replied to me more brusquely than I would have believed . . . in my opinion he’s a man who’s more for himself than for friends.”28 Piero’s patronage of Filippino as a painter was inextricably linked with their friendship. They are placed together for posterity on the Denver panel. Double portraits surviving from this period are rare, but those that do survive, primarily of family members, provide an insight into how the rhetoric of friendship was incorporated into the composition of this painting. Ghirlandaio’s portrait of an old man and a young boy, now in the Musée du Louvre, is an interesting comparison (fig. 25). Here the elderly exemplar is shown greeting his young relative who, like Filippino, stands to our right and who, like Filippino, is depicted in profile. In another painting by Ghirlandaio, now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, we again see this juxtaposition of profile and full face (fig. 26). Thought to be a portrait of Francesco Sassetti and his son Teodoro, it is datable to the mid-1480s.29 It shows Francesco standing at the center, his face parallel to the picture plane and his son, once again, on the right in profile. Patricia Simons has pointed out that increasingly from the mid-fifteenth century onward, only women and young men were represented in profile. The more direct gaze of the three-quarter view was reserved for figures of older men.30 While this can be interpreted as an instance of a social concern to maintain feminine passivity, the use of it for young boys and the references it has to the more heroic form of portrait medals suggest that the distinction between the profile and the full-face portrait was not simply hierarchical. Alison Wright has discussed the pious implications of the profile and its connection with the donor portrait, which emphasizes the subject’s chastity and holiness.31 It is worth pointing out in this connection that women and

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

92

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 92

changing patrons

Figure 26. Domenico Ghirlandaio, Francesco Sassetti and His Son Teodoro, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Jules Bache Collection, 1949 (49.7.7)

Image not available

children in their idealized and sentimentalized forms were perceived to be more naturally pious and holy than their older male counterparts. The cult of youth in Florence during this period, and especially under Savonarola, has been discussed elsewhere.32 In the two Ghirlandaio portraits, both parties are shown to be exemplary, albeit in different ways. The youth is a cipher of purity, chastity, and otherworldliness, whereas the older figure owes his exemplarity to a wisdom gained from confronting the world more directly. Moreover, these representational choices are more than the sum of their parts. Holy youth and wise old age are shown together to stress familial interaction and continuity. Recent work on homosociality and sodomy has also drawn a relationship between youth and female-gendered roles in homosexual activity, the younger partner almost invariably playing a passive role. Thanks to Michael Rocke’s work, we now know how normal this “life stage” of same-sex relations was in Renaissance Florence.33 This may have had a bearing on some contemporaries’ reading of both the double portrait and the friendship between Filippino

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 93

patronage and the art of friendship

93

and Piero, though it should be noted that Piero certainly was beyond the age normally associated with this practice.34 Potential homoerotic overtones aside, this chapter’s focus is on the intended rhetoric of the portrait and the poems, which are concerned with idealized concepts of friendship and its representation. Giovanni Rucellai claimed that although wealthy and fortunate friends were the ideal, “you should wish for friends who are full of virtù rather than rich.”35 Piero del Pugliese, as a wealthy patrician who had served on the priorate several times, was clearly of a social status superior to that of the artisan Filippino, whatever the respect he gained for his talent as a painter. The rhetoric of friendship as revealed in Florentine correspondence and theory was able to encompass these inequalities through likening them to age difference within a family setting. Thus, the Florentine notary Lapo Mazzei played the “younger brother and friend” to the wealthy Pratese Francesco di Marco Datini, and supplicants to Averardo de’ Medici in the 1430s claimed him as “noble and honored, almost a father” or “most dear, and like a father to me.”36 Vasari extolled Filippino: “his excellence was such that he obliterated the stain of his birth . . . not only by his eminence as an artist . . . but above all by his lovable nature, the true power of which was to win the affections of everyone.”37 As the renaming of certain artists such as Piero di Cosimo indicates, spiritual paternity could form links more effective than blood. In the portrait of Piero and Filippino, the closeness of this relationship was represented using the visual language of family, mirroring the practice in the verbal rhetoric of the period where the permanence and strength of kinship ties provided the most easily available metaphoric resource. The books on the shelf, which visually and notionally link the two figures in the double portrait, suggest that this is an affective tie based on the intellect and learning represented by the written word. The fact that it is Filippino who is shown speaking, perhaps communicating the knowledge revealed in the open book behind his head, is also significant. The older patrician is giving his attention to the younger painter. Can we relate this relationship between Piero and Filippino to wider notions of patron-artist relationships in this period? If Vasari is to be believed, almost all the painters and sculptors in Florence had great friends in members of the patriciate. As Patricia Rubin has pointed out, throughout the Lives, and particularly in the Life of Donatello, the ideal of friendship is stressed as a guiding principle for the behavior of patrons and artists alike.38 There are good reasons for this. True friendship implies the virtue of both participants, ennobling a relationship that otherwise could be conceived as a mere commercial transaction. It implicitly raises the status of the painter or sculptor or, rather, rhetorically makes social status an irrelevance. As with all ideal and idealized friendships, for Filippino and Piero inequalities of age and social status do not prohibit the true joining of like minds. Indeed, I would

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

94

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 94

changing patrons

argue that the idea of equality of spirit despite social differentiation is crucial in the development of the concept of the patron-artist relationship: the virtue of the wealthy man is proven by the fact he chooses a poorer man for a friend; the poorer man must be virtuous or he would not have been chosen. A central part of Florentine beliefs about friendship was that true friendship rested in virtue. Bartolommeo Dei’s comment was more than a onetime barbed reflection on Piero’s refusing him a loan; it struck right to the heart of his character. Alberti claims that “virtue always adorns an excellent friendship,” although “truly virtuous men to delight in our virtue are rare . . . only the few who are truly good can be true and lasting friends.”39  The main classical source for the artist-patron ideal, the Natural History of Pliny the Elder, also described friendship and equality existing between patrons and artists. In his discussion of Apelles he reveals that “the charm of his manner had won him the regard of Alexander the Great, who was a frequent visitor to the studio,” the emperor holding the painter in such high regard that when he “talked about things he knew nothing about, Apelles would pleasantly advise him to be silent . . . such power did his personality give him over a king habitually so passionate.”40 The linkage of minds implied in this ideal patronage relationship places the painter outside the boundaries of normal social stratification. Pliny’s writings clearly influenced Vasari’s view of events.41 What is less clear is how influential they were in the fifteenth century: should we, like Barbara Mitchell, dismiss his patron-artist model as “a pattern of fabrication”?42 The great majority of Florentines who commissioned paintings in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries probably were not friends with the masters they employed. Examining the painters commissioned by the Nasi family during the quattrocento, for example, suggests that they had no patronage relationship—in a meaningful sense of the word— with any of the masters concerned. Raffaellino del Garbo and Perugino were commissioned by the Nasi for altarpieces in the churches of Santo Spirito and Cestello respectively, but there is no evidence of a broader connection between these painters and the family. Indeed, their completion of other altarpieces in the same churches suggests that the choice of artist in these cases was more likely influenced by the ecclesiastical institution than by the chapel patrons. The only painter with whom the Nasi were connected through business ties was Neri di Bicci, and, as far as we know, they bought no work from him.43 The same can probably be said for the majority of works commissioned in the period. It would seem that Vasari overstated his case. However, there is contemporary evidence to suggest that Vasari was not completely misleading. Cosimo il Vecchio, for example, was celebrated by Vespasiano da

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 95

patronage and the art of friendship

95

Bisticci in the 1480s for being “a great friend to Donatello and to all the painters and sculptors,” giving Donatello a salary and dressing him in fine clothes. Interestingly, we see similar observations about ideal friendship as those used by Alberti repeated at the end of Vespasiano’s passage on Donatello: “Cosimo used the same liberality to anybody who possessed some virtù, because he loved such people.”44 Cosimo’s son, Piero, and, to a greater extent, grandson Lorenzo carried on this tradition. Donatello was, as Vasari says, buried in San Lorenzo, honored sufficiently by Cosimo’s heirs to lie near them in death. Similarly, Benozzo Gozzoli addressed Piero de’ Medici in 1459 as “my most singular friend.”45 It seems that Lorenzo, more than his predecessors, started to build a close relationship with painters, sculptors, and architects, and F. W. Kent has recently shown that the evidence for these ties is becoming ever more compelling.46 Although Lorenzo probably did have genuine friendships with men such as “his” architect, Giuliano da Sangallo, the public face of these relationships at least have seignorial overtones, suggested by his reaction to the death of Giuliano da Maiano in 1490; Lorenzo complained that the news “brought much unhappiness to my mind . . . because he was very much mine.”47 Certainly after the purchase and filling of the renowned sculpture garden in the mid-1470s, Lorenzo seems to have been deliberately pursuing a policy of patronage of artists reminiscent of that of a courtly household.48 Vasari and Ascanio Condivi are probably accurate in telling us that the sculptor Bertoldo had custody over this garden. This pupil of Donatello had a room in the Medici palace and, we are told by Benedetto Dei, was “always with the magnificent Lorenzo.”49 Michelangelo, it seems, did indeed learn there as Condivi and Vasari claim, possibly making his first large-scale work, a marble Hercules, for Piero di Lorenzo.50 Whether other artists who have been connected with the garden actually were there is impossible to say without more evidence. This pattern of cultural patronage moves toward a courtly model, the young artist of skill being positioned as the grateful recipient of wise patronal largesse. This would mirror the slow shift in the language of clientage and friendship around Lorenzo, which accelerated after the Pazzi conspiracy, becoming “less concerned with fraternal friendship . . . and more courtly and even obsequious.”51 The importance of Lorenzo as the archetypal art patron should not be underestimated. As I argue elsewhere, the rhetoric likening him to a second Augustus presiding over a Florentine golden age was to become particularly important after his death in forming notions of how art patrons should act and of their contribution to a wider society. It is important, however, not to read fifteenth-century behavior through the lens of what came later. In fact, some examples of artist-patron relationships outside Lorenzo’s sphere indicate that the hierarchical relationship—which places the patron

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

96

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 96

changing patrons

as a courtly Maecenas and the artist as a grateful client—was tempered by the more equalizing idea of amicizia for some fifteenth-century Florentine patricians and the masters they employed. It is perhaps significant that I have come across no uses of the word “patron” in the documents relating to artists and their employers of this period.52 The relationship models of friendship and family are, however, quite widespread. Raffaellino del Garbo was possibly “adopted” by the Capponi family or, at any rate, was sufficiently close to them to adopt their surname about 1499.53 Antonio Pollaiuolo was described as a “most dear friend” by the Lanfredini family who commissioned several works from him and may have been responsible for recommending him to Innocent VIII, when Giovanni Lanfredini was the ambassador to Rome in 1489.54 In 1501 a letter from Cronaca to Lorenzo Strozzi attests to the undying friendship of the architect.55 It seems that Piero del Pugliese, in his friendship with Filippino Lippi, may have wished to see himself as playing a part in fostering youthful talent. He commissioned work from both Filippino and Piero di Cosimo early in their careers and paid for paintings from these artists for years to come. He may have pitted the two painters against each other on two occasions, creating competition to promote enhanced results. The altarpieces for Lecceto and the Campora were both made about the same time, between 1481 and 1485, and then both Filippino and Piero di Cosimo produced a series of spalliere panels for the Del Pugliese palace, both of which Vasari claims were greatly admired.56 That Del Pugliese appears in the portrait with Filippino, and that the portrait was celebrated in poems, suggests that a certain section of the Florentine population was familiar with a notion akin to our “art patronage” by the later quattrocento. It certainly indicates that a friendship of equals between an artisan painter and a patrician was possible—even desirable—and that this friendship involved a linkage of minds. If Laurentian Florence adopted ideals of patronage of artists from a Plinian model, the image of Pliny’s Alexander was refracted through a republican lens. The concept of friendship as an ideal in the patron-artist relationship had further implications. It allowed for a certain freedom of action.57 Just as the contractual norm of Florentine social relationships could be partially violated in the name of friendship, latitude could be given to the artist-friend to act in a noncontractual way. The idea of commercial transaction—in which money is given by the customer for work promptly carried out exactly to his order—has no place in a friendship, as Bartolommeo Dei’s disgust at Piero del Pugliese indicates. In a relationship based on amicizia painters should, for example, be able to respond to a commission by following their own ideas rather than being contractually dictated to, or should be able to take longer completing a project. Vasari notes a failure of friendship in the case of the

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 97

patronage and the art of friendship

97

Del Pugliese altarpiece in the church of the Innocenti.“The manager of the Innocenti was a good friend of Piero [di Cosimo], and wanting to have a panel made . . . for the chapel of the Pugliese, he allotted it to Piero, who completed it to his satisfaction. But he drove the manager to desperation, as he was not allowed to see it before he was finished. And how strange it seemed to him that a friend should be thinking all the time of money.”58 A real friend would have trusted Piero to finish the work to his satisfaction, and value would have been found outside monetary considerations. Whether this story is true or not is hardly the point: it reflects a license that could be given to gifted artists because of their special talents. As early as the 1470s another, perhaps apocryphal, story in Angelo Poliziano’s Giornale indicates that Donatello, like Apelles, cut across the boundaries of social status because of his talent: his skill made him “a sovereign in his field.”59 The main issue of these art historical anecdotes is not to determine whether they are historically verifiable. They suggest that a cultural narrative was developing at the end of the fifteenth century that allowed for changing modes of behavior between artisans/artists and the people who employed them. Indeed, by the early 1500s the idea that the talented visual artist was deserving of special treatment had become sufficiently entrenched in Florentine thought to be expressed in a kind of shorthand in the ambassadorial correspondence of the day. In 1503 the Florentine Dieci di Balìa were explaining to Alessandro Nasi, their ambassador in France, why Michelangelo had not yet finished the bronze David that had been requested by Cardinal Rohan several years before.60 Michelangelo was the “great friend” of Piero Soderini, the leader of the republic, and was given considerable leeway in finishing time.61 “As you know,” they claim, “of the ways of painters and sculptors, you can hardly promise anything certain.”62 They are, by nature, unreliable. Again, they claim that Michelangelo may finish the sculpture soon, but “this isn’t very certain given the mind of such people.”63 However, the contract was not taken away from him and given to a more reliable sculptor. Rather, the good patron has to be patient with his artist’s idiosyncrasies: “you cannot, due to the nature of the man and the quality of the work, hurry it through in a few days.”64 So here the association between maker and purchaser is transformed from a contractual commercial transaction, with each side expected to fulfill clearly stated obligations, to a more complex relationship in which one side, the patron, is expected to grant latitude to the other, the artist. By doing so, the “quality of the work” is ensured and the patron’s part in the relationship in itself is accorded with a cultural reward over and above the material product of the transaction, the artwork. In effect, the patron’s place was ennobled through his participation in the friendship.

06.Burke.085-098.FINALqu

98

4/1/04

10:07 AM

Page 98

changing patrons

The social and artistic milieu in which Vasari’s Lives were written was the result of a process of change that had its roots in the fifteenth century. By this time skilled artists could be marked out as a special sort of people who deserved delicate handling. The quattrocento was a time when these new social relationships between purchaser and producer of the visual arts were being worked out. I would suggest that in Florence, where courtly notions of service between painter and princely patron were problematic, friendship could provide a conceptual basis for the relationship. The equality of spirit and virtue implied by amicizia was integrated into the nascent idea of the patron-artist relationship. It allowed the notion of a intellectual, quasispiritual link between the two parties involved, implying that the artist would be able to fulfill the patron’s needs without stringent contractual terms and endowed the relationship itself with an air of virtù.

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 99

part ii The Individual, the Family, and the Church

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 100

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 101

chapter 5

Patronage Rights and Wrongs Building Identity at Santa Maria a Lecceto



O

n 12 September 1473 Fra Domenico Guerrucci was called by God. Inspired by the words of the prophet David to “Flee far away and stay in solitude,” this Dominican friar from the convent of San Marco decided to leave the depraved city of Florence to become a hermit.1 He traveled with a companion to the commune of Gangalandi, modern-day Lastra a Signa, about fourteen kilometers west of Florence. Within a month, the first mass was said in the small oratory the friars had constructed on a wooded hillside there, in a place called Lecceto. Two years later, wishing to expand further, Fra Domenico petitioned the Twelve of Gangalandi for help. They duly agreed and gave him 10 staiora (just over five kilometers) of wooded land around his original foundation in exchange for patronage rights. In December of the same year, the friar got further help from Piero del Pugliese, for the foundation of a church next to the small oratory. Piero’s involvement with the building scheme continued until December 1477, when the church was half-built. At around this point Filippo Strozzi pledged money to complete the building. He promised to spend one thousand florins on finishing the church and its interior decoration, and he lived up to his promise. In the first half of the 1480s he received the patronage rights to this church.2 A document of 1480, reproduced in the Appendix, defines the rights of patronage gained by the commune of Gangalandi in return for their gifts of land.3 The right of patronage, ius patronatus, was a legally defined relationship between lay donor and ecclesiastical institution. Using the events at Lecceto as a focus for discussion, this chapter investigates the nature of this relationship and examines how it formed a conceptual base for the understanding of pious giving to church building and ornamentation— what is now typically described as the patronage of architecture and art.4 The legal dimension of lay payment for ecclesiastical building was developed in response to a need for money for church building, especially in rural areas.5 First discussed by the codifier of canon law, Gratian, in the mid-twelfth century, the term ius

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

102

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 102

changing patrons

patronatus was coined by the canonist Rufinus around the same time, in his Summa Theologica of 1157–59.6 The possession of patronage rights by lay patrons in Florence and the contado was very common in the quattrocento and actually increased during the century. By the 1460s fifteen out of sixty-two of the parishes within the city were under the control of family or individual patronage, and by 1514 half the priests of the pievi (baptismal churches) and smaller parishes in the diocese as a whole were elected by family patronage.7 The key element of this right, Rufinus claimed, was that its holders could elect the priest who officiated in the building over which the right was held. Later developments confirmed that in return the patron was expected to provide funds to maintain the fabric of the building and protect it against any detractors: the canonist Stephen of Tournai in his Summa Coloniensis claimed that “three factors are comprised by patronage rights: honor, burden and profit, namely the selection of persons, the provision of and care for the property of the church lest it be squandered, and the founder’s upkeep through [times of ] poverty by work.”8 Saint Antoninus drew directly from this canon law tradition in his description of patronage rights in his Summa Theologica: “To the patron is owed honor, burden and profit. He should present [candidates], superintend, protect, support in [times of ] poverty.” Interestingly in this case, he adds to the rights of election, defense, and provision of funds the specifically Florentine right of the patron to proceed first in any procession.9 As the Lecceto example confirms, it is the election of people, of church personnel, rather than the control over the building’s fabric, that formed the central meaning of ius patronatus to fifteenth-century Florentines. At the same time, the whole notion of ius patronatus refutes a simple division between the former kind of patronage and the physical maintenance of the church or convent. This is made clear by Antoninus and his canonist predecessors and repeated in the 1480 document: “any person who should . . . impede the building of the said hermitage and church,” we are informed, “shall be deprived of the said right that he will not be able to elect new friars for the said place.” Rights of nomination and election are dependent on the continuation of the building of the hermitage. In fact, as briefly mentioned above, people generally received patronage rights over an ecclesiastical building because they provided for its physical foundation. This was a fundamental requirement for the holding of these rights from their earliest codification by Gratian and was later to be enshrined by the Council of Trent.10 The same is true in local summaries of canon law. Foundation is one of the three bases of patronage listed in the 1310 constitutions of Florence, and this is repeated by Antoninus more than one hundred years later.11 Visitors to churches were advised to ascertain, before anything else, the identity of the building’s founder, according to

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 103

patronage rights and wrongs

103

instructions of 1512.12 Later in the sixteenth century, Vicenzo Borghini castigated those powerful men who took over the giuspatronato of a church by manipulating the history of its foundation:“little by little their name alone appears on the records, and so they are made patrons.”13 This was exactly what happened at Lecceto. In his will of 1491 Filippo Strozzi claimed that he bequeathed masses at the church not only for the “remedy of his soul” but also “in sign of recognition of the foundation of the church and convent and protection and patronage [patronaggio] of the said goods.”14 Later histories of the church make no mention of the gifts given by either the commune of Gangalandi or Piero del Pugliese, even stressing that Filippo Strozzi built the church “from the foundations.”15 This was not an exceptional case: the Tornabuoni family were keen to stress the slightly dubious claim that they had made the original gift of land to found Santa Maria Novella when staking their claims for patronage rights of the cappella maggiore in that church.16 The rewriting of the past presumably gained even greater importance after the Tridentine reforms, when written evidence of foundation was required to preserve patronage rights that may well have been in the hands of the same family for centuries.17 The tendency toward the falsification and manipulation of written records due to this practice could possibly explain seeming discrepancies in documentation regarding the building histories of several churches. Given the importance of foundation in their bestowal, the transferal of patronage rights posed a problem. Antoninus again agrees with the canonists on the rights of patrons to hand over their ius patronatus by means of hereditary succession, exchange, or donation—all with episcopal consent.18 Sale was not allowed, because of its simoniacal implications, and neither was usurpation, a problem that the Florentine church was well aware of throughout the period.19 Patrons, however, were constantly under the threat of having patronage rights taken away from them, even if they had founded a church building. This generally happened because they had not fulfilled the other two requirements of patronage outlined by the Florentine constitutions and Antoninus: the maintenance of the building and the continued provision of funds in the form of a dote, a dowry.20 The commune of Gangalandi seemed to fail to fulfill its promise to maintain the building program at Lecceto, and there is evidence that the Twelve were well aware of the possible results of their diffidence. The original gift of land in 1475 to surround the first oratory at Lecceto had no accompanying notarization of ius patronatus. It was only two years later, when Guerrucci had found an alternative source of funding for the foundation of the large church in the form of Piero del Pugliese, that the commune stressed its patronage rights in legal terms by having a contract drawn up and placing its arms on the oratory, while giving the friars more land.21 In 1480, in the face

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

104

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 104

changing patrons

of the patronage onslaught of Filippo Strozzi, another ten staiora were given with another notarized contract drawn up to specify what ius patronatus entailed.22 A document of the mid-1480s details the problems over the ceding of these rights.23 Neither the commune of Gangalandi nor Piero del Pugliese had given enough money to finish building the church. Filippo Strozzi, by contrast, pledged to give one thousand florins to the church, considerably more than the previous donors. Seeing also that the rest has to be completed, the house and the aforementioned church, and seeing that it is seemly to give money for its ornamentation and the same Filippo intends to finish it all at his own expense, so it is conceded by apostolic authority to them, that is, his heirs and successors, in perpetuity, the patronage rights to the same large church and second building . . . and placing on the same church and on the house and on the aforementioned goods . . . his family’s arms and insignia in sign of the truth.24 An element of bargaining seems to run through this whole process. The offering of patronage rights to Filippo Strozzi was as much an acknowledgment of what he had given to the church as an incentive for future giving. The offers of land made by the commune of Gangalandi at points when its patronage was threatened by the gifts of an outsider testify to its knowledge of its precarious position. The granting of patronage rights because a patron had spent money on the fabric of a church and— crucially—was likely to carry on spending once the rights were secured seems to be a typical illustration of the mechanics of this form of patronage. There are many other examples. The ius patronatus of San Niccolò sopr’Arno passed from the bishop to the parishioners in 1421 when they sponsored the rebuilding of the church; Tommaso Soderini gained patronage rights over his parish church of San Frediano in the 1460s because he spent 280 florins to restore it—and he promptly elected a kinsman of his to be prior; Medici dominance in San Lorenzo from the 1420s was largely a consequence of financial involvement in the restructuring of the building.25 The power of the religious institution to change its patrons was crucial. Because the first patron at Lecceto, the commune of Gangalandi, had failed in its obligations to the church, its rights were taken away through legal means by appealing to apostolic authority, going directly to the archbishop.26 In fact, the archbishopric keenly observed changes in patronage of both churches and chapels, and many of the fifteenth-century notarial records kept in the Archivio Arcivescovile today deal with cases of this kind. As noted above in respect to the opera of Santo Spirito, interpreting the patronage of churches as an act of“colonization” underplays the importance of the religious institution in negotiating between conflicting bids for patronage. If, in the end, it was generally the most politically influential and wealthy patron who

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 105

patronage rights and wrongs

105

gained the rights, this was precisely because this type of patron was likely to be the most beneficial to the institution in question.27 Filippo Strozzi and his heirs received the same patronage rights as the commune had been granted previously, receiving a candle yearly, and having the right to choose the friars at Lecceto after Guerrucci’s death.28 He also commissioned masses in honor of Saints Jacopo and Filippo about 1484.29 Beyond his contribution to the building and its religious upkeep through masses, moreover, Filippo Strozzi’s patronage colored daily life at Lecceto. Already in the 1480s he “provided alms daily,” and letters from a Fra Girolamo of 1490 attest to his continuing involvement with the church, the friar reminding him of his obligations as well as giving him news of visitors and the problems of other brothers there.30 As this case would suggest, when discussing motives for church patronage, citing a display mentality is not sufficient. Although supplying money for the fabric of the building was almost always an important component of ecclesiastical patronage, the relationship between institution and patron was more intimate and regular than that of merely supplying building funds. The patron had an obligation to maintain the liturgical function of the sacred space through endowing masses, and a responsibility toward church personnel—either employing a chaplain or, in this case, providing the friars with their daily bread. Thus, the desires of Filippo Strozzi affected not only the fabric of the church building but also the activities that went on inside it. Coats of arms were used to symbolize the contractual relationship involved in patronage. It is significant that in the document ceding Filippo Strozzi the patronage rights, he is told he can also place his arms on the building, which he later did.31 The Strozzi arms were also put at various points around the convent, which Filippo had also helped to fund. The patron’s insignia was generally positioned (as in this case) on the facade of a church, over the door. The Strozzi arms must have replaced those of the commune of Gangalandi, which, Guerrucci tells us, had been put in this position “in recognition of the truth” of the foundation of the church.32 This motivation for placing family insignia on church facades is significant. Although motives of prestige and display were undoubtedly present in the use of arms, in the context of patronage rights it seems that they had a quasi-legal status. The Florentine synod complained in 1336 that when laymen wished to take over a benefice they “invade and despoil the church. They post their arms there to prevent those to whom the church belongs in law from taking possession.”33 In 1472 the commune of Florence is reported to have prevented the benefice of San Gallo going to an outsider during its vacancy by placing its arms on the church and other buildings.34 This elision of arms with patronage rights seems to have been born of custom rather than law, arising from a confusion at the time as to exactly what legal rights

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

106

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 106

changing patrons

were signified by coats of arms on the exterior of a building. This topic was discussed in the 1460s by four canon lawyers, at the request of the monks of Santa Maria alle Campora. As Lando Albizzi and his brothers provided for the foundation of this church, the Albizzi arms had been on the facade above the entrance for many years, as well as on the cappella maggiore. However, because the family stopped giving money after a while, the monks decided to take the arms off the facade, much to the consternation of the Albizzi heirs.35 It was finally decided by arbiters, with the help of the canon lawyers’ verdict, that the monks had the right to take down any coats of arms they wished, and that these insignia did not mean that the family had patronage rights over the church “even after one hundred years”: rather, it was a sign of friendship and devotion between the family and the monks.36 Coats of arms were not primarily a recognition of the patron’s contribution to the physical foundation of an institution but were held to symbolize the ongoing relationship between the fabric of the building and the patronage of those who officiated within its walls. They completed and solemnized the multifaceted nature of the patronal contract.37 Of course, as the reaction of the Albizzi would suggest, having a family insignia above the entrance to a church was extremely desirable. Family prestige and identity undoubtedly were served by this placement, although I would argue that the idea that this form of family advertising “secularized” sacred space has been overstated. It could also sacralize the “secular” family insignia. Ever since the first lay patrons donated money to churches, inscriptions of their names were placed on the exterior of churches not only for worldly esteem but also to attract the intercession of the faithful.38 The Franciscan canonist Francesco da Empoli, in the early fifteenth century, claimed that coats of arms on the facade of a church inspired prayers for the benefactor’s soul.39 Furthermore, they could inspire additional acts of benefaction by like-minded patrons.40 The Florentine who had made sufficient money to pay for the foundation of a church partly relied on the prayers of those perhaps less fortunate for the fate of his immortal soul after his death.41 Notably, Filippo Strozzi claimed that he was paying money toward Lecceto and Le Selve to give thanks to God for the renewed fortunes of the family.42 At the center of the notion of patronage was a sense of obligation and gratitude as well as privilege. The fact that coats of arms could be used as a kind of nonverbal public contract between religious institution and patron takes us to the key issue about ius patronatus, the relationship between the control over appointments within the church or oratory and, concomitantly, the control of space within its walls and the funding of the fabric of the building itself. This relationship was both subtle and intricate. The concept of ius patronatus makes any neat differentiation between patronage over building and patronage over appointments seem crude. That they are inextricably linked is crucial

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 107

patronage rights and wrongs

107

to understanding what patronage in the period meant. The funding of a building could justify control over its internal space and the selection of the clergy who worked there, a control that was expressed in visual terms through placing family or corporate symbols above points of entry into that space. A strong moral dimension attached to the ownership of patronage rights. The founder of a church was expected to maintain his responsibilities for the building and in return be rewarded. The documents of Lecceto show how the failure of the patron to maintain his side of this contractual relationship was cast in this moral light. In his ricordanze, Guerrucci articulates the duty of the patron in near saintly terms. The failure of the owner of ius patronatus to act in an appropriate and expected way was an offense to God. The main fault of the commune of Gangalandi, as an allegation made against it shows, was that of neglecting the church building after the first consecration but still expecting to retain patronage rights.43 Although it seems that Filippo Strozzi was asked to intervene by the leader of the commune, Domenico di Agostino Pandolfini, the Twelve later proved recalcitrant in allowing him to help and hindered Guerrucci’s and Strozzi’s attempts to construct the church. By 1479 Guerrucci was angry: “these officials [the Twelve of Gangalandi] deserve to be deprived of all honors and patronage of this place, insofar as they were not patrons but destroyers.” As becoming to his station, however, he hoped that God would eventually show pity on them, demonstrating “true justice and knowledge.” Finally, and most important, he wished that God should “protect this place from unjust sons and evil men through the merit of the blessed Virgin Mary and the intercession of all the saints, and bless all benefactors and devotees of this place.”44 Where does Piero del Pugliese’s donation fit within this rhetoric of good and bad patronage? His gift of money from the sale of a vineyard in 1477 was not dependent on his ownership of patronage rights and seems to have been at least in part a pious wish to help a former neighbor. The Guerrucci lived just around the corner from the Del Pugliese, on the Borgo San Frediano, and one member of the family witnessed Piero’s brother’s will in 1467.45 Partially, at least, his largesse must have been governed by ties of neighborhood in the gonfalone of Drago Verde. In contrast to the reaction against the commune of Gangalandi, there is no suggestion in the documents that he was in default when he failed to fund the church to its completion. Indeed, he had an altar built on the right-hand side of the church, which was consecrated on 1 May 1481. Fra Domenico explicitly states in a section of his ricordanze that Piero did not wish to place his arms on this altar: the implications of his reluctance in terms of the donor’s cession of patronage rights are clear.46 The reasons why his arms do, in fact, appear on the altarpiece—suggesting earthly exigencies had perhaps been victorious over otherworldly aspirations—will be discussed below.

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

108

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 108

changing patrons

Using the terms of the period, Piero del Pugliese was not a patron at all but a doer-of-good, a benefactore, in that none of his actions involved an expectation of (at least earthly) reciprocity. His gift was not contractually based and was one-sided, a sacrifice:“May it be God’s pleasure,” Guerrucci hoped,“to receive this sacrifice to bless his home and temple, and to make us [Guerrucci and Del Pugliese] among the number of his elect.”47 The discussion of Piero del Pugliese’s gift in this hyperbolic language signals the difference between his relationship with the church and that of Filippo Strozzi. Piero had acted outside the notion of patronage that was founded on the legally contractual and spiritually “mercantile” system of credit and debit.48 These different but parallel modes of pious giving to this ecclesiastical institution were articulated visually in its interior decoration.  The church at Lecceto still stands today, now part of the Florentine seminary (fig. 27). Account books belonging to both Filippo Strozzi and Domenico Guerrucci, which have been partially published, show the course of the building work in detail.49 Filippo founded the cappella maggiore with three consecrated stones in July 1478, and the interior of the church was finished by September 1480.50 He seemed to have taken great care over the interior decoration of the church, spending the enormous amount of 1,591 florins on the building and its ornamentation.51 His ownership of patronage rights over the church was demonstrated in no uncertain terms in the design of the cappella maggiore (fig. 28). As Domenico Guerrucci recorded,“he intends Figure 27. Church of SS. Filippo e Giacomo (formerly Santa Maria) a Lecceto, Lastra a Signa

Image not available

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 109

patronage rights and wrongs

109

Figure 28. Cappella Maggiore of church of SS. Filippo e Giacomo (formerly Santa Maria) a Lecceto, Lastra a Signa

Image not available

to make the chapel which is now founded to be similar to the cappella maggiore of Santa Maria de’ Ughi of Florence.”52 This church, destroyed in 1890, was located on Piazza Strozzi, surrounded by houses belonging to that family.53 Filippo had already provided money for a new facade for this parish church and paid for the construction of its cappella maggiore, over which the family possessed patronage rights.54 Through choosing to repeat the visual formulation of the Santa Maria de’ Ughi chapel for the high altar at Lecceto, the expression of the family’s rights over a church in its ancestral neighborhood was visually echoed in a location where these rights were less certain and the Strozzi’s historical position less deep-rooted. The identification of Filippo Strozzi with the church of Lecceto was built into its fabric through this choice of form. In 1489 the cappella maggiore at Lecceto was personalized further. Filippo had an inscription painted in gold letters around the cornice of the chapel, reading “virgini genitrici philippus strozza sui in salu tem condidit.” As Eve Borsook has pointed out, the large size and grandeur of this inscription seem somewhat incongruous in this small, single-naved church standing alone on a hill in

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

110

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 110

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 29. Workshop of Domenico Ghirlandaio, Annunciation to the Shepherds, Rotterdam, Museum Boijmans-Van Beuningen

the Tuscan countryside.55 This was indeed an attestation of pride and public magnificence, but it was also more than that: it was a confirmation of Filippo Strozzi’s patronage, a plea for those using the church to pray for his soul and, above all, an identification of the patron with the building he had funded. Filippo Strozzi commissioned an altarpiece from Domenico Ghirlandaio in 1487–88.56 It remained in the church until it was removed for sale in 1843:“a painting on panel in the style of Fra Bartolommeo della Porta, depicting the Virgin with the Holy Child in a glory of Angels, and underneath Saint John and a Saint James, with a separated gilded frame in a poor state, placed in the former church of Lecceto, and, precisely, at the high altar.”57 This main panel has not been found, but Borsook has convincingly identified the central section of the predella of this altarpiece as that now in the Boijmans-Van Beuningen Museum in Rotterdam (fig. 29).58 This panel, by Ghirlandaio’s workshop, is normally described as an Adoration of the Child, with Filippo Strozzi as a donor.59 In the sky in the left background of the panel, there is what seems to be an angel in glory hovering over a hill. In the middle ground to either side we see two shepherds, both looking up toward the angels at the center. The Filippo Strozzi figure is not wearing the long gown appropriate for a wealthy Florentine citizen but a rough, short-skirted garment, ragged at the hem. At his feet is a staff and behind him crouches a dog. In fact, this predella depicts the Annunciation to the Shepherds, and Filippo Strozzi appears in the guise of a shepherd who kneels before the Christ Child. Before discussing the reasons for Filippo’s surprising appearance as a contadino here, I would like to consider another painting that was also originally in the church. Piero del Pugliese’s chapel in Lecceto was consecrated in 1481 by Fra Giuliano da Montelupo “in honor of Christ and Saint Mary and Saint Peter Apostle and Saint

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 111

patronage rights and wrongs

111

Image not available

Figure 30. Piero di Cosimo, Virgin and Child with Saints Nicholas, John the Baptist, Peter, and Dominic, Saint Louis Art Museum

Nicholas and of all saints.”60 Given the correlation of the saints and the presence of the Del Pugliese arms on the predella, the altarpiece by Piero di Cosimo now in Saint Louis, Missouri, is almost certainly the “altar with the new and beautiful predella” that Guerrucci reports was given by Piero del Pugliese (fig. 30).61 The friar died in 1485, which allows us to confirm the early dating generally given to this work on stylistic grounds.62

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

112

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 112

changing patrons

This altarpiece shows the Madonna in the center of the panel, seated on a stepped throne with the Christ Child on her lap. To her right is Saint Peter, standing with his hand resting on the shoulder of the kneeling Saint Dominic. To her left stands Saint John the Baptist, who points at Christ, and kneeling at his feet is Saint Nicholas, his face in profile, holding out to the Virgin his attribute of three gold balls. The choice of saints for this altarpiece is easy to explain. Peter is the name-saint of the donor, John the Baptist the patron of Florence, and Saint Dominic representative of the order. Nicholas was the name of Piero’s son, born in 1477, just at the time Piero was most involved in giving donations to the church.63 Niccolò is not a traditional Pugliese family name. No other member of the main branch of the family or its cadet side had been given that name before this date. Given the importance of identity creation and re-creation in the use of traditional family names in Florence in this period, discussed by Klapisch-Zuber and others, Piero’s choice of the name for his son and the depiction of Saint Nicholas on the altarpiece should be explained in conjunction.64 About the same time as he commissioned this panel from Piero di Cosimo, Piero del Pugliese was painted by Filippino Lippi as the donor on the altarpiece The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, discussed in Chapter 7 (figs. 31 and 44). Comparing the donor figure on this painting with Saint Nicholas on the Piero di Cosimo altarpiece proves fruitful. The head of Saint Nicholas is rounder and almost bald, but the large ear, the profile of the face, with its prominent brow and downturned mouth suggest that the same man is portrayed in both paintings: in the Saint Louis altarpiece, Piero del Pugliese appears in the guise of Saint Nicholas.65 So, in the church at Lecceto both major private donors appear on the altarpieces they commissioned, not “as themselves,” as in a traditional donor portrait, but as an integral part of the sacred scene. This may be an exceptional occurrence. The practice of donors being depicted in such a guise is generally presumed to be very rare, though by its nature the identity of the sitter is to some extent concealed, and there may be many more unidentified instances. Savonarola, after all, felt moved to complain that the Florentines “have figures in churches painted in the likeness of this woman or that other one, which is ill done and in great dishonor of what is God’s.”66 This practice seems to have originally been confined to portraits of kings and other temporal rulers, but close pictorial identification between saint and citizen occurred in Florence from at least the early quattrocento. Depictions of the Magi especially seemed to lend themselves to this treatment: for example, Palla Strozzi and his son are emblematically represented, if not portrayed, as the adoring kings on Gentile da Fabriano’s Adoration of the Magi of 1423.67 The Medici were also accorded this honor, notably in an altarpiece painted just before those at Lecceto, Botticelli’s Adoration of the Magi. Although the identification of portraits on this panel are prob-

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 113

patronage rights and wrongs

113

Image not available

Figure 31. Filippino Lippi, The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard (Fig. 39), Florence, Badia, detail of donor

lematic, it is generally accepted that the oldest Magus is a portrait of Cosimo il Vecchio.68 According to Rab Hatfield, by the 1470s the Magi “seem often to have been looked upon as the emblematic representatives of the Medici,” and the ritualized recreation of members of the family as the three wise men on festive occasions has been also been discussed by Richard Trexler.69 It is notable that these rich Florentines adopted the guise of biblical characters who were not only rulers but also wealthy men who used their wealth wisely in bringing gifts to the Christ Child.70

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

114

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 114

changing patrons

A comparison can be made between this case and that of the Saint Nicholas/ Piero del Pugliese figure on the Piero di Cosimo altarpiece at Lecceto. Saint Nicholas, in the right-hand corner, takes a similar position in the panel to that of Piero-del-Pugliese-as-patron on the Filippino Lippi altarpiece, his face also being in strict profile. The way that Saint Nicholas’s gaze is fixed on Saint Peter is perhaps intended to give the viewer a visual clue to the identity of the saint/patron. He in turn proffers the three gold balls to the Virgin and her son, as both gift and attribute. This is surely an allusion to Piero’s original gift of land and money that helped to build a church in the Virgin’s honor. The life of Saint Nicholas was paradigmatic of the judicious use of great wealth,“not in order to win men’s praise but to give glory to God.”71 The most famous story of Saint Nicholas was his gift of gold to three virgin daughters of a poor man to save them from prostitution. He threw the gifts through the window of their chamber and then fled to escape detection. Their father eventually found out the identity of the benefactor and wished his name to be made public. In response the saint had him make a solemn vow that he would never reveal Nicholas’ identity.72 Guerrucci’s assertion that Piero del Pugliese did not want to place his coat of arms on his altar should be read in these terms, terms that would have been instantly recognizable to a contemporary. The benefactor “did not want fame or worldly vainglory because he is a man of conscience.”73 The inclusion of the features of a church patron in the depiction of Saint Nicholas hallowed and ennobled the act of donation, sanctifying Piero del Pugliese’s gift by association and making its import universal. He becomes a permanent good example as opposed to the “bad example” of the “evil men” of the commune of Gangalandi who took and did not give to the church. The substitution of the donor’s features for those of a saint makes the individual a paradigm of patronal virtue and otherworldliness. This transformation of an individual into an exemplum also perhaps explains the choice of name of Piero’s son. Niccolò di Piero was the second son of the family, born nine years after his elder brother and nineteen years after Piero’s marriage to Pippa di Jacopo d’Arrighi.74 Pippa must have become pregnant soon after Piero’s original gift to Lecceto at the end of 1475. Perhaps the naming of his son was linked with this event: a further expression of gratitude for rewards from heaven. At any rate, the portrait and the naming combined seems to serve as a self-conscious example of a virtuous use of wealth. This adoption of a saintly persona affected future acts of ecclesiastical patronage: Piero introduced his nephew, Francesco di Filippo, to the world of donation to churches when they both gave a painted frieze for his chapel at Santa Maria alle Campora on Saint Nicholas Day 1487.75 The fact that this gift came ten years after the birth of Piero’s son and two years into Francesco’s as yet childless marriage is, perhaps, significant.

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 115

patronage rights and wrongs

115

However, a tension exists between exemplarity and anonymity in this representation. Piero acts as an exemplar of pious, self-abnegating benefaction only through making himself known. Piero di Cosimo seems to take the donor portrait directly from the Filippino Lippi painting, making the head rounder, divesting it of its hair, adding more prominently incised crow’s feet around the eyes, and deepening and broadening the lines on the forehead. The lower part of the face remains substantially unaltered. The result is to make Piero del Pugliese/Saint Nicholas seem some years older than Piero del Pugliese as donor. In the latter, he is probably represented at his actual age, fifty-five in 1485. Perhaps these changes are meant to indicate that this depiction is an allusion to the physiognomy of Piero del Pugliese rather than a portrayal of him. By being presented as a saint, his identity was subsumed in that of a holy figure. There is no internal pictorial evidence to suggest that Saint Nicholas’ features are those of the man who commissioned the altarpiece. Future generations would not recognize him as a Florentine citizen, alive at the time of the painting’s creation: his features as an individual would have been forgotten, and he would, effectively, have become Saint Nicholas. The relationship between pious donation and Saint Nicholas is relatively clear, but why would Filippo Strozzi want to appear as a shepherd? He maintains his physical identity to a greater extent in the Ghirlandaio predella than Piero del Pugliese did on his altarpiece.76 Not only does Filippo retain his individual features, but he also appears more explicitly in the attitude of a donor, kneeling before the Virgin and Child in an aspect of prayer and physically separated from the other shepherds who form the narrative. The subject of the Adoration of the Shepherds was represented most dramatically in Florence in the Santa Maria Nuova altarpiece painted by Hugo van der Goes for the Portinari family. Christina Knorr has seen a deliberate political turn away from the Magi in the Portinari’s choice of this subject.77 This is surely not the case with Filippo Strozzi, who became closely associated with the Medicean oligarchy when he returned to Florence.78 Indeed, Federico Zeri has made a convincing argument that to the right of Ghirlandaio’s central scene was an Adoration of the Magi, now in a private collection in Rome.79 The continuation of the left-hand side of the stable and the curve of the hill in front of it between the Annunciation to the Shepherds and the Adoration of the Magi scenes makes Zeri’s opinion almost indisputable. This certainty of identification is especially important in this case as, to my knowledge, placing these scenes on the same predella was unusual, if not unprecedented. More usual would be the depiction of an episode from the lives of the saints appearing on the main panel.80 Although there is one scene left to be found, the whole ensemble clearly emphasized the Nativity of Christ, the day on which the church at Lecceto was founded.81 In the

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

116

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 116

changing patrons

written records and histories concerning Lecceto, Filippo Strozzi and his heirs manipulated the past to stress that he was its true founder; in this predella panel, his presence as a shepherd in the biblical narrative of the birth of Christ signifies his presence in the historical narrative of the foundation of the church. Once again, the iconography of a painting is used to refer to and comment on an act of patronage. In doing this, however, he deliberately humbled himself by appearing as a poor peasant, belying the magnificence of the chapel he had built. Filippo acts as an example to the contadini who may have formed a large part of the congregation at Lecceto: the poor may not be able to afford patronage rights, but they too have the gift of piety to give to the Virgin and Child. Filippo’s act is reminiscent of the inversion of roles in the Holy Thursday ritual, when the officers of a confraternity washed the feet of the other members.82 It is both reminiscent in its ritualized degradation and also in the way that social humility is elided with spiritual power. On Holy Thursday, the officers washing their brethren’s feet were, after all, playing the role of Christ ministering to his disciples. Similarly, the seemingly lowly shepherd has a crucial role in looking after his flock, remaining continually vigilant in his care for each soul.83 Notably, this particular shepherd is also in possession of a fine hunting dog with a studded collar: this representation is tense with ambiguities of social status.84 Filippo Strozzi did, indeed, take on pastoral duties in his role of church patron. The two letters of October 1490 between a Fra Girolamo at Lecceto and his patron are full of the incidental detail that suggests the level of Filippo’s interest and involvement in the day-to-day running of the monastery: I beg you to give a little something to Frate Bartolommeo to put some work in order. I tended a good part of these gardens as if they were a pearl. . . . I find that Frate Martino is really wearing himself out for this place. It seems to me that your Magnificence could do [him] a little good.85 Last Sunday there were more than twenty citizens at the mass. There have been a lot of people at this time and homini da bene will have gained great pleasure from this place, greatly praising God and your Magnificence. . . . In these few days that I have been here more than fifty friars [from Naples and Pisa] have been housed. I do not believe we have spent four grossoni of yours for them, and they were well received and greatly praised the place.86 Such assurances that his good works were being appreciated alongside requests for more money are as suitable a recognition of the role Filippo Strozzi played at Lecceto as Fra Domenico Guerrucci’s high-flown praise of Piero del Pugliese. The two men’s differing visual personae on the altarpieces in the church suggest that the word “role” is used with some justification. It seems that each followed a cultural

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 117

patronage rights and wrongs

117

script laid down by sacred precedent and contemporary custom, which delineated ideal behavior and was encapsulated in the visual and verbal rhetoric chosen to commemorate their actions. Piero del Pugliese replayed Saint-Nicholas-the-donor, giving for no earthly return; Filippo Strozzi replayed the holy-shepherd-as-patron, ever solicitous for his flock. By doing this they ordered their individual acts of giving in an idealized spiritual narrative. We should, perhaps, not be surprised at these instances of identity manipulation in a society where individuals were encouraged to empathize with Christ and the saints and imagine themselves and their contemporaries in their roles as a spiritual exercise.87 At present it is difficult to assess how frequently individuals were represented as saints on altarpieces. However, the permanent and public visual manifestation of this mental habit through painting was fraught with an ambiguity that was to become a theme of Savonarola’s sermons: did exterior appearance truly divulge interior motivation?  From the example of Lecceto, it is possible to gain an idea of how ecclesiastical patronage was understood by Florentines during the quattrocento. The ownership of patronage rights over a church was primarily concerned with the control of appointments of the ecclesiastical personnel. However, the rights were also bound up in the building and maintenance of that ecclesiastical property. Failure to maintain the building led to a breakdown of this relationship, and the original patrons, the commune of Gangalandi here, effectively gave up their rights. As the whole relationship was based on this contract, they were, in effect, no longer patrons. This failure was clearly regarded as morally reprehensible. By contrast, if a benefactor gave without expecting reciprocal worldly returns from the church, his actions were seen as exceptionally good, to be rewarded after death. Ecclesiastical patronage benefited not only the patron and church but also the community as a whole, and as such it should be considered in conjunction with other charitable acts, connected with the virtuous use of money. Ecclesiastical patronage was unique among charitable acts, however, as it allowed the patron to transform virtuous giving into a perpetual memorial to himself and his family. The appending of family symbols in the form of coats of arms to the exterior of the building, family chapels, and frames of altarpieces was an expected part of the patronage process, with near legal connotations. The placement of arms above the doorway to a church symbolized the entrance into a particularized spiritual space. This use of emblems, altarpieces with representations of family saints, and the funding of special masses meant that the patron directed the tenor of religious ritual, as he hoped to attract devotees both in life and after death. Lay control over ecclesiastical space was a problem that attracted the attention of canon lawyers from the initial dis-

07.Burke.099-118.FINALqu

118

4/1/04

10:09 AM

Page 118

changing patrons

cussions of ius patronatus. It was a problem still evident in Florence in the quattrocento; this tension informed much of the ecclesiastical decoration we see displayed as art in museums today. How some religious institutions sought to assert their corporate identity through the sublimation of individualized decorative schemes in chapels forms the subject of the next chapter.

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 119

chapter 6

Framing Patronage Beauty and Order in the Church of the Innocenti



I

n Chapter 5, I sought to demonstrate how the legal definition of ius patronatus could inform our ideas about the nature of patronage in the Florentine Renaissance, in addition to having an effect on the self-perception and actions of laypeople involved in this kind of contractual relationship. The legal and customary prescriptions of patronage rights affected investment in chapels as well as churches in this period. Because of emphasis on lineage as a key factor of Renaissance identity, the importance of family competition and honor within decoration of church space has often been stressed. No doubt, patrons of chapels were sometimes in competition with one another for the most honorable decorative complex. However, concentrating particularly on the decorative project of one church, that of the Spedale degli Innocenti in Florence, I show that this was far from always the case and examine how institutional identity expressed by desire for an integrated decorative scheme directed the decisions made about the appearance of individual chapels. The first part of this chapter is structured around a notarial document connected to the Innocenti redecoration, which I use as a device to address more general issues about chapels and chapel patronage of this period. I then examine the quattrocento interior of the Innocenti church in more detail. In November 1489 the prior and operai of the Innocenti made a contract with the Lenzi family, who had the patronage rights over the chapel of Saint Catherine in the hospital’s main church. License of the chapel in the Innocenti given by the Lenzi to the hospital to enable it to renew its form and to remake it in the likeness of the other opposite. Because it is certain that Lorenzo and Piero, brothers and formerly sons of Ampherone de’ Lenzi, citizens of Florence, have been and are the true and legitimate patrons of the chapel of Saint Catherine located in the church of Santa Maria degli Innocenti of the city of Florence, and Master Francesco, prior, and the operai of the said hospital desire to renew the said site of the

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

120

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 120

changing patrons

chapel in a different form in order that the church should be more orderly, the said De’ Lenzi, as well as wanting to accede willingly to the said request, also voluntarily gave and conceded full authority and power to the said operai and prior, with the following exceptions and conditions: insofar as [the operai and prior] can change the said chapel visibly into another form, all at the expense of the said hospital, and readjust and rebuild its structure appropriately, up to the point that it looks better rather than deteriorated; while their patronage, dominium, and funerary rights remain firm, on the ground that until now the said De’ Lenzi have always maintained it themselves, and . . . this is not in any way understood to prejudice them. And the same chapel [having been] newly constructed in the manner and shape and condition above just as it seems to the said operai and prior . . . [the De’ Lenzi] promised to the said Master priors, present, that they would not undo what they did for them, nor come into debt for the said goods.1 “chapel” Although today the word “chapel” suggests a partially closed room or niche within a church, during the quattrocento the concept of cappella was allied to a space’s liturgical function rather than its formal qualities. Thus the term could include virtually any altar within a church where mass was celebrated in the interests of a particular individual or group. Chapels generally, but not always, were demarcated from the rest of the church architecturally, by being set back in a niche (as at Santo Spirito) or in a more separate walled area (as in the transept at the Carmine). Sometimes, however, as with the cappella of Guasparre del Lama at Santa Maria Novella, they could merely be an altar and tomb combination, not enclosed by walls.2 The lateral chapels at the Innocenti, under the patronage of the Lenzi and Del Pugliese, were smaller structures of this latter kind, as I shall discuss below, consisting of an altar with a stone framing structure that contained an altarpiece and lunette. The construction of private chapels in churches became increasingly popular from the end of the thirteenth century onward.3 Despite their ubiquity in preTridentine patrician religious practice, there are many unresolved questions about the use of chapels, notably concerning the access of the laity. Does the evidence we have for iron gates being fixed to chapels mean that their use was restricted to family members or clergy? Was it possible for women members of the patron family to enter their chapels beyond the tramezzo (rood screen) in a monastic church? The evidence is patchy and sometimes contradictory. As Julian Gardner has pointed out, evidence of vandalism by the laity does suggest that there was access to private chapels and their altars.4 Other evidence, such as the Pievano Arlotto’s chastising of a woman praying in the chapel of Saint Nicholas in the old church of Santo Spirito—which must have been the Capponi chapel—supports this supposition.5 Landucci also claims that a miraculous crucifix placed in the Serragli chapel, behind the tramezzo in

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 121

framing patronage

121

the church of Santa Maria del Carmine, was worshiped there “by the neighborhood,” so broader access than merely the family and friars is clearly implied.6 It was also possible for nonowners to have mass said in other people’s chapels. Francesco di Piero de’ Marchi, for example, asked for masses in the Del Pugliese chapel in the Carmine in 1507.7 More extensive work in this area remains to be done before generalizing about chapel use. At present, on balance it seems fair to say that “private” chapels in churches were often open for the use of the lay congregation, and that the images that decorated these altars had a greater audience than those who paid for them or officiated in front of them. Indeed, the charitable impulse that provided a contemporary justification for chapel building in itself suggests that these spaces were somehow used for, if not always by, the wider community. “true and legitimate patrons” Whatever the size and exact usage of chapels, their patronage shared the legal terminology of ius patronatus with the patronage of benefices of entire churches. Thus, the document of 1465 giving the chapel of San Girolamo in the Carmine to the Del Pugliese family says it is transferring to them “ius et nomen patronatus dicte cappelle.” In Filippo Nasi’s testament of 1512, he gives houses to the chapel of San Jacopo in the parish church of Santa Lucia de’ Magnoli in a bid to keep the ius patronatus of the chapel in the hands of his successors. There are several other published instances of the use of this term.8 The repetition of this linguistic formula would in itself suggest that the relationship between patron and institution was considered in the same light whether the layperson was investing in an entire building or a chapel. Some of the same legal stringencies were also retained. The fifteenth- and sixteenth-century visitation records now in the archbishopric archive in Florence betray a great deal of concern about the patronage of chapels in the parish churches under the archbishop’s care, listing conscientiously the name of the patron of each chapel, the chaplain who was employed to conduct mass, and whether these spaces were fit for divine office. Before chapels could be transferred between patrons, the archbishop had to give his consent. This is the case with the transferal of the chapel of San Girolamo in the Carmine from the Guidoni to the Del Pugliese.9 The notarial agreements about Filippo Strozzi’s chapel of San Giovanni in Santa Maria Novella are also carefully copied in the archbishop’s record.10 Although in the latter two cases, the officiation of mass in these spaces would be the responsibility of friars, chapels in parish churches, nunneries, and elsewhere where there were not sufficient clerics present involved direct lay patronage of cappellani, clerics employed to take on the upkeep of the altar for a particular patron or group of patrons. This was the case at the Innocenti church, where there are lists of

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

122

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 122

changing patrons

payments made to chaplains in the account books.11 Chaplains were also employed by the Del Pugliese in their chapel at San Jacopo Oltrarno, Alessandra di Francesco del Pugliese’s chapel at Santa Lucia de’ Via San Gallo, and the Nasi chapel at their parish church of Santa Lucia de’ Magnoli.12 The hiring of a particular functionary for the chapel may have increased the sense that these spaces were independent of the church as a whole, locations for the celebration of the spirituality of a particular family or group. Certainly, the Nasi family talked about their chapel at Santa Lucia almost as if it had a separate existence: when giving money for masses in wills they tended to allow separate donations to the church and the chapel.13 Even where a cappellano was not directly hired by chapel patrons, however, they did have a great effect indirectly on the economy and the work of the church as a whole. In his study on San Lorenzo, Robert Gaston has pointed out how chapel foundation was always intimately connected with the performance of the liturgy within that space, the money paid by patrons of chapels for the celebration of specific masses making up the bulk of the salaries of those who worked there.14 All the bequests for chapel foundation and decoration in Nasi and Del Pugliese wills are bound up with donations for special masses to be said posthumously.15 Patrons would also donate masses well before they made provisions in their testaments. Just after obtaining the chapel in the Carmine, Piero del Pugliese gave money for a mass in honor of its titular saint.16 By investing in a chapel, therefore, patrons were entering an ongoing relationship with a religious institution that provided funds for both the fabric and ornamentation of a building and the maintenance of the clerics. “until now the said De’ Lenzi have always maintained it themselves” Beyond bequests for the saying of mass, what did the maintenance of chapels involve? To celebrate the divine offices, the chapel needed to be furnished. The Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 codified these basic requirements: a monolithic altar table, a crucifix, two candles, a chalice, and a proper titulus—a clear dedication to a saint or mystery to be given to the altar during the consecration ceremony.17 The 1512 advice to visitors of parish churches tells them to check that there are “books, chalices, vestments, crosses, relics, and other church furnishings.”18 It was up to the patron, therefore, to adorn honorably the chapel space and the person officiating in it. Confirming the contract, the Innocenti archives show that the Lenzi had given a gift of a chalice and paten to the hospital church in early 1485.19 The long lists of richly embroidered vestments bearing family coats of arms still existing in church archives and the endowments for such goods in wills suggest how much store was set by this latter form of gift, reminding us of the link between chapel patronage and the basic function of the chapel: the saying of mass.20

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 123

framing patronage

123

Even beyond items such as candles, which needed to be replaced regularly, the nature of the mass meant that it was considered dishonorable for both church and patron to allow other furnishings or priestly vestments to become worn and aged. Investing in a chapel was a decision that involved a relationship between the church and patron and the patron’s descendants that would last for life and beyond: ideally for time immemorial. As we have seen in church patronage, if the patron did not maintain the chapel space, the patronage rights to the chapel were forfeited. There are numerous examples of this. The Boni family ceded the rights to its chapel at Santa Maria Novella primarily because its poverty meant that the chapel could no longer be maintained, and “the divine offices could not be celebrated or performed” because it lacked “ornaments and books and other expenses.”21 It was quite usual for chapels to be ceded to individuals on the condition that he, she, or they give money for “honorable” ornamentation, which provided a fitting location for mass to take place as well as some of the essential items, such as books, candles, and chalices that were laid down in the Fourth Lateran Council. Bernardo del Bianco received patronage rights over his chapel in the Badia on the condition that he paid for its decoration; the friars of Santa Maria Novella awarded rights over the cappella maggiore of that church to the patron who was most amenable to providing honorable decoration for the space.22 The power of the institution in giving and taking away patronage rights based on the commitment of the patron to the decoration and maintenance of a chapel should indicate that the honorable ornamentation of a church was for the benefit of the institution just as much as the person who funded it. Decoration was a visible symbol of a patron’s commitment, and making a church beautiful was viewed as pleasing to both God and the community. Apart from the bare minimum listed in the Fourth Lateran Council, tradition and precedent delineated what was included in chapel furnishing. In his will Filippo di Lutozzo Nasi puzzled over the patronage of the Nasi chapel at San Francesco al Monte and worried over its lack of panel and altar. His brother Bartolommeo saw the need to provide for a window, panel, and tomb at Santo Spirito.23 Sometimes patrons exceeded expectations in their generosity in furnishing their chapels. As noted, for example, Piero del Pugliese in his chapel at Santa Maria alle Campora paid not only for the construction of the chapel, its windows, the altarpiece, and vestments but gave an illuminated manuscript, spalliere, curtains, and an organ.24 “the chapel of Saint Catherine” The fundamental function of images in chapels was to identify the dedication of the altar. The Synod of Trier of 1310 codified this requirement, declaring that “before or

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

124

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 124

changing patrons

in front or above the altar should be an image, either a sculpture, some writing, or a picture” identifying the saint who was honored by the altar or chapel.25 It is sometimes assumed that it was normal for the lay patrons of chapels and side altars to be permitted to choose their own dedications, but at present the evidence about how dedications for chapels were chosen is patchy. The Lenzi chapel’s dedication to Saint Catherine may have been a reflection of family devotion to that saint; if so, it luckily coincided with one of the patron saints of the silk guild, the body responsible for the upkeep of the church. On taking over the chapel in the Carmine, the Del Pugliese also took over the dedication and seemed to gain a “special devotion” for Saint Jerome from that time on, rather than vice versa.26 Similarly, Piero del Pugliese’s founding of a chapel dedicated to Saint Bernard at Santa Maria alle Campora seems particularly suitable for a Benedictine church, next to a chapel dedicated to the Annunciation;27 the three Nasi brothers, Bartolommeo, Bernardo, and Filippo, founded a chapel dedicated to the same saint at Cestello, in the prestigious location next to the high altar. This dedication was not, I believe, intended to honor one of the brothers above the rest but referred to the great Cistercian saint in a church of that order.28 In the dedication of chapels, we have to see an element of discussion and compromise between donor and institution. In relation to the guidelines laid down at Trier it is perhaps significant that often the dedication of an altar could, perhaps deliberately, be made less than clear through the use of an image. The patronage rights of Francesco del Pugliese’s chapel standing next to his villa at Sommaia, for example, were contested. Those who claimed it was a parish church under the patronage of the Da Sommaia family called it the chapel of San Michele; those who claimed the patronage rights belonged to the owner of the villa pointed to the fresco of Saint Andrew over the entrance to assert it was dedicated to that saint, and the church of San Michele was, in fact, an entirely different building.29 As I have mentioned previously, the altarpiece in the Nasi chapel at Santo Spirito has at its center the Pietà with Saints James and John the Baptist placed at either side of the scene. Significantly, the convent records refer to this chapel as being dedicated to the Pietà, and the family records suggest it is in the name of Saint James, a Nasi patron.30 Similarly, the Capponi chapel, next door, which contained Piero di Cosimo’s Visitation altarpiece, was said in the convent records to be dedicated to that mystery, whereas the family consistently referred to it as being dedicated to Saint Nicholas of Tolentino.31 Family and institutional requirements could be met simultaneously through sensitive use of iconography. The dynamic between ecclesiastical and family claims was important in determining the final form of the altarpiece or fresco, and it seems that the ambiguities of nonverbal representation were sometimes exploited to reflect the religious needs of both parties. To imply, as did Charles Hope, that a panel cannot simultaneously display theological narrative and the favorite

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 125

framing patronage

125

patron saints of a lay donor ignores the different levels of meaning on which this kind of painting can work, as well as (ironically) overestimating the power of the patron to decide the content of an altarpiece without reference to the religious needs of the church in which it was displayed.32 “they voluntarily gave and conceded full authority and power to the said operai and prior . . . [they] can change the said chapel visibly into another form, all at the expense of the said hospital” These words constitute the crux of what the Innocenti contract with the Lenzi set out to achieve. The operai’s and prior’s plans for remodeling the interior of the church involved their changing the appearance of the Lenzi chapel. It makes sense that church authorities would keep a careful eye over what went on in their buildings. This phenomenon has been noted in early examples. J. C. Long has made a convincing argument for the institutional control over iconography and form of frescoes in Franciscan churches in Florence in the fourteenth century.33 A similar concern with suitable fresco decoration can be seen in the way the Dominicans at Santa Maria Novella managed conflicting patronage bids for the cappella maggiore in their church to ensure the chapel received an apt and honorable decorative scheme.34 The new popularity of the single panel altarpiece from the 1430s onward did not change the desire to exercise control in the way a church was decorated but changed how it was exercised. The growth of the popularity of the tavola quadrata over the polyptych has been linked with the new architectural form of chapel-lined churches whose earliest exponent was Brunelleschi. Whether he was personally involved with the development or promulgation of this form is a matter of debate.35 Nevertheless, the design of the wood frames themselves and the stone setting in which they were placed did preestablish the format and shape of the altar panel. In the case of the Innocenti, and probably in many other churches, curtains were used to hide the altar panels from view when the altars were not in use during mass and on Sundays and other feast days, and this possibly enhanced the unified appearance of the interior.36 The earliest documentary evidence for the application of a “pattern” for chapels concerns the Brunelleschian church of San Lorenzo. In 1431 a chapel was conceded to Tommaso Spigliatti on the condition that he decorate it “according to the form of the other chapels,” so that the chapels should be “conforming and ordered.”37 In 1434 more detailed guidelines were laid down. This directive regulated the size of the chapel spaces and the columns around them, the shape of the architrave, frame, and cornice, and also ruled that they had to have a round window like that of the chapel of Giovanni de’ Medici. Each chapel had to contain an altar of macigno, the local hard sandstone, on five columns, topped by a “panel, square and . . . honorably painted,” with a glass window above.38 As already discussed, the existing quattrocento

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

126

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 126

changing patrons

decoration in Santo Spirito would indicate that similar guidelines existed for this church. We should also consider other Florentine examples. Louisa Bulman, for example, suggests that the operai and prior made the crucial decisions about the form of chapels, and possibly their decoration, at Santissima Annunziata.39 Outside Florence, we can see other indications of this practice. Pius II, taking his lead from the precedent of Siena Cathedral and his reading of Alberti, introduced a unified scheme for the setting of altarpieces in the cathedral at Pienza.40 In Venice as early as 1443, a number of pendant altarpieces were created, such as the ones in San Francesco della Vigna by Antonio Vivarini and Giovanni d’Alemagna. Twenty years later, Jacopo Bellini and his workshop made four altarpieces in an identical format for the church of Santa Maria della Carità.41 The main difference between these examples and the circumstances at the Innocenti was, of course, that the Lenzi had already paid to build the original chapel and had maintained it adequately. The only thing wrong with it was that it did not match the decorative scheme planned for the church by the operai and the prior, Francesco di Giovanni Tesori. Presumably because of this, it seemed only fair to them that the silk guild should pay for the work. The notional linkage between paying for the construction of a sacred space and the ownership of patronage rights over it was so entrenched, however, that this contract is at pains to explain that the Lenzi retained their patronage even though they were not going to fund the reconstruction, that they had always paid for their chapel, that the hospital paying for these works did not reflect badly on the family, and so on. The situation was clearly perceived to be out of the ordinary, and the hospital went to some lengths to assert that the Lenzi still held the moral rights of patronage. “in the likeness of the other, opposite” The motivation behind this institutional control in the Innocenti was to make the Lenzi chapel look like another one in the church. The contract explains that the reason for this is to make the church look more “espedita,” a word that suggests clarity and orderliness in appearance. As well as the examples above, where institutional control was introduced explicitly or implicitly with the aim of creating a coherent and ordered space, the same motivation was given by Alamanno Rinuccini to explain changes made to the Florentine Baptistery in 1484. The Arte de Mercatanti, in consultation with the balìa, ordered that all the wax votive statues and banners should be taken from San Giovanni: “because it was judged that they covered and took up a large part of the beauty of this church, they had to take them all away and put them in another place, and similarly they took down many panels, paintings, and images that were attached to columns or pilasters of this church, so it became clean and

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 127

framing patronage

127

orderly [espedita] and it made a great show of beauty, that previously was covered up even though it was displeasing to many people.”42 The aesthetic and moral virtues of clarity and order were endorsed by other commentators. For Saint Antoninus (quoting Saint Ambrose), beauty was an important quality to be encouraged in church decoration as “through this adornment should shine forth the dignity of God.” He despaired, however, of the “excesses, pomps, and many vanities of arms, pictures, vases of gold, and suchlike things.”43 Clarity and order within church space can, therefore, have a divine purpose. Alberti praises the simplicity of the early church, and although he approved of the use of panel paintings, he believed that reliefs would be better, as being less diverting to the eyes of the worshiper.44 A practical application of these ideas is surely what influenced the prior in his decision to take control of the decoration of all the chapels in the Innocenti church, to bring this decorative complex into line with other recently built Brunelleschian churches, most notably Santo Spirito and San Lorenzo. Beauty in the service of God had been a moral good throughout the quattrocento, but concepts of what constituted the beautiful changed from the midcentury onward. In the churches built after San Lorenzo—Santo Spirito, Santa Maria di Cestello, the Innocenti, San Francesco al Monte—the vibrant and potentially distracting colors of fresco, permanently open to view on the walls of a church, were eschewed. Ecclesiastical honor was seen as better served by a more regular rhythm of similar stone-framed altars, which, though often richly gilded, afforded a more focused frame for the devout onlooker’s gaze on the religious image. the inno centi church The main church of the Innocenti had only three chapels during the fifteenth century: the cappella maggiore, under the patronage of the Arte della Seta, which was dedicated to the Virgin and the Holy Innocents; the Del Pugliese chapel on the right-hand wall of uncertain dedication, perhaps to Saint Peter; and the Lenzi chapel on the left, which was consecrated in honor of Saint Catherine, a patron saint of the silk guild.45 Unfortunately, none of the quattrocento decoration is visible today, the interior of the building having been completely refurbished in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (fig. 32). Most of the artworks have either been placed in the museum of the hospital or sold.46 Francesco di Giovanni Tesori was made prior of the hospital in 1483, then treasurer a year later.47 His period of office was to see many changes to the building, including renovation of the refectory, the women’s church, and the commission of the famous Andrea della Robbia tondi of the Holy Innocents, which decorated the facade, put into place in August 1487.48 Tesori turned his attention to the high altar

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:14 AM

128

Page 128

changing patrons

Figure 32. Interior of church of Ospedale degli Innocenti, Florence

Image not available

chapel of the main church in 1485. The documents for this commission were mainly published by Gaetano Bruscoli in 1902. It seems that the whole decorative complex was designed under the close supervision of Tesori with the help of Fra Bernardo di Francesco, a friar of the convent of the Ingesuati.49 Although the first item commissioned was the altar panel from Domenico Ghirlandaio (in October 1485, fig. 33), it seems likely that Tesori had the structure of its frame in mind from the start. Commissioned in 1486 from Antonio di Francesco di Bartolo legnaiuolo—better known now as Antonio da Sangallo the Elder—in March 1490 his older brother, Giuliano da Sangallo, was paid for the completion of the “adornamento della tavola.”50 The original contract stipulates that the surrounding furnishings should look like those on the high altar of the church of the Ingesuati, except without “two adoring angels” that would not fit. Unfortunately, the Ingesuati was destroyed in the siege of 1529, and we have little information about its appearance, except that Francesco Albertini tells us that this church had a high altarpiece that was also painted by Ghirlandaio. However, the contract and payment documents indicate the elements that made up the ensemble: “a tabernacle for the Body of Christ, candlesticks at the side, and the large frame [cornicione] either with a ledge or without.”51 Apart from this and the panel, payments were made for the cross that stood on the altar, the painted curtain to cover the panel, and a predella to stand at its feet. The whole ensemble—

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 129

framing patronage

129

Figure 33. Domenico Ghirlandaio, Adoration of the Magi, Florence, Museo del Ospedale degli Innocenti

Image not available

the cross, tabernacle, candles, and parts of the panel and predella—were gilded. In addition to all this gilded woodwork, a considerable amount of money was spent on luxury cloth. Five braccia of green silk were bought for a frieze, for example, and a black taffeta paliotto (altar frontal) was also made.52 The contract with the Lenzi was made around the time that the high altarpiece, tabernacle, and surrounding items for the cappella maggiore were in place and awaiting gilding. The Lenzi chapel was probably looking a little old-fashioned in comparison. As the contract makes clear, this was not because the chapel had been neglected by the family—the accounts also show that the Lenzi regularly gave money for the chapel—but because it no longer looked suitable.53 After spending so much money on the cappella maggiore, the silk guild also decided to fund the rebuilding of the architectural frame of the Lenzi chapel. The original altarpiece, commissioned by the Lenzi from Neri di Bicci in 1460, was retained (fig. 34).54 In December 1489 payments were made for the “remaking of the altar and the pillars on the wall around it and an arch of stone above.”55 Although the contract between the Lenzi and the institution specifically states that the chapel was to be made “the same as the other opposite,” work on the Del Pugliese chapel did not start until the autumn of 1491.56 This in itself suggests that the form of both chapels was conceived at the same time. Piero del Pugliese played a significant part in the refurbishing of the Innocenti.

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

130

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 130

changing patrons

Figure 34. Neri di Bicci, Coronation of the Virgin, Florence, Museo del Ospedale degli Innocenti

Image not available

An indication of his role appears in the account books. In November 1490 a Piero dipintore was paid for “repainting the Flagellated Christ as Piero del Pugliese says.”57 Where this panel was to be placed in the hospital is not certain, but it should probably be connected with another painting of a Pietà, also finished in 1490.58 It is possible that they were intended for the women’s church. Payments for these works were also made by the Innocenti itself, through the sacristy accounts. Why should the opinion of Piero del Pugliese have been followed, especially given that he had not even bought his chapel by this date? As noted in Chapter 1, the Del Pugliese are known for their prominence in the Arte della Lana in this period, but their range of business interests also qualified them for membership in the silk guild. Giovanni di Jacopo, Piero’s uncle, was a consul of the guild on four occasions between 1435 and 1452. Piero himself matriculated in 1438.59 During the period of the construction of the hospital up to about 1450, the opera of the Innocenti was distinct from the consuls of the Arte della Seta, but as Philip Gavitt has noted, after this date their powers were yielded to the consuls of the guild.60 It is significant, therefore, that Piero del Pugliese was a consul of the Arte della Seta between September and December 1489.61 He was one of the six men who made the decision to fund the rebuilding of the Lenzi chapel and, almost certainly, had influence over its final form. That he was consulted on the repainting of the panel of the Flagellation of Christ a year after this consulship may be partly due to the fact that he was seen as representing the guild’s opinions. It seems likely that it was also because he was considered something of an authority in these matters.

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 131

framing patronage

131

Image not available

Figure 35. Piero di Cosimo, Virgin and Child with Saints Peter, Elizabeth of Hungary, Catherine of Alexandria, and John the Evangelist, Florence, Museo del Ospedale degli Innocenti

The most pertinent fact that is left to us about Piero del Pugliese’s life is that he spent a large amount of time dealing with painters. As I have already discussed, he undisputably had a close friendship with Filippino Lippi and, circumstances would suggest, with Piero di Cosimo. Even before his investment in the Innocenti church, he had been involved with the construction and/or decoration of three chapels, the building and ornamentation of an elegant family palace, and was a long-standing operaio for the church of the Carmine. He must have seemed an ideal candidate to give advice on decorative matters. Perhaps Gombrich’s characterization of Lorenzo de’ Medici as an “arbiter of taste” has an application here on a smaller scale, as some individuals were deemed to possess a refined sense of what was beautiful and appropriate. Unfortunately, exactly what these side chapels looked like is uncertain. Nonetheless, though the Del Pugliese chapel has been dismembered, many elements of its decorative complex are extant. The altarpiece by Piero di Cosimo (fig. 35) is

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

132

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 132

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 36. Andrea della Robbia, Annunciation, Florence, Ospedale degli Innocenti

Image not available

Figure 37. Bartolommeo di Giovanni, Predella for Innocenti Adoration of the Magi, Florence, Museo del Ospedale degli Innocenti

now in the museum of the hospital, though its predella panels are lost. Standing above it was a lunette, an Annunciation by Andrea della Robbia, which is now in the courtyard of the hospital (fig. 36). Giuseppe Richa said that the Piero di Cosimo panel was “enriched by heads of cherubs made in glazed earth by Luca della Robbia.”62 These are presumably the “angels” that a Domenico di Michele muratore was paid to place on the wall in January 1492, and their original appearance is unknown.63 It does seem likely, however, that the use of this Della Robbian blue-and-white terracotta in the Annunciation, at least, was a deliberate reminder of the roundels of infants on the exterior facade of the building that had been commissioned by Tesori five years before. The arch that was built over the Lenzi chapel probably echoed that formed by the Andrea della Robbia Annunciation opposite it, and the upper part of both of these side chapels presumably responded to the space taken up by the tabernacle for the

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 133

framing patronage

133

Corpus Christi, which accounts show was placed above the panel at the high altar.64 There is not a great deal of information about the appearance of the Lenzi chapel, but the amount of gilding paid for by Piero del Pugliese—for the frame of the altar panel, its predella, the candlesticks, architrave, columns, and pillars of the chapel— suggests that this chapel at least was as lavish in appearance as the cappella maggiore. The altarpieces in the Del Pugliese and high altar chapels were both surrounded by frames consisting of gilded columns. It may be that the columns used to support the stable in Ghirlandaio’s Adoration (fig. 33) give us an indication of what they may have looked like—they reflect columns on other frames of the period.65 Both the Del Pugliese altarpiece and the one in the cappella maggiore were covered with curtains when not in use. It seems likely that the Lenzi altar would also have had a curtain.66 Moreover, both the Piero di Cosimo and the Neri di Bicci panels are nearly square in format (137 × 142 cm and 203 × 197 cm, respectively). The later panel was possibly planned to correspond to the earlier one. With the paintings normally covered by curtains and the frames largely the same, the chapels must have looked quite similar. Judging by the contract, this was the effect Tesori desired. the new altar panels Domenico Ghirlandaio finished the high altarpiece for the church in December 1488. The choice of main subject for the panel, the Adoration of the Magi, does not reflect the dedication of the altar, which was to the Holy Innocents who were murdered by Herod’s soldiers. The Massacre of the Innocents is represented in the left background of the picture, and it is easy to understand how the violence and distress necessarily contained in this narrative were not considered suitable as the main subject for the new high altarpiece of the foundling hospital. Instead, Tesori and Fra Bernardo of the Ingesuati asked Ghirlandaio for an Adoration of the Magi, a fashionable subject in Florence that had several advantages. It allowed the other dedicatee of the altarpiece, the Virgin, a literally and figuratively central role; it highlighted an act of gift giving to an infant, a reminder of the hospital’s main function; and, in the richness of the Magi’s and their entourage’s dress, it allowed Ghirlandaio to employ his skills in depicting brilliantly colored vestments and sumptuous ornamentation. The use of fine materials was stressed in the contract:“he has to color the said panel all at his own expense in good colors and ground gold in the ornaments where it occurs . . . and the blue has to be ultramarine of a price of about 4 florins an ounce.”67 The main panel must have been nearly complete when, in July 1488, Bartolommeo di Giovanni was contracted for the predella. According to the earlier contract with Ghirlandaio, its subjects were devised by Fra Bernardo. All seven panels survive in the museum of the hospital (fig. 37). Unlike the altarpiece itself, it seems that no

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

134

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 134

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 38. Bartolommeo di Giovanni, Saint Antoninus Consecrating the Innocenti Church, Florence, Museo del Ospedale degli Innocenti

drawing existed for the predella—detailed accounts of the panels to be executed are given, along with where they should be placed in relation to the main painting: in the middle our Lady with her dead son in her arms, with the Marys at the side, as requested; at the foot of Saint John the Evangelist on the panel, the story when Saint John was put in the cauldron; at the foot of Saint John the Baptist, the baptism of Christ; two stories of our Lady, that is, the Purification of our Lady and the Marriage; and at the ends of the said predella, on one side the Annunciation, and on the other the archbishop Antoninus when he consecrated the church of the said hospital.68 Clearly, this work was envisaged symmetrically, the Pietà in the middle flanked by pairs of suitable stories. Unfortunately, it is presently displayed with the John the Evangelist panel on the far right, rather than second from the left, thus not visually balancing with John the Baptist panel as originally intended; and the Annunciation and the consecration of the Innocenti Church are no longer the starting and ending stories that enclose the other narratives. Perhaps the most interesting choice of story is the last one mentioned in the contract, the consecration of the church by Antoninus (fig. 38). It is rare for a recent historical event of this kind to be depicted on a predella panel. The fact that it was speaks volumes about the self-perception of the Innocenti. Vertically bisected by Brunelleschi’s all’antica columns, the panel shows Antoninus sprinkling holy water at the entrance of the church, accompanied by the prayers of kneeling Florentine citi-

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 135

framing patronage

135

zens. In its juxtaposition on the predella with biblical stories, this event is shown to be of great sacred and historical import. The John the Baptist and John the Evangelist panels are also significant. Placed under their respective saints on the main panel, they draw attention to the actions of each of these sacred intercessors. At the feet of each kneels the object of the hospital’s charity, a Holy Innocent. The Evangelist, patron saint of the Arte della Seta, places a protective hand near his infant charge’s back, gesturing him to gaze on the Madonna and Child receiving homage from the oldest Magus. The Baptist, patron of Florence, stares at the onlooker and directs our attention toward the central scene. Together, silk guild and city provide for the foundlings in their care. Piero del Pugliese commissioned a painter who had worked for him on previous occasions, Piero di Cosimo, to paint his altarpiece, which was put into place ready for gilding in November 1493.69 Given what we know about Piero del Pugliese’s role in the decoration of the church, it is likely that he made the major decisions about the iconography of this painting, but, as we shall see, if this was the case, he did so in close collaboration with institutional preoccupations. This work is traditionally described as a Virgin and Child with Saints Peter, Rose of Viterbo, Catherine, and John the Evangelist (fig. 35). However, as has been noted recently, the kneeling female saint to the left cannot be Rose of Viterbo.70 Saint Rose, who died at eighteen, is generally shown as a young woman, dressed in a gray habit, a knotted girdle, and a chaplet of roses.71 This hardly accords well with the older woman, dressed in an unbelted black habit, whom we see here. A more likely identification is Elizabeth of Hungary, a saint who was noble by birth, compelled by her father to marry, which she did “not for pleasure’s sake but in obedience to the will of her father, and in order to raise up children to the service of God.”72 Widowed, she became a Franciscan tertiary—hence the black habit she is regularly depicted as wearing—and maintained her celebrated charity to the poor. This led to her building a hospital at Marburg: she was clearly a suitable saint for this location in a hospital church. She had a special devotion for Saint Peter, who presents her to the Virgin here, and is associated with Saint Nicholas, that alter ego of Piero del Pugliese; he was often her companion and associate in miracles.73 In Tuscan painting, her iconography, like that of Saint Nicholas, is bound up with anonymous charitable giving. She is generally portrayed as having a lap full of roses, because when she was surprised by her husband giving food to the poor, the bread she was carrying changed into these flowers so her charity would not be discovered.74 Here, therefore, we see the Saint Nicholas motif of the Lecceto panel repeated: charity, as symbolized by the miraculous rose of Saint Elizabeth, is shown as a direct gift to Christ. Saint Nicholas’s most famous act of charity was, of course, his anonymous

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

136

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 136

changing patrons

provision of a dowry for three poor girls, and we should bear this in mind when considering the iconography of this work. The provision of dowries for poor girls was, according to contemporary accounts, considered a particularly suitable act of charity for rich widows like Saint Elizabeth of Hungary.75 As Adrian Randolph has recently shown, Saint Catherine is wearing the traditional jewelry—the brocchetta da testa and brocchetta di spalla—associated with the dress of contemporary Florentine brides.76 Here she takes the place of the ideal bride participating in the ideal, chaste marriage, laying her princess’s crown on the step as she submits her will to that of her new husband. The event is eagerly watched by the garlanded angels standing at either side of the Virgin’s throne. Thus the holy charity represented by the rose of Saint Elizabeth has an immediate effect in providing for the marriage of Saint Catherine: Christ takes with his right hand and gives with his left. The whole transaction is supervised by the two standing male saints who gently gesture their female charges toward the Virgin and Child. Saint Peter, on the left, represents the donor of the chapel, Piero del Pugliese. Saint John the Evangelist, on the right, is both the patron saint of the Arte della Seta and reflects the patronymic of the prior of the hospital, Francesco di Giovanni Tesori. The visual counterpart to the Ghirlandaio altarpiece must have been clear, where the two Saint Johns shelter the infants kneeling at their feet. The Florentine foundling hospital, as well as taking in abandoned infants, also had a duty to provide for their future. Boys were found apprenticeships where possible, and the hospital went to great lengths to provide dowries and find suitable marriages for the girls in its charge. Thus Piero di Cosimo’s depiction of a wedding is a suitable counterpart for Ghirlandaio’s altarpiece. The social role of the Innocenti in guarding the interests of the two groups perceived most vulnerable in society, women and children, is made clear. Abandoned children are taken in and brought up through Christian charity. When their female charges reached adolescence they were protected from the potentially corrupting power of their own sexuality by being transferred to the care of a man in marriage. The inclusion of Saint Elizabeth, the Franciscan tertiary, suggests another virtuous choice for women, particularly widowed women: to become a member of a religious order under the protection of the male church authorities, represented by Saint Peter, for the higher good of religion and the community. The symmetry of the transaction between women saints is mediated by Christ and notionally and actually framed by male protectors. It figures the balance of a rhetorically created, well-ordered Christian commonwealth, where women’s special propensity for intense spirituality and uncontrolled sexuality was ordered and channeled through male authority.

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 137

framing patronage

137

In applications to the Florentine dowry fund, the Monte delle Doti, the Ospedale degli Innocenti was treated “just as if [it] were the true and natural father of the aforesaid girl.”77 The foundling hospital, through its custodianship of male and female children, provided for those unfortunates who were cast outside the prime institution of Florentine society, the patriarchal family. The new altarpieces made for the renovated Innocenti church provided a visual rhetoric encapsulating the foundling hospital’s role as institutional father, a role that the hospital was only able to play because of the pious donations of Florentine citizens. Hence the Piero di Cosimo panel celebrates the divinity of charity as well as showing its practical effects. Through charitable gifts for the dowries of poor girls the donor was maintaining social order by providing a family for those who otherwise would be outside this key social structure and, implicitly, also giving a gift directly to Christ, winning his favor for his or her own soul, as well as for the spiritual well-being of the city. Like Piero di Cosimo’s Lecceto altarpiece, this image acts as a recognition of previous donations and a spur for future giving. Tesori’s work to decorate the church, the sacred focus of the Innocenti, sought to make the building a fitting expression of civic pride in charity and family by making it beautiful. This was a beauty expressed in order and symmetry, which, as with the homogeneous chapels in Santo Spirito, formed a visual counterpart to the social order that the Innocenti helped to maintain in the life of the city. Here, once again, the “order” in the church went beyond the metaphoric: actual control over a family’s rights had to be exercised. The desired visual effect could only be achieved by applying a unified plan to the entire building and integrating individual chapel patrons’ interests into a harmonious whole. This should not be characterized, as it has been recently, as enforcement of drudgery on the individualistic creative impulses of painter, sculptor, or patron. Rather, it reflected an increasingly diffuse perception of desirable decoration and provided a structure in which aesthetic and patronal imperatives could, at the same time, be met.  What I have attempted to argue in the previous chapters is that we should perhaps reframe the context in which we look at the commissioning of church decoration in Italy in the later quattrocento. What do we mean when we describe an individual as being the “patron” of religious “art”? The system of patronage that existed in churches in Florence in the fifteenth century was based in canon law and was bound up in the rights to influence the liturgical activity in a particular church or chapel. Like all forms of patronage, properly defined, this involved a reciprocal relationship between two parties—the donor(s) and the clerics of a religious institution—which continued over a period of time.78 Patronage also involved providing funds for the physical

08.Burke.119-138.FINALqu

138

4/1/04

10:14 AM

Page 138

changing patrons

construction and maintenance of the fabric and ornamentation of the building. This could involve the purchase and commissioning of work from various artisans, including painters and sculptors, but these individual commissions did not necessitate a patronal relationship between the two parties involved. The funding for the ornamentation of a chapel also did not necessarily mean that the owner of its patronage rights made complex decisions about the formal aspects of that space. As I have attempted to show, the content of chapels was defined through law and custom, through perceptions of what was expected and honorable. Moreover, it seems that the ecclesiastical institutions had more influence over the decoration of familial space inside their churches than is sometimes thought. We should not see church decoration as a series of haphazard decisions by independent lay “patrons” but, in many cases, as part of an integrated and carefully thought-out program. These programs, in turn, could be the product of advice from authorities and of the imitation of admired prototypes. Thus, we see the San Lorenzo canons using the chapel of Giovanni de’ Medici in that church as a model and the prior of the Innocenti copying the cappella maggiore of the Ingesuati, and asking for advice from Fra Bernardo di Giovanni and Piero del Pugliese. In this way, changes in fashions for altarpieces, now characterized as transitions in artistic form, at least partly were spread through institutional channels. Lines of descent may even be traceable from one institution or individual to another, though this question is beyond the scope of this study. In the new churches of the later quattrocento in Florence, individual decorative interests were often subsumed in the name of a greater goal: to allow churches as a whole to attain the harmonious and ordered beauty that had become fashionable through the work of Brunelleschi and Alberti and the enthusiastic employment of their ideas by certain members of the patriciate. In its figuration of the cooperation of wealthy families, the attainment of this beauty was held as pleasing to both God and city. The spending of these lineages’ wealth on display for this purpose was conceptually in accordance with the desires of the church, and the lay and religious elite were essentially in agreement. The implication was that both groups could be trusted with the care they exercised over the lesser members of society—women, children, and the poor. The harmony and permanence of this arrangement, however, were more rhetorical than actual. A rupture in these power structures and the culture of display was already being heralded by Savonarola in the early 1490s, when the Innocenti church had just been completed. The changes that occurred during and after his period of Florentine ascendancy, 1494–98, will be discussed in Chapter 8.

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 139

chapter 7

Differing Visions Image and Audience in the Florentine Church



I

f homogeneity was an important consideration in the commission of some altarpieces in Renaissance Florence, I would argue that the institutional context of these pieces of ecclesiastical decoration should always be taken into account, even when relatively little is known of their original physical context. In the later fifteenth century, members of both the Del Pugliese and Nasi families commissioned altarpieces of the Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard (figs. 39 and 40). The painting by Filippino Lippi was originally located in Piero del Pugliese’s chapel in Santa Maria alle Campora, whereas the version by Piero Perugino was executed for the chapel of Bernardo, Bartolommeo, and Filippo Nasi in Santa Maria Maddalena di Cestello (now Santa Maria Maddalena dei Pazzi). The formal differences between these two paintings are immediately striking and suggestive of the variety of choices available for the purchasers of religious painting in quattrocento Florence. Frederick Antal, though considering paintings from an earlier period, posed the basic question of this chapter more than fifty years ago: “how could two such widely differing pictures have been painted in the same town and at the same time?”1 I seek to suggest answers to this question by examining the intended audience of these images, considering how the desires of the chapel patron and the liturgical and devotional needs of a religious body could simultaneously be met through the use of imagery. Filippino Lippi’s Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard (fig. 39) was the centerpiece of a new family chapel for the Del Pugliese in the monastery church of the Campora. This church, now destroyed, was attached to a Benedictine monastery just outside the Porta Romana. The information we have regarding the construction and decoration of the Del Pugliese chapel, much of which was published by Iodoco Supino in 1903, is highly detailed.2 This was a lavish and expensive project including work of the finest quality and cost Piero 651 ducats in total. Compared with the 50 to 70 ducats spent on the construction of the chapels at Cestello about ten years later, this sum indicates the project was near to Piero’s heart. The language of church

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

140

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 140

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 39. Filippino Lippi, The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, Florence, Badia

patronage used in these accounts is fascinating. Piero del Pugliese is not named at first, simply called “A devoted friend and benefactor of our monastery.”3 This has led one commentator to see Piero as “a very religious man” with “a life long desire for anonymity.”4 “Religious” perhaps, but if anonymity was his goal, he failed: his physiognomy is famously celebrated as the donor in Filippino’s painting, and the Del Pugliese arms decorated many of the gifts he gave to the chapel. We are also told in the accounts that he specified that “he did not want [to pay for] any of our [daily] needs, but he wanted us to spend [his money] on some ornament in our church of the Campora.”5 He desired some concrete memorial of his generosity. The Filippino altarpiece is the most famous of Piero’s donations to the Campora,

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 141

differing visions

141

Image not available

Figure 40. Pietro Perugino, The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, Munich, Alte Pinakothek

but it stood in the middle of a splendid chapel, with iron gates, windows, spalliere, paliotti, and a frieze. The intarsiaed “very beautiful” walnut choir that decorated the chapel was destroyed by German soldiers along with most of the rest of the furnishings during the siege of 1529.6 The progress of the decoration of the chapel allows us to estimate the date of Filippino’s altarpiece. Wrongly dated to about 1486 by Alfred Scharf, owing to a mistranslation, most of the work in the chapel had been completed by the late spring of 1480.7 This includes the whitewashing of the walls, the predella of the altar, and the holes for lamps.8 It seems likely that the altarpiece would have been painted about this time. There are several reasons why Piero should have chosen Santa Maria alle Campora

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

142

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 142

changing patrons

as a center for his patronage. He rented wool botteghe from the Badia Fiorentina, the Campora’s mother church, and also seems to have acted as some kind of agent for it, acting as the middleman to buy some white cloth on its behalf from Giuliano di Pagnazzo Ridolfi in 1487. In fact, in 1481 he is described as “our Piero di Iacopo [sic] del Pugliese.”9 Moreover, the location of this church was in its favor. The church stood just outside the Porta San Piero Gattolini, the gate at the end of the Via de’ Serragli; even though it was outside the city walls, it was still extremely close to the Del Pugliese palace. Indeed, Piero bought a villa and small farm in the parish where the Campora stood, San Donato a Scopeto, sometime in the 1480s or early 1490s.10 Around this date, he also acted as a benefactor to San Donato, giving the canons a barrel of wine from his land annually, and he may have been depicted by Filippino in the Uffizi Adoration of the Magi, an altarpiece that was originally placed in their church.11 In this way, the purchase of a chapel in the Campora may have been an opportunity to make a suitably pious impression on the local community. The laborer who tended the land on Piero’s farm could have seen an image of his padrone when he went to mass and perhaps be inspired to offer prayers for his employer’s soul.12 The Nasi also invested in a chapel outside their quarter of Santo Spirito. Perugino painted the altarpiece for the Cistercian church of Santa Maria Maddalena di Cestello, located on Borgo Pinti in the quarter of Santa Croce. Francesco del Pugliese, along with his wife, Alessandra di Domenico Bonsi, also paid for the construction of a chapel there. The reasons for these families’ involvement remain uncertain, and Alison Luchs’ thorough research on the construction and patronage of the church did not reveal any single explanation. It seems worth pointing out, however, that Cestello was a church dominated by friends, associates, and relations of Lorenzo de’ Medici and was designed by Giuliano da Sangallo, an architect close to Lorenzo. The earliest chapel patrons seemed to have connections with the Medici bank. Angelo Bardi, the first patron to found a chapel in 1488, ran the London branch; the Nasi, the second chapel purchasers, were brothers of the man who ran the Naples branch, which was taken over by another chapel owner, Lorenzo Tornabuoni, in 1489.13 Moreover, other chapel patrons, the Salviati, were related to the Medici by marriage, as were the Pucci, who had been closely allied with the Medici since Cosimo’s day.14 It may be the case that Francesco del Pugliese wished to be associated with the Medici through his involvement in this church dominated by the family’s friends. As discussed in the next chapter, he was expanding his property ownership in the late 1480s to include a house on the Borgo San Lorenzo and a large country possession in Sommaia, both areas inhabited by Medici friends. Bernardo, Filippo, and the heirs of Bartolommeo Nasi started to construct their chapel in March 1489.15 Dedicated to Saint Bernard, this was to the right of the high

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 143

differing visions

143

altar, the most prized position in the church. The panel of the Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard by Perugino was moved in 1628, when the monastery was taken over by the Carmelites. The chapel was completely renovated in the nineteenth century and now bears little resemblance to its original appearance.16 Francesco del Pugliese’s chapel was the first on the right from the door, bought in June 1490, and dedicated to Saint Jerome.17 There is no altarpiece documented for this chapel. The dedication to Saint Jerome, changed when the Del Pugliese ceded the chapel to the Rutini in 1556, was almost certainly Francesco’s choice; it was possibly intended as a reminder of the Del Pugliese family chapel in Santa Maria del Carmine. Neither of these chapels was for the use of the lineage as a whole. The Nasi chapel was restricted to the household of the youngest three sons of Lutozzo Nasi and their heirs. In fact, it may be that it had a memorial function. Bartolommeo died about a year before the first stone was laid, and his presence is felt in the appearance of his name-saint in the Perugino altarpiece. The ceiling of Francesco del Pugliese’s chapel shows the arms of the Del Pugliese and Bonsi families. Francesco married Alessandra di Domenico Bonsi in 1486, and it seems that Alessandra was also involved in this new chapel project: she gave a chasuble to the church a few days after the initial donation.18 As well as celebrating their union, perhaps the building of the chapel was meant to have a talismanic purpose. After four years of marriage, Alessandra and Francesco were still childless. It may be that the founding of this chapel in their name and that of their heirs was wishful thinking as well as a form of prayer for offspring. Francesco’s uncle and guardian, Piero, after all, had been blessed with a second son while he was providing funds for the building of a Dominican church at Lecceto. Whatever the reasons for the chapel foundations, it may be that there was a tendency for chapels in churches outside a family’s local area to be patronized by individual members or branches of families rather than by the entire lineage. This was the case with other Cestello patrons, as Luchs has pointed out.19 It also seems that the chapel at Campora was specifically linked to Piero di Francesco and his heirs. However, investing in these churches meant that links with neighbors, friends, and family could still be maintained. The chapel opposite the Nasi’s in Cestello belonged to the heirs of Giovanni di Agnolo Bardi who, after moving from the Via de’ Bardi (where the Nasi formerly lived) in 1483, constructed a palace facing the three Nasi brothers’ house at the other side of the Ponte Rubaconte.20 Three of the other chapel owners were related to them through marriage: Lorenzo Tornabuoni’s sister was Alessandro di Francesco Nasi’s wife; Francesco del Pugliese was married to the daughter of Domenico Bonsi and Bartolommea di Piero Nasi, the brothers’ niece; and Alamanno Salviati’s son would later marry Bernardo Nasi’s daughter. Just as the

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

144

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 144

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 41. Master of the Rinuccini Chapel, The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, Florence, Accademia

churches of Santo Spirito and the Carmine could embody local networks and social hierarchies in the allocation of their chapels, a church not so aligned to neighborhood loyalties, like Cestello, could reflect citywide ties of kinship.  The representation of the Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard became increasingly popular during the fifteenth century in Florence. This was a facet of a renewal of interest in the saint and his writings, especially his treatise on family care (the Letter to Raimondo), his sermon Super Missus Est (the account of the Annunciation in the Gospel of Luke), often called In Laudibus Virginis Matris, and a text now ascribed to one of his followers, Planctus Sancte Marie Virginis, often simply called the Planctus Marie.21 Through these writings and a biography (the Vita Prima) written by one of his followers, from at least the thirteenth century onward Bernard was noted both for his eloquence and for his special devotion to the Virgin, evident from his appearance in the climax of the Divine Comedy, where he prepares Dante to see the Queen of Heaven by reciting a hymn in her praise.22 Despite the wealth of texts written by and about Bernard, there is no straightforward textual prototype for the pictorial tradition of the Virgin appearing to the saint

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 145

differing visions

145

Figure 42. Filippino Lippi, The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, Florence, Badia, detail of books

Image not available

to inspire his writings.23 It was a subject that was peculiar to Tuscany, and its first painted representation seems to have been a now-lost panel painted in 1335 by Bernardo Daddi for the Palazzo della Signoria, documented when it was cleaned in 1432.24 The palazzo had always contained an altar to the saint, which possibly reflects the role that Cistercian monks from the Badia a Settimo played in government, keeping the account books of the Camera del Comune and the official seal of the republic.25 The version of the Apparition by Filippo Lippi, now in the National Gallery in London, was painted for the building in 1447.26 One text that was possibly influential on early versions of the subject was the Planctus Marie, an account of Bernard’s conversation with the Virgin about her feelings and actions during the Crucifixion.27 The earliest extant Florentine altarpiece of the Apparition, painted by the Master of the Rinuccini Chapel in the 1370s, displays text from the Planctus Marie (fig. 41). In it, Bernard is shown writing a question in his open book:“Regina celi mater crucifixi dic mater domini si in Jerusalem eras quando captus fuit filius tuus . . . cui illa respondit.” We can see the reply emerging from the Virgin’s mouth: “J(e)ru(sale)m q(ua)n(do) hoc audivi.”28 The Planctus Marie was a popular work during the quattrocento, and we know that Piero del Pugliese was

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

146

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 146

changing patrons

aware of it, because in 1490 he gave the monks of the Campora a book of selections of Bernard’s writings that included it (fig. 43).29 As we shall see below, this relationship between the text that Bernard is shown to be writing and its inspiration by the Virgin was an important precedent for Filippino. The altarpiece by the Master of the Rinuccini Chapel was possibly in the Campora or its sister church, the Badia a Settimo, at the time Filippino painted his panel.30 In this altarpiece (fig. 39), Piero is seen at the lower right in prayer, his gaze fixed on the Virgin. He is wearing a black fur–lined garment, with a bright red cappuccio, a sign of citizenship and office holding.31 The Virgin, with her entourage of angels, has placed her hand on the open book of Saint Bernard, who gazes at her in wonderment, holding a pen in his right hand as if he had been interrupted while writing. Above him, a subsidiary scene is being enacted by similarly white-clad monks, while cowering in a rocky crevice to the right of the painting is a demon gnawing his chains, an owl placed in the darkness beside him. The abundance of writing in the painting is immediately striking. There is the open book directly next to the Virgin, the manuscript that Bernard is in the process of composing, a small piece of paper attached to the rock behind Bernard’s head, and books, closed and half-open, scattered all around, as well as the inscription on the frame. It is apparent that this work was intended for an audience both literate and literato—not only an audience that could read but one that had a knowledge of Latin texts. In this painting Bernard is acting in the role of the intercessor’s intercessor, physically placed between the donor and the Virgin. This role for the saint would have been familiar to most Renaissance Florentines from his similar position in the Divine Comedy, where, at the climax of the Paradiso, he sings a song in the Virgin’s praise.32 The saint’s eloquence is stressed in this panel more than in any visual predecessor. Unlike in the Master of the Rinuccini Chapel’s version of the subject, Bernard is not writing a passage from the Planctus Marie. He has, instead, been interrupted by a vision while writing a sermon on the biblical passage shown on the open book at the center of the painting. The book, the text of which is entirely legible, shows Saint Luke’s account of the Annunciation, starting with the words “Missus est Angelus Gabriel.” Bernard’s sermon on this text is part of a series entitled In Laudibus Virginis Matris, or simply Super Missus Est.33 He is on the concluding part of the second sermon of the set, concerned with the comparison of Mary with a star; the star’s rays are like her virginity, shown visually by the star on her mantle.34 He goes on to explain that our lives are like a voyage at sea, where one needs the guidance of a star to avoid pitfalls. The Virgin has interrupted him just before he was to write the impassioned passage beseeching his audience to invoke and think of the Virgin in order to weather

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 147

differing visions

147

the difficulties of life and escape the path of sin. This part of the passage is summed up on the frame: “in rebus dubiis mariam co gita mariam invo ca” (In matters of doubt, think of Mary, invoke Mary). It is important to point out that anyone who did not know the text being written by Saint Bernard would not be able to understand the truncated lines that appear on the painting; there is simply not enough information given to make the meaning clear to the uninitiated. Presumably the Benedictine monks who serviced the chapel in which the altarpiece was placed would be mentally able to fill in the blanks and thus apprehend further meanings of the painting. If they wished to jog their memory, they only had to look at the manuscript book that Piero del Pugliese left the Campora in 1490, which includes the sermon Super Missus Est. So, too, for Piero’s family: he makes clear in his dedication that the book should always be available to his family should they desire it.35 Our attention is drawn to books and writing almost obsessively in this painting. Behind the two men enjoying a vision of a golden sky in the background are two more monks wearing the black scapulars that protected their robes during work. What work they were involved in is in no doubt: hanging from their belts are, respectively, the wax tablet and the pen case of the monastic scribe. Above them, on the hill, is perhaps a further representation of the duties of convent life, as two younger brothers help their lame colleague down the hill. Given that the mother house of the Campora, the Badia, had a large library and was the center of manuscript book production in fifteenth-century Florence, it is likely that the monks saying mass in front of this painting would have recognized in it appropriate models of behavior to follow. They would also have been well placed to read additional iconographic complexities in the different types of handwriting on this image. Remarkably, the saint is being inspired to write his commentary on Luke in a humanistic book hand. As Dario Covi has pointed out, Filippino took great pains here to replicate accurately both the Gothic minuscules of Luke’s gospel and the humanistic hand of Bernard’s commentary on it (fig. 42).36 This surely has iconographic significance: with divine help Bernard is elucidating what is written in the Bible not only by what he writes but also in the way he writes it, by transforming the Gothic original into a protohumanist commentary. The classicizing minuscules in the Bernardine text are visually linked with the classicizing majuscules on the scrap of paper directly above it on which is written the motto of the stoic Epictetus, “substine et abstine” (sustain and abstain). The works of this philosopher were translated by Poliziano for Lorenzo de’ Medici in 1480, and in his prefatory letter to his printed edition, Poliziano explicitly states that the complete works of Epictetus could be summarized in this phrase.37 In this usage of the words, a pagan philosopher associated with the Medici is explicitly

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

148

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 148

changing patrons

Figure 43. Unknown Florentine, Vita Sancti Bernardi, BNF, Conventi Soppressi B.1.2578, fol. 7r.

Image not available

shown to be influential not only in Bernard’s Christian textual commentary but also in his way of life. Bernard’s clarity of expression and purity of life are inspired by the Virgin and Epictetus alike; eloquence, antiquity, and religiosity are shown as inextricably linked. However, it is made clear that Christianity is superior: the epigram of Epictetus is placed in the shadows of the rock, whereas the Bible and the commentary are bathed in the light emanating from the Virgin/star.38 The real focus of the painting is further emphasized in the inscription on the frame. This exhortation is intended to have several addressees. It refers to Bernard’s looking to Mary for inspiration in his time of suffering, while mirroring advice he would give. It refers to Piero del Pugliese, praying in the bottom left corner of the painting, his eyes fixed on the Virgin, perhaps beseeching her notice. Finally, it encourages the individual viewer, and Florence as a whole, to pray for intercession from its particular protectress. It polices reactions to the work and reminds the viewer that the figures are examples to be followed. The composition of the painting itself suggests a hierarchy of holiness, with the Virgin at the top, Saint Bernard slightly below her, and Piero del Pugliese well below them, only half-accepted into their world. He is both a model for imitation on the part of the laity who may have

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 149

differing visions

149

prayed in front of this image and a reminder to them to keep him in their prayers. The frame inscription ensures that for those with only basic Latin, and little ability to recognize all the texts displayed, the key message of the painting would nevertheless be understood. Such a complex range of readings suggests that immense time and effort were taken over the composition of this painting. It is likely in this case that Piero was involved in the design of the altarpiece in collaboration with the young Filippino Lippi. He himself was an able scribe, judging by the copy of Virgil’s Aeneid in the Biblioteca Laurenziana that is written in his hand.39 He also had dealings with the Florentine Badia concerning other religious books; in 1477 they paid Felice di Michele Feo to illuminate a Rationale Divonorum Officiorum, which may also have been written out by him.40 Indeed, the copy of Saint Bernard’s works that he gave to the Campora in 1490 (fig. 43) is in a hand very similar to that of the Aeneid, and it is not impossible that it was also written out by Piero. Whatever the circumstances of its creation, however, the altarpiece was clearly planned with its future audience in mind. The Saint Bernard presented here is one of a community of monastic scribes who lead an ascetic life outside the city.  Perugino’s Apparition of the Virgin (fig. 40) has an entirely different appearance. Its seeming simplicity in comparison with the Filippino panel has led some commentators to dismiss this work. Melinda Lesher, for example, claims that the faces of the figures are “bland and expressionless,” and that the panel as a whole suffers from a “confused iconography.”41 It seems likely, however, that Perugino was deliberately attempting to rearticulate the narrative of Bernard’s vision. Filippino’s version of the subject had been extremely popular in Florence, having spawned several imitations over the next decade.42 Perugino was the first painter to break away from this influential model. In fact, like the earlier altarpiece, it fulfills the need of a specific audience and, I would argue, its relative simplicity should be read in relation to this situation. Saint Bernard is seated at a desk to the right-hand side of an open, arcaded loggia. He holds his hands up in veneration as the Virgin appears to him; standing behind the Queen of Heaven are two angels, one staring out at the viewer. Behind Bernard are Saints Bartholomew and Philip, who seem to be discussing the vision. This arrangement differs from earlier versions of the subject in several ways. Although a landscape background is visible through the arches of the loggia, the scene is entirely set within a building. Thus, instead of representing Bernard as a solitary thinker, who along with other holy hermits deliberately absented himself from civilization, he is shown surrounded by the trappings of institutional life: classicizing columns and a carved wood reading desk. This altarpiece, after all, was displayed in a Cistercian

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

150

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 150

changing patrons

church, and Bernard here appears in his guise as spiritual leader of that order. This image would have supplied a more meaningful model of holiness for the cloistered monks at Cestello than the Filippino version. Interestingly in this light, he is less physically separated from his companions than he tended to be in the paintings inspired by Filippino. Saints Bartholomew and Philip stand directly behind him. The representatives of the three brothers of the Nasi family form a tight-knit group on the right of the panel, providing a visual balance for the Virgin with her entourage of two angels. The inclusion of these two saints in place of Cistercian onlookers has proved the most offensive element in this painting to some iconographers: there is no textual reason why they should appear in the panel, and they have been seen as extraneous elements detracting from the main narrative.43 This seems to be a misreading in several respects, notably in the perception that the main function of this altarpiece was to display a story; in fact, it bears a closer relationship to the typical altarpiece format of a Madonna and Child with saints than to the kind of religious narrative painting more often seen on a predella panel. The primary requirement of altarpieces was to identify the dedication of an altar, and they were also crucial for invoking prayers for the patrons of a chapel. The presence of Saints Bartholomew and Philip together symbolizes the devotion of those who paid for the painting and the chapel it adorned. The Nasi brothers supported the Cistercian order, represented by Saint Bernard. They deserved to be shown by his side, as they were all working toward the same goal: the praise of the Virgin. Perugino found an elegant pictorial solution to the potential problem of representing two patron saints in conjunction with Saint Bernard’s vision by balancing the narrative with three figures at either side. Perhaps the most important difference between the paintings by Filippino and Perugino, however, lies in Perugino’s portrayal of the relationship between Bernard and the Virgin. Bernard is not holding a pen in the Cestello altarpiece. Mary’s dictation of text to Bernard, which forms the focus of the Filippino composition, has no place here. Indeed, the book that Bernard was apparently reading before the Virgin appeared is filled with letterless lines. Given that readable text had been so important in previous versions of the subject, this surely requires an explanation. I think it can partly be found in Bernard’s own work. In one of the passages in the sermon on Super Missus Est, coming shortly after the passage being written in the Filippino panel, Bernard extols his readers to contemplate the Virgin without words: “It is sweet to contemplate in silence that which a labored discourse is not sufficient to express.”44 One is reminded of Dante’s Paradiso, when the narrative breaks off at the end because some sights are too beautiful to describe in words.45 This wordless panel of Perugino celebrates “vision” in all its senses.

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 151

differing visions

151

Figure 44. Pietro Perugino, Annunciation, Fano, Santa Maria Nuova

Image not available

Mary’s hand does not touch the book, and she takes no heed of it. Instead, she extends her index finger and points to Bernard. This gesture is strikingly similar to that of the angel in the Annunciation Perugino executed for Santa Maria Nuova in Fano at about the same time (fig. 44).46 Indeed, the Apparition painting as a whole is reminiscent of an Annunciation, with Bernard, like the Virgin Annunciate, the passive receptacle for the spirit. His subordinate, feminized role in this painting is stressed by the great difference in height between the two main characters, the spirit emerging from Mary’s pointed finger, seemingly directed between Bernard’s raised hands. The angel behind Mary holds a book and a lily, familiar additions to an Annunciation scene, and the Virgin’s left hand clutches the cloak that covers the area of her womb. Although the subject of the Virgin appearing to Bernard lends itself to comparisons with the Annunciation, nowhere, I think, is this comparison more deliberately drawn than in the Perugino panel. Through visual means, therefore, we are once again reminded of Bernard’s most famous sermon, his commentary on Super Missus Est, Luke’s account of the Annunciation. The saint’s knowledge of Mary’s trials at the Crucifixion expressed in the Planctus Marie passed into him without words or corporeal forms like books, just as he claimed the Virgin was penetrated at the

09.Burke.139-152.FINALqu

152

4/1/04

10:16 AM

Page 152

changing patrons

Annunciation as “light falls through glass.” Here, Bernard’s special understanding of Mary is shown to derive, not from his learning or eloquence, but from his ability to empathize, to replay her role. The wordless form of meditation and role-playing articulated by Perugino here was to gain importance in sacred images in Florence in the 1490s and 1500s.47 These contrasting versions by Filippino and Perugino of the same subject have differing messages. One celebrates the potency of sight, the other of the written word. Both of them celebrate their purchasers in differing ways. Piero del Pugliese appears as the wealthy merchant-donor, flattered by association with his saintly role model. The presence of the Nasi brothers is suggested through the inclusion of their name-saints. Here, the material world of the onlooker, perfected through the figure of a pious donor, is eschewed in favor of a more ethereal symbolic order, while still paying the homage to the patrons of the chapel. The presence of both Piero del Pugliese and the Nasi in their respective churches was predicated on the knowledge of who would see these altarpieces. Filippino Lippi’s version, placed in a Benedictine church in the countryside, sets Bernard outside in solitude, showing that true religiosity can be experienced in a natural setting. The Benedictine monks who said mass in front of this altarpiece would have been able to understand the Latin texts ranged for them to read. Moreover, this monastery was part of the Badia Fiorentina, an important producer of manuscript books in this period; thus, these Benedictines would have been well placed to understand the nuances of the different book hands displayed on the painting. Clearly, this Saint Bernard, a scribe in the countryside, whose holiness gained him inspiration from the Madonna, would have seemed a possible model for imitation. Perugino’s altarpiece, one of a number of works he executed for the church and convent, shows Saint Bernard firmly set within the cloisters of a monastery, the outside world visible but distant, irrelevant to the contemplation of the Madonna. Each altarpiece was intended to prompt a devotional response suitable to its institutional and geographic location, presenting idealized models for chapel patron and cleric alike.

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 153

part iii Identity and Change

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 154

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 155

chapter 8

Painted Prayers Savonarola and the Audience of Images



A

bout 1498 Filippino Lippi painted an altarpiece for the Valori chapel in the church of San Procolo in Florence (figs. 45 and 46). The main panel of this triptych depicted the crucified Christ between Mary and Saint Francis and was flanked by wings of John the Baptist and Mary Magdalen, set in niches. Commissioned by the family of a leading supporters of Savonarola, Francesco Valori, this work is frequently cited as an example of “Savonarolan style.”1 Recently two commentators, one discussing the central section and the other the wings, have explained what this term can mean. For the first, the main panel contains “abstract and ideal representations” of the human body against a “supernatural background.” He relates these pictorial qualities to what he perceives as Savonarola’s request for painters to “reconstruct divine perfection,” hiding the agony of Christ’s Passion in the pursuit of calm meditation. The second scholar, by contrast, asserts that the wings betray the influence of Fra Girolamo because “the realistic appearance of the figures . . . conform to the thoughts of Savonarola that art has to imitate nature.” Their “vibrant religious intensity” and air of “a suffered spiritual torment” help the viewer to meditate on the pain of Christ.2 Both these interpretations are extremely convincing, and both are well supported by visual and textual evidence. The problem is that juxtaposed in this way, the suggestion seems to be that Savonarola gave contradictory stylistic instructions to painters in his sermons. If Filippino Lippi was sufficiently perplexed to paint in two apparently conflicting styles in order to produce “Savonarolan” work, what chance does the art historian have to pinpoint the friar’s influence on painting? I would argue that the problem does not lie with Savonarola’s ambiguous ideas about the visual arts, but with how his writings and sermons have been used to analyze paintings from this period. Despite the new emphasis on historiography in Savonarola studies generally, the way that his work has been used in relationship to visual culture has not changed very much since the subject was dealt with in the nineteenth century by

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

156

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 156

changing patrons

Figure 45. Filippino Lippi, Crucifixion with Virgin Mary and Saint Francis, formerly Berlin, Kaiser Friedrichs Museum

Image not available

Gustave Gruyer and Vincenzo Marchese.3 True, the influence of Savonarola is now seen to rest in the amorphous figure of the “art patron” rather than the “artist,” but the question has remained the same: what effect did Savonarola have on the visual arts? This influence is still tested by reading through his sermons, extracting sections that are deemed to relate to “art,” and attempting to show that paintings were produced with these excerpts in mind. The process becomes ever more tortuous as the same extracts are repeated by more and more commentators and become further isolated from their original context. This chapter endeavors to suggest new strategies for thinking about Savonarola’s interaction with the developments in the visual arts in this period, to use his writings as a resource for deepening our understanding of the way images were generally used in devotional practice, rather than as an anomaly to be justified or explained. I also examine how his concepts about spending money on display objects marked a decisive break with the previous accommodation between church and ostentation. Before looking at the sermons and their contemporary reception, I examine the history of Savonarola’s devoted follower, Francesco del Pugliese, who decorated his chapel at Sommaia with five paintings between 1498 and 1503. This extraordinarily well-documented case has been previously discussed by art historians, particularly in relationship to Botticelli.4 Here the paintings commis-

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 157

painted prayers

157

Figure 46. Filippino Lippi, John the Baptist and Mary Magdalen, Florence, Accademia

Image not available

sioned are placed in relation to other information about Francesco’s support of Savonarola, and, for the first time, their original setting is taken into account. Francesco del Pugliese and the Castellaccio at Sommaia On 11 June 1488 Francesco del Pugliese paid Niccolò di Donato Donati 1,500 florins for a country estate, including two laborers’ houses and a villa, set around a ruined castle, the Castellaccio, at Sommaia, about fourteen kilometers northwest of Florence.5 His choice of this area, at some distance from the rest of the family’s holdings, can partly be explained by precedent: his grandfather and great-uncle had declared ownership of land and a small farm there in the 1427 catasto.6 There were also family links to two of the other major landowners in the area, the Da Sommaia and Ginori families. In 1460 Francesco’s aunt, Costanza, had married Guglielmo di Francesco da Sommaia, and Francesco seemed to be good friends with their son, another Francesco, who was made an executor of his will of 1503. These men shared a devotion to Savonarola. The primary link with the Ginori family was through Francesco’s sister, Caterina, who married Giovanni di Francesco Ginori in 1470. Caterina, like Francesco, seems to have been a follower of Savonarola. After her husband’s death she became a nun

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

158

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 158

changing patrons

at the Dominican convent of Santa Lucia on the Via San Gallo, and she named Francesco as a universal heir in her will along with her son, Agostino.7 In January 1493 Francesco bought a house on the Borgo San Lorenzo, which he gave to his sister later that year. This palace was bought from Francesco di Lazzaro de’ Medici and stood next door to the property of his distinguished kinsman, Piero di Lorenzo. Another of Caterina’s next-door neighbors on the borgo was Rosso da Sommaia, while the Ginori lived nearby on the same street.8 Interestingly, she also bought property in the area of the Castellaccio in early 1489.9 It seems that by the early 1490s, Francesco, through the marriages of female relatives and property-buying decisions, was becoming part of a network of friends and family that was separated from the area around his palace in Drago Verde, thus associating himself with part of the elite group of the city that was linked both with the Medici and, at this date, with supporters of Savonarola.10 As already noted, Francesco was entirely drawn to the Savonarolan cause, his fervor often leading him into difficulties. Fined and disqualified from government in May 1498 due to his allegiance to the friar, in 1513 he was expelled from Florence for publicly insulting Lorenzo de’ Medici, yet was allowed to return after two years of his ten-year sentence had elapsed.11 It was already too late, though, to save his business and reputation. He was forced to sell much property on his return to pay back debts incurred during his absence. This includes the Castellaccio at Sommaia, sold to Bartolommeo di Leonardo Ginori in February 1516.12 During the course of his eventful life, Francesco made four wills: the first, of December 1498, just after his fine for his support of Savonarola; the second in January 1503, two months after the institution of the first lifetime head of state in Florence, Piero Soderini; the third in August 1512, just as the Florentine state was about to undergo another change of regime; and the last just before his death.13 Testaments, as Lorenzo Polizzotto has so persuasively argued, were public statements, and Francesco del Pugliese’s first three wills are open affirmations of his Savonarolanism and mark changes in his relationship with the movement.14 These testaments, of 1498, 1503, and 1512, were all made at San Marco, with friars there acting as witnesses. The second and third wills are much the same, with just a few differences resulting from a change in living circumstances. The first has the air of a document written in a hurry, being worked out as he went along, full of emendations and marginal additions. Unlike the other three, it was not made with the help of the Savonarolan notary, Lorenzo Violi, but with Bartolommeo Bindi, the notary whom Francesco had used for land purchases from the late 1480s onward; thus we do not have here the “Savonarolan” preamble made familiar by Violi. Significantly, in this first will, made only a few months after his disqualification, Francesco asks to be

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 159

painted prayers

159

buried at the convent of San Marco rather than in the family tomb at Santa Maria del Carmine.15 He eschews family tradition in death, a significant act, cutting through former ties of neighborhood loyalty. By the second testament, however, he changes his mind, though this does not signify a change of heart: the character of the rest of the will, with its generous bequests to San Marco, remains distinctly Savonarolan. He consistently makes large gifts of money and land to this convent and the Savonarolan foundation of Santa Lucia in Via San Gallo throughout his first three wills. The testament of 1519, made after his exile and in reduced circumstances, is subdued in tone. Taken and witnessed in the neutral surroundings of the church of Cestello, this testament contains no pious bequests to any religious institutions, and Francesco even apologizes for any offense he may have previously caused. It seems that the disgrace of his exile had finally affected his willingness to express openly his Savonarolan sympathies.16 The second will has received the most attention from art historians. This is because it contains an extraordinary and, to my knowledge, unique bequest to the friars of San Marco. Not only does he leave them his entire estate at Sommaia, but in particular the contents of a chapel that formed part of the Castellaccio: he leaves to the aforementioned chapel and church of Sant’Andrea a Sommaia five pictures painted on panel . . . that is: a picture on which is painted a head of Christ made in Flanders, with two wings at either side, painted by the hand of Filippo di fra Filippo; and a picture on which is painted a Judgment painted by the hand of fra Giovanni, with two wings at the side, painted by the hand of Sandro di Botticello; and another picture on which is painted the Transition of Saint Jerome, by the hand of the aforementioned Sandro; and another small painting, by the hand of Pesellino; and another large painting, by the hand of the aforementioned Filippo, where is painted a Nativity with Magi.17 The Chapel of Sant’Andrea A great deal of information is available about the chapel of Sant’Andrea, which, though much battered, still stands today (fig. 47). Francesco made the decision to bequeath his estate at Sommaia to the friars of San Marco in his first will of 1498, adding almost as an afterthought that it had a chapel, though leaving the impressive sum of five hundred florins for its decoration.18 By his second will, his thoughts about the bequest had matured, and he makes the chapel building central to his gift: because the said testator has a chapel at his estate and villa of Sommaia, in the contado of Florence, since it is not yet consecrated, he wants nevertheless that it should be consecrated and made into use as a church . . . he leaves to the said chapel, and for its upkeep [dota] all the build-

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

160

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 160

changing patrons

Figure 47. Chapel of Sant’Andrea/San Michele, Sommaia

Image not available

ings that are around and alongside the said chapel . . . that is: a building called the castle of Sommaia, where the said chapel is, with all the rooms and halls of the said building, and with the laborer’s house and the tower near the Chiosina river, and with all the furnishings and with all the movable goods of whatever quality there should be . . . and in effect the whole hill of Sommaia.19 In return he asks for sixty masses each year to be said in San Marco and an annual office of the dead at the chapel at Sommaia for his and his wife’s souls. Perhaps we can see in this extremely generous gift an attempt to “remake” Piero del Pugliese’s involvement with the Observant Dominican hermitage at Lecceto. Sommaia, after all, was in a relatively isolated country area—there were sixty communicants in the parish of San Ruffignano/San Michele at Easter 1515, and in the seventeenth century the church building was used as a hermitage.20 It is, however, a

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 161

painted prayers

161

donation made under very different circumstances, when leaving such a bequest to San Marco was a political as well as a charitable act. The chapel is a modest, single-naved structure to the north of the villa with a small bell tower. It was built by Borghini di Niccolò Cocchi Donati in 1464, according to an inscription on the door.21 By the late eighteenth century, it was being used as a stall for animals, and the indignant local priest of San Ruffignano closed the building and deconsecrated it. It is now not used.22 In the 1950s the frescoes in the interior were published, and unfortunately not long after, these paintings, attributed to Paolo Schiavo, were detached from the wall and stolen.23 Photographs of the frescoes and the records of a seventeenth-century dispute over the patronage of the church, however, allow us partially to reconstruct the appearance of the interior. The only important decoration that seems to have been eroded before the photographing of the church was the image of Saint Andrew with his cross, formerly on the entrance wall above the door, which, according to the documents, was “painted at the time of the del Pugliese.”24 There were three altars, one on the east wall of the church and one on each side wall.25 In the niche in the south wall was painted Saint Michael—probably a tribute to the dedication of the parish—with Saint John the Baptist on his right and Saint Paul on his left. On the walls surrounding them were Saint Christopher and Saint Sebastian, with God the Father in an oculus directly above, flanked by the Archangel Gabriel and the Virgin Annunciate (fig. 48). The Virgin and Child with Saints Ignatius and Boniface were painted on the opposite wall, with Saints Francis and Raphael on either side (fig. 49). Both compositions were set in classicizing fictive architecture. Whether Francesco was, in fact, responsible for commissioning the lost Saint Andrew or not, these frescoes must have been executed before 1488, when he bought the villa, so the choice of the painter and decorative program cannot have been his. Apart from the purchase of a bell in 1489, he probably made no new additions to his chapel for some years, concentrating instead on purchasing land to confirm his position in the area. Then, notwithstanding the fact that the chapel was already highly ornate, in his will of 1498 he decided to give five hundred florins for the building’s “construction and ornamentation.” The Paintings By 1503 Francesco had already decided on the design of his church, listing five paintings in his will of that year, as noted above. Two of these works have been securely identified. The “head of Christ made in Flanders, with two wings at either side, painted by the hand of Filippo di fra Filippo” is now in the Venetian seminary, the central panel attributed to the Master of the Legend of Saint Ursula (figs. 57 and 58).

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

162

Page 162

changing patrons

Image not available

Image not available

Figure 48. Anonymous, Saint Michael with Saints John the Baptist, Paul, Christopher, and Sebastian, formerly Sommaia, chapel of Sant’Andrea/San Michele

Figure 49. Paolo Schiavo, attributed, Virgin and Child with Saints Ignatius, Boniface, Francis, and Raphael, formerly Sommaia, chapel of Sant’Andrea/San Michele

Image not available

Figure 50. Fra Angelico, Last Judgment Triptych, Rome, Corsini Gallery

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 163

painted prayers

163

The “Transition of Saint Jerome by the hand of the said Sandro [di Botticello]” is now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, generally described as the Last Communion of Saint Jerome (fig. 59).26 In its original frame, it is crowned by a lunette showing the Trinity surrounded by angels, attributed to Bartolommeo di Giovanni. The “Judgment painted by the hand of fra Giovanni,” now called Fra Angelico, seems to be lost. Of the four surviving Last Judgments connected with this painter, there is only one that would have been a suitable size for Franscesco’s chapel (55 × 38 cm). Now in the Corsini Gallery in Rome, this panel has wings also by Fra Angelico that makes it unlikely to be the triptych at Sommaia. I nevertheless reproduce it here to give an idea of the kind of painting mentioned in the will (fig. 50). The “two wings at the side [of this Last Judgment], painted by the hand of Sandro di Botticello” are probably two small paintings now in the State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg, described as depicting the penitent Saint Jerome and Saint Dominic (figs. 51 and 52). This connection was first made by Carlo Gamba in 1936 but has been denied by more recent commentators, largely because of difficulties of reconstructing the tabernacle—both saints are looking the same way, rather than facing each other and the central scene, as would be normal practice. Moreover, the earliest

Image not available

Figure 51. Sandro Botticelli, Saint Jerome, St. Petersburg, The State Hermitage Museum

Image not available

Figure 52. Sandro Botticelli, Saint Vincent Ferrer, St. Petersburg, The State Hermitage Museum

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

164

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 164

changing patrons

Figure 53. Pesellino, Madonna and Child with Six Saints, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Bequest of Mary Stillman Harkness, 1950

Image not available

secure notice we have of these panels (1896) shows they were framed together with two panels of the Annunciation of the same height and exactly half the width.27 Leaving the problems of reconstruction aside for a moment, it is likely that these panels (surely the wrong dimensions for a predella) are wings for a devotional image. Given the iconography, it would be surprising if the central panel were not of a Last Judgment. The figure normally identified as Saint Dominic is, in fact, Saint Vincent Ferrer. He was a Dominican preacher canonized in 1455 and associated above all with the prophecy of the coming apocalypse. He was often shown in the later fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries as pointing to a vision of the judging Christ, as he is here.28 This saint had recently been depicted on the reverse of Ghirlandaio’s altarpiece for the Tornabuoni chapel in Santa Maria Novella and was also a familiar sight for anyone, like Francesco del Pugliese, who frequented San Marco. The penitent Saint Jerome also has connections with the Observant Dominican convent, being a direct copy of the predella of Botticelli’s altarpiece that stood in the chapel of the Arte della Seta in the church there. Given the similarity in size of the two figures, the same preparatory drawing may even have been used. I find it hard to believe that the decision to repeat this figure was simply a bid to save time, given that the iconography of Saint Vincent Ferrer is unusual and seemingly worked out anew; the relationship with the San Marco altarpiece is, therefore, probably deliberate.

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 165

painted prayers

165

Image not available

Figure 54. Filippino Lippi, Adoration of the Magi, London, The National Gallery

The will mentions a painting by Pesellino but says only that it was “small” and on panel: at present, it remains untraceable. There is a small painting in the Metropolitan Museum of Art that may at least indicate the style of work. This panel, a Madonna and Child with Six Saints, seems to be an independent work, rather than part of a predella (fig. 53). Its painted surface measures 22.6 by 20.3 centimeters, a little smaller than Botticelli’s Saint Jerome, and it is one of the few remaining religious paintings by the artist of this size.29 Interestingly, Pesellino was noted during the fifteenth century for his skill at painting in a small format.30 Perhaps the cursory reference to this work in the will at least served to signify that it was a painting of quality. I have also been unable to establish the identity of the Filippino Lippi Adoration of the Magi mentioned in the testament. The only painting of the subject by this artist that has no known original location is in the National Gallery in London (fig. 54). It is generally considered to be an early work of Filippino, almost certainly painted before 1488, when the land at Sommaia was purchased. This does not necessarily mean that it cannot be the panel in the will, however, just that it was not painted for this location. Some factors are favorable for connecting it with the Del Pugliese. First, its early dating: Piero del Pugliese was one of Filippino’s earliest patrons, knowing him when he was still young. Second, the Thebaide-like background to the Nativity scene includes small representations of saints that could be connected with

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

166

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 166

changing patrons

the family. To the upper right of the painting kneels Saint Bernard, receiving a vision from the Virgin. Directly below this scene is the penitent Saint Jerome, and to the right an equally penitent Magdalen. The scene as a whole is clearly suitable for a family with an interest in hermitages, both Piero and Francesco wanting to establish churches in isolated areas, as discussed above. This painting, like Botticelli’s Last Communion of Saint Jerome, was in the Capponi collection in Florence by the eighteenth century, and it may be that the Capponi acquired them from the same source.31 Herbert Horne pointed out that the Filippino Adoration is described as “grande” in the will, and the National Gallery panel is small in comparison with other altarpieces. Size, however, is relative, and this early Filippino painting is considerably larger than the works identified as being in the chapel. Unless more information is found, however, any connection remains speculative. How were these panels arranged? Of course, they are mainly small and portable, but Francesco obviously wanted them to stay in the building, taking the trouble to record them in detail to make sure they did so. A reconstruction is necessarily tentative, but I wonder if the paintings are listed in the order they are because the writer was trying to replicate the experience of seeing them from the doorway to the chapel, looking from left to right. The last painting mentioned, Filippino’s Adoration of the Magi, is the largest, probably the most suitable for the main altar of the church at the east end. The first to be described, the winged Flemish head of Christ, may have sat on the altar in the niche on the left-hand side of the church, under the fresco of the Virgin and Child. This would suggest that the winged Last Judgment would have been placed on the altar underneath the painting of Saint Michael, on the right-hand side, a suitable location in iconographic terms. The two smaller panels by Pesellino and Botticelli may have been placed on the north and south walls between these altar niches and the main altar. Given the amount of attention that Francesco gave to his chapel in his wills, the project must have been close to his heart. There are several aspects shared by the paintings listed in the 1503 document, notably their small size. If it were not for the will, both the Botticelli Last Communion and the Venice triptych would be characterized as works intended for private devotion in a domestic setting. It may well be that this was their original function. Some of these paintings, certainly those by Fra Angelico and Pesellino, cannot have been painted for the chapel, having been executed long before 1498. We know that the Del Pugliese palace contained several works by renowned masters, among them, perhaps, the “most precious” things Francesco had to sell to pay his debts on his return from exile. It may have been the case that these images were simply taken out of the domestic context and placed

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 167

painted prayers

167

in the chapel. However, Francesco’s will of 1498 allows five hundred florins for the decoration of the chapel. It seems to me probable that the wings by Botticelli and Filippino were additions made with their final location in mind, and the same can possibly be said for the Last Communion of Saint Jerome. All these works are considered to have been painted around this time on stylistic grounds. As the testaments imply, the form of the chapel of Sant’Andrea was that of a church in miniature, with the decoration of the three chapels completely in Francesco’s hands. Given that he hoped this building would eventually fall under the control of the friars of San Marco, I believe we can take the complex as a whole to be one that this Savonarolan, at least, believed would be pleasing to Fra Girolamo’s memory. Rab Hatfield suggested that when Guasparre del Lama took over the patronage rights of his chapel at Santa Maria Novella, the provisions he set down in his will acted as a kind of contract between patron and religious institution.32 The circumstances in which Francesco’s first three wills were made are also significant. Drawn up in the sacristy of San Marco, with friars acting as witnesses, we can assume that Francesco believed his testaments would be met with approval by the convent, if they were not positively influenced by them. It seems unlikely that he would have chosen to name the paintings in his chapel if he had believed that this would not accord with the Savonarolan message of the rest of his testament. Notably, the only other incident of which I am aware of naming the painter of a work in a will of this period is in the testament of Jacopo Bongiani, another Savonarola supporter, or piagnone. The artist he named was Lorenzo di Credi, who was himself a follower of Savonarola.33 Savonarola and Earlier Ecclesiastical Thought About Images Savonarola actually said very little that was new about “correct” painting content or style. His language is steeped in a Christian discourse about images that was centuries old, and it is worth discussing his main points and putting them in the context of this tradition. I have already made a case that we should consider spending on ecclesiastical ornamentation against the background of ideas about the correct use of wealth. The contrast between wasting money on the decoration of churches and spending it on alms for God’s poor had been made by Saint Jerome in the fourth century and was repeated periodically since, notably by Saint Bernard.34 During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the development of the theory of magnificence by humanists and churchmen alike gave theological justification for spending on splendid decoration, arguing that it was done in honor of God and for the good of the community.35 Immediately after the Medici expulsion, Savonarola seemed to be relatively sympathetic to this concept. In his De Simplicitate Christianae Vitae, first pub-

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

168

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 168

changing patrons

lished in 1495, he argues that although it is hard for rich men to enter heaven, they can spend money justly in three ways: by building churches, or other things for the honor of God; by buying things for themselves to aid them in their personal devotion; or by giving alms to the poor.36 By 1496, however, he started to see danger in the ambivalent motivations that fueled church and chapel building. He contrasts the wrongful spending of money on personal honor with real charity:“If I should say to you ‘Give me ten ducats to give to a poor man,’ you wouldn’t do it, but if I say to you,‘Spend a hundred on a chapel here in San Marco,’ you would do it in order to place your arms there, and you would do it in your honor, not for the honor of God.”37 He repeats this concern throughout his sermons of this year, finally including spending on private houses built “with the blood of the poor.”38 Unlike his most illustrious predecessor at San Marco, Saint Antoninus, he does not temper his pronouncements with a recognition of the value of virtuous spending.39 Rather, he likens those who spend money on chapels or furnishings to the philosophers and Romans who murdered Christ and the apostles with their idols.40 By returning to the more uncompromising stance of Saint Jerome and his twelfth-century followers such as Hugues de Fouilloi and Peter the Chanter, Savonarola eventually cuts through the tension between exterior display and interior devotion so carefully negotiated by his more immediate predecessors, claiming that the mixing of “church things with human pomp” led to confusion and sin. It is perhaps hardly surprising that his sermons could be interpreted as socially revolutionary. The Dominican friar Giovanni Caroli attacked Savonarola in his pamphlets of 1497, claiming that his followers were the gente nuova and plebeians who wished to overturn the social order by attacking privileges and the goods that went with them.41 Interestingly, most noticeably in his first will, Francesco del Pugliese gave most of his belongings to Dominican convents and other charitable institutions, with no connection to potentially “worldly” glory. As well as his bequests to San Marco, he gave a farm and 1,500 florins to Santa Lucia and land to the hospital of Santa Maria Nuova.42 Apart from the incorrect use of wealth, Savonarola also inveighed against what he saw as a fashion for overornamentation in churches for other reasons. Visual extravagance, like the playing of organs and choral polyphony prevented proper contemplation of God. “The true Christian loves . . . exterior simplicity” as this reflects the interior simplicity needed to reach God: “Today they make images (figure) in churches with so much artifice and so much ornament and elaboration that they extinguish the light of God and true contemplation, and one does not consider God, but only the artifice in the figure.”43 Once again, these complaints were not particularly novel. Savonarola believed that church decoration should be imbued with

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 169

painted prayers

169

“onestà” and “semplicità”; Saint Dominic’s Acta Canonizationis of 1233 repeatedly said buildings should have “honestas” and “simplicitas.” Saint Bernard also claimed that images could be a distraction from contemplation of God. The Cistercian statutes in fact banned painting and sculpture from churches and monastic buildings so that they did not disturb meditation. All these sources complain of “superfluitas,” as does Savonarola.44 A more immediate contemporary, Giovanni Caroli, who was, as we have seen, a staunch opponent, also linked a wider decline in morals with a love for ornament and a decrease in sobriety of expression.45 In some ways, Savonarola was simply rearticulating the growing fashion for order and clarity in church decoration that was discussed in Chapter 6. Savonarola’s occasional chastisement of painters is also reflected in nearcontemporary sermons by other preachers. For example, he rails against the “dishonest” representation of the Virgin, dressed like a prostitute, and the use of people’s real features in the representation of saints, saying,“You painters, you act wrongly, if you knew the scandal that follows, and what I know, you would not paint in this way.”46 The Franciscan Fra Bartolommeo da Colle in 1474 blamed painters for mistaken doctrine, claiming that “to get money, they . . . would paint anything.”47 Antoninus’s cautionary words to painters misleading their public by depicting images contrary to doctrine or provoking libidiousness are now well known.48 As more sermons of the fifteenth century are studied, further examples may come to light. Savonarola’s key point in his discussion of human display in general was the dichotomy between appearing and being, exterior and interior. This is not entirely new—Antoninus discusses a similar division in his Summa—but it is perhaps more prominent in Savonarola’s preaching than previously, and more forcefully applied. During his time, he claimed the devil found “beautiful ceremonies, churches full of drapes and organs, and he says this is not mental form nor interior cult, but the images and colors are solely outside”;49 men today “have their hearts in their eyes, and they don’t have their eyes in their hearts, they love only things that are outside.”50 This is especially important because, as we shall see below, through correct meditation on an image with the exterior sense of sight, Savonarola believed one could achieve a perfected, internal vision, which would lead one to God. Praying and Painting Despite the many precedents for Savonarola’s opinions it is clear that those people who flocked to hear his sermons perceived them as something of a novelty: “He introduced an almost new method of pronouncing the word of God,” enthused Bartolommeo Cerretani, and most other commentators note the unparelleled effect

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

170

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 170

changing patrons

his sermons had on the population of Florence, many citizens modifying their behavior according to his prescriptions.51 On reading the sermons of his immediate Florentine predecessors, it is easy to appreciate why Savonarola gained such a large audience and his preaching style seemed so different from what had gone before. The Lenten sermons of 1489 recorded by Antonio di Piero da Filicaia, for example, all have a similar structure.52 Based on a passage from the Evangelists, each concentrates on a particular vice. Typically, the unnamed preacher defines the sin, listing characteristics that his audience should avoid, and then expounds each point in turn. For example, hate is evil, according to Saint Bernard. There are seven unwanted results of hate. The first has to do with material things, the second is damage to one’s family, the third is hatred between neighbors, the fourth is hatred of one’s homeland, and so on.53 Although there is much work to be done on sermons of this period before any generalizations can securely be made, this “dividing of sermons into parts” seems to have been extremely common and must have become rather predictable.54 It was unquestionably echoed in many other sermons made by various preachers in the 1470s and 1480s.55 It may be that sermons became formulaic due to the use of Latin sermon books composed as manuals for preachers. These provided a skeleton set of sermons on biblical texts to be preached at suitable points during the ecclesiastical year, and the number of extant manuscript versions of these model sermons remaining in Italy would suggest they were widely used.56 The effect of fluency and spontaneity of Savonarola’s passionate, image-filled sermons, which are rarely separated into parts and rarely list items, befitted someone who claimed to be divinely inspired. Much of the rhetorical manner of Savonarola’s sermons is bound up in the painting of word pictures. Of itself, this is far from unusual in mendicant, especially Franciscan, preaching, which had a long tradition of detailed description of sacred scenes that were thought to be efficacious in stimulating the audience’s imagination and empathy.57 Indeed, in some cases it seems that preachers gave sermons alongside mystery plays to heighten the visual sense and vividness of their words.58 The aim was to make biblical stories seem more immediate and to encourage identification with the trials of saints and biblical protagonists. Savonarola went a step further than this, however. Basing his preaching style on the Thomist concept of the efficacy of mental images in reaching the deity, Savonarola treats his images as if he were analyzing a real painting, going through each element and discussing its significance. His treatise Triumphis Crucis makes his method explicit. Here he explains that all knowledge starts from the senses, but with an image it is possible for the devotee to lift his or her eyes to consider invisible things, which are too vast to comprehend without this starting point. Also, through describing this image and placing it in the mind’s eye of

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 171

painted prayers

171

his reader or listener, the message of his sermon will be consistently remembered and pondered.59 Judging by contemporary accounts of his sermons, this method worked. Cerretani, for example, relates how in Savonarola’s sermons of Lent 1494,“he started to build an ark, as Noah did in the Old Testament, and in every sermon he continued to build it with another four planks, with wonderful exposition.”60 Piero Parenti reports a similar metaphor that the friar used in July 1495: “he figured the city of Florence as a ship in the middle of the sea surrounded by other ships, which, sinking because of a tempest, wanted to attach themselves to our boat, showing that only our land was safe, all the other parts of Italy were ruined.”61 Even Savonarola’s detractors used his images as an easily memorable shorthand for the preacher’s opinions: Francesco Altoviti’s 1496 tract against the friar is entitled “Defensione contro all’arca di Fra Girolamo.” In a late fifteenth-century zibaldone, largely consisting of summaries of sermons, the anonymous compiler records Savonarola’s preaching on Good Friday 1496. The narrator tells us that Fra Girolamo had received in the night a “fantasia e ispirazione” of a ladder, which he had seen in the Old Testament. Each step of the ladder had a virtue that one had to achieve to become closer to God. Although the ladder to virtue was a familiar image, notably used in the popular devotional text Monte Sancto di Dio, our compiler points out that Savonarola, unlike other preachers of his day, “did not want to give this sermon to make people cry and weep. But that instead he wanted to attract people to devotion and interior mental cogitation . . . [as exterior] devotion lasts little longer than the tears. But from the contemplation of the seven steps comes delights and interior mental thoughts that yield more fruit and are more useful for salvation.”62 This active involvement with an image is something Savonarola made explicit earlier in the sermon. After describing a complicated word picture of a mountain on a plain with Florence and Rome at either side and rivers of blood leading to them, he breaks off, explaining that he does not want to interpret this image (figura) any more because the conclusion is clear,“but as for the details, what those red crosses, that robe, that sword, those masks and those other details signify, consider it yourselves: I’ll leave this exposition to you.”63 Not only does Savonarola assume that a kind of allegorical visual analysis that we would now consider quite sophisticated was in the reach of his (mass) audience, but he also believes that this mental habit will help them to lead a holy life. Savonarola’s intention was not to influence pictorial composition with this word painting. Quite the contrary. The whole point of Savonarola’s images is that they are created by the mind’s eye. Influenced by Neoplatonic conceptions of contemplation on an internalized beautiful image as a way of reaching the divine, the use of “vision”

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

172

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 172

changing patrons

as a means of attaining salvation was his key metaphor. If he did want something that he said in his sermons to be painted, as he did in his Predica dell’Arte del Ben’ Morire, he was quite explicit about this, explaining that those who felt more prone to sin may need a concrete stimulus for their contemplation. Paintings could be used as a catalyst for visual prayer. Moreover, these images had the benefit of being readily understandable by all, including the women, children, and illiterate men who could be moved “like plants” by what they saw; it was especially important that they were not exposed to potentially harmful visual stimuli.64  In a passage in the Vita Latina, an account of the life of Savonarola written in the 1520s, the narrator describes the events that occurred in San Marco on the Feast of the Assumption 1497. Savonarola had ordered that all the gates of the convent should be opened to the public. His pious followers entered and went into the second cloister, where they came to “a beautiful and devout [bella et devota] chapel in honor of the Virgin, which was built with marvelous skill; among other things there was an altar there, built with marvelous beauty with a sculpted image of the glorious Virgin, who had in her arms her only Son who was sleeping, of so much beauty that they seemed to be alive, and he laid his head on the breast of his Mother, and it rendered people dumb with devotion.” After vespers, Savonarola went to the chapel to give a sermon and pray: “It seemed to [his audience] that they were in paradise. . . . And the sermon having finished, in front of this image of the Virgin, [Savonarola] said a devout and beautiful [devota et bella] prayer.”65 The seen qualities of the chapel are, in this text, made exactly analogous with the heard qualities of Savonarola’s prayer. They are both bella and devota. Using similar devices of simplicity and clarity, they inspired devotion, a heightened interior mental state, that struck their audience dumb. This expectation, that seen and heard stimuli could produce the same response, was not an unfamiliar one in the quattrocento. It tends to be discussed in the context of parallels made between poetry and painting in a humanistic discourse confined to elite groups.66 In the case of Savonarola, however, I believe it is valid to see a wider dissemination of this idea. The friar implicitly approves of the images in this chapel, despite the fact—contrary to some commentators’ analyses of his sermons—that the chapel was highly decorated: “The Holy Virgin was sitting on a throne, on the steps of which were five short mottoes in letters of gold . . . the ornamentation of the ceiling and walls of the chapel were of gold and of silver, silk and ornate tapestries.”67 In this example, rather than distracting the devotees from their prayer, the rich ornamentation added to the emotional intensity of the moment.“Beauty,” as represented verbally by descriptions of the rich materials used to decorate the chapel, is given particular powers to arouse piety. Elsewhere in the text, as we shall see, beauty is characterized, not by richness, but by simplicity.

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 173

painted prayers

173

Throughout the Pseudo-Burlamacchi’s account, the images that tend to be associated with Savonarola are described in similar ways: in the convent he wished to build, Fra Girolamo would place “in the church, not frivolous figures, but simple and devout ones, without any vanity.”68 On the procession on Palm Sunday, the friars of San Marco follow “a humble and devout tabernacle on which was painted the image of our Savior seated above ‘the meek donkey.’”69 The word devoto is used in every case. The translation of this word as “devout” in reference to painting style is obviously inadequate. In his discussion of the term, Michael Baxandall drew from an early fifteenth-century preaching manual:“The fourth style [of preaching] is more devout (devotus) and is like the sermons of the saints which are read in church. It is the most easily understood and is good for edifying and instructing the people. . . . The fathers and holy doctors of the Church, Saint Augustine and other saints, kept to this style. They shunned elaboration and told us their divine inspirations in one coherent discourse.”70 It is illuminating to compare this description with these contemporaries’ assessments of Savonarola’s preaching style: He introduced an almost new method of pronouncing the word of God, namely the Apostolic manner, without dividing the sermon into parts, without proposing questions, and shunning cadences and the ornaments of eloquence, as his only aim was to expound some passages of the Old Testament, and to introduce the simplicity of the primitive church.71 The voice and the enunciation of the Father [Savonarola] was such that he was heard extremely well universally by all, so that it seemed a miraculous thing, and [he preached] with such spirit that he seemed a Saint Paul.72 The friar’s clarity and ostensible artlessness were perceived as an index of his piety and devotion. Unlike Georges Didi-Huberman, I would not see Baxandall’s definition of devoto as being incompatible with the Thomist concept that devotion was the most difficult and important Christian virtue to attain, reached through contemplation of the divine image and the acceptance of the shortcomings of man.73 Clarity of exposition, both verbal and visual, offers a starting point, accessible to all whether educated or not. The difficulty lies in contemplating this extrinsic matter and seeing it with the mind’s, or soul’s, eye. A simple and easily graspable image of any type lends itself to this kind of personal meditation because it contains no external distractions,“vanities” of learning or worldly pretension, and it is all the more worthy for not being confined to those who were educated. Savonarola, in his Defensione dell’oratione mentale, exhorts his audience to search God “neither in Heaven nor on Earth, but in their own hearts.”74 Some images were able to help in this difficult process more than others.

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

174

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 174

changing patrons

Perhaps the kind of visual images that followers of Savonarola would favor were those that aroused in them emotions similar to those of his sermons, which were perceived to be fluent, unornamented, simple, and able to inspire devotion. As I discussed in the previous chapter, the aesthetic of simplicity and order in church decoration had already become fashionable by the later quattrocento. Perhaps we should see Savonarola’s rhetoric of nonrhetoric as an appropriation of the concept that beauty should be equated with simplicity and, through this, equated with the divine. Moreover, he popularized this notion and gave it a broader application. Does this help us recognize paintings that would be attractive to a piagnone? The inventory of the goods of Alessandro Nasi, a follower of Savonarola, proves fruitful in this light.75 He owned many more religious images than his uncles, Bartolommeo and Piero—ten in his main residence as opposed to their three each—with a greater variety of subject matter, including a Crucifixion, a Nativity, and a Saint Catherine as well as the ubiquitous Madonnas. Significantly, of the thirteen religious images listed as being in his town palace and villa, six are described as either “alla fiamingha” or “fiandrescho.” One of these is a tapestry of Christ, which hung above the great staircase, and the others were paintings.76 Given that Paula Nuttall’s investigation of 349 inventories from the Pupilli archive 1439 to 1510 uncovered in total only two panels identified as Flemish, we have to see Alessandro’s choice of religious images as unusual.77 We can, perhaps, relate this to his wish to own images appropriate for the kind of private prayer espoused by Savonarola. The word devoto was commonly used for the description of Flemish painting in Italian descriptions during the fifteenth century. It may have been perceived to have a simplicity that much Italian work lacked. We see this in Alessandra Strozzi’s admiration for her Flemish “volto santo,” because it was “a divota image, and beautiful,” and Michelangelo’s alleged assertion that “Flemish painting will . . . please the devout better than any painting of Italy . . . not through the vigor and goodness of the painting, but owing to the goodness of the devout person.”78 Although she made no explicit connection with Savonarola, Nuttall has noted the influence of northern painting in the work of Botticelli and Filippino Lippi. Whereas in their work in the 1480s they, along with painters such as Ghirlandaio and Piero di Cosimo, borrowed motifs from northern paintings, by the 1490s both these painters seemed to be looking more wholeheartedly at northern stylistic devices. Examples of this can be seen in Botticelli’s two late Pietàs in Munich and Milan, which seem self-consciously to emulate the emotional intensity of Flemish works of the same subject, attempting to invoke in their viewers a similar mental state. Here, in Nuttall’s words, we see a shift from “imitation” of Flemish painting of the 1480s to “total assimilation.”79 The same could be said of Filippino’s Valori chapel triptych

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 175

painted prayers

175

(figs. 45 and 46). The very form of this winged altarpiece takes on a format associated with the most renowned piece of northern painting in Florence, the Portinari triptych. Like Hugo van der Goes in the Portinari Altarpiece, Filippino eschews naturalistic scale in favor of symbolic size differentiation: in both altarpieces the Virgin, should she stand up, would tower over the other figures. The combination of highly naturalistic details confounded by their setting or scale is also possibly inspired by the North. His placing of the “real” figures of Mary Magdalen and Saint John the Baptist within niches normally associated with sculptural pieces is also reminiscent of Van Eyck’s treatment of Adam and Eve in the Ghent Altarpiece, replicated in several Flemish engravings of the period. The figure of Saint John, in particular, with his left arm raised to his shoulder, his left hand covering his draped genitalia, and one foot placed as if exiting the panel and entering the viewer’s space, is curiously like Van Eyck’s Adam.80 Francesco del Pugliese also chose to have a Flemish work in his chapel and, in his case, one that was associated with a sacred local relic. A copy of Francesco’s Head of Christ forms the central panel of the cover for the miraculous sweating crucifix in the Carmine.81 The other winged work in the Sommaia project was by Fra Angelico. Well before the advent of Savonarola, a connection was made between the holiness of this friar’s life and the images he painted. In 1469 Fra Domenico Corella explains that “Giovanni, the angelic painter . . . flourished in his many virtues, also mild in his skill, honest in his religion, so above other painters, to him deservedly was given one grace, of rendering the Virgin.”82 In his 1481 commentary on the Divine Comedy Cristoforo Landino also claimed devoto as one of Fra Angelico’s qualities.83 Another work that belonged to the Del Pugliese should be mentioned here, a tabernacle that, according to Vasari, came into the hands of Duke Cosimo by 1550.84 The central panel, a relief by Donatello (generally identified as one now in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London or the Madonna of the Clouds in Boston), was flanked by two wings by Fra Bartolommeo, with the Adoration of the Child and the Presentation on the inside, and the Annunciation in grisaille on the outside (figs. 55 and 56).85 Whether this work did indeed belong to Piero del Pugliese as Vasari says or, as seems more likely, was Francesco’s is now impossible to ascertain.86 Fascinating, though, is this predilection for surrounding the small works of renowned older masters—Fra Angelico, Donatello, and the Flemish master—with wings by younger contemporaries—Botticelli, Fra Bartolommeo and Filippino Lippi. The central pieces are protected by the wings as something precious, only to be looked on through deliberate choice, rather than have their beauty squandered through becoming familiar. As Savonarola himself said in his Predica dell’Arte del Ben’ Morire, devout images should be “often in front of the eyes, but not so that you make a habit of seeing them so that

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

176

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 176

changing patrons

Figure 55. Donatello, The Virgin and Child, London, Victoria and Albert Museum

Image not available

then they do not move you.”87 The experience of looking is both intensified by restricting access and becomes an active choice in which the viewer participates.88 The reason why the Del Pugliese triptychs, in particular, were so precious is not only because of their sacred subject matter but because they were beautiful. Fra Angelico, Donatello, and Netherlandish masters were among the most praised in Florence at this time. Indeed, their images were efficacious precisely because of their beauty; they were beautiful because they were so devout. Inner meaning matched exterior form. Looking at the paintings that Francesco del Pugliese chose to place in his chapel at Sommaia as a whole, it is possible to see how they could have been perceived as suitable starting points for the pious mental exercises advocated by the friar. Their small size required close contemplation. We should perhaps see this placing of “private” devotional pieces within a “public” space in itself as an avowal of the superiority of individual prayer and internal contemplation over verbal declarations and external ceremony.89

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 177

painted prayers

177

In the final part of this chapter, I examine how Savonarola’s writings can help us to consider ways to look at two of the works that were placed in Francesco’s chapel, those that we can safely identify: the triptych in the Venetian seminary by Filippino Lippi and the Master of the Legend of Saint Ursula, and Botticelli’s Last Communion of Saint Jerome. The Water of Life: Filippino Lippi’s Samaritan Woman at the Well It is possible that Francesco bought the Flemish panel that formed the central part of this triptych when he was in the Netherlands; we know from a letter about the possibility of his accompanying Michelangelo’s Bruges Madonna northward that he did travel there for business.90 However, given that this kind of panel was highly fashionable in Florence at the time and available for purchase on the open market, he could also have bought it at home.91 Fortunately, although the panels were separated for some time before Bianca Hatfield Strens recognized this connection, the original frame still exists, so we know how the three pieces fitted together. The episode of the Samaritan woman goes to the left of the Head of Christ, and the Magdalen to the right (figs. 57 and 58).92 When the wings of this triptych were open, the viewer would be immediately confronted with this central panel. The image of the head of Christ, caught on the cloth of

Figure 56. Fra Bartolommeo, The Presentation at the Temple, and The Adoration of the Child, Florence, Uffizi

Image not available

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

178

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 178

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 57. Master of the Legend of Saint Ursula and Filippino Lippi, Sommaia Triptych, Venice, Pinacoteca Manfrediana

Veronica on his way to crucifixion, stares out, full face, at the viewer. The wings show other encounters with the Savior: on the left is the scene of Jesus meeting the Samaritan woman at the well; and on the right, the resurrected Christ encountering Mary Magdalen in the garden and telling her that she should not touch him. Filippino shows the Samaritan woman as if speaking to Jesus, her left hand raised as if asking a question. Christ, his left hand pointing to the vase and his right to his chest, provides the answer: “da mihi hanc aquam.” The flow of her draperies and her pose suggest a movement toward Christ, from left to right. On the left panel there is a resolution, through contemplation of the literally and figuratively central figure of Christ. The Samaritan woman shown in the act of conversion on the left becomes the penitent Magdalen on the right; their idealized profiles provide near-identical mirror images. She is wrapped in humble robes, her hair loose about her shoulders, gazing up at Christ who holds his left hand in an attitude of blessing. The Magdalen holds her hands out in a pose of amazed prayer and kneels at his feet. Both scenes have titoli underneath them. On the Samaritan woman panel is inscribed: “si scires/d onum/dei/damihi/hanc/aquam,” and under the Magdalen scene, “rabboni/noli me/tangere,” derived from the account of

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 179

painted prayers

179

Image not available

Figure 58. Filippino Lippi, Christ and the Samaritan Woman at the Well and Noli me Tangere, Venice, Pinacoteca Manfrediana, detail of fig. 57

the stories in John 4:10 and 20:26–27 respectively. These titles are interesting as their function for identifying the subject of the paintings is somewhat redundant. Both scenes are painted in such a way as to make their subject absolutely clear to anyone with the most rudimentary biblical knowledge. The text used is, notably, not taken directly from the Vulgate but adapted to form a dialogue rather than a description, giving each scene the quality of a tableau vivant by putting words into the protagonists’

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

180

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 180

changing patrons

mouths. His words written in the second-person singular, Christ is simultaneously addressing the woman in the painting and its viewers, who notionally take the place of the newly converted Samaritan woman or the Magdalen. By gazing at the central head of the Savior, the viewer replicates the link of eyes between Christ and the two holy women on either side. The subject of the shutters locates the audience’s response to the central panel in the biblical narrative. It provides a role for the viewer to play and shapes his or her contemplation. The implied addressees in this work—the Samaritan woman and Mary Magdalen—are both female. There is no extant evidence that directly supports the following assertion, but perhaps we can connect this painting to Francesco del Pugliese’s wife, Alessandra Bonsi. Like Francesco, she was a staunch supporter of Savonarola: she became a nun at the convent of Santa Lucia on the Via San Gallo after her husband’s death. She provided for a chapel in the church there in her will but asked to be buried in San Marco.93 As already stated, Francesco’s will asks for prayers for her as well as him to be said in the chapel at Sommaia, which would imply that the chapel was intended to serve for both of them in life as well. At any rate, it seems likely that the models of behavior of conversion and penitence implied by this work would be especially relevant to a female audience. Notably, the Vita Latina tells us that Alessandra owned the friar’s copy of his sermons on the minor prophets.94 The sermon that Savonarola gave on the text of the Samaritan woman at the well appeared in his series on the minor prophet Amos: there is not anything more delectable or more sweet than the contemplation of the deeds of Christ: sometimes you are there at the villa and go walking: it would be better if you contemplated the deeds of Christ. You don’t pay attention to anything except wandering round and chatting. Holy men don’t do this, rather, they constantly think and ruminate on the deeds of the life of the Savior. Therefore place these deeds in front of your eyes so they will be a source of flowing water [aqua viva], that will take you to eternal life.95 The Samaritans, according to Savonarola, were evil people who adored idols. Thus Filippino—typically—is presumably attempting historical accuracy with the painting of the centaur on the wall of the well. The wall is cracking as the new dispensation takes away the need to worship idols. Savonarola interpreted the passage as showing that the only thing that could satisfy one’s thirsty soul was the water of God: “Riches don’t quench your thirst; honors don’t quench your thirst; nothing of the world quenches your thirst, nor ever satisfies you.”96 There is a pictorial contrast between the Samaritan woman, wearing her flimsy, complex robes and intricately braided hair and carrying an ornate, all’antica urn, with the lowly figure of the

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 181

painted prayers

181

Magdalen. The latter has accepted the central message of redemption through Christ, and her thirst has been quenched. Whether Filippino was directly influenced by this particular sermon or not is not really the point. This painting, commissioned by a piagnone, either Alessandra or Francesco, prompts its audience to look and to contemplate using images in a way that Savonarola condoned here and elsewhere. Imitative association was a meditative technique familiar by this period. We have seen the effects of it in the depiction of individuals as saints, like that of Piero del Pugliese as Saint Nicholas at Lecceto, and in traditional donor portraits, where the person who paid for the painting is held up as a worthy example to follow. Here, however, a living individual is no longer depicted as being actually present at a scene, but the viewer’s presence is demanded and implicit nevertheless. Roles are suggested by the wings, and participation in them is demanded by the central panel. We “place Christ’s deeds first in front of our eyes” and then, through imaginative contemplation, we participate in them through our mind’s eye. Exterior display gives way to interior devotion. The Art of Dying Well: Botticelli’s Transito di San Girolamo In 1492 Ser Bartolommeo Dei described the manner of Lorenzo de’ Medici’s death to his uncle, Benedetto. The Magnifico “died so well and with as much patience and knowledge and reverence for God, as excellent religion and divine spirit, with such holy words in his mouth that he seemed like a new Saint Jerome.”97 Jerome’s credentials for acting as an example of virtuous death were spelled out in an account of his demise then thought to be by his follower Eusebius, Il Devoto Transito del Glorioso Sancto Hieronymo, printed in Florence in several editions in the late 1480s and early 1490s.98 The text explains that the saint, because he died a martyr, now stood “with the green palm in the blessed kingdom.” There are two kinds of martyrdom: one is to submit to the sword of tyranny, and the other is to “suffer voluntarily every infirmity and mental and bodily pain for love of justice.”99 For this reason, Jerome was the “perfect martyr,” one whose manner of dying in old age could be more readily copied by Florentine citizens than the heroic and bloody feats of other martyr saints. The description of Botticelli’s Last Communion of Saint Jerome in Francesco’s will as “il transito di San Girolamo” would confirm the Pseudo-Eusebius text as the source for this painting, which includes a description of Jerome taking his final sacrament. In fact, though the “transition” of Saint Jerome from this world to the next forms the climax of this work, many of the chapters are taken up with the saint’s words on the vanities of human life. The general tenor of the saint’s exhortations would be familiar to any of Savonarola’s audience: for the sin of luxury “God sent the flood into the world at the time of Noah”; the rich, noble, and powerful with their luxury, pride, and

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

182

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 182

changing patrons

Image not available

Figure 59. Sandro Botticelli, The Last Communion of Saint Jerome, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Bequest of Benjamin Altman, 1913

avarice “are thieves who usurp and consume that which [belongs] to the poor . . . and they build great buildings and honored palaces to be contemplated by human eyes and to be well esteemed; and Christ’s poor die.” Because of this, these people suffer from a “great blindness” and “never think of death.”100 Perhaps for Francesco del Pugliese, the account of the death of the first Saint Jerome was a deliberate reminder of the sufferings of his namesake at his execution in May 1498.

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 183

painted prayers

183

Botticelli’s tiny panel (34.3 × 25.4 cm), now in New York, shows the aged Saint Jerome kneeling on the floor of a hutlike bedroom, supported by two friars, taking communion from a priest with two acolytes holding candles behind him (fig. 59). The martyr’s palms surrounding the crucifix at the head of Jerome’s simple bed remind us of what we are witnessing, the perfect death or, rather, a perfect example of the process of dying. Savonarola’s sermon on the art of dying well was given in November 1496, part of the series on Ruth and Michea.101 It was immediately published, with Savonarola’s compliance, as a separate text with three woodcuts, entitled Dell’Arte del Ben’ Morire. It seems likely that Savonarola had as his inspiration the Ars Moriendi, another devotional handbook on how to die well that was published as a blockbook comprising twelve woodcuts and that had been extremely popular in northern Europe since the mid-fifteenth century.102 This sermon is crucial for understanding Savonarola’s attitudes to painting. As usual with him, it is structured around images. This time, however, he asks that the images should not be mental, but that “if you are wanting to prepare yourself well for death, you should have three carte painted.”103 He then furnishes descriptions of three scenes that were to form the basis for the woodcuts that accompany the text in the three Florentine editions of this sermon made between 1497 and 1498.104 In this sermon Savonarola emphasizes the importance of always pondering the imminence of death and how being aware of death will prevent lapses into sin. He explains this mental habit in visual terms: “have made a pair of spectacles that are called the spectacles of death.”105 He explains this metaphor: “if you wish to act well and flee sin, have a strong perception (fantasia) of death. These are the spectacles that I tell you to make, so that death should be always impressed on your imagination, and in all of your actions you remember death.”106 He understands that however good people’s intentions are, the “spectacles of death” often fall off, so they need some way—a hat or a hook—to keep them on. This has to be “something concrete (sensibile) that reminds you of death, because perception comes from the senses, and is moved by concrete things.”107 You have to see death to be able to think of it. This can be achieved by looking at burials, tombs, and dying people, but “if you are very fragile, you would have to have death painted in your house, and also carry in your hand a little bone memento mori and look at it often.”108 He suggests that people have three images of death in their house.“The first that you have to have painted on a card is Paradise above and the Inferno below . . . look at this image very well, and know that death is always with you to take you away from this life, as if saying to you, ‘You have to die in any case and you cannot escape from my hands; look where do you want to go, either up here in Paradise, or down there in

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

184

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 184

changing patrons

Figure 60. Death Showing a Man Heaven and Hell, illustration to Savonarola, Predica dell’arte del ben morire, Florence: Bartolomeo de’ Libri, 1494

Image not available

Hell?’”109 The woodcut to the printed edition graphically illustrates these instructions with a male figure standing by Death between depictions of heaven and hell (fig. 60). Death asks him,“O qua su,”“O qua giu”? (Up here? Or down there?). Perhaps a Last Judgment, such as the one by Fra Angelico bought by Francesco del Pugliese for his chapel, would have fulfilled the same function, with the viewer notionally taking the place of the man in the woodcut, pondering his posthumous fate. If the St. Petersburg wings did surround this image, its Savonarolan allusions would be made clear through the combination of Saint Vincent Ferrer and Savonarola’s name saint, Jerome (figs. 50 to 52). As with the Filippino Lippi sportelli, they comment on the subject of the main panel. Indeed, comparing the woodcut of the second, 1497, edition with the Saint Vincent panel, I wonder if Botticelli was influenced by the pose of the figure of Death in the conception of his Saint Vincent. Both gesture upward with their right arms toward God surrounded by angels playing trumpets. “The second card . . . is this, that you have painted a man, who has started to become weak, with Death standing at the door and knocking to come in” (fig. 61).110 This is intended to be an illustration of Savonarola’s warnings about distractions

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 185

painted prayers

185

Figure 61. Man Lying on His Deathbed, illustration to Savonarola, Predica dell’arte del ben morire, Florence: Bartolomeo de’ Libri, 1494

Image not available

from penitence and prayer at the point of death, when the devil introduces worldly concerns directly into the mind of the invalid and encourages his wife and child also to distract him. The last card should depict a scene after the illness has run more of its course, of “an invalid in bed, who was conducted to the extreme point to make penance” (fig. 62).111 This is to act as a reminder of the four things that the sick man should do to avoid temptations of the devil: meditate on the crucifix, repent of his sins, confess and take communion, and, along with the people around the deathbed, pray. The stakes are high: the deathbed is your last chance of salvation. If you do not die well, your chances for eternal salvation are dashed. Despite this, and his huge following in Florence, no painted versions of Savonarola’s suggested woodcuts survive. There are, however, three surviving copies of Botticelli’s Last Communion of Saint Jerome.112 These paintings do not “illustrate” Savonarola’s words in his Predica dell’Arte del Ben’ Morire and are not copies of the woodcuts, but the paintings, the Devoto Transito del Glorioso Sancto Hieronymo, and Savonarola’s sermon are united in having the same function: indicating how to achieve a good death.

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

186

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 186

changing patrons

There is no particular paragraph in this text of Il Devoto Transito that corresponds to the scene as painted by Botticelli. The account of Jerome’s last communion is a long one, and the action of kneeling on the floor to take the sacramental wafer is interspersed with Jerome’s opinions on the importance of fearing God and dying in penitence, professing himself unworthy of the host. Like Savonarola, Jerome treats dying as a prolonged process that is essential for the well-being of the soul. Botticelli paints the scene in a strange hutlike chamber, with rushes for the walls and two glassless windows at either side. It seems like the space is not enclosed: we can see the edges of the wooden roof at either upper corner. The viewer is placed just outside the space, looking in. Just as the Pseudo-Eusebian and the Savonarolan texts treat of the period of “dying,” a liminal space between life and death, Botticelli places the viewer of this painting at a threshold, contemplating a step into another world. The location of Jerome’s death is stark. Although renowned for his learning, Jerome is given no books or other distractions from his contemplation of death, just as a good Savonarolan death should be. His cardinal’s hat hangs discarded, as worldly honors and study are no longer relevant. Everything has to be concentrated in his communion with his maker. The viewer is in no doubt as to the end of the story. From the lunette, God the Father and the son look down on the saint who is soon to join them in heaven. For those less certain of their own end, contemplating this work inspires the onlooker to don the “occhiali della morte” so crucial for leading a virtuous life and being prepared to make a good death. Typically, in his sermon Dell’Arte di Ben’ Morire, Savonarola was not proposing a radical departure from precedent. Il Transito di San Girolamo is itself largely a handbook dedicated to suggesting how to die well. Savonarola’s version goes further in presenting a readily graspable three-point plan that leads to salvation, all based on visual images because of their perceived efficacy in arousing devoted contemplation and in staying fixed in the memory. Botticelli’s Last Communion of Saint Jerome, placed in the chapel at Sommaia, would have acted as a permanent reminder of both these texts, of the martyrdom that all beleaguered people can achieve through contemplation of suffering, and of the need to eschew all worldly distractions to concentrate on the salvation of one’s soul.  Francesco del Pugliese was elected prior for January and February 1498. On the Feast of the Epiphany (6 January) that year, the Signoria visited San Marco in procession to pay homage to Savonarola by kissing his hand.113 Richard Trexler has noted Savonarola’s appropriation of Laurentian ceremonial identity by taking on the role of a Magus in the “liturgical drama” that took place in San Marco on that day, but here he acts as the Christ Child, and the Signoria, Francesco among them, play the wise

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 187

painted prayers

187

Figure 62. Man on the Point of Death, illustration to Savonarola, Predica dell’arte del ben morire, Florence: Bartolomeo de’ Libri, 1494

Image not available

men coming in homage to their new king.114 By this point, however, the implied rules for taking on roles had changed. For followers of Savonarola, it was deeply problematic to be externally represented as a saint or Magus in physical, painted form. The shift into a new character had to be an internal one, which could be provoked, though not represented, by concrete and permanent painted images. Virtue could be attained through an internalized process of visualization. Paintings could be a crucial starting point for this process. Savonarola dismissed the old accommodations made by churchmen, when a tense ambivalence between individual or family honor and the honor of God was accepted, or even encouraged, for financial reasons. Francesco del Pugliese, like his contemporaries who wished to fund the decoration of chapels, was confronted with a situation very different from that of his uncle’s in the 1480s. He chose to make his miniature church into a decorated homage to the sermons of Savonarola, an Adoration of the Magi its largest work. Shuttered images demanded (literally) interior involvement and active participation from the viewer who opened their doors. Small paintings invited close contemplation of their message. They did not illustrate Savonarola’s words but were analogous to them, in both their style and the devotion they aimed to inspire.

10.Burke.153-188.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:19 AM

Page 188

11.Burke.189-194.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:23 AM

Page 189

conclusions and questions

art patronage, as we understand it today, was a creation of the Renaissance. The study of the Nasi and Del Pugliese families reminds us of how the fifteenthcentury patrician could use paintings, sculptures, and buildings to mediate relationships with the wider world. Artworks and buildings were generally designed to present the dominant social virtues of family permanence, of neighborhood and civic solidarity, of piety and charity, and of intelligence and learning. Those who paid for these works could be seen as contributing to the common weal and as possessing those virtues they were helping to promote. “Art” was far from being solely for art’s sake. The audience of this propaganda was certainly not a passive receptacle for the values of the patrician purchasers. The sense of unease generated by decades of conspicuous consumption came to a head in the Florence of the 1490s; Savonarola’s attitude to the visual arts struck a chord with Florentines because it forcefully presented familiar misgivings about the culture of display, rather than creating an entirely new arena for popular dissatisfaction. Interacting with these changes in attitudes to display and patterns of consumption was the rise in status of painting, sculpture, and architecture from mechanical to liberal arts. A revived interest in the textual and material culture of the classical world led to new demands being placed on visual artists, and new skills such as imagination (or fantasia) being prized—the ability to depict narrative and the reproduction and reconstruction of classical artifacts. For men such as Piero del Pugliese, this shift in conception allowed long-term affective relationships between master artisan and patrician to be seen in a different light. The link between people of differing social status is at the core of patronage proper and, as such, was hardly a Renaissance invention. What did start to happen in the fifteenth century—and was articulated clearly in the sixteenth—is the reframing of the implications of this relationship. The objects and buildings commissioned could now be seen as part of a distinct historical development, driven by the skill and imagination of artistic practitioners. The people who paid these designers and, sometimes, took an interest in educating them in the new classical learning were an essential aspect of this process. The representation of the friendship between Piero del Pugliese and Filippino Lippi (see Chapter 4) selfconsciously places the link between the two men on a new iconic plane, where the patron of a client becomes the patron of art. This suggests that the relationship between maker and consumer in itself became worthy of cultural approbation,

11.Burke.189-194.FINALqu

190

4/1/04

10:23 AM

Page 190

conclusions and questions

beyond the material results produced by the artist. It was this model that was to become increasingly diffused as the sixteenth century went on. This study has been deliberately confined to the quattrocento, a necessary periodization to make the completion of this work feasible. However, it seems to me useful to give glimpses of the families’ fortunes at a later date and to suggest further possible lines of enquiry. By the middle of the sixteenth century, the Nasi and Del Pugliese had both passed their social and economic peak. The collapse of the Nasi bank at Lyons in the 1520s led to the selling of their grand new family palace on the Piazza de’ Mozzi and a retreat of the family to the Via de’ Bardi, where they had started out. The Del Pugliese never fully recovered from Francesco’s exile, and his half of their palace was sold in the early sixteenth century to the Marchese Botti, themselves notable collectors of painting and sculpture.1 The fragmentation of the patrimony of these two lineages occurred during the period that Francesco Guicciardini dubbed “the years of misfortune” for Florence and the Italian peninsula.2 The invasion of Italy by the French army in 1494 and the subsequent expulsion of the Medici family led to an extended period of disruption in Florentine social and political life, a time that was often compared unfavorably by contemporaries with the golden age of Lorenzo the Magnificent.3 The relationship between exterior appearance and interior motivation—already questioned in the sermons of Savonarola—became an increasingly frequent theme in the writings of the period, notably in two of the most famous texts to emerge from central Italy at this time—Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Prince and Baldassare Castiglione’s The Courtier. Moreover, the inherent tension between the charitable precepts of the Christian faith and the use of riches for display became impossible to ignore in a civic world that, for many years after Savonarola’s execution, was inhabited by a significant proportion of his followers.4 Despite this, there was only a short-lived slowing-down in the production of the visual arts in Florence immediately after the expulsion of the Medici. In the 1500s the city saw the coming together of such renowned artistic figures as Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, and Michelangelo who, arguably, created a new visual idiom that was to affect the work of painters, sculptors, and architects for decades to come. Despite a great number of monographic studies on artists working during these years, and some notable contributions to the political history of the era, there remain many unexplored issues, particularly about how social change could relate to developments in visual style.5 The examination of the Nasi and Del Pugliese suggests further lines of investigation impossible to pursue fully in one study. For example, how did the range of social identities permissible to the Florentine patriciate, and the means through which they displayed them, change in the years after Savonarola? We have seen

11.Burke.189-194.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:23 AM

Page 191

conclusions and questions

191

that Piero del Pugliese and his nephew, Francesco, both had a keen interest in the visual arts and both commissioned and collected a variety of display objects.6 The overwhelming theme of Piero’s known commissions is the repeated use of his physiognomy in various guises. He presents himself as a Florentine citizen and paterfamilias (the portrait bust, Chapter 1), as a friend and patron (double portrait with Filippino Lippi, Chapter 4), as a pious officeholder and benefactor (The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, Chapter 7), and even, his features slightly changed, as a saint (the altarpiece for Santa Maria a Lecceto, Chapter 6). He has also been recognized as a leading light of the gonfalone of Drago Verde on the Raising of the Son of Theophilus in the Brancacci chapel and, with more problematic identifications, as a visual commentator on Filippino Lippi’s Uffizi Adoration of the Magi, and as Job in a small devotional panel by Filippino’s workshop.7 If this fervor for explicit self-representation may not have been entirely typical in the fifteenth century, it does suggest the range of possible guises available for the Florentine patrician, and also that it was not necessarily indecorous to have oneself presented in this way. It is tempting to ascribe the fact that there are no known portraits of Francesco to his adherence to Savonarola, though this is impossible to prove. Yet it is important to recognize that the absence of such images does reflect a turning away from the mixture of personal representation with religious imagery. Although independent panel portraiture remained popular, the age of the painted donor and the portrayal of groups of recognizable faces on the walls of chapels had ended by the time of Francesco’s death in 1520. Obviously it was still possible to hold patronage rights over a church or chapel, and to be a religious benefactor. The benefits of providing a permanent exemplar of charitable giving, however, began to be undermined by the danger of vainglory in the celebration of these secular patrons. I touched on this issue in Chapter 8, but it would be interesting to consider in more depth how the disappearance of the contemporary donor figure from the decoration of churches interacted with changing perceptions of charity and the relationship between people of different economic status. The Nasi family contributed to the development of a new visual style in the early sixteenth century through their commission of Raphael’s Madonna del Cardellino (fig. 63), probably painted on the occasion of Lorenzo di Bartolommeo’s marriage in 1505.8 The Virgin cradles the infant Christ between her legs, his head level with her womb and his bare foot touching hers, the physicality of the relationship between mother and child being stressed to the viewer. Interrupted from reading, the Virgin looks down at the infant Saint John and rests her hand on his back, as if encouraging his offer of the goldfinch to Christ—she knows of her son’s eventual sacrifice and accepts it despite (or perhaps because of ) her motherly love. As an exemplar to the

11.Burke.189-194.FINALqu

192

4/1/04

10:23 AM

Page 192

conclusions and questions

Image not available

Figure 63. Raphael, Madonna del Cardellino, Florence, Uffizi

new bride of womanly obedience and virtuous child-rearing, Raphael’s panel is related to the many images of the Virgin and Child found in Lorenzo’s father’s inventory of 1488 (see Chapter 2). However, the circumstances of the commission do suggest that it was appreciated as much for its art as for its talismanic properties. A much quoted letter of 1504 claimed that Raphael went to Florence “to learn.”The authenticity of this document has now been questioned, but its tenacity in the literature is due to the fact that the young Umbrian clearly set out to study Florentine visual

11.Burke.189-194.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:23 AM

Page 193

conclusions and questions

193

style and to incorporate it into his own work: his drawings from this period alone provide sufficient evidence for this.9 It is worthwhile noting here that Raphael had access to works of both Leonardo and Michelangelo that were not on public display. This includes public commissions such as the Battle cartoons and Michelangelo’s Saint Matthew and private ones such as the Mona Lisa and the Taddei and Doni tondos. The display of these, often unfinished, works to a younger master is suggestive. It indicates a knowledge of artistic practice and the benefit of copying on the part of those who owned the works. It also implicitly places these objects within a framework of historical progression, where they play a part in the future development of the talent of a young artist, and it gives the collector-patron an essential role in facilitating contact between great masters of the past and the future. Lorenzo de’ Medici’s collections of classical cameos and other sculptural works already were seen to act in this way in the fifteenth century.10 Moreover, Lorenzo’s image as the archetypal enlightened patron, variously compared with both Augustus Caesar and Maecenas, became increasingly commonplace in the early cinquecento. This was particularly true of the writings of some opponents of the Soderini government, who contrasted the golden age of Lorenzo’s stewardship of Florence with the barbarism of the present times. The conceptual model of the educated patron, who provided the conditions in which artistic talent could flourish, was becoming an increasingly important part of political discourse during these years.11 The relationship between Raphael and those who commissioned his work was more intimate and informal than the businesslike transactions between painter and purchaser that seem to have typified the fifteenth century. Raphael, in common with Michelangelo and Leonardo, had no Florentine workshop to mediate and regulate his relationship with customers. As Alessandro Cecchi has pointed out, this young foreigner benefited from a tight patronage network. Many of his patrons were related: Lorenzo Nasi was brother-in-law to both Taddeo Taddei and Domenico Canigiani; he was also a distant relation of Agnolo Doni.12 Raphael’s close relationship to Taddei, stressed by Vasari and substantiated by contemporary documentation, seems to have been one of friendship and mutual benefit.13 Perhaps it was through Taddei that Raphael received his commissions from Nasi and Canigiani. More work certainly needs to be done on this subject, but it does not seem too farfetched to suggest that their actions in respect to Raphael were concerned both with the furtherance of this young painter’s career and with his place in the development of the visual arts. At any rate, the next generation had a keen sense of the transcendent value of the art object. On 12 November 1547 Lorenzo Nasi’s palace was destroyed by a landslide, along with most of the eastern end of the Via de’ Bardi. His relative, Raffaello,

11.Burke.189-194.FINALqu

194

4/1/04

10:23 AM

Page 194

conclusions and questions

recounts that there were only three human casualities. He tells the story of one of them, a factotum called Piero di Michele, who, running with his three-month-old daughter toward safety, was killed by falling masonry. Four hours later, crying was heard from the ruins, and the baby was found safe and sound, protected by her father’s arms.14 Vasari narrates the salvage of another victim. Battista di Lorenzo Nasi,“a great lover of art,” rummaged through the wreckage of his house to collect the pieces of one of his most prized heirlooms, Raphael’s Madonna del Cardellino.15 In some ways, therefore, we can see Lorenzo Nasi and his brothers-in-law’s nurturing of Raphael as an adoption of an attitude toward the visual arts that had been familiar to the Del Pugliese for many years. This is not merely to characterize one family’s attitude as progressive and the others as conventional. The Nasi engaged with the fashionable classicizing idiom of the visual arts, as witnessed by the sgraffito facade of Piero di Lutozzo’s palace, Bernardo’s portrait medal, and the Cestello altarpiece by Perugino. Similarly, Piero del Pugliese’s commissions were bound up with the traditional ties of family, neighborhood, and church, rather than solely seeking to further the development of a new artistic style. Change and continuity coexisted, and the members of these families were able to take more or less conscious decisions about how and when to engage with a new cultural ideology.

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 195

appendix

Nasi Family Tree Bartolommea = Domenico Bonsi 1464 Piero = Margherita di Bartolomeo Corsi 1445

Isabella = Antonio Francesco Scali 1466 Lionardo = Oretta d’Andrea Quaratesi 1472

Lutozzo = Nera di Mariotto Banchi 1416

Ginevra = Francesco di Bartolommeo Carnesecchi 1450 Nera = Piero di Berardo Beradi 1446 Niccolosa = Salvestro Aldobrandini 1453

= Ginevra di Piero del Palagio c. 1428

Cosa = Girolamo Mannelli 1482 Dionigi = Nanna di Marcello Strozzi 1484 Nanna = Filippo Machiavelli 1486 Lutozzo = Alessandra di Lorenzo Lenzi 1495

Lorenzo = Ginevra di Donato Bruni 1451

Bartolommea = Donato di Giovanni Benci 1472

Francesco = Onesta di M. Andrea Pazzi 1464

Alessandro = Lodovica di Giovanni Tornabuoni 1491

Costanza = Matteo di Sandro Biliotti 1453 = Bartolommeo di Matteo Cerretani 1457 = Andrea di Matteo Albizzi 1466

Mons. Giovan Battista Onesta = Alessandro Acciauoli 1495 = Antonio di Lione Castellani Fiametta = Lorenzo Pitti 1497

= Francesca di Jacopo Cattani c. 1442

Bernardo = Costanza di Roberto Martelli 1468

Ruberto = Piera di Raffaello Accaiuoli 1497 Ginevra = Raffaello Guasconi 1502 Fiammetta = Alamanno Salviati 1515 Francesca = Alfonso di Filippo Strozzi 1493 Lionardo = Ginevra di Matteo Canigiani

Bartolommeo = Ippolita di Piero Pazzi = Lisabetta di Ristoro Serristori

Filippo = Bartolommea di Maso Albizzi 1480

Ipolita = Gherardo Taddei 1500 Lorenzo = Sandra di Matteo Canigiani 1506 Bartolommeo = Maria Maddalena di Piero Guicciardini

The most frequently discussed individuals are in bold.

Costanza (b. 1474)

Francesco (1460–1520) = Alessandra di Domenico Bonsi

Filippo (b. 1468) =Alessandra di Pandolfo Corbinelli

Caterina = Giovanni di Francesco Ginori

Oretta (b. 1475)

Piero (1428–1498) = Pippa di Jacopo Arrighi Jacopo

Niccolò (1477–1544) = Liona di Lorenzo Morelli

Filippo

Andrea

Lorenzo

Bartolommeo

Buonaccorso (b. 1421) = Ginevra di Tommaso Bucelli

Giovanni

Iacopo (b. 1416)

Giovanbatista

196

Filippo (1425–1467) = Oretta di Silvestro Spini

Giovanni (1395–1459)

10:25 AM

Costanza = Gugliemo da Sommaia = Francesco Lapaccini

Costanza

Filippo (d. 1421) = Lisa di Buonaccorso Baldinucci

4/1/04

Francesco (1391–1430) = Piera di Gherardo Cortigiani

Iacopo = Niccolosa di Agnolo Serragli

Francesco (d. 1375)

Pugliese

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu Page 196

appendix

Del Pugliese Family Tree

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 197

unpublished d o cuments

197

Unpublished Documents d o cument 1 The Inventory of the Goods of Bartolommeo di Lutozzo Nasi To keep a sense of the original document, unless meaning is compromised, I have maintained original punctuation and format throughout. NA 2879 Ser Bartolommeo Bindi 1484–91 [1488, 27 August] [263v] 1. Una terza parte per indivisa detti Bernardo e Filippo d’una casa per loro habitare posta nel popolo [di] Sancta Lucia de’ Magnoli e in sulla piazza de’ Mozzi in primo piazza, a secondo Baptista Nasi, a 3 fiume d’Arno 2. Una quarta parte d’una casa posta in detto popolo e nella via de’ Bardi che fu di Lutozzo Nasi per indivisa con detti Bernardo e Filippo e Francesco Nasi che da primo via, a secondo Baptista Nasi, a 3 la via che va a Sancto Giorgio a iiii Niccolo di Michele di Simone linaiuolo 3. Una terza parte d’una casetta per indivisa con detti Bernardo e Filippo posta nella via che va a Sancto Giorgio che da primo via, a secondo l’orto della sopradetta casa, a 3 beni detta Santa Lucia de’ Magnoli, iiii ortali di sopra 4. Una terza parte di dua botteghe poste in sulla costa del Ponte Rubaconte conproronsi da Monna donna di Pierozzo Banchi che fu di Maso di Niccolaio degli Alexandri 5. Una terza parte d’uno podere con casa da signore e da lavoratore posto nel popolo di Sancto Donnino a Villamagna con suoi vocaboli e confini e piu pezzi di terra coltivati e da pastura, luogo detto Poggio 6. Una terza parte d’uno podere con casa da lavoratore posto in detto popolo con suoi vocaboli e confini luogo detto Cafaggio lavoralo Piero di Sandro Bello 7. Una terza parte d’uno podere posto in detto popolo con suoi vocaboli e confini, luogo detto Donicato, lavoralo Donato di Francesco 8. Una terza parte d’uno mulino con uno palmento con piu pezzi di terra coltivati e da pastura luogo detto Caldavole trallo Betto d’Orso lo tene a mezzo e il palmento afficto 9. Una terza parte d’uno pezzo dette terre boschate poste in Mugello nel popolo di Sancto Andrea a Comeggiano comune di Manghone da primo via, a secondo fiume di Loca, a 3º Priore a 4º Francesco di Andrea conparossi da Nanni di Bandino

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

198

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 198

appendix

10. Una terza parte d’una casetta da lavoratore con dua pezzi di terra lavorata e vignata posta nel comune di Manghone conparamo da Giovanni [264r] e Pagolo di Bartolomeo di detto luogo 11. Una terza parte di quatro pezzi di terra posti a Villamagna nel popolo di Sancto Romolo conpramo da Monna Domenica di Piero di Bartolo in dua volta rogato Ser Giovanbaptista dal Lago 12. Una terza parte di un pezzo di terra di staiora otto in circa, posto nel comune di Mangone nel popolo di Sancto a Cortignano compriamo da Chele e Bartolomeo di Signorello. Rogato Ser Michele 13. Una terza parte d’uno pezzo di terra boscata e d’uno pezzo di pastura posta ne’ Gurielli a Villamagna conpro Lutozzo nostro padre dal Gualdana 14. Una terza parte d’uno podere posto nel comune del Colle della Pietra e parte nel comune di Furecchio luogo detto Panzano popolo di Sancto Donato a Empoli insieme colle staiora 150 in circa di terra in circa si conpri d’Antonio di Balerino Adimari che sono in tutto staiora 300 in circa e acorda 15. Una terza parte d’uno pezzo di terra di staiora sei si conpro da Giuliano di Michele d’Ugo posta nel popolo di Sancto Andrea a Comeggiano di Mugello 16. Una terza parte d’uno podere con casa da signore trista posto nel popolo di S a Terenzano luogo detto Monte Girone conpramo da figliuolo di Giachanotto de’ Bardi e altri, rogato Ser Simone da Staggia 17. Una terza parte d’una casa da signore per nostra habitare posta nel castello di Barberino di Mugello con suoi vocabili e confini. Fu di Monna Checca nostra madre 18. Una terza parte d’uno podere con casa da lavoratore con piu pezzi di terra lavorata e vignata e pastura posta a Barberino di Mugello nel popolo di S. Niccolo alla Cera con suoi vocaboli e confini. Fu di Monna Checca nostra madre, lavoralo Andrea del Biancho 19. Una terza parte d’uno podere con casa da lavoratore posto a Barberino di Mugello con piu pezzi di terra lavorata, vignata e pastura con suoi vocabili e confini lavoralo Simone d’Andrea del Biancho, luogo detto Comeggiano. Fu di Monna Checca nostra madre, popolo di Sancto Andrea a Comeggiano 20. Una terza parte d’uno podere con casa da lavoratore in detto luogo e popolo con piu pezzi di terra lavorata, vignata e pastura con suoi vocaboli e confini luogo detto el Colle, lavoralo Cecchone d’Andrea del Biancho. Fu di Monna Checca nostra madre 21. Una terza parte d’uno podere con casa da lavoratore in detto luogo e popolo di Sancto Andrea a Comeggiano e piu pezzi di terra lavorata e di pastura con suoi

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 199

unpublished d o cuments

199

vocaboli e confini luogo detto Agliocharozzo lavoralo [264v] Biagio e Giovanni del Biancho. Fu di Monna Checca nostra madre, pagasi di afitto perpetuo al parte della chiesa di Bonachio staiora 4 di grano e staio uno a redi Tosinghi Una terza parte di dua pezzi di terra sibaratto con Nello Nelli in sulla sittua che adrieto suspetava col sopradetto podere Una terza parte d’uno pezzo di terra si conpro da Monna Mea dello S. Agnese per fl. 7 aversi col detto podere. 22. Una terza parte d’uno podere con casa da lavoratore posto nel popolo di Sancto Salvestro a Barberino di Mugello luogo detto Benfango con suoi vocaboli e confini e piu pezzi di terra lavorata e vignata e soda lavoralo Francesco da Cormano 23. Una terza parte di quatro pezzi di terra a uzzi, tre pezzi vignate e sode poste in decto luogo e popolo, luogo detto Arto in Costa Viendoli aversi col sopradecto podere 24. Una terza parte d’uno poderetto con casa da lavoratore in detto luogo e popolo in sulla strada che oggi e casolare, conparassi da Sancta Maria Nuova e d’Andrea Sogliano, con piu pezzi di terra luogo detto La Strada con suoi vocaboli e confini che fu di Monna Checca nostra madre fassi col sopradetto podere carta della sopradetto conpara per Ser Mariotto Beciani 25. Una terza parte di sei pezzi di terra lavorata boschata e pastura posti nel popolo di Sancto Lorenzo a Mozzanello fu di Monna Checha nostra madre fannosi colla casetta si conpro da Giorgio e Pagolo di Buonarotto da Mozzanello. 26. Una terza parte di tre pezzi di terra posti a Sancta Maria alla cera che si fanno col decto podere della cera Una terza parte d’afitti perpetui Sandro da Cintoia staia quatro di grano l’anno Figliuoli di Romeo da Cintoia staia 8 di grano l’anno Figliuoli di Peraccio barbiere staia undici di grano l’anno Michele di Landozzo da Cintoia staia dua di grano l’anno Biancolino di Landozzo da Cintoia staia dua di grano l’anno Parte di Podere e bestiame e per la terza parte delle dette in dette cose La terza parte di xx pecore e di fl. 251⁄2 di presta d’uno paio di buoi e in sul podere di Poggio che lavora Barno e Rinaldo La terza parte d’uno paio di buoi che sono in sul podere di Cafaggio e Donicato La terza parte di uno paio di buoi e di pecore xxv e di dua porci in su podere [265r] di Benfango di Mugello lavoralo Francesco di Matheo

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

200

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 200

appendix

La terza parte d’uno paio di buoi e d’una vaccha e d’uno vitello in sul podere di Agliocharozzo in Mugello lavoralo Biagio e Andrea del Biancho La terza parte di dua paia di buoi e di 36 pecore e d’otto capre e di sei porci in sul podere dal Colle e di Comeggiano La terza parte d’uno paio di buoi e otto capre in sul podere di Agliocharozzo e a uzzi di Mozanello La terza parte d’uno paio di buoi grossi e di diciotto pecore in sul podere di Monte Girone La terza parte d’uno pezzo di terra di staiora xi insieme si conpro da Niccolo Guasconi posto nel popolo di Sancto Salvestro a Barberino di Mugello luogo detto Pezzebianche La terza parte d’uno pezzo di terra di staiora 3 si chonpro da Rinaldo di Guido posto a Villamagna nel popolo di Sancto Romolo La terza parte d’uno pezzo di terra con uno casolare e un pezzo di boscho si conpro da M. Domenico di Piero di Bartolommeo luogo detto Caseline La terza parte d’uno pezzo di boscho di staiora xiiii in circa posto alla Chrusca si conpro di Zanobi Piccardi Segue inventario de’ libri dove sono debitori, nostre facende e delle ragioni, cioe per traffichi da Firenze 1º libro grande coverto da rosso segnato A, titolo in rede di Lutozzo Nasi e compagni di mano di Bartolommeo Nasi che nastie dentro libretto piccolo biancho segnato A titolato in detto nome tenuto per detto Bartolommeo Nasi a Llione e in Firenze in sul quale è scripto piu debitori che attenente a dette rede Uno libro coreggie rosse segnato A di che atteso a una e primo di spese dal sopradetto libro Uno libro rosso segnato A titolato in nome di Bartolommeo Nasi e conpagni insul quale e poi debite Uno libro coreggie rosse ricordanze del detto libro Quatro libri cioe tre libri rossi segnati A B C D titolati in nome di Bartolommeo Nasi dove sono piu debitore e creditore anzi sono 3 libri segnato A B D, 3 quadernetti di cambi e ricordi segnati A B D Uno libro di bianco segnato A della ragione che dixe Ruberto Martini e compagni setaiuoli Uno libro segnato A coreggie bianche giornale di detto libro [265v] Uno libro segnato A coreggie bianche ricordanze di detto libro, mancha el quaderno di cassa el quale e stato perduto un tempo stimiamo stia nelle mani degli Uficiali de’ rubegli e non llo sappiamo certo

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 201

unpublished d o cuments

201

Uno traffico in Firenze a exercitio di batiloro che dice in nome di Filippo Nasi e compagni con corpo come appare in su’libro rosso segnato A delle rede di Lutozzo colle scriptura appresso Uno libro giallo segnato A dove sono piu debitori de’ compagnia di detto traficho Uno libro choreggie gialle entrate e uscite e quaderno di chassa di detto libro Uno libro coreggie gialle giornale e ricordanze Uno libro choreggie gialle di maestri e manifattori Uno traffico in Llione di Francia che dice in nome de Bartolommeo Nasi e Conpagnia nel corpo che appare sul libro rosso segnato A della rede di Lutozzo e le schritture del detto trafficho sono a Lione dato da mano di Temperanno di messer Manno Temperanni ghovenatore di detto trafficho Uno trafficho in Cantes in bretagnia che sie dalle detta ragione di Lione che dice Piero Tedaldi e Bastiano chambaruoli e le scripture del detto trafficho sono nelle mani del detto Piero e Bastiano Segue piu libri e scritture delle ragioni vecchie di Lione che contano in nome di Bartolommeo Nasi e compagnia, li quali sono a Llione in mano di Temperanno Temperanni ghovenatore della banca che segue Uno libro rosso segnato B dalla ragione vechissima che ghovernava Bartolommeo Nasi con uno aroto di detto libro choverta biancha choreggie rosse, perdessi e libro di fiere di detto libro quale scrittano le dritte scripture nelle mani dagli uficiali de’ rubelli sono di pocho valore Uno libro rosso segnato A della detta ragione di Llione col libro di fiere e richo a divise iiii libri cioe 4 libri antichi segnato A B C D che rimasino di Lutozzo nostro padre Segue Inventario della masseritie troviamo questo dì per uso di chasa a prima in chamera terrena a pie di schala Una lettiera di noce chon predella bassa, suvi Uno sacchone Una materassa di chapecchio, una coltrice piena di penne e piume di ginevra ch’è buona, uno lettuccio di noce, suvi uno materassino di chapecchio, uno chassone di noce intarsiato In camera terrena detto chamerino Una lettiera dal letto e [266r] dal lettuccio apichata insieme, suvi uno sacchone rotto, uno matterassino dal lettuccio di chapecchio, dua guanciali di quoio tristi, una tavoletta di pino rotta, uno paio di trespoli

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

202

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 202

appendix

In chamera de’ famigli Una lettiera selvatica, suvi una materassa di paglia piena di chapechio, una coltricetta di penne di pollo usata e trista, una chassa pancha a dua serrami In chamera in sulla sala allato alla chucina cioe in sulla sala della chucina dove dorme la Ghostanza vedova Una lettiera chon chassa pancha dinanzi e dappie cioe chassa a iii serrami di noce intarsiata, suvi uno sachone di paglia Una matterassa piena di lana, una coltrice piena di penne di ginevra e piuma buona, uno lettuccio, suvi un matterassino di lana, vi forzieri tristi e antichi di pocha valuta In chamera allato alla chucina dove dorme la serva Una lettiera trista con una chassa a iiii serrami, suvi Uno sacchone di paglia, una coltrice di penne debolcata trista In antechamera di detta chamera Uno lettuccio dappane, una madia daffare pane, una giarra da tenere farina Seghue detto inventario In chamera in sul verone di sopra dove dormano i fanciulli Una lettiera d’albero con una chassa e dua serrami, suvi uno sacchone di paglia, una materassa di chapecchio, una coltrice vecchia piena di penne, ii piumacci vecchi e tristi, uno forziere anticho e tristo, uno chassone a dua serrami anticho e tristo, uno paio di chasse a dua serrami che sono nella sala di sopra nel terassino Uno lettuccio anticho in detta chamera, uno panno d’arazzo grande a portiere vecchio e tristo, uno pannetto d’arazzo affigure usato e chome nuovo, uno pannetto d’arazzo bianco a portiere usato buono, uno panno d’arazzo grande a portiere fine con seta Uno panno d’arazzo grande a portiere grosso usato e buono Un pannetto d’arazzo piccholo a portiere vecchio e tristo, ii ustiali a portiere usati affiori con seta, ii ustiali affigure dozzinali usati e tristi, uno ustiale del luogho all’anticha coll’arme tristo usato [266v] ii spalliere coll’arme a figure usate, uno panchale a portiere strecto usato e vecchio, ii spalliere affigure triste e rotte Uno panno vermiglio dal letto usato assai buono, 1º panno biancho alla chatelana usato e vecchio, 4 coltrice dal lecto bianche piene di lana usate e vecchie venute da Llondra piu tempo fa, 6 tovaglie di rensa gross [sic] mandorle minute di br. 8 in circa usate e vecchie senza guardanappe, 3 tovaglie usate mandorle strette di br. 8 l’una incirca

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 203

unpublished d o cuments

203

3 guardanappe colla detta tovaglia usate e anchora la tovaglia, 5 tovaglie usate alla parigina triste di br. 6. in circha l’una, 5 guardanappe come la detta tovaglia 6 mantili usati da famiglia di br. 41⁄2 l’uno in circa lavoro alla parigina, 3 mantiletti vecchi di br. 31⁄2 l’uno da famiglia 4 mantili quadri da parto di br. 2 l’uno in circa usati Segue detto Inventario 4 tovaglie usate e vecchie lavoro di br. 7 l’una incirca, dua tovagliouole minute usate di br. 12 bandinelle da raschiugare le mani tra nuove e vecchie usate e triste, 38 tovagliolini usati e grossi, 6 canovacci usati da famiglia tristi, 2 teletti da coprire il pane di br. 4 l’uno tristi, 4 paia di lenzuola da lato di br. 5 in circa usate che sono in sulle lette che son’ tristi, 15 paia di lenzuola tra piccole e grande usate e triste la piu parte, 1o lenzuoletto da famiglia tristo 1o chortinnaggio di tela in 5 pezzi del sopracielo co’ pendici fregia d’accia usato e tristo, ii pezzi di cortine di tovaglia capitate con verghe di bambagia in buchi 1a pezza di cortina de tovagli con una usata 3 paia di lenzuole usate e vecchie, una pezza di tovagliolo e tovagliolini in uno filo di br. 60 in circa lavoro grosso alla parigina per operare per casa, una pezza di bandinello da saccho capitato di br. 200 in circa, una pezza di mantili di famiglia di br. 18, una tovaglia di rensa usata di br. 12 mezzana, dua tovaglie di rensa sottile di br. 22 l’una usata, dua guardanappe di rensa sottile di br. 22 l’una usata, una tovaglia di rensa sottile di br. 18 usata, una tovaglia di rensa sottile di br. 6 larga usata, una tovaglia di rensa sottile di br. 8 usata, [267r] 1ª guardanappa di rensa sottile di br. 12 usata, una tovaglia di rensa sottile a gigli di br. 6 in circa e largha usata, una tovaglia di rensa mezzana di br. 28 o circa usata, una tovaglia di rensa mezzana a mandorle streta e strette [sic] di br. 2 usata e vecchia, 1ª tovaglia di detta rensa di br. 22 all’antica, xxiiii tovagliolini di rensa sottili e tristi, una tovagliola di rensa lavorato minuto vecchia e trista, tre tovagliuole nostrali e mezzane di br. 6 l’una in uno filo, una guardanappa nostrale e sottile a buchi buona usata, tre tovagliuole capitate usate, una guardanappa usata a buchi grosse di br. 8, una guardanappa simile usata di br. x in circa capi a buchi, una pezza di tovagliuole nostrali e grosso di br. 18 in circa in uno filo, una guardanappa di br. 12 in circa capi a buchi usata, xii tovagliolini di rensa in pezza in uno filo nuovi, 12 tovagliolini di rensa in pezza in uno filo nuovi sottili, tre tovagliuole capitate in uno filo nuove, quatro tovagliuole con quatro tovagliolini grosse co’ buchi di br. 31⁄2 l’una in circa usata, tre tovagliuole piu sottile usate e capi di buchi trista, una pezza di tovaglia forestiere di filo mezzano di br. 100 in circa nuova, una pezza di guardanappa simile di br. 100 in circa a detta tovaglia, una tovaglia antica linone streta di br. 10 in circa usata con capi di buchi trista rapichata, una

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

204

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 204

appendix

tovaglia nostrale con capi di buchi di br. 13 capi di buchi [sic], una tovaglia simile di br. 12 in circa a capi di buchi usata, una tovaglia simile di br. 12 in circa capi di buchi usata, una tovaglia nostrale con capi di buchi e apichata di br. 8 in circa usata, una tovaglia di br. 12 a capi di buchi nostrale trista usata, una tovaglia nostrale a capi di buchi di br. 12 usata alla parigina, una guardanappa della detta tovaglia di br. 12 in circa, una tovaglia capitata usata di br. 23 in circa trista e grossa, una tovaglia usata alla parigina nostrale di br. 8 in circha con buchi, una tovaglia capitata d’azzurro assai buona di br. 12 in circa, una tovaglia capitata d’azzurro nostrale di br. 22 trista, una tovaglia di br. 8 nostrale grossa e usata, una guardanappa di br. 8 in circa alla parigina nostrale e usata, una tovaglia di br. 8 in circa nostrale usata e vecchia, una tovaglia nostrale di br. 12 con verghe bianche usata e vecchia, una pezzo di tovaglioni di br. 22 in circa nostrale e grossa in uno filo, tre tovagliuole grosse di br. 21⁄3 l’una in uno filo, uno mantile di br. 2 grosso verghe azzure e nere, una tovagliuola di br. 6 usata e trista, uno paio di guanciali di broccato d’oro con otto nappe d’oro, una tovagliuola sottile di br. x rotta e usata, una tovagliuola di br. 6 trista da credenza, una tovagliuola da credenza, tre mantili da parto tristi di br. uno e mezzo l’uno, una tovagliuola capitata, cinque sciugatoi in uno filo verghe nere, [267v] dua fazzoletti da capo grossi, una pezza di sciugatoi grossi da piedi cioe dodici piccoli e sette grandi, una guardanappa cioe dua tovagliuole usate e triste insieme, una pezza di guardanappa nostrale di br. 40 in circa alla parigina In sala insu l’acquaio Uno bacino e una misciroba d’ottone coll’arme de Nasi e Albizi Uno bacino e una misciroba d’ottone coll’arme de Serristori e Nasi Uno bacino e una misciroba coll’arme de Nasi d’ottone, uno bacino e una misciroba coll’arme de Nasi d’ottone, dodici bacinetti piccoli d’ottone coll’orlo largo, ventuno candellieri d’ottone, cioe cioe [sic] 16 d’una ragione e cinque d’un’altra, dua misciroba d’ottone grande col coperchio, dua misciroba larghe sanza coperchio Una secchia d’ottone al acquaio, dodici coltellini per uso della tavola dozzinali, uno coltello da tavola dozzinale, tre tavole di noce intarsiate di br. 7 in circa, una tavoletta di br. 41⁄2 in circa per la famigla, dua paia di trespoli a detta tavole, una tavoletta di br. 4 nella sala di sopra, uno paio di trespoli, quatro deschetti colle spalliere di noce, 4 deschetti senza spalliere, 8 seggiola di stramba tra grande e piccole, uno bacino grande d’ottone dapie di stallo, uno bacino minore dapie di stallo d’ottone, uno bacino d’ottone piccolo da lavare e’ piedi, dua vasi di maiolicha sopra l’acquaio, uno quarto di maiolica sopra l’acquaio Segue lo inventario della masseritia di cucina Uno bacino grande di rame co’ manichi da lato, una caldaia di rame da bucato di tenuta di barili uno, uno paiuolo mezzano di rame, uno paiuoletto minore di rame,

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 205

unpublished d o cuments

205

una padella a uso di paiuolo col manico di sopra, dua padelle per usare, una grande e una mezzana, uno paiuiolo d’acciaio, uno alare da fare e’ rosti, una paletta di ferro, uno paio di molle, dua orciuoli di rame, uno grande e uno piccolo, tre schidioni di ferro uno grande uno mezzano e uno piccolo, una lucerna di ferro, dua treppi[ed]e da pauioli 1o grande e uno piccolo, 12 treppi[ed]e da teghie, dua teghie di rame una grande e una mezzana, dua teghie di rame una piccola e una mezzana, dua scaldaletti di rame, dua calici di rame da cucina, una secchia di rame d’aquaio, uno bacino d’ottone piccolo da piedi, uno paio d’alari grandi di ferro da sala, uno paio d’alari mezzani di ferro da sala, uno paio d’alari di minori, uno paio d’orcioli di ferro per in sala, una paletta di ferra per in sala, una forchetta di ferro per in sala, septe lucerne d’ottone, tre candellieri dalla cucina d’ottone, [268r] otto piatelli di stagno mezzani da scaricare la insalata, dua piatelli di stagno, un poco maggiore, diciotto scodelle di stagno, diciotto scodellini di stagno, quattro piattelletti piccoli di stagno, uno piattelletto piccolo di stagno, dodici quadretti di stagno, undici piatelletti piani di stagno alla catelana, dua stagnate da olio e acieto di stagno. Tutti e sopradetti stagni sono a mano, usati. Dua botti d’ariento di libbre tre cioe di tenuta, dodici piatelli grande di stagno d’Inghilterra usati, 36 schodelle di stagno detto usate 48 schodellini di stagno detto usati, 36 piatellini piani di stagno detto usati, 36 quadretti di stagno detto usati, 12 piatellini mezzani di stagno detto, 12 piatellini di stagno detto minori usati, 6 piatellini minori di stagno detto nuovi, 2 stagniate di olio e aceto nuove 4 piatelli di stagnio grandi vecchi, 2 piatelli mezzani e vecchi Uno coltrone di borddo fine pieno di bambagia, uno coltrone rosso tristo per la serva, uno coltrone rosso tristo per famigli Dieci botte da vino di tenuta di barili 12 l’una, 2 botte triste di tenute di barili 9 l’una, 4 botticelle da biancho di tenuta di barili 4 in circha Una botticella d’acieto biancho di tenuta di br. 4, una botticella da fondiglioli di br. 6 cioe di tenuta, uno bigoncio, ii bigoncioli Sette barili da vino vermiglio, 2 selle da sedere da donne Una mula da chavalchare, uno chavallino piccholo, e 1º diamante in punte leghato in oro di stima di fl. 20, dua tazze d’ariento di peso d’oncie 8 l’una, 2 tazzini d’ariento di peso d’oncie 6 in tutto xii chucchini d’ariento, 5 chucchini piccoli d’ariento, 11 forchette d’ariento sode, 6 saliere d’ariento dorate, una coltelliera con 12 coltelli piccoli e dua grandi col leghiera d’ariento e manicha biancha coll’arme, uno pennone da giustitia coll’arme e cimiere, 2 bandiere quadre di tessuta bolognese coll’arme xii panziere di ferro, 5 guaine a divisa triste, 2 forzeretti a divisa coll’arme, 1º coltrone a gigli azzurri di gigli simolato da fanciulli

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

206

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 206

appendix

Inventario di tutto quello si truova in chamera di Bartolommeo Nasi per suo uso e della donna Una lettiera di braccia 51⁄2 [con] cornice dorata e dipinta con dua chasse intorno intarsiate a 4 serrami, uno lettuccio di braccia 41⁄2 intarsiato con cornice dorata, uno paio di forzieri dipinti e intarsiati e massidoro vecchi, uno cassone intarsiato di br. 3 in circha, dua forzieri coll’arme e dipinti adivise, 1 forzeretto a divise dipinto coll’arme, uno cortinaggio e padiglione di tela di Chostanzia Una coltrice e dua pimacci di piume e penne, una materassa trista di bordo piena di lana, una sacchone di paglia, uno paio di lenzuola di br. 9 usate e triste [268v] Uno coltrone di pannolino biancho pieno di bambagia Una sargia rossa dipinta di nero a tela e figchure [sic] Uno materassino dal lettuccio pieno di lana, uno tappeto di br. 41⁄2 a detto lettuccio, una Vergine Maria con cornice d’oro dozzinale, dua coltre dal lettucco 1ª anticha e 1ª appine Una lettiera di br. 4 nella antechamera di noce, una coltrice piena di penne e piume di br. 4, una matterassa piena di lana a detto letto, uno sacchone di paglia a detto letto, uno coltrone vecchio di tela lina e gigli, una sargia dipinta affiori 4 guanciali grandi dal lettuccio, 6 guanciali dal letto Dua paia di lenzuola di panno forestiere piccole dal letto di antecamera, uno paio di lenzuola di pannolino nostrale usate a 4 teli co’mandorle che uno lenzuolo di dette anticha lavorata Uno paio di lenzuola di pannolino nostrale a 4 teli con uno garofano in su l’orlo usate, uno paio di lenzuola di pannolino nostrale cogl’occhi spicchati con una reticella viniziana usata, nove lenzuola usate tre di panno forestiero e nostrale parte nuove parte no, una pezzetta di tela sottile a uso di turchino di br. 26 br. 8 di pannolino da fare grembiuli, septe banducci in un filo grosseti da fanciulli, dua fazzoletti da capo mezzani, cinque quadrucci, 7 fazzoletti d’accia grossi da famigli, una pezza di pannolino di camice per Bartolommeo di br. 67 in circa, 4 sciugatoi mezzani da capellinaio e mano filo colle verghe bianche, 45 sciugatoi in uno filo da capellinaio colle verghe nere, 49 fazzoletti da mano sottile in uno filo, 24 sciugatoi grossi in uno filo da piedi cioe 12 grandi e 12 piccoli, 2 mezzani usati, 2 sciugatoi mezzani colle verghe bianche usati, 5 sciugatoi grossi da piedi in uno filo colle verghe bianche, xxx libbre di benda da donna, uno telo di raso d’azana lavorato, 2 sciugatoi grandi bianchi usati d’azana, 2 libbre di pannolino di rensa, 2 federe di velluto di guanciali con intorno, una pezza di pannolino mezzano da camice per la Costanza e per fanciulli di br. 4 in circa, 4 fazzoletti da mano in uno filo, 22 camice da fanciugli, 13 camice per uso di Bartolommeo tra buone e triste, 3 mezzi sciugatoi sottili per uso della Gostanza, 6 federe da guanciali nuove, 4 sciugatoi sotili vecchi da avolgere al

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 207

unpublished d o cuments

207

capo, 3 sciugatoi da capellinaio usati, una coltella fornita d’ariento [269r] fu di Lutozzo quando fu gonfalonieri di giustizia, una scarsella di velluto nero fornita d’ariento, 9 camice di donna usate per uso della Gostanza donna di Bartolommeo, 7 sciugatoi da capi usati, 8 sciugatoi grandi da fascina usati con verghe di piu ragioni, 12 federe da guanciali usate, 6 camice usate da donna per uso della Checca, uno grembiule tondo domaschino lavorato per uso della Checca usato e tristo, 2 nappi d’ariento, 5 forchette d’ariento, una cintola d’ariento piena di spranghe dorata e stretta per uso della Checca, una cintola di raso nero fornita d’ariento dorato per uso della Gostanza, una cintola largha nuova fornita d’ariento piena di spranghe per uso della Gostanza incintellata la fibbia e il puntale, una cintola di raso pagonazzo fornita d’ariento stretta per uso della Honesta, uno chiavachuore largho tanè con dua puntali d’ariento, 4 br. di seta tanè senza ariento, 4 catenuzze d’oro di peso d’once 5 l’una in circha, dua agnusdei, una crocellina d’oro, una cintoluzza di broccato d’oro stretta con puntale d’ariento dorato, uno puntale e una fibbia d’oro alla parigina di peso d’once una, uno agnusdei d’ariento lavorato di filo, una beccha di taffeta cangiante lavorata con oro, uno diamante legato in oro tavola per uso della Costanza di stima di denari 25, uno rubino legato in oro per uso della detta di stima di denari 25, una perla legata in oro per uso della detta, una beccha di velluto nero, una beccha di taffeta nera, uno pendentuzzo con uno piccolo balastio con tre perluzze piccole per uso della Checca di stima di denari 8, uno pendentuzzo simile e minore per uso della Honesta di stima di denari 5, uno sciugatoio sotile da cimiero Segue detto inventario delle cose di Bartolommeo 4 borse ricamate con oro di broccato vecchie piu ricami spiccati d’oro filato vecchio, 25 libbre di lano di pezzuolo, una grillanduzza all’antica da testa di perluzze minute, 4 libbre d’accia sottile di piu ragioni piu frange d’oro spiccate che fu cappuccio da donna, uno [l]uccho rosato foderato di lattizi per uso di Bartolommeo [269v] Uno [l]uccho pagonazzo foderato di dossi tristo Uno [l]uccho di panno foderato di domaschino nero tristo Uno [l]uccho rosato tristo sanza fodera, uno mantello nero usato e tristo, una c[i]oppa nera foderato di matore Uno gonellino di velluto chermisi foderato di golpi tristo, uno gonnellino di velluto nero tristo foderato di conigli Una robetta bigia foderato di gola di martore usata Una robetta bigia insino apie trista, una gabbanella di domaschino nero foderata di taffeta paganazza usata Uno mantello rosato tristo che non si usa Una gabbanella rosata e foderata di golpi rotta

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

208

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 208

appendix

4 cappucci tra tristi e buoni fra di fiore e nero, uno scampolo di br. 3 di panno di piu colori buono, una cappa di panno di Bruggia colla capperuccia di velluto nero bruno Uno catelano rosato a buche con capperuccia di domaschino pagonazzo di Gratia, una robetta di cambellotto tanè trista e sciempia, uno balandrino di fregio, uno gabbano di guarnello biancho, una c[i]oppa di panno pagonazzo con foderata di golpi trista Uno cioppone di panno bruschino foderato di gola di golpe 12 berrette di Gratia tra buone e triste, 2 farsetti uno di raso nero e uno di seta nera, uno farsetto di guarnello nero tristo Una c[i]oppa di panno pagonazzo di Lione da donna che fu per uso della Gostanza con coda Una c[i]oppa di Gratia allazzata a uso della detta Una c[i]oppa di panno pagonazzo schura foderata di pelli bianchi tonda per uso della Gostanza Una c[i]oppa di panno bigio di Perpignano Uno guardachuore rosato foderato di dossi Una gamurra rosata per uso della Gostanza di stima di fl. 7 Una gamurra pagonazza trista [270r] Una gamurra di panno perpignano colombino usata Una gamurra di seta azzurra usata, una gamurra di seta pagonazza, una gamurra di seta nera, una cotta di raso nero usata, una gamurra di seta azzurra rotta Una c[i]oppa di panno nero usata buona Una c[i]oppa di panno nero schura buona, una c[i]oppa di saia milanese senza i legati Una c[i]oppa di rascia nera, una c[i]oppa di rascia e saia Una c[i]oppa di fregio bigio, una giachetta di taffeta biancha della Checca usata Una c[i]oppa di cambellotto biancho della Checca Una c[i]oppa di rascia verde della Checca, uno c[i]oppa di fregio della Checca Una cotta di velluto alexandrino rifatta e trista Una c[i]oppa di panno pagonazzo tonda della Checca usata Una c[i]oppa di panno nero trista della Checca Una gamurra di panno paghonazzo schuro trista Uno guarnello biancho della Checca Una cotta di raso verde trista dell’Onesta Piu panni da famiglia di pocha valuta Inventario di tutto quello si truova questo dì otto di novembre in chamera di Bartolommeo Nasi per suo uso e della donna e de’ figliuoli e prima

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 209

unpublished d o cuments

Una robetta di velluto nero foderata di chodrioni di dossi nuova daverno Una robetta di cianbellotto tanè Una robetta di domaschino nero foderata di dossi e choniglie usata da huomo Una robetta di domaschino nero foderata di dossi trista Una robetta di panno bigio schura foderata di fianchi di martore usata Una robetta di panno perpignano tanè foderata d’indisio usata Una robetta di panno bigio schuro da chavalchare foderata di panno verde rifatta [270v] Una robetta di panno bigio chiaro scempia usata e trista Una cappa di panno perpignano da cavalcare Una cappa di panno bigio capperuccia foderata di velluto nero Uno capperone usato colla capperuccia foderata di domasco tanè usato Uno catelano rosato tristo, uno mantello pagonazzo schuro usato Uno mantello rosato usato e assai buono Uno [l]uccho foderato di taffeta chermisi usato Uno [l]uccho pagonazzo mezzo sfoderato tristo e legero Uno [l]uccho rosato foderato di lettizi usato Uno [l]uccho rosato foderato di dossi Uno mantellino da fanciulli da ciambelloto bigio foderato di dossi Una giachetta di seta nera da huomo usata cioe robetta Uno pittocchino di velluto nero usato Uno pittoccho di ciambelloto tanè usato foderato di pelle biancha Nove farsetti di seta tra buoni e tristi Uno farsetto di panno con manichini di panno paghonazzo Cinque cappucci cioe uno nero uno rosato, 13 paghonazzuschi usati Uno c[i]oppone foderato usato e tristo Una c[i]oppa sfoderata lungha e trista e intignata bigia Una fodera di panno trista e pelata vi paia di calze usate da huomo x berrette di piu fiori usate 2 berrette dannotte Uno schampolo di panno paghonazzo e mezzo ascuro bagnato e usato br. 62⁄3 Uno schampolo di panno rosato di levato di br. 82⁄3 Uno schampolo di panno nero da calze di br. 7 bagnato e usato Uno schampolo di panno paghonazzo di roba d’Amalfi di br. 9 Una c[i]oppa di domaschino biancho da donna sfoderata usata Una giachetta da donna di taffeta biancha usata e trista Una giachetta di taffeta nera da donna a uso di robetta usata Una giachetta di taffeta nera mancho gl’imbusti drietro e trista

209

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

210

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 210

appendix

Una c[i]oppa di ciambollotto tanè da donna buona Una c[i]oppa paghonazza chiara filattata di lattizi da donna [271r] Una c[i]oppa saiata rosata foderata di panno usata Una c[i]oppa saiata di panno bigio da donna Una c[i]oppa saiata di panno bigio arrigentato trista da donna Una c[i]oppa saiata di panno scuro sfoderata e usata Una c[i]oppa di rascia nera buona da donna Una c[i]oppa di rascia fine di lino usata Una ghamurra di ciambellocto verde usata Una ghamurra di ciambellocto verde cangiante usata Una ghamurra di ciambellocto gialla trista xiii ghamurre di guarnello usate Una fodera di roba da donna di dossi Una fodera di roba da donna di panno br. 5 di rensa alexandrina br. 14 di rensa rossa, piu panni da fanciulli per loro usare tristi br. 6 di suentone paghonazzo per calze da fanciulli Uno paio di lenzuola a 4 teli di br. 9 cogli veli spiccati con una reticella vinitiana v paia di lenzuola usate dal letto grande iii paia di lenzuolette usate di panno forestiero dal letto dal antechamera Una pezza di panno lino da richamire di br. 100 in circa Una pezza di panno lino da richamire per la donna di Bartolomeo di br. 40 in circha Uno taglio di panno lino da richamire pe’ fanciulle di br. 30 Uno taglio di panno lino da richamire pe’ fanciulle di br. 20 Uno taglio di tela di ginevra grosso dasseparare br. 1o1⁄2 di tela sottile nostrale Uno lenzuolo grosso di panno nostrale tagliato e non areato v sciugatoi colle verghe bianche pel cappellinaio sottili con br. 10 di pannello appicchato in un filo x sciughatoi da cappellinaio colle verghe nere mezzani xxviii fazzoletti sottili da mano in un filo xxiiii fazzoletti da mano mezzano da uscito in un filo [271v] xl fazzoletti da mano mezzani da usare in un filo xv sciugatoi in un filo colle verghe bianche da volgere al chapo grossi iiii sciugatoi in un filo colle verghe bianche piu grossi iiii sciughatoi in un filo colle verghe bianche grossati 2 sciughatoi e mezzo colle verghe nere da chappellinaio grossetti 2 sciughatoi in un filo da volgere al chapo da fanciulle

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 211

unpublished d o cuments

211

vi sciughatoi grossi da piedi in un filo vi sciughatoi grossi in un filo da piedi di br. 8 di pannello Uno taglio di panno lino di rensa di br. 30 in circa sottile Uno taglio di panno lino di rensa di br. 31 grossetta vi br. di tela di bisso tutto intignato Uno grembiule di bisso lavorato intignato 2 grembiuli lavorati di bambagina uno rotto e uno messo 2 grembiuli di panno di rensa uno usato e uno nuovo 2 grembiuli di rensa uno usato e uno rotto 1º grembiule di panno nostrale nuovo Uno grembiule di panno forestiere grosso 2 br. di bambagina in dua tagli 2 tagli di velutto doppi di br. 4 l’uno Uno sciughatoio di fiore nuova grosseto Uno sciughatoio di renza con verghe bianche da volgere al capo Dua fazzoletti da collo senza verghe in un filo Uno ghrembiule lavorato da fanciulli Uno sciughatoio sottile di rensa senza verghe da portare in capo 2 fazzoletti sottili da portare in capo in un filo, cioe uno quaderuccio e uno falazzo [sic] grande Uno fazzoletto sottile da portare in capo usato 9 camice da donna triste che non sustruanno piu Tre camice di rensa usate e cotte da donna 9 camice di panno lino nostrale per uso di Bartolommeo 3 camice di panno lino nostrale per uso di Bartolommeo [272r] 6 camice di rensa usate e rotte per uso di Bartolommeo xi camice di rensa da donna nuove e stazzonate 9 fazzoletti da capo grosseti in un filo, 2 quaderucci in un filo co’detti fazzoletti, 4 benducci di rensa con capi di verghe usate 2 schiugatoi di rensa con capi di rensa da cappellanaio, 2 fazzoletti di bambagina da testa e collo, una tela d’azana di rensa, uno fascio di rensa da bambini una nuova una usata 1ª federa da guanciali da fanciulli di rensa, xii br. di benda da capo 9 br. di pannello da fare fascie, 6 sciughatoi larghi da forestieri usate, x camice da fanciulli tra buone e triste, 4 sciugatoi da cappellinaio con verghe nere, 7 benducci da fanciulli in un filo, dua libbre rotte di guarnello, 6 sciughatoi grossi da pane 7 sciughatoi grossi da stropicciare el capo usate, 4 federe grande da guanciali dal lettuccio usate, 4 federe da guanciali piccole usate, 9 fazzoletti di rensa da mano tra buoni e tristi

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

212

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 212

appendix

Una schatola che v’è fazzoletti rotti e guanciali e stipone e perfumi Una cassetta darapresso introvi piu chuffia di piu ragioni usate e nuove e 2 berette di taffetta e domaschino di pocho valore E piu 4 mezzi sciughatoi da portare in capo sottili usati a piu che a mezzani, xii grembiuluzzi da fanciulli tra buoni e tristi di panno lino grossi, 40 br. di nastri da volgere el capo, 3 catenuzzi di vetri di Valenza da portare al collo, 1º veletto con una credellina d’oro intorno intignato, una borsa, un borsotto da donna con perle minute 4 borse, dua borsotti di brocchato e di seta, 2 catenuzze d’oro con una croce di madreperla con ariento di peso la catenuzza di denari xii in circa, 2 crocelline d’oro con 4 perluzze piccole per uno damarie a collo da fanciulli Una crocellina di berilli con tre perle per pendente della Fiammetta, 4 gangheruzzi d’ariento dorati, 2 vezzi di corallo, un paio di coltellini maniche bianche forniti d’ariento Una ghieruccia di coltellini verde rotta fornita d’ariento Una ghieruccia nuova fornita d’ariento a dua coltelli parioni, uno coltellino colla manicha con ariento Una crocellina d’oro rotta per fanciulli, 2 pettini d’ariento per uso delle fanciulle uno rotto e uno sodo [272v] br. 8 d’accia biancha, uno bossolino d’ariento di peso di denari 8 diamantie la spugnia, una beccha di velluto nero, una beccha di raso di Gratia, una beccha di taffetta nera trista usata, br. 1o di domaschino di ghratia per uno paio di maniche, br. uno di domaschino paghonazzo di Gratia, br. 1o1⁄2 di tabi cangiante, br. 1o di renzanello paghonazzo, uno paio di maniche di renso verde Uno paio di maniche di raso nero rotte, uno paio di maniche di renso di Gratia usate, uno paio di maniche di renso tanè rotte, un paio di maniche da c[i]oppa di taffeta di chermisi rotte, un paio di maniche da c[i]oppa di mezanello pagonazzo tristo, 1⁄2 br. di ciambellotto azurro, una cotta di ciambellotto azzura della Fiammetta, 1ª cintola paghonazzo e circa piena di spranghe d’ariento dorate puntale e fibia d’oro di peso detto puntale e fibia di denari xx, una cintola stretta nera con cinque cignitoi dorati puntali e fibbia d’oro di peso di denari xii Una cintola largha domaschina alexandrino con xxi cignitoi di d’alfitii e lavoro d’ariento drieto di peso in tutto di denari 14, una cintola paghonazza stretta fornita d’ariento drento con 100 cignitoi peso di denari 10, una chiavachuore di rosette d’ariento con catene d’ariento dorate di peso in tutto di once 1ª. Una cintola di raso verde largha con xx cignitoi e rosette e puntali e con puntali e fibie d’ariento con tre borde d’oro peso in tutto di denari 13, una fetta largha di domaschino chermisi con puntali e fibbie d’ariento con venti cignitoi e di rosse con

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 213

unpublished d o cuments

213

tre bende d’oro di peso in tutto di denari 13, una cintola di domaschino paghonazzo largha fornito d’ariento biancho con x cignitoi e rosette di peso di denari 8 in tutto Una cintola da huomo chermisi stretta rotta e fornita d’ariento biancho in peso in tutto di denari 2, dua cintoluzze da fanciulli e uno chiavacuoruzzo fornito d’ariento in tutto di denari 4, uno pendente con uno balastio con 3 perle disotto ii diamante di sopra per uso della donna di Bartolommeo di stima di denari 200 in tutto, una perla di 5 legato in anello di stima di denari 55 in tutto, uno rubino legato in anello di stima di denari 20 in tutto, una perluzza piccola di denari 21⁄2 legata in annello di stima di denari 6 [273r] Uno balasciuzzo piccolo legato in anello di stima di denari 4, una filza di paternostri di calcidonio, uno vezzo di paternostri di coralli di peso denari 2, una palla d’ariento straforata da tenere in mano di peso d’oncie 1, uno anello grosso d’oro da suggellire coll’arme, uno bambino con vesta di broccato d’oro vecchia e una cintoluzza con perla minute, dua nappi d’ariento uno piccolo di denari 12, uno mezzano di denari 25, 24 chucchiai d’ariento, 36 forchette d’ariento dozzinali, 2 scarselle da velluto nero fornite d’ariento, uno libretto ricordanze coverto di carta biancha coreggie rosse segnato D, 25 libbre di lino di pezzuolo e vitechese pettinnato, una lettiera da letto con lettuccio apicato insieme di noce intarsiato, una coltrice con dua piumacci pieni di penna e piuma, una materassa di lana, 1o saccone di paglia, una materassa dal lettuccio piena di pelle, uno coltrice di panno lino biancho e pieno di bambagia usato, una sargia fiandrescha e tela dipinta e a figure usata, uno tappeto de br. 5 per lettuccio, 2 coltre da lettuccio lavorate una a penne e una anticha usate di br. 41⁄2 l’una, uno cortinaggio di tela di Gostanza a detto letto e a padiglione Dua forzieri dipinti e messi a oro usati Una Vergine Maria messa e oro e riccha, dua forzieri dipinti ad coll’arme. Nell’antecamera di detta camera Una lettiera da letto di br. 4 di noce sanza tarsie, una coltrice di penna e piuma ratoppata, una matterassa di capecchio, uno sacchone di paglia, uno coltrone biancho pieno di bambagia, una sargia di fiandra a tela e figure usata e testa, uno cassonamo da libro di braccia 2 Una lettiera nell’antecamera di sopra di lino sotile Uno paio di guanciali grande da lettuccio con federa darosato Uno paio di guanciali di chuoio alla brocata, 6 guanciali da letto sfoderati, 2 in busti di panno biancho da dorme di parto Uno sacchetto entrovi piu cenci e calcetti, 20 libbre d’accia biancha e grossa, 2 paia di forzieri di pannolino,

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

214

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 214

appendix

2 capelletti pelosi alla francese, uno cappelletto biancho raso foderato di taffeta chermisi, uno libricino di donna fornito d’ariento da donna novella, uno mezzo lenzuolo tristo [273v] Inventario della masseritia si truovano nella camera di Filippo Nasi per suo uso e della donna sua Uno paio di lenzuola a 4 teli una colla mezza mandorla e uno lavorato e l’altro non, uno paio di lenzuola coll’orlo spiccato co’ reticella, 5 paio di lenzuola a 4 teli di br. 9, 40 braccia di tela di gintura da sopanni, 40 br. di panno lino da camice 5 sciugatoi, 6 sciugatoni grossi da piedi in uno filo, 8 sciugatoi da cappellinaio mezzani colle verghe bianche in uno filo 6 sciugatoi sotile da cappelinaio verghe nere, 6 sciugatoi da viso verghe bianche, 4 sciugatoi in uno filo, 12 benducci con le verghe nere in uno filo, 24 fazoletti da mano in 1o filo, 19 fazoletti da mano in uno filo mezzani, 8 chamice di panno nostrale sottile da donna, ii chamice di rensa nuove di Philippo, 3 br. di rensa mezzana, xii chamice di rensa per uso di Philippo usate e vecchie, viii chamice di panno lino nostrale usate della Bartholommea, xii chamice di pannolino nostrale per uso di Philippo usate, x chamice di panno lino nostrale grossette della Bartholommea vi chamice di detto panno della Bartholommea, 6 chamice di panno lino nostrale non charate di Philippo, 22 federe da guanciale da letto usate, 4 federe da guanciali dal lettuccio con reticella, 6 sciugatoi larghi da forzieri, 4 sciugatoi grossi da piedi, 6 sciugatoni grossi da stropicciare el chapo, 3 sciugatoi da rasciugare el viso, 4 sciugatoi da chapellinaio verghe nere usate, 1ª ciopppa di domaschino nero della Bartholommea usata, 1ª c[i]oppa di panno paghonazzo chiaro della detta usata, 1ª c[i]oppa di panno tanè usata della decta, 1ª c[i]oppa di panno nero usata, 1ª c[i]oppa sciura di rascia nera, 1ª c[i]oppa di panno perpignano usata, 1ª c[i]oppa di rascia nera vecchia e trista, 1ª chotta di raso paghonazzo usata, 1ª chotta di velluto verde usata trista 1ª chotta di raso isbiardito usata e trista, 1ª chotta di domaschino biancho usata e trista, 1ª cotta di ciambellotto paghonazzo, 1ª gammurra di seta azurra, 1ª gamurra di panno pagonazzo schura, 1ª giachetta di taffeta chrema usata, 1º guarnello biancho usato, 1ª saia di fiore di lino trista, uno mantello rosato usato e buono di Philippo, 1º mantello paghonazzo chiaro usato di Philippo [274r] Uno mantello nero usato, uno catelano rosato usato Uno catelano di paghonazzo schuro di panno venezziano Uno catelano di panno pagonazzo tristo, uno catelanuzzo rosato usato, una cappa bigia usata trista, uno capperone usato foderato di verde usato, una robetta di panno pagonazzo foderata di dossi usate, dua robetta di panno pagonazzo foderata d’indisia, una robetta di panno tanè foderata d’indisia trista, una robetta nera foderata d’indisia trista

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 215

unpublished d o cuments

215

Una robetta di panno nero scempia usata, una robetta di ciambellotto pagonazzo sopannata di taffeta trista, tre gonellini sanza maniche di piu colori vecchi, 3 gonellini rosati e rotti a uso di Filippo gran tempo fa, una c[i]oppetta rosata foderata di golpi trista, uno [l]uccho rosato foderato di litizi usato, uno [l]uccho rosato foderato di taffeta chermisi usato, 6 cappucci di piu colori usati, 2 farsetti di raso nero usati, uno farsetto di panno pagonazzo, uno farsetto di guarnello Uno c[i]oppone bigio foderato di pelle bianche, una fodera da roba da donna di dossi usata, una fodera di roba da donna di panna usata, piu fodere di martore usate Una cintola verde d’ariento dorato e anellato con 48 cignitoi peso in tutto di denari 8, una cintola biancha fornita d’ariento dorato lavorato con filo con 92 cignitoi di peso di denari 11, una cintola di velluto nero fornita d’ariento dorato con 82 cignitoi col puntale rosso di peso di denari 13 in tutto, una cintola di raso nero stretta con 86 cignitoi fornita d’ariento di peso di denari 7, una cintola verde e nera con cignitoi d’ariento dorato e col puntale e fibbia di peso di once 1 in tutto, peso di denari 8, 2 paia di coltellini forniti d’ariento colle maniche d’ariento, uno paio di coltellini colle maniche bianche forniti d’ariento, uno pendente per uso della Bartolommea entrovi uno rubino ciotolo e 3 diamantuzzi e uno smeraldo con 3 perle di sotto di stima di denari 220 in circa, una perla di denari 5 legata in anello giabbetta di stima di denari 40, uno diamante tavola legato in anello stima di denari 50, dua rubinuzzi tristi legati in anello di stima di denari 12 in circa in tutto, uno smeraluzzo legato in annello di stima di denari 20, una perluzza di denari 21⁄2 legata in anello di stima di denari 6 [274v] Uno mezzo sciugatoio d’accia sotile e nero per uso della Bartolommea costo di denari 4, uno mezzo sciugatoio d’accia sotile rotto e usato, un mezzo sciugatoi di fiore rotto e tristo, 4 berrette di domasco e di raso lavorato, 4 fazzoletti sottili da capo cioe quadrucci, 2 sciugatoi lavorati da capellinaio coverti di rensa, una filza di coralli 110 con uno bottone di perla e x d’ariento, 2 libbre d’accia sottile, 25 libbre d’accia grossa, 30 libbre di lano di pezzuolo e nostrale Uno libbricino di donna da donna novella che lavoro la Bartolommea 250 br. di benda, uno borsotto d’oro lavorato d’oro filato 12 fazzoletti da mano usati per uso di Filippo, 12 benducci usati per uso della Bartolommea, 6 convercieri usati di rensa per uso di Filippo, 4 paia di maniche di seta trista e di piu colori, 2 becche di velluto nero, 6 grembiuli di panno lino nostrali sotili con una freggia dappie usati e tristi, uno grembiule di rensa, 4 paia di calze vecchie di Filippo, 6 veletti da collo per uso della Bartolommea usati, 2 veletti da capo usati della Bartolommeo, una lettiera da letto con lettucio apiccato insieme di noce cogli rovoli d’oro Una coltrice di piuma e penna con ii piumaccie. Una matterassa di cappecchio, uno sacchone di pagli, uno materassino da lettuccio di capecchio, una sargia fiandrescha a

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

216

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 216

appendix

tela dipinta a figure e trista, 2 coltre da lettuccio, una apine e una anticho, uno cortinaggio di tela di Gostanza a padiglioni Una tappeto da lettuccio usato, dua forzieri dipinti e messi adoro Una Vergine Maria Uno specchio di legno messo a oro, 6 berrette sciempie di piu colori usati, 2 berrette da notte Nell’antecamera di detta camera Una lettiera da lecto di noce sanza tarsia, una coltrice di penna e piuma con 2 piumaccie, una materassa di capecchio, uno sachone di paglia, uno cassone intarsiata, uno armadiuzzo di beto, una forzeretta adivise, 2 paia di lenzuola piccole da lecto dell’antecamera di pannolino forestiero usate Nell’antecamera di sopra Una lettiera d’albero sottile che non si usa a nulla, uno fornimento d’ariento da scarsella, una giachetta cioe robetta di taffeta non usata di Filippo, 2 pettini di aivorio, uno piccolo e uno grande, 6 guanciali da lecto sfoderati, 2 guanciali grande da lettuccio sfoderati, 2 guanciali di chuoio pagonazzo [275r] Le masseritia si truovono a Villamagna In camera dove dorme Bernardo Una lettiera da lecto di br. 51⁄2 con uno lettuccio apiccati insieme d’albero lavorato di noce con predella e cassette intorno, una coltrice con 2 piumaccia di piume e penne, una materassa di cannocchio piena di capecchio, uno sacchone di paglia, uno materassino in su lettuccio di capecchio Nell’antecamera di detta camera Una lettiera d’albero con uno lettuccio apiccato insieme di br. 8 in tutto, uno saccone di paglia, una materassa piena di lana Una coltrice rossa con una piumaccia di penne, uno materassino di capecchio, una coltre da lecto biancha di bambagia trista e rotta, 4 sciugatoi grossi in uno filo da piedi, 4 sciugatoi grossi usati, una camice da huomo usata, uno paio di guanciali grandi da lettuccio di penna di pollo colla federa usati e vecchi Una coltre dal letto sottile vecchia e rotta Uno paio di guanciali di quoio paghonazzo, 2 coltrice dal lettuccio di guarnello vecchio usate, una arghetta da tenere pane Uno forziere vecchio e anticho, una coltre di lana dal lecto grande e usata e trista

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 217

unpublished d o cuments

217

In camera dove dorme Bartolomeo Una lettiera d’albero e una dal lettuccio appichate insieme regolate di noce, uno sacchone di paglia, una materassa piena di lana, una coltrice piena di piume e penne con dua piumacci e uno matterassino dal lettuccio di capecchio, 5 sciughatoni e 12 sciugatoi grossi da piedi in un filo, 3 federe da guanciali usati, 5 sciugatoni grossi, 2 sciugatoi da viso colle verghe bianche, 2 guanciali grande dal lettuccio colle verde federe usate, 2 guanciali da lecto colle fodere, dua guanciali di chuoio pagonazzo usati, una coltrice da lettuccio di guarnello vergata Nella camera della loggia Una lettiera da lecto e una da lettuccio appicate insieme del Bartolommeo reggolate di noce [275v] Una coltrice piena di piume e penne con dua piumacci Uno materassino da lettuccio di bordo pieno di lana Uno forziere vecchio usato Una coltrice di lana usata, una coltrice sottile di bambagia usata, una coltre sottile di bambagia usata e legere Una coltre da lettuccio di guarnello vergata Una coltre di bambagia da lettuccio ripezzata e trista Dua guanciali colle federe dal lettuccio usate Dua guanciali di quoio pagonazzo da lettuccio Nell’antechamera della detta camera Una lettiera da letto d’albero con uno da lettuccio apichate insieme Uno sachone di paglia Una materassa di chapecchio Una coltrice di piume e penne usata Uno materassino di chapechio da lettuccio Uno materassino di bordo da lettuccio pieno di lana In chamera dove dorme Filippo Una lettiera d’albero da letto con una da lettuccio apichate insieme regolate di noce Uno sacchone di paglia Una materassa di chapecchio Una coltrice piena di piuma e penna con dua piumacci Uno matterassino da lettuccio Una Vergine Maria anticha Una coltrice piena di lana da letto usata

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

218

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 218

appendix

Tre panni bianchi alla chatelana usati e stigniati Uno paio di guanciali senza federe da lettuccio In camera di sopra a letto dalla camera dove dorme la Gostanza vedova Una lettiera d’albero di braccia quattro Una lettiera da lettuccio d’albero anticho Uno sacchone di pagli Una cassa a dua serrami trista [276r] Uno forziere In chamera della serva sul verone Una lettiera d’albero vecchia con dua chasse vecchie e sotto dua forzieri tristi e antichi Una materassa piena di lana, una coltrice piena di penna usata e trista, dua piumacci vecchi e tristi, uno coltrone rosso rotto e tristo In camera in sulla sala di sopra dove dorme el famiglo Una lettiera d’albero trista, una lettiera da lettuccio trista Una materassa piena di lana rotta Una coltriciuzza trista In sala terena insu l’aquaio Uno bacino con una misciroba d’ottone coll’arme addivisa Uno bacino d’ottone sanza arme con una misciroba all’antica Uno bacinetto piccolo con una misciroba Una secchia di rame d’aquaio, cinque candellieri d’ottone 3 lucerne d’ottone, uno candelliere da lucerna d’ottone Una tavola d’albero regolate di noce, 2 trespoli a detta tavola Una tavoletta di braccia 4 d’albero per la famigla 2 trespoli a detta tavola, 8 deschetti di faggio selvatichi Uno paio di alari, 2 paia di molli da camino 2 paletti da camino, 6 paia di lenzuola a 3 teli e mezzo di panno forestiere, 3 paia di lenzuoletti da famiglia tristi, uno paio di lenzuoletti a reticella scempia trista, uno lenzuoletto straccato, 6 sciugatoi da capellinaio verghe nere usate Una tovaglia di rensa mezzana di br. 12 in circa 4 tovaglie [e] 4 guardanappe usate lavoro parigino di br. 8 l’una Una tovaglia di br. 12 in circa capi a buchi trista Una guardanappa con mandorla stretta usata all’anticha

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 219

unpublished d o cuments

219

2 tovaglie [e] 2 guardanappe mandorle strette doppia triste di br. 8 Una guardanappa di br. 8 in circa trista Una tovagliuola capi di buchi di br. 8 in circa trista Una tovigliuola capitata di br. 21⁄2, 20 tovagliolini usati [276v] 4 tovaglie da stangha, 8 mantili da famigli tristi di piu ragione, dua ragne da uccellini vecchie Uno ragnetto da ucellini, 3 ragne da tordi di br. 55 l’una usate e triste, 3 ragne da tordi basse Uno bacino d’ottone da lavare e’ piedi In camera Una caldaia di rame di tenuta di libbre uno Dua pauioli di rame piccoli usati, uno pauiolo mezzano Una padella, uno pauiolo di rame, una catena da camino, dua schidoni, uno grande e uno piccoli, tre teghie di rame, dua grande e una picola, uno catino di rame da rigovinare, una paletta una paio di molle, uno treppi[ed]e di pauioli, uno treppi[ed]e da teghia, uno catino di rame da casalata Una teghia d’avoria affogata, 19 scodelle di stagnio, 29 scodellini di stagno, 12 piatelletti piani di stagnio, undici quadretti di stagno, 3 piatelli grandi di stagno Uno forziere vecchio in che stanno gli stagni Una madia da fare pane, uno lettuccio di pane Uno botticello d’acieto, 6 lucerne di ferro, uno romaniolo e una mestola di ferro, una tavola di br. 61⁄2 sanza trespoli Nella volta 7 botti da vermiglio di tenuta di libbre 5 once 10 usata e trista 2 scure di ferro da fare legno, una becchastrino di ferro, una marra, una mazza di ferro da rompere saxi, uno palo di ferro grande, una vangha lombarda, una vanga nostrale Orcie 34 da tenere olio usate tra buone e trista 28 barili di vino vermiglio Masseritie e cose si truovano a Barberino da Mugello Una lettiera d’albero tinta di verde con una cassa a 3 serrami trista e vecchia, uno lettucio selvatico d’albero [277r] Una materassa di lana, una coltrice usata e trista e dua piumacci, uno panno bigello da tenere sudetto lecto 3 paia di lenzuola rotte e triste, una coltricetta trista quasi vota e vecchia, 2 togavlie, 2 guardanappe usate e triste, quatro tovagliolini tristi, dieci pezzi di stagno e poi rami vecchi, sei candelleruzzi piccoli d’ottone, una secchia di rame piccola d’aquaio

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

220

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 220

appendix

Una madia, tre lucerne di ferro, uno paio di molli Una paletta, uno paio d’alari, dua lettiere selvatiche da lecto senza nulla suvi Dua lettiere selvatiche senza nulla suvi [sic] Sei botte da vino in nella volta da biancho e da vermiglio di tenuta di barile 20 A Montegirone 5 botti da vino biancho di barile 3 insino in barile 8 20 orcie da olio Libri ci troviamo Uno Davit è ornamentato lettera di forma legato in asse Una Bibbia legata in asse lettera di forma 3 Deche di Livio in uno volume lettera di forma legati in asse Uno libro di Vangeli di forma legato in asse Una Storia Fiorentina di forma legata in asse Uno Piero [C]rescentio di forma legato in asse, uno Plinio di forma legato in asse Uno Voragine della vita de’ Sancti di forma legato in asse Segue inventario di grano vino e olio Grano staia 880 in circa tra in Mugello e Furecchio e in Firenze e a Villamagna, olio barili 38 a Girone e Villamagna, barili 40 vino in Firenze, barili 120 tra biancho e vermiglio d o cument 2 A Statute of the Commune of Gangalandi About Patronage Rights at Santa Maria a Lecceto ASF, C. Strozzi. Ser. V, 1185, folder entitled “Varie Notizie e ricordi spettanti alla chiesa di S Maria di Lecceto” Unnumbered insert:“Copia di una donagione di staiora 25 di terra fatta il comune di gangalandi a frate Domenico Guerrucci a Lliceto” In dei nomine amen anno domino nostri jesu cristi ab eius salvestria incarnatione millesimo quadrigentesimo octuagesimo die vero vigesimo mensis aprilis E prudenti huomini cioe: Matteo di Gaccio di Marcho Matteo di Pagnio Balducci Fabbiano di Francesco Cambini

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 221

unpublished d o cuments

221

Simone di Guido di Lorenzo tutti del comune di Gangalandi contado di Firenze absente domino Baldo di Marcho Dicone, lor conpagnio eletto e absunti dal venerando ufici de’ dodici del comune di gangalandi affare certi capitoli e conventioni sopra il romito di santa Maria del licceto del detto comune e insieme e dacordo statuirono e ordinorono i sopradetti statutarii e ordinatori. In primo danno e consegniano a detto romitoro staiora venticinque in circa achorda come sara terminata per sopra detti statutarii. E veramente donano a frate Domenico Guerrucci da Ffirenze dell’ordine di frati predicatori di Sancto Domenico per edificare uno romitoro e chiesa permettendo detto frate Domenico per se e per suoi successori dare ongni anno all’ufficio de’ dodici del comune di Gangalandi una libra di candele di cera nuova del mese d’agosto incomincando nel presente anno per ricognitione del benifitio di detto comune recevuto. E cosi danno il detto luogo a detto frate Domenico e a frati che lui vorra in sua compagnia alloro vita e dipoi venendo la morte di detto frate Domenico e de’ detti frati che fussino in detto luogo quando detto frate Domenico morissi cioe sua compagnia che allora il reverendo uficio de’dodici del comune di Gangalandi habbi approvedere di nuovi frati habitatori di quello luogo di quella medesima religione e ordine con quello medesimo incarico. Intendendosi sempre non vi si possa mettere prete secolare. E per che detto luogo sia augumentato e riguardato qualunche persone che contro a quello facesse o noiasse o impedisse la muraglia di detto romitorio e chiesa sia privato di detta provisione che non si possa trovare amettere nuovi frati in detto luogo. E tutte le sopra dette cose furono fatte per sopradetto statutarii e ordinatori nel comune di Gangalandi sotto gli anni del nostro signiore Giesucristo dalla sua salvestria incarnatione mille quattrocento ottanta inditione tredecima e a dì venti del mese d’aprile presente detto frate Domenico di Piero Guerrucci e consentiente e aprovante e ratificante a tutte le soprascritte cose. E nella presentia di Piero d’Antonio Gini e Nerico di Nanni Compari ambo del comune di Gangalandi contado di Firenze testimoni alle soprascritte cose avuti chiamati e pregati e piu altri testimoni. d o cument 3 Contract Between the Lenzi Family and the Hospital of the Innocenti About the Decoration of Their Chapel in the Church aif, cl. x, no. 2 (“Contratti rogati di Ser Masetto di Ser Andrea da Campi e di Ser Niccolò da Romena dall’anno 1476 al 1502”), fol. 132v (transcribed in modern script, fols. 464r–65r) “Licentia cappelle negli innocenti data da Lenzi allo spedale di poterla rimnovere della sua forma e a ridarla alla similitudine del altra al rincontro”

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

222

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 222

appendix

Item postea dictis anno [1490]. Indictione et die xxvi mensis novembris. Actum florentie in Populo S. Marie supra porta, et presentibus testibus Johanne Andree de Carnesecchis et Arrigo Pieri Domicelli. Cum certum esse dicitur qualiter Laurentius, et Pierus fratres, et filii olim Ampheronis de Lenzis cives Florentine essent et sunt legiptimi et veri patroni cappelle Sancte Chatherine site in ecclesia Sancte Marie de Innocentibus civitatis florentie, et Dominus Franciscus hospitalarius et operarii dicti hospitalis desiderent dictum situm cappelle rimovere [sic for “rinovere”] in alia forma ut ecclesia remaneat magis espedita, et volentes dicti de Lenzis dicti petitioni favere libenter, et spontes dederunt et concesserunt plenam authoritatem, et baliam dictis operariis, et hospitalario, cum salvis, et condictionibus infrascriptus quatenus possint dictam cappellam mutare, videlicet, in alia forma ad omnes expensas dicti hospitalis et reaptare et redificare illam fulcitam, et competentem adeo ut videatur potius meliorata, qua deteriorata stantibus firmis semper eorum patronatu dominio et funeralibus iuribus, quae, et quos dicti de Lenzis semper apud se retinverunt, et esse voluerunt modo et forma, et prout, et sicut erant, et ad presens sunt et ante dictam reaptationem, et redificationem fiendam ut supra, adeo quod nullo modo non intelligantur in aliquo eis pregiudicare, et talem cappellam de novo construendam ut supra sit in eo modo, et forma, et statu prout videbitur dictis operariis, et hospitalario, in hoc aggravando conscientias cuius libent eorum, et promiserunt dicto Domino priori presentibus contra ea que fierunt per eos, non contrafacere, vel venire sub hypotheca dictorum bonorum. Poems Written About the Portrait of Piero del Pugliese by Filippino Lippi 1. alessandro braccesi In Picturam Vix sibi tam similis Petrus est Puglisius ipsi, Quam similis vero est picta tabella Petro, Expressit mira quem nobilis arte Philippus Sic ut iure queas dicere Apellis opus. Atque simul sese tabula sic pinxit eadem, Protinus a picto distet ut ille nihil, Ut pictos siquis cum veris conferat, horum. Pictus uter fuerit, non bene nosse queat.

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 223

p oems abou t the p ortriat of piero del pugliese

223

In Eundem Tam veris similes sibi Philippus Et Petro simul aurea tabella Expressit facies manu perita Quam vultus resident utrique veri: Ut pictis nisi vox et aura desit, Nec vivi careant nisi tabella. Hoc si fiet, erunt pares utrique. From Alessandro Braccesi, Carmina, ed. A. Perosa (Florence: Bibliopolis, 1944), 122. 2. ugolino verino Laus eiusdem pictoris (after a poem in praise of Filippino’s Cenacolo) Siquis picta Petri Puliensis viderit ora Hic Petrus est! et non dicet imago Petri est! Artifici cessit natura! ut verior ars sit! Spirantem superat picta tabella virum. From H. Brockhaus, ed., “Lob der Florentiner Kunstwelt: Gedicht das Ugolino Verini,” in Festschrift zu Ehren des Kunsthistorischen Institut von Florenz (Leipzig: A. G. Liebeskind, 1897), iv.

12.Burke.195-224.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:25 AM

Page 224

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 225

notes

Introduction 1. The original injunction by G. M. Young was to “go on reading till you can hear people talking.” I first came across it in Kent and Kent, Neighbours and Neighbourhood, 1. 2. Ginzburg, The Cheese and The Worms was first published as Il formaggio e i vermi in 1976 and has become a classic study of microhistory and mentalité. 3. There were, of course, important exceptions to this, most importantly the work of Richard Goldthwaite, for whom, see below. 4. See F. W. Kent, Household and Lineage, 258–59, and idem, “Più superba de quella di Lorenzo,” Renaissance Quarterly (1977). 5. See, for a discussion of this, P. Burke, The European Renaissance, 1–17. 6. Ciappelli and Rubin, Art, Memory, and Family. 7. Richard Goldthwaite was making this point in 1987: see “The Empire of Things” in Kent and Simons, Patronage, Art and Society, 154–75, and his 1993 book Wealth and the Demand for Art. This approach has recently become more popular. See, for example, Jardine, Worldly Goods. Evelyn Welch manages the Material Renaissance project, an umbrella for many scholars working on Italy in this field. The website is www.sussex.ac.uk/Units/ arthist/matren/. Her Shopping in the Renaissance is forthcoming from Yale University Press. 8. Syson and Thornton, Objects of Virtue, passim, but esp. 12–36. 9. D. Kent, Cosimo de’ Medici, 39–128. 10. See Weissman,“Taking Patronage Seriously,” in Kent and Simons, Patronage, Art and Society, 25–26, for the definition of Mediterranean patronage relationships that I use here. For a broader anthropological definition, see Eisenstadt and Roniger, Patrons, Clients, and Friends, 48–50.

11. Mateer, Courts, Patrons, and Poets, ix, taking his lead from Hollingsworth, Patronage in Renaissance Italy, 1–2. 12. D. Wilkins, preface to the fourth edition of Hartt, History of Italian Renaissance Art, 6. See also Marchand and Wright, “The Patron in the Picture,” in With and Without the Medici, 11. 13. See Ianziti, “Patronage and the Production of History,” in Kent and Simons, Patronage, Art and Society. For reviews of this book that confirm the importance of this separation, see Chambers in Journal of Ecclesiastical History (1989): 115, and Baxandall, English Historical Review (1990): 455. 14. See, for example, Spencer, Andrea del Castagno, and Wallace,“Michelangelo in and out of Florence,” in Hager, Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raphael, 54–88. 15. I discuss the problems with these terms further in Chapter 5. See also D. Kent, Cosimo de’ Medici, 8 and n. 64. 16. Translated as The World of the Florentine Renaissance Artist. See, in particular, 277–78. 17. Gombrich, Norm and Form, 35. 18. Lopez, “Dal mecenatismo del Medioevo,” Quaderni Medievali (1992): 125. 19. See Warburg,“The Art of Portraiture,” in his The Renewal of Pagan Antiquity, 187 (first published as Bildniskunst und florentinisches Bürgertum). 20. For one art historian’s explanations of the need to “re-create” an artwork to understand it, see Panofsky,“The History of Art,” esp. 17–19. 21. The bibliography is vast. See, for work on Medici patronage in general: Ames-Lewis, The Early Medici and Their Artists, and Gombrich,“The Early Medici,” in his Norm and Form, 35–57; for Cosimo, the fullest study is now D. Kent, Cosimo de’ Medici, but see also Ames-Lewis, Cosimo de’ Medici, Jenkins, “Cosimo de’ Medici’s Patronage of Architecture,” JWCI (1970), and Rubinstein, “Lay Patronage,” in Verdon and Henderson, Christianity

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

226

Page 226

notes to pages 6–11

and the Renaissance; and for Piero, Beyer and Boucher, Piero de’ Medici il Gottoso, and Gnocchi,“Le preferenze artistiche,” Artibus et historiae (1988). The most extensive survey of Lorenzo’s patronage is now F. W. Kent, Lorenzo de’ Medici; my thanks to the author for allowing me to read this manuscript before its publication. See also the essays in Garfagnini, Lorenzo de’ Medici, idem, Lorenzo il Magnifico e il suo mondo; and Mallett and Mann, Lorenzo the Magnificent. For Filippo Strozzi and the family in general, see Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, and Craven, “Aspects of Patronage”; for Giovanni Rucellai, see Giovanni Rucellai ed il suo Zibaldone, vol. 2. 22. See Blume, “Giovanni de’ Bardi,” Jahrbuch der Berliner Museen (1995), and Nelson, “The Later Works of Filippino Lippi.” 23. Gombrich, Norm and Form, 42. 24. Filarete, Treatise on Architecture, 1:15–16. Discussed in Kemp, “From mimesis to fantasia,” Viator (1977): 358–61. There is now a study of female art patrons that also takes this basic approach. See King, Renaissance Women Patrons. 25. O’Malley, “The Business of Art.” Honelore Glasser’s dissertation, “Artists’ Contracts of the Early Renaissance,” remains a key contribution to this field. 26. Thomas, The Painter’s Practice, and Callman, Apollonio di Giovanni. 27. See, for example, Hope, “Altarpieces and the Requirements of Patrons,” in Verdon and Henderson, Christianity and the Renaissance. 28. Gilbert, “What Did the Renaissance Patron Buy?” Renaissance Quarterly (1998): 446. 29. Caglioti, Donatello e i Medici, 265–81. D. Kent, Cosimo de’ Medici, discusses the new documents, yet goes on to treat the Uccello paintings as Cosimo de’ Medici’s commissions. 30. Warburg’s work has enjoyed a recent revival in interest, in part because it seems to echo the concerns of recent art historiography. See also Michael Baxandall’s now classic Painting and Experience, and his discussion of the difficulties in aligning the concepts of “art” and “society” expressed in “Art, Society and the Bouguer Principle,” Representations (1985).

31. Baxandall, “The Language of Art History,” New Literary History (1978). The ideas expressed in this article are dealt with more fully in his Patterns of Intention. 32. See Trexler, Public Life, for the most extensive discussion of Renaissance Florence as a locus of civic theater. 33. For a discussion of these issues, see the editors’ introduction in Bryson, Holly, and Moxey, Visual Culture, xv–xvii. 34. Foucault, Power/Knowledge, 119. 35. Chartier, “Popular Appropriations,” in his Forms and Meanings, esp. 90–97, provides a useful investigation of the tensions between the rhetoric of ideal behavior and the way this rhetoric was understood and manipulated in the way people actually behaved. 36. For a discussion of the link between “cultural capital” and social difference albeit in a very different milieu, see Bourdieu, Distinction, 2–7. 37. Cooper,“Mecenatismo or Clientelismo,” in D. G. and R. L. Wilkins, The Search for a Patron, 23. 38. F. W. Kent’s work on Lorenzo reveals the extent of his interests in architecture and sculpture; see his forthcoming Lorenzo de’ Medici. By contrast, Patricia Rubin has shown that Vasari had his own reasons for stressing the importance of being a good patron. See Rubin, Giorgio Vasari, 200–202. 39. Marchand and Wright’s introduction to their With and Without the Medici (1–18) contains a useful summary of the literature on Florentine patronage studies and addresses the emphasis on the Medici family, and F. W. Kent, in Lorenzo de’ Medici, considers the impact of Medici historiography on our understanding of the Renaissance in general (chap. 1). 40. The Nasi family were briefly considered by Alison Luchs in her thesis, “Cestello,” and by Alessandro Cecchi in his investigation of the patrons of Raphael (in his contribution to the exhibition catalogue Raffaello a Firenze, 41). The Del Pugliese are mentioned in the monographs of the painters they were associated with, though the major consideration of the family itself is Horne, “The Last Communion of St. Jerome,” Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (1915), with useful archival additions in Cecchi, “Una predella e altri

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 227

notes to pages 12–20

contributi,” Gli Uffizi, Studi e ricerche (1988): 59–60, and Carl,“Das Inventar,” MKIF (1987). 41. For a recent survey of the literature on Renaissance women and gender, see Welch,“Engendering Italian Renaissance Art,” Papers of the British School at Rome (2000). For art patronage in particular, see the special edition of Renaissance Studies edited by Jaynie Anderson (no. 10, 1996); King, Renaissance Women Patrons; Reiss and Wilkins, Beyond Isabella. 42. Indeed, in a recent article, Roger Crum has made a case for reevaluating Renaissance patronage as a whole along gender lines. See his “Controlling Women,” in Reiss and Wilkins, Beyond Isabella. 43. For an examination of confraternities as art patrons, see contributions to Eisenbichler, Crossing the Boundaries, and Wisch and Cole Ahl, Confraternities and the Visual Arts. 44. The History of Man series is extremely problematic as the evidence is very scarce. For its original iconographic interpretation, see Panofsky,“The Early History of Man,” in his Studies in Iconology, and for a critique of this, Fermor, Piero di Cosimo, 81. For Fra Bartolommeo, Fischer, Fra Bartolommeo, 170–79. 45. See particularly the work of Amanda Lillie, including “Florentine Villas,” “The Patronage of Villa Chapels,” in Marchand and Wright, With and Without the Medici, and “Memory of Place,” in Ciappelli and Rubin, Art, Memory, and Family.

Chapter 1 1. Preyer, “Florentine Palaces,” in Ciappelli and Rubin, Art, Memory, and Family, 176–94. 2. Quoted in F. W. Kent, “La famiglia patrizia,” in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, 70. 3. The locus classicus of these opinions are in Goldthwaite, Private Wealth, and F. W. Kent, Household and Lineage. For a summary of these debates, see Connell, “Libri di famiglia,” Italian Culture (1990). 4. See F. W. Kent,“La famiglia patrizia,” in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, 71–74. 5. See particularly Kuehn, Law, Family and Women, 129–42, and Bizzocchi, “La dissoluzione,” ASI (1982).

227

6. For a discussion of this, see Klapisch-Zuber, “Family Trees,” in Maynes et al., Gender, Kinship, Power, esp. 101–5. 7. For a contemporary’s account of this status differentiation, see Piero Guicciardini’s comments published in Rubinstein, The Government of Florence, 368–69, and recently discussed by Brown, “Lorenzo de’ Medici’s New Men,” Renaissance Studies (2002): 115–17. 8. See, for example, Benedetto Dei’s consideration of the Florentine lineages that would have been included in a Venetian-style Great Council in La Cronica, 144–45, and Ugolino Verino’s list of the noble families of Florence in De Illustratione Urbis Florentiae, book 3. 9. See, for example, Molho, Marriage Alliance, esp. chap. 5; D. Kent, “The Florentine ‘Reggimento,’” Renaissance Quarterly (1975), and Pesman Cooper, “The Florentine Ruling Group,” Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History (1985). 10. ASF, Carte Dei, 400 (Nasi), fols. 57r–v; BNF, Passerini (Nasi), unfoliated. 11. See for this Brucker, Renaissance Florence, 94–95. 12. As already noted in the introduction, Jacopo di Lutozzo was a member of the Dodici Buonuomini three years previously, and a gonfaloniere for Scala, Santo Spirito, in 1374. For these dates, see ASF, Raccolta Sebregondi, 3755a (Nasi), unfoliated. For a comparative list of all the Florentine families on the Great Council, and the first time a family member appeared on the priorate, see Pesman Cooper, “The Florentine Ruling Group,” 131–48. Gene Brucker suggests that those families entering the Tre Maggiori after 1343 would be considered as “gente nuova” (see Florentine Politics and Society, 40–41). 13. As reported in his will, ASF, NA 2195, folder 12, no. 10 (unfoliated). For the awarding of privileges to Medici friends on this balìa, see D. Kent, The Rise of the Medici, 36–37. 14. For a list of appointments, see ASF, Raccolta Sebregondi, 3755a (Nasi), unfoliated, and for Nasi appearance on Medicean balìe, see Rubinstein, The Government of Florence, 244–311. 15. Tognetti, Il Banco Cambini, 268. 16. Ibid., 245, 299–300.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

228

Page 228

notes to pages 20–25

17. ASF, NA 2881 (Ser Bartolommeo Bindi 1495–1507), fols. 390v–91v. This may well be connected with Alessandro Nasi’s right to bear the French lilies on his coat of arms, which must have been granted about the same time; see below. 18. Raccolta Sebregondi 3755a. 19. Ibid., and Rubinstein, The Government of Florence, 199–202. 20. The circumstances of Piero’s sudden death are discussed by his notary at the court of Naples in a letter to the Otto di Pratica of 23 November 1491. See ASF, Sig. Leg. 25, fols. 58r–v. 21. See ibid., 345 and 353, for the balìe, and 359 and 362, for the Council of Seventy in 1480 and 1489; F. W. Kent, “Lorenzo . . . ‘Amico degli Uomini da Bene,’” in Garfagnini, Lorenzo il Magnifico e il suo mondo, 50, for the prominence of Piero di Lutozzo. Most of the letters come from Piero’s time as ambassador, or vicario, outside Florence. See esp. ASF, Sig. Leg. 26, and C. Strozzi, Ser. i, 3, nos. 104 and 105. 22. The description of Bartolommea Nasi is taken from Guicciardini, History of Florence, 174. Her approximate age (10) was given in the 1469 catasto (tax records); see ASF, Catasto 905, fol. 171r. 23. De Roover, The Rise and Decline, 257–60. 24. ASF, Raccolta Sebregondi 3755a (Nasi), unfoliated. 25. BNF, Magl., Cl. xxvi, 151 (“Storia della famiglia de Nasi scritta da fr. Gabriello Nasi osservante, 1580”), fol. 355. 26. The latter is now lost, but the painting of the Florentine entry is now in the Uffizi. See for this, Cecchi,“L’ingresso di Carlo VIII,” Paragone (1986). 27. BNF, Magl., Cl. xxvi, 151, fols. 329, 336–37. A family tree and brief history drawn up by Fra Gabriello in preparation for this manuscript can also be found among the loose papers of ASF, Carte Dei, 400 (Nasi). 28. BNF, Magl., Cl. xxvi, 151, fol. 340. 29. Ibid., fol. 365: “Guido di [ ] ebbe un figliolo che ebbe nome Giunta. Giunta di Guido, uno che ebbe nome Luti; Luti di Giunta ebbe Naso e Simone: Naso di Luti fece Lutozzo e Nicolo che si fece frate di S. Agostino. Di Simone di Luto vi masono 4 figliuoli, che ne son vivi Jacopo Francesco e Agostino di Simone di Luti rimasono

4 maschi Sandro, Filippo, Giunta, Simone: che non c’e persona. Siche di questa Famiglia non c’e oggi altri che Jacopo, Francesco e Agostino di Lutozzo di Naso, di Luti di Giunta di Guido.” For the date of this ricordanze, see fol. 350. The Conti Guidi did, in fact, live in Tuscany from the tenth century and owned twelve castles in the area of Casentino. See Pandolfi, Quota, 18–19. 30. BNF, Magl., Cl. xxvi, 151, fols. 381–83. 31. For Lutozzo di Jacopo’s marriage to Ginevra, see ASF, NA 2195 (Ser Giovanni Beltramini, 1405–56), folder 12, no. 10, unfoliated. 32. See Mallett, The Florentine Galleys, 41–52, for an overview of how the galley system worked, and 78, 80, 98, 124, 161–75, for the Nasi’s involvement in the trade. 33. Quoted in Santini, Firenze e suoi Oratori, 223: “nè comodo alcuno in suo profitto o acconcio, o di sua amici o parenti.” 34. Trexler, Public Life, 291; Mallett, “Diplomacy and War,” in Holmes, Art and Politics, 153–54, discusses the types of ambassadors chosen in the latter part of the century. See also Alison Brown’s analysis of changing fifteenth-century attitudes to clothing in her “Lorenzo de’ Medici’s New Men,” Renaissance Studies (2002): 121–30. 35. Trexler, Public Life, 292–97. 36. ASF, Sig. Leg. 25, fol. 21v: “di questa mia venuta pare si sia rellegrata tucta questa citta, che allo ismontare mio il molo era caricho di gente, et le vie per dove mi condixe a casa erono tucte calcate di gente.” 37. See Trexler, Public Life, 291–94, and for ambassadors’ clothes, Bridgeman, “Aspects of Dress and Ceremony,” 181–93. For a discussion of the complexities of diplomatic language, see Bullard, “Lorenzo and Patterns of Diplomatic Discourse,” in Mallett and Mann, Lorenzo the Magnificent. 38. Villani, Cronica, 1:372–73. 39. Hill, “Notes on Italian Medals xi,” Burlington Magazine (1911): 143, and idem, “Notes on Italian Medals XII,” Burlington Magazine (1911–12): 207. 40. This medal is catalogued in Pollard, Italian Renaissance Medals, 1:514, no. 297. 41. Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars, 25. 42. Parenti, Storia Fiorentina, 1:200.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 229

notes to pages 25–30

43. Hill,“Notes on Italian Medals XI,” Burlington Magazine (1911): 143. 44. See Weinstein, Savonarola and Florence, 36–37, for a discussion of the legendary foundation of the city. For an example of the use of this Florentine legend in polemic, see Francesco Altoviti, Defensione contro all’archa, unpaginated:“sono nati da quelli fortissimi cavalieri Romani: che Silla Catalina et Cesare condusse a pie di Fiesole in questo fortissimo luogo.” 45. For Florence’s mythical links with Charlemagne, see Weinstein, Savonarola and Florence, 38–40. 46. ASF, CRS 122, 75, fol. 2r. See also ASF, Ceremelli Papiani 3887 (Del Pugliese) for a mention of this man in 1251. 47. No longer extant, this is recorded in ASF, CRS 113, 13 (“Libro de’ Padronati delle Cappelle e Sepolture della Chiesa della Beatissima Vergine Maria del Carmine di Firenze”). 48. See ASF, Raccolta Sebregondi, 4358 (Del Pugliese), unfoliated, and Eckstein, The District of the Green Dragon, 193–94. 49. Cambi, Istorie, in de San Luigi, Delizie, 21:387 (September 1463). 50. Eckstein, The District of the Green Dragon, 194, 233–34. 51. ASF, Raccolta Sebregondi 4358, Del Pugliese. 52. Eckstein, The District of the Green Dragon, 192. 53. I am grateful to Bill Kent for discussing this issue with me: he has noted no significant sustained contact between the Del Pugliese and the Medici during his researches on Lorenzo. The 1466 balìa is significant in including several people who were not renowned Medici supporters, and even some opponents of Piero di Cosimo. See Rubinstein, The Government of Florence, 167–68. 54. ASF, Catasto 25, fol. 23r. 55. Molho, Marriage Alliance, 402–3. 56. ASF, Catasto 992, fol. 111r. See Goldthwaite, The Building of Renaissance Florence, 317–42, for a discussion of the earnings of Florentines. 57. They are not mentioned in Benedetto Dei’s list of Florentine merchants abroad: see his Memorie Notate (Warburg Institute), 115–28.

229

58. See Goldthwaite, “The Economic Value,” in Banks, Palaces and Entrepreneurs, 2–3; for the tax declarations, ASF, Catasto 910, fols. 341r–42r, and Catasto 1001, fols. 212r–v. 59. The main branch of the Del Pugliese family bought five “botteghe di farsettaio” and “di lana” between 1460 and 1475 in Orsanmichele and San Martino, two from members of the cadet branch of the family. See ASF, Catasto 910, fol. 341r, and Catasto 1001, fol. 212r. 60. Dei, La Cronica, 85. 61. For the 1480 declaration, see ASF, Catasto 999, fol. 259r; for 1495, Dec. Rep. 8, fols. 148r–v. 62. ASF, NA 13982 (Ser Michele di Guaspari, 1527–30), fols. 123r–26v. 63. For rent prices, see Goldthwaite, The Building of Renaissance Florence, 343. 64. The contract of transfer for this chapel is partially transcribed by Carl, “Das Inventar,” MKIF (1987): 380. 65. This chapel was almost completely destroyed in the fire in the church in 1771. For the church’s former appearance and furnishings, see Procacci, “L’incendio,” Rivista d’Arte (1932). 66. That this policy worked is suggested by the fact that until relatively recently, it was generally assumed that Starnina had been commissioned by the Del Pugliese family. Creighton Gilbert was the first to cast doubt on this hypothesis in “The Patron of Starnina’s Frescoes,” in Studies in Late Medieval and Renaissance Painting in Honour of Millard Meiss. Given Piero’s interest in the visual arts, the decision to retain the Starnina frescos could also have been an aesthetic one. 67. For Piero’s matriculation in the Arte della Lana and other biographical information, see Cecchi,“Una predella e altri contributi,” Gli Uffizi. Studi e ricerche (1988). For the silk guild, ASF, mss 543, “Matricole della Seta 1225–1532,” unfoliated. 68. These details are mentioned by Alessandro Cecchi in his brief biography of Piero in “Una predella e altri contributi,” Gli Uffizi. Studi e ricerche (1988). 69. Cambi, Istorie, in de San Luigi, Delizie, 21:417. 70. Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana, Pluteus xxxix, 17, fol. 168v, for Piero del Pugliese’s writing the manuscript himself. Copying texts, especially

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

230

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 230

notes to pages 30–36

portions of texts into zibaldoni, or commonplace books, was not an unusual practice; see D. Kent, Cosimo de’ Medici, 69–75. However, Piero’s copy is so carefully and skillfully executed that he has been mistaken for a monastic scribe. See De la Mare, “New Research,” in Garzelli, Minatura Fiorentina, 1:440. 71. These were found in the Badia archive by Levi d’Ancona, Minatura e Miniatori, 95. 72. Klapisch-Zuber, Women, Family, and Ritual, 283–309. 73. Barocchi, Il Giardino di San Marco, 98. 74. See for a very useful discussion of Florentine fatherhood, including indications of further literature, Kuehn, Emancipation in Late Medieval Florence, 55–71. 75. Translated in Trexler, Dependence in Context, 184. For the original of this passage, see Morelli, Ricordi, 278. 76. G. Johnson,“Family Values,” in Ciappelli and Rubin, Art, Memory, and Family, 221–29. 77. Filippo’s will giving guardianship of his son to Piero can be found in ASF, NA 14416 (Ser Francesco di Piero Moletti, 1460–69), fols. 528v–29v. 78. First noted in Horne,“The Last Communion of St. Jerome,” Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (1915): 73. 79. Villari, La Storia di Girolamo Savonarola, 2:clxxi, cvi, clxxxiii, ccxxii, cclxxiv, and ccxlvii–viii. The questions asked during his examination of 1498 are published in ibid., ccliii. Carl publishes the answers in “Das Inventar,” MKIF (1985): 390. 80. He acted as a guarantor of the contract for the Fraternity of the Purification of the Virgin Mary and of San Zanobi in 1505, and as a Monte di Pietà official from 1509 to 1512. See Polizzotto, in The Elect Nation, 193 and 234–35. 81. See Cambi, Istorie, in de San Luigi, Delizie, 23:28, for an account of his insult (“il Magnifico Merda”), an opinion probably shared by many other Florentines at this time, and ASF, Otto di Guardia 157 (“Partiti e Deliberationi”), fols. 3r, 24v–25r. 82. There are two later descriptions of the contents of the palace, one from the 1590s in Bocchi and Cinelli, Le Bellezze, 172, and the other a 1565 inventory of the goods of the palace’s later purchasers, the

Botti family, in ASF, Libri di Commercio e di Famiglia 228, fols. 2r–7r. 83. I discuss this chapel at greater length in Chapter 7. 84. Casali, “Il gonfalone Drago Verde,” in Franchetti Pardo, Drago Verde, 38.

Chapter 2 1. For individual palaces, see, for example, Preyer, Il Palazzo Corsi-Horne; eadem,“The Rucellai Palace,” in Giovanni Rucellai ed il suo Zibaldone, vol. 2, and essays in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi. Metà millenio. For the Medici Palace: F. W. Kent, “Più superba de quella di Lorenzo,” Renaissance Quarterly (1977), Hatfield, “Some Unknown Descriptions of the Medici Palace,” Art Bulletin (1970), and essays in Cherubini and Fanelli, Il Palazzo Mediceo. For more general analyses, Goldthwaite, The Building of Renaissance Florence, F. W. Kent, “Palaces, Politics and Society,” I Tatti Studies (1987), Preyer,“Planning for Visitors,” Renaissance Studies (1998), and D. Kent, Cosimo de’ Medici, 215–304. 2. Goldthwaite,“The Economic Value,” in Banks, Palaces and Entrepreneurs, 1–4. 3. See Syson and Thornton, Objects of Virtue, 23–29, Shepherd, “Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti,” 179–217, Jenkins, “Cosimo de’ Medici’s Patronage of Architecture,” JWCI (1970), Rubin, “Magnificence and the Medici,” in Ames-Lewis, The Early Medici, and now eadem, Images and Identity, chap. 1. 4. Perhaps the most forceful proponent of this view is Martines, Power and Imagination, 191–217 and esp. 214–15. See also Goldthwaite, “The Florentine Palace,” in American Historical Review (1972): 990–91. For a questioning of these views, see Burroughs, “Florentine Palaces,” Art History (1983): 361–62. 5. Baron,“Franciscan Poverty and Civic Wealth,” Speculum (1938). 6. See esp. Rosenwein and Little,“Social Meaning,” Past and Present (1974), Lesnick, “Dominican Preaching,” Memorie Domenicane (1977–78), and Wilson, Music and Merchants, 16–24. 7. On the composition and poor relief of confraternities, see Weissman, Ritual Brotherhood, and Henderson, Piety and Charity, esp. 354–410.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 231

notes to pages 36–40

231

8. Becker, “Aspects of Lay Piety,” in Trinkhaus and Oberman, The Pursuit of Holiness, 189.

l’uso de’ pari a llui che insieme liberalmente vivono nella propria città.”

9. For foreigners coming to see Florentine festivals, and the supposed jealousy with which they witnessed the spectacle, see Dei, La Cronica, 92–93, Piero Cennini’s description of the festival of San Giovanni in Mancini, “Il bel S. Giovanni,” Rivista d’Arte (1909): 220–27, and Newbigin, Feste d’Oltrarno, 1:3–7 and 60–63, for the descriptions of Abraham of Souzdal of the Annunciation and Ascension sacre rappresentazioni.

20. Dei, La Cronica, 91–92: “una via da Mariotto Lippi a la piaza di Santo Spirito . . . una via d’Antonio Fantoni a Matio Clari a le Chonvertite in Ghusciana . . . una via dal ponte a Santa Trinita a Nanni Bello a’ Paghoni a Ghuic[i]ardini.”

10. Masi, Ricordanze, 16. 11. Landucci, A Florentine Diary, 43–44, 52, and 65. 12. Newbigin, Feste d’Oltrarno, 1:67–79 and 2:530–39. 13. Quoted in Mancini, “Il bel S. Giovanni,” Rivista d’Arte (1909): 223: “Primoque die fit ostentatio opum frequentioribus urbis locis. Namque opifices et tabernarii fere omnes qui talibus in locis agunt si quid pretiosum habent, eo die depromunt.” Translated and discussed in Trexler, Public Life, 247–49. 14. Altoviti, Defensione contro all’archa, unpaginated: “con li sacrificii, con livoti et con le solenni allegreze et adornamenti di sua popolo idio iocundissimo diventa placabile amico et benefactore alle gran citta.” Cf. Palmieri, Vita Civile, 195. 15. Altoviti, Defensione contro all’archa, “Et fra Girolamo, quando ando imparadiso dice pur che vi trovo Fiori, uccelletti, et gioie, et perle, et veste di porpora et di seta dogni colore, et che vera suoni balli, et canti, e hora per carita civvole reducere alla primitiva poverta, et non vuole che noi quaggiu in terra balliamo ne soniamo ne cantiamo con la pudicitia castamente a similitudine deglangeli del cielo.” 16. Ugolino Verino’s comments on painters are most easily found in Gilbert, Italian Art, 192–93. Dei, La Cronica, 79, and Memorie Notate, publ. Romby, Descrizioni e Rappresentazioni, 70–73. 17. Vespasiano da Bisticci, Le Vite, 2:193:“ne’ tempi sua questa arte degli scultori alquanto venne che gli erano poco adoperati”; translation from Memoirs, 224. 18. For a discussion of this, see Burke,“Form and Power,” chap. 8. 19. Palmieri, Vita Civile, 196:“in ogni parte si conformi all’aprovato costume degli altri, servando

21. Palmieri, Vita Civile, 194–95. 22. As noted by Rubin, “Magnificence and the Medici,” in Ames-Lewis, The Early Medici, 37. 23. See particularly on this F. W. Kent, “Palaces, Politics and Society,” I Tatti Studies (1987): 44–49. 24. Caggese, Statuti, 2:101. Discussed in Murphy, “Piazza Santa Trinita,” chap. 1. 25. Elam, “Piazza Strozzi,” I Tatti Studies (1985): 132. 26. Eadem, “Lorenzo de’ Medici,” Art History (1978): esp. 43–51, and her “Lorenzo’s Architectural and Urban Policies,” in Garfagnini, ed., Lorenzo il Magnifico e il suo mondo. 27. Goldthwaite, The Building of Renaissance Florence, 301–50, for the financial impact of palace building. 28. First quoted in F. W. Kent,“The Making of a Renaissance Patron,” in Giovanni Rucellai, 2:14:“Due cose principali sono quelle che gl’uomini fanno in questo mondo: La prima lo ‘ngienerare: La seconda l’edifichare.” 29. See, for example, F. W. Kent’s comments in “Palaces, Politics and Society,” I Tatti Studies (1987): 46–47. 30. For the financial problems palace building could cause, see Goldthwaite, “The Economic Value,” in Banks, Palaces and Entrepreneurs, 1–4. 31. ASF, Carte Dei 400 (Nasi), fols. 57r–v. This information is repeated by Passerini (BNF, Passerini, Nasi). 32. Crollalanza, Dizionario storico-blasonico, 2:497–98; the Nasi inheritance went through marriage to Antonfrancesco di Piero Alamanni. 33. ASF, Catasto 15, fol. 741r, and Catasto 16, fol. 89r. All these properties were destroyed when the Costa Magnoli collapsed in 1547. 34. ASF, NA 2195, fil. 12, no. 10. This was normal practice. See Klapsich-Zuber, Women, Family, and Ritual, 121–23.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

232

Page 232

notes to pages 40–50

35. ASF, NA 2195, fil. 12, no. 10, and Catasto 905, fol. 615r. 36. See Thiem and Thiem, Toskanische FassadenDekoration, 72–73. 37. ASF, Catasto 992, fol. 230v. 38. Raffaello Nasi wrote an account of this disastrous day, which can be found in ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser. i, cccxxv, fols. 1r–4v. 39. Thiem and Thiem, Toskanische Fassaden Dekoration, 72. 40. For the details about this house, see Francesco’s tax declaration in ASF, Catasto 905, 302r, and that of the heirs of Ridolfo Bardi in ibid., 691r. 41. Ginori Lisci, I Palazzi di Firenze, 2:684. 42. ASF, Catasto 905, fols. 169r, 171r, and 302r. 43. Ibid., fol. 169r: “Tutte le dette possessioni sono nelle mani de nostri sindachi e creditori e lloro inpigliarno le rendite e nulla habiamo noi ne nulla possa diamo e chosi ogni nostro bene posseggono.” I am very grateful to Sergio Tognetti for discussing the financial advantages for the purchaser of properties in these circumstances. 44. He married Costanza di Ruberto Martelli in 1468. See BNF, Passerini (Nasi). 45. Vasari mentions the project; see VasariBettarini/Barocchi, 4:611, as does Ginori Lisci, in I Palazzi di Firenze, 2:675. 46. Cambi, Istorie, in de San Luigi, Delizie, 3:110–11. 47. Ginori Lisci, I Palazzi di Firenze, 2:684. 48. Preyer, “Florentine Palaces,” in Ciappelli and Rubin, Art, Memory, and Family, 176–94. 49. ASF, Catasto 905, fols. 148r and 660r. 50. For a discussion of the importance of retaining ties to an ancestral neighborhood, see Preyer, “Florentine Palaces,” in Ciappelli and Rubin, Art, Memory, and Family. 51. As discussed in Murphy, “Piazza Santa Trinita,” chap. 1. 52. Discussed in F. W. Kent, Household and Lineage, 195–97. 53. ASF, Catasto 24, fol. 781v, and Catasto 25, fol. 22r. 54. ASF, Catasto 910, fol. 341r.

55. Many thanks to Harriet McNeal, who kindly supplied the information regarding the 1452 building work from her research into Maso di Bartolommeo’s account books. For the 1450 purchase, ASF, Catasto 910, fols. 342r and 341v. 56. See NA 14418 (Ser Francesco di Piero Moletti, 1470–77), fols. 316v–17r. 57. ASF, Catasto 1001, fol. 212r. 58. See the undated census of c. 1513–27 in BNF, Nuovi Acquisti 987 (“Descrizi dei quatri Quartieri”), unfoliated. 59. Vasari-Bettarini/Barocchi, 4:117. There is now no trace of the tabernacle, and I have been unable to find a more recent description. 60. See Nuttall, “Early Netherlandish Painting,” 89–102. 61. See Marquand, Giovanni della Robbia, 155–57, for a catalogue entry for this work, commonly called the Biliemme Tabernacle. David Rosenthal discusses the social background to this tabernacle in his forthcoming article, “Plebeian Ritual,” in Crum and Paoletti, Re-Visioning the Renaissance City. I am grateful to him for pointing out the connection between the two works. 62. Eckstein, The District of the Green Dragon, 29–30. 63. See Trexler, Public Life, 97, for the use of images placed in public places to attract devotees. 64. Mantini, Lo spazio sacro, 157. 65. Rucellai, Zibaldone, 15–17. Rucellai’s tips to his sons on spending are discussed in Kuehn, Emancipation, 61–62. For a similar opinion, see Alberti, Della Famiglia, 23, discussed by Goldthwaite, “L’interno del Palazzo,” in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, 162–63. 66. Syson and Thornton, Objects of Virtue, passim. The domestic interior is a vibrant area of research at the moment, particularly in British studies due to the recent founding of the AHRB Centre for the Study of the Domestic Interior at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Schiaparelli, La Casa Fiorentina, remains fundamental to the study of the Florentine domestic interior, as does Lydecker, “The Domestic Setting.” 67. These documents are respectively: ASF, NA 2879 (Ser Bartolommeo Bindi, 1484–91), fols. 263r–77r; NA 2880 (Ser Bartolommeo Bindi,

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 233

notes to pages 50–54

1491–95), fols. 58v–64v; and NA 7545 (Ser Bartolommeo da Radda, 1507–11), fols. 181v–91r. The earliest of these inventories is transcribed below in the Appendix, doc. 1. 68. ASF, NA 14723 (Ser Andrea Nacchianti 1487–89), fols. 40v–41r. 69. She does not appear in the 1480 catasto: it was likely that she was still of a childbearing age when Bartolommeo died. For the pattern of young mothers renouncing their guardianship to return to their birth families, see Klapisch-Zuber, Women, Family, and Ritual, 117–31. 70. As explained in the preamble to the inventory. See ASF, NA 2879 (Ser Bartolommeo Bindi, 1485–91), fols. 258r–59v. 71. His death is recorded at the end of the volume of letters sent by him to Lorenzo from Naples in that year. See ASF, Sig. Leg. 26, fol. 94l. 72. For the last of Piero’s three wills, see ASF, NA 2874 (Ser Bartolommeo di Domenico Bindi, Testamenti 1472–1512), no. 12. Margherita’s death is mentioned in BNF, Passerini, Nasi. 73. As named in his will. See ASF, NA 21124 (Ser Lorenzo Violi, 1511–19), fol. 27r. 74. Ibid., fols. 26r and 27v–28r. 75. Ibid., fol. 40v. 76. Palmieri, Vita Civile, 159. 77. Roger Crum considers this previously seldom-discussed image in his “Controlling Women,” in Reiss and Wilkins, Beyond Isabella. 78. This is the case in the inventories published in the appendix of Lydecker, “The Domestic Setting,” and Shearman, “The Collections of the Younger Branch of the Medici,” Burlington Magazine (1975): 22–27. Complete published inventories, aside from that of Lorenzo de’ Medici, are quite rare. With help from Patricia Rubin, I have found three: Merkel, I beni della famiglia di Puccio Pucci, 170–205, the goods of Pierfilippo Pandolfini, transcribed by Verde in Archivio Storico Italiano (1969): 307–24, and Bombe, Nachlass-Inventare des Angelo da Uzzano und des Lodovico di Gino Capponi (inventories from 1430 and 1534). 79. This is also true of many of the inventories in the Pupilli archive in this period. See, for example, ASF, Magistrati dei Pupilli 178 and 187, passim.

233

80. In the inventory document, the name “Alamanno” is frequently crossed out, and “Bartolommeo” is written in. For this practice, see Klapisch-Zuber, Women, Family, and Ritual, 300–302, and Herlihy, Women, Family and Society, 339–41. 81. ASF, NA 7545, fols. 181v, 184v, 186r, and 189r. 82. Lydecker,“The Domestic Setting,” 21–22. 83. See, for example, ASF, Pupilli 178 (Filza d’inventari dal 1484 al 1496), fols. 77r–78r, 180r–84r, 220r–22v; ibid., 187 (Filza d’inventari dal 1511 al 1523), fols. 30r–v, 48r–52r. 84. This is true of the inventories in the Pupilli archive and those taken privately. Alessandro Nasi’s immovable goods are listed in a totally separate document, ASF, NA 21124, fols. 43r–v. 85. I took as a guide Preyer’s article in Giovanni Rucellai ed il suo Zibaldone, esp. 171–75. 86. See Appendix, doc. 1, fol. 275r, for Bernardo’s room in Villamagna. 87. Goldthwaite, “The Economic Value,” in his Banks, Palaces and Entrepreneurs, 8, and idem, “L’interno del Palazzo,” in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, 164–65. 88. See family tree, Appendix, Table 1. Comparing Bartolommeo’s will to the information in the catasto shows that his wife, Lisabetta, had five children by him between 1480 and 1488. 89. ASF, Catasto 992, fol. 111r. 90. Klapisch-Zuber, Women, Family, and Ritual, 174. 91. For servants’ status in the catasto, see Herlihy and Klapisch-Zuber, Tuscans and Their Families, 12. 92. Once again, Klapisch-Zuber has probably done the most work on this subject, though only in relationship to female servants. See her Women, Family, and Ritual, 165–77. 93. ASF, Catasto 992, fol. 111r. 94. Compare Appendix, doc. 1, fol. 266r, and ASF, NA 2880, fol. 63r. 95. Appendix, doc. 1, fol. 266r; ASF, NA 2880, fol. 61v; and NA 7545, fol. 188r. 96. The allocation of rooms to servants in the Nasi household does not accord with Callman’s view that these members of the household always

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

234

Page 234

notes to pages 54–60

had to sleep anywhere they could. See her Beyond Nobility, 66–67. 97. ASF, NA 7545, fols. 186r and 189r. 98. For a discussion of the education of children in schools and at home during this period, see Martines, Lawyers and Statecraft, 78–91, esp. 78–79. Giovanni Rucellai mentions the maestro he employed to teach his children in Zibaldone, 121.

113. ASF, NA 7545, fol. 184v: “Uno quadretto in panno lino con uno crocifixo alla fiamingha”; fol. 183r: “Uno quadro drentrovi una Santa Chaterina conforni inoro dorato.” 114. Appendix, doc. 1, fol. 267v. 115. See on this, F. W. Kent, “La famiglia patrizia fiorentina,” in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, 70, and Klapisch-Zuber, Women, Family, and Ritual, 37.

99. She was not living in her brother’s house in 1480; see ASF, Catasto 992, fol. 111r. The date of her marriage is in ASF, Passerini, Nasi.

116. Klapisch-Zuber, Women, Family, and Ritual, 183.

100. Klapisch-Zuber, Women, Family, and Ritual, 117–31, and see also Calvi, “Reconstructing the Family,” in Dean and Lowe, Marriage in Italy.

118. ASF, NA 2880, fol. 58v, and NA 7545, fol. 182v.

101. Appendix, doc. 1, fol. 266r. This is also true of the room at Villamagna, where the lettuccio was “anticho” and the chest was “trista”; fol. 275v. 102. See Callman, Apollonio di Giovanni, 78. 103. Another pair of cassoni, now in the Niedersächsische Landesgalerie in Hanover, were painted for the Nasi family by Apollonio. They present the story of Dido and Aeneas, which, as Cristelle Baskins has shown, betrays the ambivalence toward remarried women at this time. Unfortunately, I have not been able to link this securely with Costanza’s second or third marriages, though such a subject would have been most suitable for a previously married woman. See Baskins, Cassone Painting, 50–74, and Callman, Apollonio di Giovanni, 68–69. 104. Appendix, doc. 1, fols. 266r–68r. 105. For a discussion of the meaning of spalliera, see Lydecker,“The Domestic Setting,” 43–44. 106. It seems probable that Bartolommeo’s chamber was the first one inventoried: see Appendix, doc. 1, fols. 268r–70r. 107. ASF, NA 2880, fols. 58v–60v. 108. Ibid., fol. 62r. 109. ASF, NA 7545, fol. 182r. 110. Ibid. 111. Ibid., fols. 183r, 184r, 184v, 186r, and 188v. 112. Spallanzani and Gaeta Bertelà, Libro d’Inventario, 33: “una tavoletta di marmo, di mano di Donato, entrovi una Nostra Donna chol banbino in chollo.”

117. Alberti, On the Art of Building, 146.

119. For the idea that images could influence conception, see G. Johnson, “Family Values,” in Rubin and Ciappelli, Art, Memory, and Family, 221, and Alberti, On the Art of Building, 299. 120. For a Florentine preacher’s condemnation— and description—of various types of sinful sexual behavior, see BNF, Fondo Principale ii.iii. 409 (Prediche sopra i Vangeli, Lent 1489), fols. 75v–76r. Compare with Matteo Palmieri’s condemnation of this “most vile” act in Vita Civile, 159. KlapischZuber discusses the ritual of the consummation of marriages in her Women, Family, and Ritual, 187–91. 121. Dei, La Cronica, 79: “ell’à gra’ numero di popolo e richo e ben vestito.” 122. Frick, “Dressing a Renaissance City,” 16–82, and Bridgeman, “‘Pagare le pompe,’” in Panizza, Women in Italian Renaissance Culture and Society, 216–18. 123. BNF, Magl. xxxv, 98 (“Sommario delle Prediche di Maestro Mariano Romano . . . fatto da Madonna Margherita de Soderini”), fols. 63r–v. 124. Alberti, On the Art of Building, 162. 125. Bridgeman,“Aspects of Dress and Ceremony,” esp. 29–46 and 93–161. See also Frick, “Dressing a Renaissance City,” 16, on the way that clothes could be “visually eloquent” about social status. 126. Vespasiano da Bisticci, Le Vite, 2:313: “andassi con tanta pompa . . . et per la persona sua infinite veste e gioie.” 127. Masi, Ricordanze, 19–20. Both these passages and others along the same lines are discussed in Trexler, Public Life, 292–93. 128. Frick,“Dressing a Renaissance City,” 38–39.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 235

notes to pages 60–66

129. See Bridgeman’s analysis in “Aspects of Dress and Ceremony,” 181–93, and now Brown, “Lorenzo de’ Medici’s New Men,” Renaissance Studies (2002): 115–17. 130. Appendix, doc. 1, fols. 269r and 273r. 131. See also ibid., fol. 272v. Klapisch-Zuber discusses the swapping of rings in her Women, Family, and Ritual, 231–34. 132. Trexler, Public Life, 249; Frick, “Dressing a Renaissance City,” 36–37. 133. Preyer, “Planning for Visitors,” Renaissance Studies (1998). 134. Palmieri, Vita Civile, 195: “E cittadini privati sommamente fanno le città gloriose.”

Chapter 3 1. Transcribed by Fabriczy, “Brunelleschiana,” Jahrbuch der Königlich Preuszichen Kunstsammlungen (1907): 49–50: “che fusse tanto accepto adio e alla sua sancta madre quanto e adornare e compiere i loro sacratissimi tempi, e oltre alla laude e honore che ne segue alla citta, sene debbe sperare chel nostro signore idio per sua clementia e per intercessione della sua gloriossima [sic] madre ne concedera pace tranquillita e bene si alla comunita e si aqualunche in particularita, che ne dara favore e cosi piaccia adio che sia, si provede.”

235

Spirito included the Pitti in 1466 and the Corsini and Nerli in 1494 (Rubinstein, The Government of Florence, 176–86 and 270). 6. For the development of the gonfalone system and a description of how it worked, see D. Kent and F. W. Kent, Neighbours and Neighbourhood, 13–23. The gonfaloni boundaries I use are those suggested by Carocci,“Le antichi divisioni,” L’Illustratore Fiorentino (1909): 82–83. 7. For the poverty and independence of this gonfalone of woolworkers, see Eckstein, The District of the Green Dragon, 1–17, and Franceschi, Oltre il “tumulto,” 141–45 and 276–77. 8. It was founded specifically to help “Christ’s poor”: see Berti, La chiesa di Santa Maria del Carmine, 60. 9. See F. W. Kent, Household and Lineage, 195–97, and Eckstein, The District of the Green Dragon, xi–xiv. 10. For a detailed analysis of chapel allocation, see below. 11. I gained my information on chapels in the Carmine from a seventeenth-century description: ASF, CRS 113, 13 (“Libro de Padronati delle cappelle e sepolture della Chiesa della Beatissima Vergine Maria del Carmine di Firenze”).

2. See below for Nasi involvement in Santo Spirito; for the Del Pugliese in the Carmine, Carl, “Das Inventar,” MKIF (1987): 380, and Chapter 1 above.

12. Quoted Newbigin, Feste d’Oltrarno, 1:160:“Perché fu una magnificentissima fabbrica che a mantenerla sarebbe stato di spesa grandissima a detto monasterio, la Repubblica si riservò il dominio et alla Religione concesse l’uso.”

3. For individual chapel studies, see, for example, Borsook and Offerhaus, Francesco Sassetti and Ghirlandaio, Friedman, “The Burial Chapel of Filippo Strozzi,” L’Arte (1979), and Simons,“Patronage in the Tornaquinci Chapel,” in Kent and Simons, Patronage, Art and Society. I discuss the mechanics of chapel patronage in greater detail in Chapter 6.

13. There is an account of the fire transcribed in Botto, “L’edificazione,” Rivista d’Arte (1931): 483–84. The most recent and fullest reconstruction of the old church is Quinterio,“Un tempio,”in Bozzoni, Saggi in Onore di Renato Bonelli. It seems that masonry was taken directly from the old church to construct the new one.

4. Jonathan Nelson has recently considered the allocation and cost of church space in the fifteenth century using some material from Santo Spirito. See Nelson and Zeckhauser, “Private Benefits to Secure Support for Nonprofit Institutions,” in Glaeser, The Economics of Not-for-Profit Organizations.

14. Transcribed in Botto, “L’edificazione,” Rivista d’Arte (1931): 480: “quod Operai S. Reparate teneantur inter quinque annos edificare unam Ecclesiam Fratribus Heremitanis S. Augustini sub nomine et signis dicti Comunis, quod edificium sit onorabile et perpetuo duraturum pro memoria dicte Victorie et Ecclesiam facere fieri, edificari, ornari et fulciri prout et sicut viderint convenire.”

5. As discussed in F. W. Kent, Household and Lineage, 195–97. Anti-Medicean figures from Santo

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

236

Page 236

notes to pages 66–7 1

15. The 1434 document is transcribed in Fabriczy, “Brunelleschiana,” Jahrbuch der Königlich Preuszichen Kunstsammlungen (1907): 43–45. The 1425 opera is listed in ASF, CRS 122, 60, fol. 1r. 16. For a detailed account of events, see D. Kent, The Rise of the Medici, 289–351. 17. Newbigin, Feste d’Oltrarno, 1:171, 175, and D. Kent, The Rise of the Medici, 167–68, 355. 18. D. Kent, The Rise of the Medici, 237–38. 19. Manetti, Life of Brunelleschi, 122–25. 20. Fabriczy, “Brunelleschiana,” Jahrbuch der Königlich Preuszichen Kunstsammlungen (1907): 46–48. 21. Ibid., 45 (ricordanze of Francesco di Tommaso Giovanni). See Chapter 1 above for the Nasi’s allegiance to the Medici. 22. Saalman, Filippo Brunelleschi, 347–48. 23. Botto, “L’edificazione,” Rivista d’Arte (1931): 494. 24. The ricordanze of the opera of Santo Spirito from this date are retained in ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser. ii, 93 (“Libro di Debite e Credite dell’Operai di Santo Spirito, 1445–91”). 25. Account in Newbigin, Feste d’Oltrarno, 1:205–6. 26. Transcribed in Botto, “L’edificazione,” Rivista d’Arte (1931): 485: “E più si provvede che gli Operai di detta Chiesa faccino porre l’arme del popolo e Comune di Firenze nel corpo della chiesa di Sto Spirito e nella faccia di fuori del luogo più preminente.” 27. For a discussion of the legal and ethical relationships between church and laity signified in coats of arms, see Chapter 5 below. 28. Landucci, Diario Fiorentino, 41. The new church was “finished” in 1481, according to the ricordanze of the chapter of the convent. See ASF, CRS 122, 67, fol. 130v. 29. ASF, CRS 122, 128, fol. 51v:“si sgombri lamandorla della faccia dell’opera dove sono l’arme del popolo e comune di firenze per metterle in luogho degno per contentare quegli della compagnia del pippione acci chiesta da Lorenzo di Piero di Medici, huomo degnissimo.” 30. Botto, “L’edificazione,” Rivista d’Arte (1931): 505. 31. See for this Rubinstein, The Government of Florence, 199–263.

32. Haines and Ricetti, Opera. The other most important general contribution is Goldthwaite, The Building of Renaissance Florence, 90–97. As well as the essays in the Haines-Ricetti volume, studies of individual opere include Murphy, “Piazza Santa Trinita,” 200–271, Elam, “Cosimo de’ Medici and San Lorenzo,” in Cosimo “il Vecchio,” 157–80, F. W. Kent, “Lorenzo de’ Medici at the Duomo,” in Verdon and Innocenti, La cattedrale e la città, Hegarty, “Laurentian Patronage,” Art Bulletin (1996), and Haines, “Brunelleschi and Bureaucracy,” I Tatti Studies (1989). 33. See particularly Ottokar, “Intorno ai Reciproci Rapporti,” in his Studi Communali, and the discussion of this work in Haines and Ricetti, Opera, X–XVI. 34. For San Giorgio, see ASF, NA 1310 (Ser Piero Baldini, 1425–39), no. 18; for the opera of Sant’Agnese, ASF, Compagnie Religiose Soppresse incamerate nel Bigallo, Compagnia di Santa Maria del Laude detta S. Agnese 127, fols. 117r–19v. 35. ASF, CRS 122, 67, fols. 172v and 197v:“veduto che detti seranno portati bene furono raformati.” 36. For the foundation of the opera of the Innocenti, and copies of the laws regarding the opere of Santa Reparata and San Giovanni, see AIF, Ser. v, no. 1 (“Liber Artis Porte Sanctae Marie”), fols. 33r–37r. See also Goldthwaite, The Building of Renaissance Florence, 93. 37. Transcribed in Fabriczy, “Brunelleschiana,” Jahrbuch der Königlich Preuszichen Kunstsammlungen (1907): 43–45. 38. Ibid., 43: “constituerunt ipsos pietrum et stoldum ambos simul in concordia sindacos procuratores factores et nuntios spetiales.” 39. Goldthwaite, The Building of Renaissance Florence, 399. 40. Ibid., 164–66. 41. See, for example, ASF, CRS 122, 128, fol. 57v. 42. ASF, CRS 122, 67, fol. 86r. 43. ASF, CRS 122, 128, fols. 76v and 223r respectively. 44. For a list of these men, see Appendix A in Burke,“Form and Power,” 202–3. 45. Very little work has been done on the opera of the Carmine, possible because the main source of information about this body is not to be found in the church’s archives but in the notary books of the

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 237

notes to pages 7 1–77

Dieciaiuti family, where there are several lists of operai names from this period, all from Drago families. See, for example, ASF, NA 6086 (Ser Giovanni di Ser Paolo Dieciaiuti, 1485–86), fol. 129r; NA 6087 (Ser Giovanni di Ser Paolo Dieciauti, 1486–90), fols. 158v–59r and 203v; NA 6094 (Ser Paolo di Ser Giovanni Dieciaiuti, 1501–6), fol. 69r. 46. Transcribed in Fabriczy, “Brunelleschiana,” Jahrbuch der Königlich Preuszichen Kunstsammlungen (1907): 45. 47. To find out the gonfaloni and street of the operai, I have examined their 1480 catasto entries. As well as the Nasi catasti, cited in Chapter 1, see ASF, Catasto 994, fol. 107r (Bernardo di Tommasso Corbinelli); Catasto 995, fols. 135r–36v (Niccolò di Giovanni Capponi), 239r–40r (Ruggieri di Niccolò Corbinelli), 249–50v (Stoldo di Lionardo Frescobaldi), 324r–25r ( Jacopo di Piero Guicciardini); Catasto 996, fols. 25r–27r (messer Antonio Ridolfi), 177r (Bertoldo di Giovanni Corsini); and Catasto 998, fols. 144r–45v (Niccolò di Luigi Ridolfi). 48. ASF, CRS 122, 128, fols. 119r and 218v. Lorenzo was first mentioned in the records of the opera when he requested that the arms of the Councils of the People and Commune of Florence on the facade of the building be replaced. For the connection of some members of the opera with Lorenzo de’ Medici, see Blume,“Giovanni de’ Bardi,” Jahrbuch der Berliner Museen (1995): 170. 49. ASF, CRS 122, 128, fol. 217v. Giuliano was, anyway, closely associated with Lorenzo; see F. W. Kent, Lorenzo de’ Medici, chap. 2. 50. ASF, CRS 122, 128, fol. 222r. 51. F. W. Kent, “Lorenzo de’ Medici at the Duomo,” in Verdon and Innocenti, La cattedrale e la città, and Hegarty, “Laurentian Patronage,” Art Bulletin (1996). 52. The 1505 opera is listed in ASF, NA 20706 (Ser Ugolino di Vieri, 1472–1515), fol. 247v, and again in CRS 122, 89, fol. 15r. 53. For the date of the Soderini’s involvement with the high altar at the Carmine, see ASF, CRS 113, 13, fol. 15. 54. For the Nerli, see ASF, CRS 122, 128, fols. 222r and 231r, and Goldthwaite, The Building of Renaissance Florence, 165.

237

55. This happened on numerous occasions. See, for example, ASF, CRS 122, 128, fols. 51v–52v, 55v, 64v, 106r, and 212v. 56. ASF, CRS 122, 67, fol. 198v. 57. ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser. ii, 93, fol. 12v. 58. ASF, CRS 122, 67, fol. 86r:“colla sua prudentia accresciuta lentrata di detta opera.” Compare with C. Strozzi, Ser. ii, 93, fol. 12v. 59. ASF, CRS 122, 128, fols. 219v and 224r. 60. Capretti, “Antefatti della Controriforma,” in Forlani Tempesti, Altari e Immagini, 46. 61. Saalman, Filippo Brunelleschi, 340, claims that the design of Santo Spirito “accorded with Florence’s most cherished political myth, namely that of a community of equals, in which no family, no individual could claim special power of distinction.” Antal (Florentine Painting, 293–94) claimed that the arrangement of chapels was the “equivalent expression in architectural terms of the oligarchical democracy of this generation”; this interpretation has been cited with agreement by Capretti, “La pinacoteca sacra,” in Lucinat, La Chiesa di Santo Spirito, 230, and reprised by Blume,“Studies in the Religious Paintings,” 74. 62. ASF, CRS 122, 128, fol. 212v. 63. ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser. ii, 93. 64. ASF, CRS 122, 128, fol. 212v for the allocation of these chapels. The Della Palla chapel is included in the list of chapels in the old church in ASF, Manoscritti 622 (“Sepoltuario di tutto il quartiere di Santo Spirito”), fol. 17r. 65. For the earliest chapel prices, see ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser. ii, 93, fols. 12v–15r. For later chapel prices, CRS 122, 128, fols. 212v (Petrini and Della Palla) and 233v (Segni). 66. ASF, CRS 122, 128, fols. 66v and 92v. 67. See, for example, Markowsky, “Eine Gruppe bemalter Paliotti,” MKIF (1973), Capretti, “La cappella e l’altare,” in Lucinat, La Chiesa di Santo Spirito, Thomas, “Neri di Bicci,” Arte Cristiana (1993): 23, and Blume, “Studies in the Religious Paintings,” 87–89. 68. The Raffaelino panel in the Nasi chapel is 187 × 197 cm; the Botticelli altarpiece of 1485 in the Bardi chapel was 180 × 185 cm; the Del Mazziere altarpiece in the Corbinelli chapel 157 × 174.5 cm; the Filippino altarpiece of about 1494 in the neigh-

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

238

10:26 AM

Page 238

notes to pages 77–87

boring Nerli chapel, 160 × 180 cm; and the Piero di Cosimo altarpiece for the Capponi family chapel, of 1490, 184 × 189 cm. 69. ASF, CRS 122, 128, fols. 77r and 94r:“per loro partito vinsono che nella chapella de Velluti si facci la sepoltura chome nel altre chapelle.” 70. Ibid., fol. 96r. 71. ASF, NA 14723, fol. 40v:“domus et familia de Nasis in dicta ecclesiae Sancti Spiritus de Florentia habent cappellam nuncupatam cappella de Nasis que civet finistra vitria tabula et sepulcro . . . elegavit que in charico suis heredes in annum adne mortis dicti testatoris teneantur et debeant . . . ficti facere finestram di cappella de vitro et unam tabulam per altari de cappella pictam et fulcitam . . . con decentia dicte cappelle et in dicto in perpetua facti fare unum sepulcrum iseu sepulturam cum lapida marmoria.” 72. Catalogued in Buschmann, Raffaellino del Garbo, 144–45. 73. See ASF, Manoscritti 111 (“Libro di Conti e Ricordi di Raffaello di Ruberto Nasi”), fol. cxxviiv. 74. For a discussion of these panels, see Capretti, “La pinacoteca sacra,” in Lucinat, La Chiesa di Santo Spirito.

82. I discuss the relationship between allies of Soderini and Raphael in my “Form and Power,” chap. 8.

Chapter 4 1. Baxandall, Painting and Experience, 1. 2. See, for example, Glasser,“Artists’ Contracts,” O’Malley,“The Business of Art,” and Thomas, The Painter’s Practice, 101–48, 182–96. 3. Perosa,“Un Opera Sconosciuta,” Rivista d’Arte (1942). 4. These poems can be found in the Appendix. 5. Denver Art Museum, inv. E-it-18-xv-390 (1955.88). This identification was first made by Gamba, Filippino Lippi, 88–89. 6. Tom Henry tells me that the portrait of Luca Signorelli and his patron in Orvieto is almost certainly a sixteenth-century fake. 7. See the catalogue entry for this panel in Nelson and Zambrano, Filippino Lippi, vol. 1. My thanks to Patrizia Zambrano, who was kind enough to discuss this work extensively with me before the publication of her research.

76. The Segni altarpiece measures 285 × 283.5 cm.

8. See Nelson and Zambrano, Filippino Lippi, vol. 1. The positioning of portrait busts is discussed in Johnson, “Family Values,” in Ciappelli and Rubin, Art, Memory, and Family.

77. ASF, CRS 122, 77, fols. 54r–60v:“unam tabulam pictam per ornamento dicti altaris et cappella . . . cum una finestra a vitrea supra dictum altare . . . in memoriam sancti bernardi.”

9. Zambrano, in her examination of the physical state of the painting, has noted later interventions and varnishes but makes a strong case for its autograph status.

78. For the history of this painting, see Riedl,“Raffael’s Madonna del Baldachino,” MKIF (1957–59). The results of the recent restoration and technical analysis have been described in detail in Chiarini, Ciatti, and Padovani, Raffaello a Pitti.

10. See the recent work by Cranston, The Poetics of Portraiture, for the relationship between poetic discussions of portraits and paintings in the sixteenth century. A brief history of the relationship between poems and portraits for an earlier period is given in Shearman, Only Connect, 108–48. See also for this, Rogers, “Sonnets on Female Portraits,” Word and Image (1986), and Cropper, “Problems in the Rhetoric of Renaissance Portraiture,” in Ferguson, Quilligan, and Vickers, Rewriting the Renaissance. For Petrarch, see Mann, “Petrarch and Portraits,” in Mann and Syson, The Image of the Individual.

75. Eadem, “Antefatti della Controriforma,” in Forlani Tempesti, Altari e Immagini, esp. 46–51.

79. It should be noted, however, that the upper strip of the panel on which the vaulting is painted was added in the seventeenth century: see Chiarini, “Paintings by Raphael,” in Shearman and Hall, The Princeton Raphael Symposium, 83. 80. For a discussion of High Renaissance altarpieces and their relationship with the viewer, see Shearman, Only Connect, 59–107. 81. For details about the Dei, see Raffaello a Firenze, 44.

11. Shearman, Only Connect, 112. 12. Filippino’s relationship with literary men is discussed in Barocchi, Giardino di San Marco, 98.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 239

notes to pages 87–94

13. The identity of this portrait bust was first discussed in ibid., 97. 14. Lightbown, Mantegna, 459–60. Another parallel could be drawn to the later portrait of Andrea Navagero and Agostino Beazzano by Raphael, discussed in Nesbitt, “Multiple Figure Portraiture,” 44–53; see also the examples given in Cranston, The Poetics of Portraiture, 62–78. 15. Alberti, On Painting, 60–61:“ut quod de amicitia dicunt, absentes pictura praesentes esse faciat.” 16. Ficino, Letters, 2:55–56. 17. Carl,“Das Inventar,” MKIF (1987): 384. 18. Scharf, Filippino, 89–90, publishes Filippino’s 1488 will; see Nelson, “The Later Works of Filippino Lippi,” 21, for the house purchase. 19. As noted in the ricordanze of Tommaso di Zanobi Ginori: ASF, Carte Bagni 65, fasc. 15, fol. 188r. My thanks to Jonathan Nelson for this reference. 20. This is the earliest list of operai I have as yet been able to find: see ASF, NA 6087, fol. 159r. The Del Pugliese had been connected with the opera of the Carmine from at least 1450, when Giovanni di Jacopo was the provveditore of the opera (ASF, CRS 113, 17, fol. 13r). For the chapel, see Carl,“Das Inventar,” MKIF (1987): 380. 21. The roof was leaking at this point, damaging some of the paintings in the church. See ASF, NA 6086, fol. 25r. 22. For a discussion of the dating of this work, see Chapter 7 below. 23. Vasari-Bettarini/Barocchi, 3:563. Vasari describes Piero del Pugliese as an “amicissimo” of Filippino. 24. The tondo for Filippo di Piero is mentioned in Filippino’s inventory. See Carl, “Das Inventar,” MKIF (1987): 386, item 70. 25. Examples of this are discussed below. Entries to the poetry competition of 1441, the Certame Coronario, are published in Bertolini, De Vera Amicitia. 26. As well as the literature cited below, see Hyatte, The Arts of Friendship; Bolton, “Friendship in the Renaissance,” F. W. Kent, Bartolommeo Cederni, Klapisch-Zuber, Women, Family, and Ritual, 68–93, Weissman, Ritual Brotherhood, 26–34, and Trexler, Public Life, 131–58.

239

27. D. Kent, The Rise of the Medici, makes it clear that she is discussing instrumental rather than emotional friendship, and elides the former with patronage; see esp. 83 and 92; the same can be said of Lowe, “Towards an Understanding of Goro Gheri’s Views on amicizia,” in Denley and Elam, Florence and Italy, 91. For a discussion of this issue, see Fitch Little, “Friendship and Patronage,” in Kent and Simons, Patronage, Art and Society. 28. ASF, CRS 78, 316 (Archivio Familiarum: Dei), fol. 205r:“et risposemi piu brusco che non harei creduto non havevo sua pratica molta parmi huomo che sia di se e non dellamico.” Partially quoted in F. W. Kent, Bartolommeo Cederni, 11. My thanks to Bill Kent for alerting me to this reference. 29. Zeri, Italian Paintings, 133–35. 30. Simons, “Women in Frames,” in Broude and Garrard, The Expanding Discourse. 31. See Wright,“The Memory of Faces,” in Ciappelli and Rubin, Art, Memory, and Family. 32. For example, Trexler, Power and Dependence, vol. 2. 33. Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 87–194. 34. For an application of the new findings about homosociality to portraiture, see Simons,“Homosociality and Erotics,” in Woodall, Portraiture. 35. Rucellai, Zibaldone, 1:10. 36. Trexler, Public Life, 135, and D. Kent, The Rise of the Medici, 84. 37. Vasari-Bettarini/Barocchi, 3:568: “fu tale in tutte le sue azzioni, che ricoperse la macchia . . . lasciatagli dal padre . . . non pure con l’eccellenza della sua arte . . . ma con vivere modesto e civile, e sopra tutto con l’esser cortese e amorevole; la qual virtù, quanto abbia forza e potere in conciliarsi gl’animi universalmente di tutte le persone.” 38. Rubin, Giorgio Vasari, 343–55. 39. Alberti, The Family in Renaissance Florence, 286 and passim for part 4 of the treatise (246–317). 40. Pliny, Chapters on the History of Art, 125. 41. Vasari’s reading of Pliny is discussed in Rubin, Giorgio Vasari, 149–50, and Mitchell, “The Patron of Art,” 85. 42. Mitchell,“The Patron of Art,” 66–104.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

240

Page 240

notes to pages 94–100

43. Neri di Bicci rented property from the Nasi. See Neri di Bicci, Le Ricordanze, 298–99, 379, 391–92, and 407. 44. Vespasiano di Bisticci, Le Vite, 2:193–94: “Fu molto amico di Donatello et di tutti e’ pittori e scultori . . . Usava Cosimo di queste liberalità a uomini che avessino qualche virtù, perché gli amava assai.” Vespasiano wrote his biographies between 1482 and 1496 (see ibid., 1:v–vi). This passage was discussed by Gombrich, Norm and Form, 40–41, and see Rubin, Giorgio Vasari, 343–55. 45. Gaye, Carteggio inedito, 1:192: “amicho mio singhularissimo.” Gozzoli, of course, included his portrait along with the Medici in the train of the Magi in his frescoes in the chapel of their palace. 46. See his Lorenzo de’ Medici, chap. 2. 47. Gaye, Carteggio inedito, 1:300: “la quale ha portato al lanimo mio dispiacere et molestia assai, così perchè era molto mio.” 48. Elam, “Lorenzo de’ Medici’s Sculpture Garden,” MKIF (1992). Caroline Elam has identified the location of this celebrated garden, admirably negotiating the controversies that surrounded its existence that were put forward by Chastel and Gombrich. 49. The closeness of the relationship is repeated in another extant letter about Bertoldo’s death. Both are discussed in F. W. Kent,“Bertoldo Sculptore,” Burlington Magazine (1992), and in his Lorenzo de’ Medici. 50. That Michelangelo’s early Hercules sculpture was made for Piero di Lorenzo was first suggested in Hirst, “Michelangelo, Carrara and the Marble for the Cardinal’s Pietà,” Burlington Magazine (1985): 155. For the artist’s early training, see Hirst and Dunkerton, Making and Meaning, 13–24. 51. F. W. Kent,“Lorenzo . . .‘Amico degli Uomini da Bene,’” in Garfagnini, Lorenzo il Magnifico, 50 and 52–53. 52. Dale Kent also makes this point. See Cosimo de’ Medici, 8. 53. Craven,“Aspects of Patronage,” 42–43. 54. As discussed in a paper given by Alison Wright at Villa I Tatti in the spring of 1997; Gaye, Carteggio inedito, 1:341. 55. Craven,“Aspects of Patronage,” 107. 56. Vasari-Betterini/Barocchi, 4:66–67.

57. See Klapisch-Zuber, Women, Family, and Ritual, 89. 58.Vasari-Betterini/Barocchi, 4:67–68:“Era molto amico di Piero lo spedalingo degli Innocenti . . . la allogò a Piero . . . ma prima fece disperare lo spedalingo, che non ci fu mai ordine che la vedesse se non finita; e quanto ciò gli paresse strano e per l’amicizia e per il sovenirlo tutto il dí di denari.” 59. Discussed by Janson, “The Birth of Artistic License,” in Lytle and Orgel, Patronage in the Renaissance, 344–53. 60. This correspondence was originally published by Gaye, Carteggio inedito, vol. 2, and has been more recently discussed—though not in terms of the status of artists—by Gatti, “Delle cose de’ pictori et sculptori,” Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome (1994). 61. I discuss the relationship between Michelangelo and Soderini in my M.A. thesis, “Politics and Public Space,” chap. 2. The quotation is from Condivi, Vita di Michelangelo, 32, and later correspondence between the two men is published in Michelangelo, Carteggio, 1:88, and 2:2, 15–17, 29, and 323. 62. Quoted in Gatti, “Delle cose de’ pictori et sculptori,” 442:“come voi sapete delle cose de’ pictori et sculptori, si può mal promettere cosa certa.” 63. Ibid., 442–43: “la quale non è molto certo atteso e cervelli di simili genti.” 64. Ibid., “non si puo . . . per la natura dell’homo et la qualità della cosa expedirla in pochi dì.”

Chapter 5 1. Psalm 55:“Elongavi fugiens et mansi in solitudine.” Guerrucci repeatedly quotes this phrase to explain his decision. See ASF, Lecceto,“Copia supplicationis . . . fratris Dominici;”“Copia Memorie,” fol. 4v. An abbreviated version of this chapter appears as “Patronage and Identity,” in Rogers, Fashioning Identities. 2. The story of the building of Lecceto and the vacillations in the rights of patronage over the church have never previously been explained fully. The earliest secondary source dealing with the history of Lecceto is the interestingly inaccurate Serafino Razzi, “Breve Discrizione del Luogo chiamato Santa Maria di Lecceto,” a handwritten

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 241

notes to pages 100–104

copy of which I consulted in the Biblioteca di San Marco in Florence. In this chapter, I am particularly indebted to the work of Borsook,“Documenti relativi,” Antichità Viva (1970), who publishes several documents relating to Filippo Strozzi’s involvement with the project, and Romagnoli, Santa Maria a Lecceto. These are supplemented by additional documents in Carocci, “Chiesa e convento,” L’Illustratore Fiorentino (1904), the appendix to Craven, “Aspects of Patronage,” 163–65, Teubner, Zur Entwicklung der Saalkirche, 564–66, and Lillie, Florentine Villas, 207–8. 3. Appendix, doc. 2: ASF, C. Strozzi., Ser. v, 1185, folder entitled “Varie Notizie e Ricordi Spettanti alla Chiesa di S Maria di Lecceto,” hereafter “ASF, Lecceto.” Most of the inserts in this folder of loose papers are unnumbered and will be identified by title. Another copy of this contract exists in ASF, Statuti delle Comunità Autonome e Soggette 350 (“Comune di Gangalandi, 1417–1562”), fols. 443r–v. 4. Several commentators have seen the need for work on patronage rights. See Sale, Filippino Lippi’s Strozzi Chapel, 102, Simons,“Portraiture and Patronage,” 206 n. 63, and Chambers, review of Kent and Simons in Journal of Ecclesiastical History (1989). 5. New Catholic Encyclopaedia, s.v., “Patronage Rights.” 6. See Landau, Jus Patronatus, 3–4 and 11. 7. See Brucker, “Urban Parishes,” in Morrogh, Renaissance Studies, 18–19, and Bizzocchi, Chiesa e potere, 49–50. 8. Quoted in Landau, Jus Patronatus, 128–29: “Tria enim quedam in iure patronatus continentur: honor, onus et emolumentum, sc. persone electio, rerum ecclesie ne dissipentur provida sollicitudo et fundatoris egestate laborantis sustentatio.”

241

12. AAF, VP 3 (1509–12), unfoliated, “Directorium pro visitatoribus.” 13. Borghini, Storia della Nobiltà Fiorentina, 55, quoted in Bizzocchi, Chiesa e potere, 51. 14. Quoted in Borsook, “Documenti relativi,” Antichità Viva (1970): doc. 24. 15. See ASF, Lecceto (1793); Biblioteca di San Marco, Razzi,“Breve Discrizione,” 4. 16. See Simons, “Portraiture and Patronage,” 190–92, 195, and for the relationship of burial rights to foundation, 213–15. 17. Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, 242. 18. Antoninus, Summa Theologica, 3: col. 550; Landau, Jus Patronatus, 117; Bizzocchi, Chiesa e Potere, 48. 19. The 1310 constitutions about ius patronatus are mainly concerned with the usurpation of benefices, and in 1336 the constitutions were modified to control this tendency. That this continued, however, into the beginning of the sixteenth century is shown by the visitation records of this period. See Trexler, Synodal Law, 12 and 263–64, and Bizzocchi, Chiesa e potere, 52–53. 20. Antoninus, Summa Theologica, 3:556, and Trexler, Synodal Law, 264. 21. ASF, Lecceto,“Informatio Filippo Strozzi.” 22. Appendix, doc. 2. 23. ASF, Lecceto, “Informatio Filippo Strozzi.” This sheet can be dated to 1484–85 because it mentions Fra Domenico Guerrucci was dying at the time the patronage rights were given to Filippo Strozzi. The friar died in 1485 (Teubner, Zur Entwicklung der Saalkirche, 285).

10. See Landau, Jus Patronatus, 4, and Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, 241–43.

24. ASF, Lecceto, “Informatio Filippo Strozzi”: “Presupponiam etiam quod in residuo quod conpleri debet eam circa domumque circa ecclesiam predictam et hornamenta earum inpendi opertet et impendendis intendit ad huc ipse filippus id totum quod expeherit, dum modo auctoritate apostolica concedatur sibi suiusque heredibus et sucessoribus in perpetuum ius patronatus dicte ecclesie magne et secondi loci hedificate . . . et apponendi in ipsa ecclesia et in domo et bonis predictis et apposita detinendi arma et insignia sua et sue famiglie in signum veri.”

11. Trexler, Synodal Law, 264, and Antoninus, Summa Theologica, 3: col. 549.

25. The first two examples are from Brucker, “Urban Parishes,” in Morrogh, Renaissance Studies,

9. Antoninus, Summa Theologica, 3: col. 549: “Patrono debetur honor, onus et emolumentum. Praesentet, praesit, defendat, alatur egenus.” Roberto Bizzocchi, in his important discussion of patronage rights, stresses the importance of the leading of processions in Florence in political terms. See his Chiesa e potere, 33–36.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

242

Page 242

notes to pages 104–108

19. For the Medici at San Lorenzo, see Bizzocchi, Chiese e potere, 91.

39. Quoted by Bizzocchi, Chiesa e potere, 40. See also Trexler, Public Life, 96–97.

26. Interestingly, Filippo Strozzi was involved in another patronage dispute at Santa Maria Novella, where he obtained papal authorization for his takeover of the rights to the chapel of San Giovanni Evangelista. See Sale, Filippino Lippi’s Strozzi Chapel, 103–4.

40. Francesco da Empoli also mentions this; see Bizzocchi, Chiesa e potere, 40. Giovanni d’Angelo Bardi’s will of 1487 asked that his arms be placed in Cestello “ut aliis benefaciendi sint esemplo.” See Luchs,“Cestello,” doc. 18.

27. As I pointed out in Chapter 3, sometimes scholars’ emphasis on family political and social motivations can undervalue the continued power of religious institutions; I would question the emphasis, for example, in Lowe, “Patronage and Territoriality,” Renaissance Studies (1993), and Cohn, Death and Property in Siena, 102–3 and 107. 28. ASF, Lecceto, “Informatio Filippo Strozzi,” discusses his right to elect friars, and the gifts of wax are detailed up to the eighteenth century:“libbre unum candelare cere albe in signum cristi patronati et in memoriam edificationis.” 29. Ibid., and Lillie,“Florentine Villas,” 208. 30. ASF, Lecceto, “Informatio Filippo Strozzi,” C. Strozzi, Ser. iii, 204, fol. 113r, and 133, fol. 154r, and see below. 31. See quotation above from ASF, Lecceto, “Informatio Filippo Strozzi.” The Strozzi arms can still be seen on the church today. 32. Carocci, “Chiesa e convento,” L’Illustratore Fiorentino (1904): 64. This is a passage from the ricordanze of Guerrucci, which I have not been able to locate in the original. Published by Carocci and, with some minor differences of transcription, by Zucchi,“Ospizi Domenicani,” Memorie Domenicane (1947): 53. Frustratingly, neither cites his source. 33. Trexler, Synodal Law, 41. 34. Trexler, Public Life, 95. 35. ASF, CRS 78, 333, fol. 297r. 36. Ibid., fols. 305v–6r. 37. See also Simons,“Portraiture and Patronage,” 51–53, who mentions the “quasi-legalistic” nature of placing arms in chapels. Perhaps the desire to clarify and retain rights of patronage is an additional explanation of the use of inscriptions in chapels cited by F. W. Kent, “Individuals and Families,” in Brown, Language and Images, 188–90. 38. See Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages, 73–75, 84.

41. See Trexler, Public Life, 96–97, for the importance of patrician families attracting devotees. 42. Borsook, “Ritratto di Filippo Strozzi,” in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, 7. 43. ASF, Lecceto,“Copia quondam allegationum,” fol. 4r. 44. Ibid., “Copia memorie,” fols. 5r–v: “Et merito dicti officiales primari debent omni honores et patronatum dicti loci qua non fuerunt patrones sed destructores. Tunc omnipotens deus misereat eis et reddat eis verum iurem et cognitionem et protigat locum istum a filiis iniquitatis et malis hominibus per merita beate marie virginis et intercessionem sanctorum omnem et benedicat omnibus benefacientibus et amantibus istum locum amen amen.” 45. ASF, Catasto 1000, fol. 412v. The Guerrucci owned land in Gangalandi, which probably explains why Domenico chose this location for his hermitage. For the will, see NA 14416 (Ser Francesco di Piero Moletti, 1460–69), fol. 528v. 46. Carrocci, “Chiesa e convento,” L’Illustratore Fiorentino (1904): 64. 47. ASF, Lecceto, “Copia intitulationis dicti libri et codicis Fratris Dominici,” fol. 6r: “[La chiesa] fu fundata e cominciata del prezzo e danari duna vigna laquale dono el magnifico huomo Piero del Puglese a frate Domenico Gurrucci . . . Sua piacere didio ricievere questo sacrificio a benedire lasua habitatione e tempio. Et noi fare del numero de sua eletti.” 48. For mercantile mentality and especially mendicant ideas of“spiritual credit” leading to salvation, see Rosenwein and Little, “Social Meaning,” Past and Present (1974), Lesnick,“Dominican Preaching,” Memorie Domenicane (1977–78), and Wilson, Music and Merchants, 16–24. 49. ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser. v, 36 and 39–48, cited in Lillie, “Florentine Villas,” 207–8, and Romagnoli, Santa Maria a Lecceto; ASF, Lecceto,“Quadernuccio

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 243

notes to pages 108–112

243

delle ricordanze dell’opera” and “Copia intitulationis dicti libri et codicis Fratris Dominici,” fols. 6r–21v, the latter partially transcribed in Craven, “Aspects of Patronage,” 163–65; C. Strozzi, Ser. v, 1768 and 1769, cited in Romagnoli, who gives the most detailed breakdown of the process of decoration in the church.

59. There are some disagreements as to whether this scene can be securely attributed to Sebastiano Mainardi or not, although this is not an issue of great importance here. For the identification of the scene, see all sources listed above, and Borsook, “Ritratto di Filippo Strozzi,” in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, 9 and 14.

50. Borsook, “Documenti relativi,” Antichità Viva (1970): 4, for the founding of this chapel. Money was given for the whitewashing of the interior on 8 September 1480 (ASF, Lecceto,“Copia intitulationis dicti libri et codicis Fratris Dominici,” fol. 19r), confirming Lillie’s view that the church was finished by the end of that year (“Florentine Villas,” 207).

60. Borsook, “Documenti relativi,” Antichità Viva (1970): 5 n. 49.

51. Goldthwaite, Private Wealth, 69 n. 77, and Lillie, “Vita di Palazzo,” in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, 171. 52. ASF, Lecceto,“Copia Memorie,” fol. 5r:“intendit facere cappellam quam iam fundata est ad instar cappelle sancte marie de ughis de florentia.” 53. Gregory,“Chi erano gli Strozzi,” in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, 17; Borsook, “Documenti relativi,” Antichità Viva (1970): 4, and Romagnoli, Santa Maria a Lecceto, 12. 54. Goldthwaite, Private Wealth, 68; Paatz and Paatz, Die Kirche von Florenz, 3:72. 55. Borsook, “Ritratto di Filippo Strozzi,” in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, 7–8. 56. Romagnoli, Santa Maria a Lecceto, 14. 57. ASF, Lecceto, “Processo Verbale (1843)”: “un quadro dipinto in tavola della maniera di Fra Bartolommeo della Porta esprimente la Vergine col Santo Bambino in Gloria d’Angioli, ed al disotto S. Giovanni, ed un S. Jacopo con cornice scorniciata e dorata in cattivo stato esistente nella già chiesa di Licceto, e precisamente all’Altar Maggiore.” A panel removed at the same time, “rappresentante la vergine,” may well have been that from the Del Pugliese chapel, discussed below. 58. Borsook, “Documenti relativi,” Antichità Viva (1970): 6. This panel has also been discussed in Zeri, “Aggiunta a una predella Ghirlandaiesca,” in his Diari di Lavoro, 1:56–58, Van Os and Prakken, The Florentine Paintings in Holland, 78–79, and Gregori, Paolucci, and Lucinat, Maestri e Botteghe, 143–44.

61. Carocci, “Chiesa e convento,” L’Illustratore Fiorentino (1904): 64. For accounts of this painting, most of which assume Francesco del Pugliese is the patron and none of which mention Lecceto as a possible location, see Rathbone, “The Madonna Enthroned,” Bulletin of the City Art Museum of St Louis (1940), Douglas, Piero di Cosimo, 47–48, Bacci, Piero di Cosimo, 69–70, Fermor, Piero di Cosimo, 121–23, Fossi,“Grandi casati,” in Berti, ed., La chiesa di Santa Maria del Carmine, 331 and 338, Desloge, “Piero di Cosimo’s Virgin and Child with Saints,” St. Louis Art Museum Bulletin (winter 1988), and Forlani Tempesti and Capretti, Piero di Cosimo, 96–97. In a much ignored footnote, Stephanie Craven first suggested Lecceto as a location for this altarpiece, although she gives no reasons for her supposition. See her “Aspects of Patronage,” 154 n. 28. 62. The date of Guerrucci’s death is noted on his tomb in the church and in a list of death dates of friars at Lecceto in Biblioteca Laurenziana, Archivio di San Marco 869, fol. 2v. Piero di Cosimo paintings are notorious for being difficult to date because only three have documentary sources relating to them, and because his style was erratic. For a useful discussion of this, see Griswold,“The Drawings of Piero di Cosimo,” 18–25. 63. Horne,“The Last Communion of St. Jerome,” Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum (1915): 72. 64. See esp. Klapisch-Zuber, Women, Family, and Ritual, 283–309, and Herlihy, Women, Family and Society, 330–52. 65. This is not the first time this comparison has been made. It is mentioned by Bacci, Piero di Cosimo, 70, and Carl,“Das Inventar,” MKIF (1987): 373. 66. Savonarola, Prediche sopra Amos e Zaccaria, 1:309. Translated in Gilbert, Italian Art 1400–1500, 157.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

244

Page 244

notes to pages 112–12 1

67. For a discussion of this panel, see Rubin, Images and Identity, chap. 1. 68. Hatfield, Botticelli’s Uffizi “Adoration,” 74. 69. Trexler, Public Life, 423–24, and Hatfield, “The Compagnia de’ Magi,” JWCI (1970). For this practice in paintings, see idem, Botticelli’s Uffizi “Adoration,” 71–99, and Simons, “Portraiture and Patronage,” 57–59. 70. As Charles Hope has pointed out, this made them particularly appealing to wealthy banking families. See his “Altarpieces and the Requirements of Patrons,” in Verdon and Henderson, Christianity and the Renaissance, 546–47. 71. Jacobus da Voragine, The Golden Legend, 1:21. 72. Ibid., 21–22. This story gives Nicholas the attribute of three gold balls. 73. Quoted by Carocci, “Chiesa e convento,” L’Illustratore Fiorentino (1904): 64: “non voleva fumo e ne anche vana gloria mundana quia ipse est homo a coscientiatus.” 74. For the date of his marriage, see Ammirato, Delle famiglie nobili fiorentine, 114.

Day 1488. See BNF Magl. xxxv, 98 (“Sommario delle Prediche di Maestro Mariano Romano . . . da Madonna Margherita de Soderini”), fols. 63r–v. 84. My thanks to Jennifer Fletcher for pointing this out. 85. ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser. iii, 204, fol. 113r (7 October 1490):“pregovi che voi diate qualche cosellina a frate Bartholomeo per mectere qualche opera. Io sopraffettato per una buona parte questi orti come una perla, . . . io trovo che frate Martino si affaticha molto fatichamente per lo luogo. Mi parrebbe che vostra M. facessi uno pocho di bene.” 86. ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser. iii, 133, fol. 154r (20 October 1490): “Domenicha passata ebbi alla messa piu che 20 cittadini. Sono ci stati persone assai in questo tempo e homini dabene saremo avuto gran piacere di quello luogo, molto laudando iddio e vostra magnificenza. . . . In questi pochi dì che io disono stato sono alloggiati piu che cinquanta frati. Non credo avere speso 4 grossoni di vostro per loro e sono stati recevuti bene, e molto laudatio elluogo.” 87. See Baxandall, Painting and Experience, 45–57.

75. Supino, “La Capella del Pugliese,” Miscellanea d’Arte (1903): 2. 76. Borsook rightly points out that this portrait “non è un ritratto idealizzato: mostra un gentiluomo pieno di rughe nell’anno 1488” (“Ritratto di Filippo Strozzi,” in Lamberini, Palazzo Strozzi, 9). 77. See her letter in Art Bulletin (1996): 370–71; and for the commission more generally, Rohlmann, Auftragskunst und Sammlerbild, 53–65. 78. Goldthwaite, Public Wealth, 65–67. 79. Zeri, “Aggiunta a una predella Ghirlandaiesca,” in Diari di Lavoro. 80. There are too many instances of this practice in altarpieces of the period to need to cite individual examples. Indeed, Borsook sensibly suggested that scenes from the life of Saints Philip and James would be the likely subjects for the missing predella panels (“Documenti relativi,” 5). 81. As Zeri himself pointed out:“Aggiunta a una predella Ghirlandaiesca,” in Diari di Lavoro, 1:57–58. 82. For a discussion of this ritual, see Weissman, Ritual Brotherhood, 99–105. 83. The role of the shepherd was discussed in a sermon by Fra Mariano da Genezzano on Christmas

Chapter 6 1. AIF, Ser. x, no. 2 (“Contratti rogati di Ser Matteo di Ser Andrea da Campi e da Ser Niccolo da Romena dall’anno 1476 al 1502”), fol. 132v, and an eighteenth-century copy on fols. 464v–65r. The full untranslated text is in the Appendix, doc. 3. 2. Hatfield, Botticelli’s Uffizi “Adoration,” 20–21. 3. For the development of family chapels within churches, see Höger, Studien, esp. 10–37. 4. Gardner, “Altars, Altarpieces and Art History,” in Borsook and Gioffredi Superbi, Italian Altarpieces, 19. See also now for female access to church space, Randolph, “Regarding Women,” in Johnson and Grieco, Picturing Women. 5. Arlotto, Motti e Facezie, 45. 6. Landucci, A Florentine Diary, 11–12 (December 1473). 7. ASF, NA 6103 (Ser Paolo di Ser Giovanni Dieciaiuti, 1489–1518), fols. 536r–v. 8. The first example, from ASF, NA 14416, fol. 335r, is partially published by Carl,“Das Inventar,” MKIF (1987): 380, and the second from the

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 245

notes to pages 12 1–12 4

will of Filippo di Lutozzo Nasi, in NA 3693, fol. 161v. For other examples of the use of this term relating to chapels, see, perhaps most famously, the debates over patronage rights to the cappella maggiore at Santa Maria Novella in Simons,“Patronage in the Tornaquinci Chapel,” in Kent and Simons, Patronage, Art and Society, and eadem, “Portraiture and Patronage,” 195; and also the transferal of the patronage rights of the altar of Saint John the Evangelist in San Pancrazio di Vallespesa from one Del Pugliese brother of the cadet branch to another, in NA 1229, fols. 27v–28r; Sale, Filippino Lippi’s Strozzi Chapel, 102–8, and Seidel,“The Social Status of Patronage,” in Borsook and Gioffredi Superbi, Italian Altarpieces, 122. 9. ASF, NA 14416, fol. 335r: “Que donatio fece fuit predicti Bernardus et Antonius dicti Filippo et Piero delicentis consensus et voluntate reverendi in christo fratris et domini domini [sic] Johannis Neronis de Detisalvis dignissimi archiespiscopi florentie de quo licentis constare dixerunt presentibus instrumentis.” This was also the case in the 1497 transferal of patronage rights between del Pugliese brothers at S. Pancrazio di Vallespese (NA 1229, fol. 27v). 10. See Sale, Filippino Lippi’s Strozzi Chapel, 104. The full arguments over the chapel’s patronage are contained in AAF, Notari, Atti Straordinari 050, 1 (Ser Domenico da Figline, 1482–89), fols. 325r–33v. 11. See AIF, Ser. cxvii, 29, no. 5ff. My thanks to Patricia Rubin for this reference. 12. There is very little published work done on the function of capellani (chaplains), although I believe Gene Brucker is presently working on the subject. The documentary sources are: for the Del Pugliese at San Jacopo Oltrarno, ASF, CRS 140, 119 (“Cappelli e Rettori poste in San Jacopo Sopr’arno”), fol. 38r; Alessandra del Pugliese’s chapel at Santa Lucia, ASF, NA 5439, fol. 137r; and for the Nasi at Santa Lucia de’ Magnoli, NA 3693, fol. 161v. In an early (1365) chapel contract, Taddeo di Vanni Canigiani provided a bed for the cappellano of his chapel in Santa Felicita; see Höger, Studien, 189. 13. See, for example, the last wishes of Mona Checca Nasi, as stipulated in ASF, Dec Rep 1, fol. 207v, and the will of Filippo di Lutozzo, NA 3693, fols. 159v and 161v.

245

14. Gaston, “Liturgy and Patronage in San Lorenzo,” in Kent and Simons, Patronage, Art and Society, 113–20 and passim. 15. For the testaments of Filippo di Lutozzo Nasi about the chapel at San Francesco al Monte, see ASF, NA 3693, fols. 161r and 165v–66r; Bartolommeo di Lutozzo about the decoration of the chapel at Santo Spirito, NA 14723, fols. 40r–v; Alessandra del Pugliese and her chapel at Santa Lucia, NA 5439, fol. 137r; and Francesco del Pugliese’s first and second wills, the first unpublished in NA 2874, no. 26, fol. 119r, and the second published by Polizzotto,“Dell’Arte di Ben Morire,” I Tatti Studies (1987): 71–73. 16. ASF, CRS 113, 13, fol. 36r. 17. Gardner, “Altars, Altarpieces and Art History,” in Borsook and Superbi Gioffredi, Italian Altarpieces, 5–10. 18. AAF, VP 3: “Si in dicta ecclesia sint libri, calices, paramente, crucis et reliquie et alis iocalie ecclesia et que sunt et quot solite fuerunt est.” 19. AIF, Ser. cxx, no. 9, fol. 82r. Once again, thanks to Patricia Rubin for this reference. 20. For bequests of ecclesiastical garments in wills, see, for example, Filippo del Pugliese’s gift of 120 florins for various cloth furnishings and garments in 1527 (ASF, NA 13982, fol. 123r). For inventories of this kind of material in the archives of Santo Spirito, see ASF, CRS 122, 60, fols. 31v–39r. 21. AAF, Notari, Atti Straordinari 050, 1, fol. 325r, and Sale, Filippino Lippi’s Strozzi Chapel, 105. 22. For Bernardo del Bianco, see Craven,“Aspects of Patronage,” 117; the vicissitudes at Santa Maria Novella are discussed in Simons, “Portraiture and Patronage,” 195–212; see also the “contract” for chapel construction that Hatfield sees in the will of Guasparre del Lama, Botticelli’s Uffizi “Adoration,” 22–23. 23. Respectively ASF, NA 3693, fols. 166r–v, and NA 14723, fol. 40v, and see Chapter 3 above for Santo Spirito. 24. Supino,“La Cappella del Pugliese,” Miscellanea d’Arte (1903): 2, and Chapter 7 below. 25. Quoted in Wilson, Music and Merchants, 185: “Ut imagines Ecclesiae fiunt supra altare. Praecipimus, ut in unaquaque Ecclesia ante vel post vel super Altare sit imago, vel sculptura, vel scriptura,

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

246

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 246

notes to pages 12 4–129

vel pictura espresse designans, et cuilibet intuenti manifestans, in cuius sancti meritum et honorem sit ipsum Altare constructum.” 26. Francesco del Pugliese founded a chapel in Cestello dedicated to the same saint twenty-five years later and was to commission the Last Communion of Saint Jerome from Botticelli for his oratory at Sommaia. Filippo Strozzi, too, “gained a new patron saint,” Saint John the Evangelist, on his taking over of his chapel at Santa Maria Novella: see Sale, Filippino Lippi’s Strozzi Chapel, 108. 27. Supino,“La Cappella del Pugliese,” Miscellanea d’Arte (1903): 1. 28. For a discussion of this panel, see Luchs, Cestello, 83–85, and Chapter 3 above. 29. ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser. v, 1425, unfoliated insert, and see Chapter 8 below. 30. See ASF, Manoscritti 111 (“Libro di Conti e Ricordi di Raffaello di Ruberto di Bernardo Nasi”), fol. cxxvii. 31. F. W. Kent, Household and Lineage, 264. 32. Hope, “Altarpieces and the Requirements of Patrons,” in Verdon and Henderson, Christianity and the Renaissance. 33. Long, Bardi Patronage at Santa Croce, 285–86. For the identical architectural form of the ten chapels in Santa Croce, see Colvin, Architecture and the After-Life, 190. 34. See Simons, “Patronage in the Tornaquinci Chapel,” in Kent and Simons, Patronage, Art and Society. 35. See Capretti,“La cappella e l’altare,” in La Chiesa e il Convento di Santo Spirito; Van Os, “Painting in a House of Glass,” Simiolus (1987): 34–35, Schmidt, “Filippo Brunelleschi,” Arte Cristiana (1992), and Gardner von Teuffel, “Lorenzo Monaco, Filippo Lippi und Filippo Brunelleschi,” Zeistschrift für Kunstgeschichte (1982). 36. Payments for curtains for altarpieces in the Innocenti can be found in AIF, Ser. cxxii, no. 33, fol. 102r, and Bruscoli, L’Adorazione, 21. See also in general, Nova,“Hangings, Curtains and Shutters,” in Humfrey and Kemp, The Altarpiece in the Renaissance. 37. Quoted and discussed in Schmidt, “Filippo Brunelleschi,” Arte Cristiana (1992): 457. 38. For a transcription and discussion of this document, see Ruda,“A 1434 Building Program for

San Lorenzo,” Burlington Magazine (1978): 358–61, and Saalman,“San Lorenzo,” in ibid. 39. Bulman, “Artistic Patronage at SS. Annunziata,” chap. 4, 1 and 27–30 and chap. 8, 12–13. 40. Discussed in Van Os,“Painting in a House of Glass,” Simiolus (1987). 41. Humfrey, “Co-ordinated Altarpieces,” in Humfrey and Kemp, The Altarpiece in the Renaissance, 192, 199–201. 42. Rinuccini, Ricordi Storici, cxxxviii: “perchè si giudicava che coprissono e occupassino grande parte della bellezza di detta chiesa, si dovessino al tutto levare e mettere in altro luogo, e similemente si levassino molte tavole, e dipinture e imagini che erano appiccate alle colonne o pilastri di detta chiesa, acciò rimanesse netta ed espedita, e parve facesse grande dimostrazione di bellezza, che prima era occupata, benchè a molti anche dispiacesse.” See also Landucci, A Florentine Diary, 40–41. 43. Antoninus, Summa Theologica, 3: col. 546:“‘Pulcra: Maxime sacerdoti hoc conventi ornare templum Dei honore congruo, ut etiam hoc cultu aula Dei resplendeat.’ Non tamen dicit, quod fiant superfluitates, pompae, et multae vanitates armorum, picturarum, vasorum aureorum et huiusmodi.” 44. Alberti, On the Art of Building, 220. 45. Cavazzini,“Dipinti e Sculture,” in Sandri, Gli Innocenti e Firenze, 115. 46. See Bellosi, Il Museo, 21–49, for an inventory of a nineteenth-century sale of effects from the church. 47. Gavitt, Charity and Children, 152. 48. See Cavazzini,“Dipinti e Sculture,” in Sandri, Gli Innocenti e Firenze, 117–26. 49. See Bruscoli, L’Adorazione, 13–24, and Küppers, Die Tafelbidler des Domenico Ghirlandajo, 86–87. 50. Bruscoli, L’Adorazione, 16–17 and 23. 51. Ibid., 16–17: “secondo l’adornamento della tavola ch’è al presente nella chiesa degl’Igiesuati all’altare maggiore . . . cioè: tabernacolo per Corpo di Cristo, candellieri da lato, e’l cornicione o con mensole o sanza.” See also Albertini, Memoriale, unpaginated. 52. AIF, Ser. cxxii, no. 30, fols. 186v–87r.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 247

notes to pages 129–137

53. For Lenzi gifts to the chapel, see AIF, Ser. cxx, no. 9, fol. 82r, and AIF, Ser. cxvii, no. 29, dated 6 March 1486(5). Patricia Rubin kindly gave me both these references. 54. See Gavitt, Charity and Children, 113; Cavazzini, “Dipinti e Sculture,” in Sandri, Gli Innocenti e Firenze, 114–15. This commission was noted in the ricordanze of the artist: see Neri di Bicci, Le Ricordanze, 160. 55. Bellosi, Il Museo, 9: “rifacimento dell’altare e de’pilastri entrano nelle mura e un archo di sopra iscritto in pietra.” The archival reference Bellosi gives is incorrect. It is in fact AIF, Ser. cxx, no. 10, fol. 450. 56. AIF, Ser. cxxii, no. 32, fol. 89. 57. AIF Ser. cxxii, no. 31, fol. 80:“per redipignere il Cristo battuto, come disse Piero del Pugliese.” Quoted in Cavazzini, “Dipinti e Sculture,” in Sandri, Gli Innocenti e Firenze, 119. 58. Ibid. 59. ASF, Seta 246 ( “Libro di Consolati del anno 1393 al 1579”), fols. 18r, 22r, 25v, and 26v; Manoscritti 543 (“Matricole della Seta, 1532”), unfoliated. 60. Gavitt, Charity and Children, 144. 61. ASF, Seta 246, fol. 42r. Piero was also a consul in 1477 (fol. 37r), 1481 (fol. 38v), and 1496 (fol. 44v). 62. This terracotta is discussed by Marquand, Andrea della Robbia, 1:115–16. For the description by Richa, see his Notizie Istoriche, 8:129. 63. AIF, Ser. cxxii, no. 33, fol. 19r.

247

acadranno . . . e l’azurro abbia a esse oltramarino di pregio di fiorini quatro l’oncia in circa.” 68. Bruscoli, L’Adorazione, 18: “nel mezo, la nostra Donna col Figliuolo morto in brazo, colle Marie dal lato come si richiede; a piè di san Giovanni Vangielista ch’[è] nella tavola la storia quando san Giovanni fu messo nella caldaia; a piè di san Giovanni Batista, el batesimo di Cristo; dua istorie di nostra Donna, cioè la Purificatione di nostra Donna e lo Sponsalitio; e nelle teste della detta predella, da una, la Nunziata, e da l’altra, l’arcivescovo Antonino quando sagrò la chiesa del detto spedale.” 69. Originally noted with the wrong archival reference in Bellosi, Il Museo, 12. Cited correctly by Cavazzini, “Dipinti e Sculturi,” in Gli Innocenti e Firenze, ed. Sandri, 120–21 and 147 n. 33. 70. See Johnson, “Religious Paintings,” 88–93, who suggests Elizabeth of Hungary as a possibility but instead decides on an identification of the Sicilian Saint Rosalia, who died in her teens; and Forlani Tempesti and Capretti, Piero di Cosimo, 111–12, who suggest that this saint is Dorothy, whose attribute is a selection of flowers rather than simply roses and who does not have as many Florentine precedents as Saint Elizabeth (see Kaftal, Iconography of the Saints, 330–31). 71. See Jameson, Legends of the Monastic Orders, 834, Gurney Salter, Franciscan Legends in Italian Art, 196 and 231, and Kaftal, Iconography of the Saints, 909–12. 72. Jacobus da Voragine, Golden Legend, 2:304. 73. Ibid., 302–18. 74. Kaftal, Iconography of the Saints, 339.

64. For the arch of the Lenzi chapel, see AIF, Ser. cxx, no. 10, fol. 450, and for the positioning of the tabernacle “che sta di sopra a detta tavola [di Ghirlandaio],” see ibid., fol. 424.

75. As discussed in Tomas, “Negotiated Spaces,” chap. 3.

65. See, for example, the frame of Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard by Filippino Lippi, now in the Badia (fig. 38), and the frame of the Nerli altarpiece in Santo Spirito, by the same artist.

77. Discussed and quoted in Gavitt, Charity and Children, 75–84.

66. These curtains were paid for respectively in May 1489 and December 1493. See AIF, Ser. cxx, no. 10, fol. 442, and Ser. cxxii, no. 33, fol. 102r. 67. Transcribed in Bruscoli, L’Adorazione, 14: “debbe colorire detto piano tutto a sua spese di colori buoni e oro macinato nelli adornamenti dove

76. Randolph, “Performing the Bridal Body,” Art History (1998): 188–89.

78. For an anthropological definition of patronage, see Eisenstadt and Roniger, Patrons, Clients, and Friends, 48–50; and for definitions specific to our period: Gundersheimer, “Patronage in the Renaissance,” in Lytle and Orgel, Patronage in the Renaissance, and Weissman,“Taking Patronage Seriously,” in Kent and Simons, Patronage, Art, and Society.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

248

Page 248

notes to pages 139–1 46

Chapter 7 1. Antal, Florentine Painting, 2.

and Lorenzo de’ Medici. My thanks to her for sharing this research.

2. The Campora papers are kept as part of the massive Badia archive in the Archivio di Stato. These accounts can be found in CRS 78, 333 (“Camporearum ii”), fols. 195v–200v. Supino, “La Cappella del Pugliese,” Miscellanea d’Arte (1903), publishes fols. 199v–200v, which is a summary of money spent.

15. Luchs publishes the documents regarding their initial gifts. See “Cestello,” 254, 289, and 345.

3. ASF, CRS 78, 333, fols. 195v, 196r, and 196v. The second reference is noted in Supino, “La Cappella del Pugliese,” Miscellanea d’Arte (1903): 1:“Uno devoto amico et benefactore delo nostro monastero.”

20. See ibid., 18, 53, and fig. 67, 217. Luchs also points out that Bernardo Nasi was one of the operai of Santo Spirito when the Bardi got their chapel there.

4. Lesher, “The Vision of Saint Bernard,” 122 and 143.

21. For a discussion of the popularity of these texts and paintings of the Apparition, see Dal Prà, Bernardo da Chiaravalle, 48 and 53–62, and Lesher, “The Vision of Saint Bernard,” 4–34 and passim.

5. Quoted in Supino,“La Cappella del Pugliese,” Miscellanea d’Arte (1903): 1: “dixe non voleva alcuno in nostri bisogni, ma voleva che si spendesono in alcuno ornamento in nostra chiesa de le campora.” 6. ASF, CRS 78, 334 (“Camporearum iv”), fols. 90v–91v. 7. Scharf translated calice as “frame” (cornice). See his Filippino Lippi, 5, 29–30, and 87. 8. ASF, CRS 78, 333, fol. 198v. Partially cited in Supino, “La Cappella del Pugliese,” Miscellanea d’Arte (1903): 3–4.

16. Luchs, Guida Storico-Artistica, 16 and 22. 17. Luchs,“Cestello,” 258 and 348. 18. Ibid., 258. 19. Ibid., 50.

22. Dante, Paradiso, 350–73 (Canti 31–33), and Botterill, Dante and the Mystical Tradition, 13–64, who discusses the popularity and perception of Saint Bernard in late medieval Florence. 23. See Dal Prà, Bernardo di Chiaravalle, 54, Janke, “The Vision of St. Bernard,” in Engass and Stokstad, Hortus Imaginum, 47–48, and Lesher, “The Vision of Saint Bernard,” 11–18. 24. Dal Prà, Bernardo di Chiaravalle, 54.

9. “Piero di Iacopo del Pugliese nostro,” ASF, CRS 78, 80 (“Debitori e Creditori, 1471–87”), fol. 339v (my italics), and for other connections, CRS 78, 3 (“Giornale, 1483–95”), fols. 11r and 32v.

25. Lesher, “St. Bernard of Clairvaux,” Citeaux: Comentarii Cistercienses (1984), and Rubinstein, The Palazzo Vecchio, 49 and 57–70.

10. ASF, Dec. Rep. 9, fol. 1140r. This property is not mentioned in the 1480 catasto and has no details of its purchase in the later tax declaration, the Decima of 1495.

27. Lesher,“The Vision of Saint Bernard,” 39–46.

11. See Cecchi, “Una predella e altri contributi,” Gli Uffizi. Studi e ricerche (1988): 59–60. 12. For the relationship between contado laborers and their Florentine employers, see Herlihy and Klapisch, Tuscans and Their Families, 118–20. Cecelia Hewlitt of Monash University is presently undertaking doctoral research on life in the Florentine contado during this period, and I am grateful for her advice on this subject. 13. De Roover, The Rise and Decline, 257–60. 14. For the Salviati and the Medici, see Luchs, “Cestello,” 59. Patricia Rubin has discovered several Pucci marriages that were brokered by Cosimo

26. I am grateful to Nicholas Penny for allowing me to see this painting during its restoration. 28. Dal Prà, Bernardo di Chiaravalle, 106. Translated, Bernard writes, “Queen [and] mother of heaven, mother of the crucified Lord, say if you were in Jerusalem when you son was taken . . . to which she responded,” and the reply comes from the Virgin’s mouth: “[I was in] Jerusalem when I heard this.” 29. See Supino,“La Cappella del Pugliese,” Miscellanea d’Arte (1903): 3, for the documentation regarding the book, which probably went to the Badia with the painting at the siege of Florence. It was there by the mid-sixteenth century as an inventory shows: see Blum, La Biblioteca della Badia Fiorentina, 21 n. 33 and 128. It is now in the Biblioteca Nazionale in Florence, Conventi Soppressi

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 249

notes to pages 1 46–158

249

B.1.2568. The Planctus Marie starts on fol. 132v. There is a dedication to the Campora on fol. 141v.

43. See Dal Prà, Bernardo di Chiaravalle, 61, and Lesher,“The Vision of Saint Bernard,” 55–56.

30. It is now in the Accademia. See Lesher,“The Vision of Saint Bernard,” 129–32, and Dal Prà, Bernardo di Chiaravalle, 57 and 106–7.

44. Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, À la louange de la Vierge Mère, 170.

31. See Bridgeman, “Aspects of Dress and Ceremony,” 95–112, and particularly 102. A similar costume is being worn by Tanai de’ Nerli on the altarpiece Filippino painted for him, now in Santo Spirito in Florence.

46. The dating of both these works is discussed in Scarpellini, Perugino, 84–88.

32. Clark, “Filippino Lippi’s The Virgin Inspiring St. Bernard,” Studies in Iconography (1981–82): 177, suggests that the Paradiso was an important source for the iconography of this painting.

Chapter 8 1. As well as the scholars cited below, see Hollingsworth, Patronage in Renaissance Italy, 88, Hall,“Savonarola’s Preaching,” in Verdon and Henderson, Christianity and the Renaissance, 502–3, and Blume,“Studies in the Religious Paintings,” 150.

33. The inscriptions on this panel were identified by Covi, “The Inscription in Fifteenth-Century Florentine Painting,” Appendices 381a, 244, and 85. 34. This was a common motif in the late quattrocento. The star on the Virgin’s mantle reappears in many of Filippino’s paintings, including the Rucellai altarpiece of the Virgin and Child with Saints Jerome and Dominic, now in the National Gallery in London, and also the Adoration of the Kings, now in the Uffizi. A star is also prominently displayed in the Piero di Cosimo panel at Lecceto, also commissioned by Piero del Pugliese and discussed in Chapter 5. The text of the sermon is published in French and Latin parallel texts in Bernard of Clairvaux, À la louange de la Vierge Mère. 35. See BNF, Conventi Soppressi B.1.2568, fol. 141v. The inscription is transcribed by Dal Prà, Bernardo di Chiaravalle, 132. 36. Covi, “The Inscription in Fifteenth-Century Florentine Painting,” 261. 37. See Epictetus, Manuale, 58–63, for Poliziano’s Latin translation of the text and his dedicatory letter to Lorenzo. 38. For a discussion of the significance of light, see Meiss, “Light as Form and Symbol,” in The Painter’s Choice. 39. Biblioteca Laurenziana, Pluteus xxxix, 17. 40. Levi d’Ancona, Miniatura e Miniatori, 95. 41. Lesher,“The Vision of Saint Bernard,” 55–56 and 147–53. 42. Ibid., 54.

45. Dante, Paradiso, 376–81.

47. I discuss this more fully in Chapter 8.

2. These analyses are by Jonathan Nelson in his catalogue entry for the wings in L’Officina della maniera, 84, and Friedman, “The Burial Chapel of Filippo Strozzi,” L’Arte (1979): 123. 3. Gruyer, Les Illustrations, and Marchese, Memorie. 4. The most useful and fullest account is Horne, “The Last Communion of St. Jerome,” Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum (1915). 5. The sale documents are ASF, NA 2879 (Ser Bartolommeo Bindi, 1484–91), fols. 246r–47r. Land around the estate was bought in the subsequent year. See ibid., fol. 308r. 6. ASF, Catasto 24, fol. 780r. 7. ASF, NA 2874 (Ser Bartolommeo Bindi, 1472–1512), fil. 1, no. 18, unfoliated. 8. For this sale document, see ASF, NA 2880 (Ser Bartolommeo Bindi, 1491–95), fols. 117r–19v. For the Ginori, see Ginori Conti, La Basilica di S. Lorenzo, 210–11. 9. ASF, NA 2879, fols. 298r–v. 10. Polizzotto, “Dell’Arte del Ben Morire,” I Tatti Studies (1989): 27–68, suggests that support for Savonarola affected traditional neighborhood allegiances. 11. Cambi, Istorie, 3:28, for an account of his insult, and ASF, Otto di Guardia 157 (“Partiti e Deliberationi”), fols. 3r and 24v–25r. 12. ASF, NA 18275 (Ser Bartolommeo di Vettorio del Rosso, 1514–17), fols. 229r–32v, for the sale of the Castellaccio.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

250

Page 250

notes to pages 158–168

13. The last three wills, all from the records of the Savonarolan notary Ser Lorenzo Violi, are published in Polizzotto,“Dell’Arte del Ben Morire,” I Tatti Studies (1989): 69–87. The first is in ASF, NA 2874 (Ser Bartolommeo Bindi, 1472–1512), fil. 1, no. 26, fols. 114r–19v. 14. Polizzotto, “Dell’Arte del Ben Morire,” I Tatti Studies (1989): esp. 63–64. 15. See ASF, NA 2874, fol. 114r. 16. Ibid., 85. 17. First published by Horne, “The Last Communion of St. Jerome,” Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum (1915): 52–56, and again in full by Polizzotto,“Dell’Arte del Ben Morire,” I Tatti Studies (1989): 69–87: “Et più lasciò alla decta cappella e chiesa di Sancto Andrea da Sommaia cinque quadri dipinti in asse, e’ quali si truova decto testatore, cioè: uno quadro dipintovi una testa di Christo facta in Fiandra, con dua sportelli da lato, dipinti di mano di Filippo di fra Filippo; et uno quadro dipintovi uno Giudicio dipintto di mano di fra Giovanni con dua sportelli a lato, dipinti di mano di Sandro di Botticello; et un altro quadro dipintovi el Transito di Sa[n] Girolamo, di mano di decto Sandro; et un altro quadro piccolo, di mano di Pisellino; et un altro quadro grande, di mano di decto Filippo, dipintovi una Natività co’ Magi.” 18. ASF, NA 2874, fil. 1, no. 26, fol. 119r. 19. Polizzotto, “Dell’Arte del Ben Morire,” I Tatti Studies (1989): 71–72:“Item perché il decto testatore ha una cappella al luogo e villa sua di Sommaia, chontado di Firenze, benché ancora non sia sacrata, la quale vuole nondimancho che si sagri e facci a uso di chiesa . . . lasciò e sottopose la detta cappella al convento e frati e capitolo di San Marcho di Firenze e sotto la custodia di decti frati e dell’ordine di San Domenico observanti . . . et a benefitio et uso della loro Congregatione di Toscana. Et . . . lasciò alla decta capella e per dota di quella, tucto il casamento che è appresso a decta e con decta capella . . . cioè: uno casamento chiamato il castello di Sommaia, nel quale è la decta capella, con tucti gli abituri e stanze di decto casamento, e con casa da lavoratore e torre verso Chiosina, e con tucte le masseritie e con tucti e’ beni mobili di qualunche qualità si fussino . . . et in effecto tucto el poggio di Sommaia.”

20. AAF, Cause Civile, Chiese Varie 092 6 (“Oratorio di S. Michele a Sommaia, posto in luogo detto il Castellaccio”), unfoliated. For parish numbers, see AAF, VP 4, fol. 72v. 21. “nell’anno mcccclxiiii questa chi/esa chon altari e ornati fe’ fare e do/to borghini di niccholo di choco donati.” 22. Lamberini, Calenzano, 1:90. 23. Ibid. See for the attribution and discussion of the frescoes, Linnenkamp, “Opera sconosciuta,” Rivista d’Arte (1958), and idem,“Botticelli,” Pantheon (1981): 123–26, though it seems unlikely that these frescoes are by the young Botticelli, as Linnenkamp claims. 24. ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser. v, 1485, no. 14. Published in Lamberini, Calenzano, 2:51. 25. ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser. v, 1425, no. 14. 26. Horne, in “The Last Communion of St. Jerome,” Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum (1915): 52–56, made the latter identification, and Hatfield Strens the former: see “Le aggiunte di Filippino,” in Dupré dal Poggetto, Scritti di storia dell’arte (1977). 27. Now in the Pushkin Museum in Moscow. For diverse opinions about these paintings, see Gamba, Botticelli, 165–66, Harck, “Notizen über italienische Bilder,” Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaft (1896): 431, and Lasareff, “An Unnoticed Botticelli,” Burlington Magazine (1924). 28. Kaftal, Iconography of the Saints, cols. 1021–26. 29. Zeri, Italian Paintings, 96–98. 30. At least by Landino in his 1481 commentary on the Divine Comedy. See Gilbert, Italian Art, 1400–1500, 191. 31. Horne, Botticelli, 174, and Fantozzi, Nuova guida, 399. 32. Hatfield, Botticelli’s Uffizi “Adoration,” 22. 33. F. W. Kent, “Lorenzo di Credi,” Burlington Magazine (1983). 34. Cannon,“Dominican Patronage,” 77–78. 35. For a discussion of and bibliography for magnificence, see Chapter 2 above. 36. De Simplicitate, 206. For the dates of the printed editions before 1500, see Hain, Repertorium Bibliographicum, 2: nos. 14356–59. 37. Prediche Italiane, 3, no. 1, 388–89: “Se io ti dicessi:‘dàmi dieci ducati per dare a uno povero’, tu

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 251

notes to pages 168–17 1

251

nol faresti; ma se io ti dico: ‘spendine cento in una capella qua in San Marco,’ tu ‘l farai per mettervi l’arme tua e farailo per tuo onore, non per onore di Dio.”

51. Cerretani, Storia Fiorentina, 192 (also discussed below); other instances include Parenti, Ricordanze, 94, Landucci, A Florentine Diary, 130–31, and Cambi, Istorie, vol. 2, esp. 136–37.

38. Ruth e Michea, 1:383–84:“si edificano le case e li belli palazzi col sangue de’ poveri.” See also, for example, ibid., 1:95 and 2:158; Prediche Italiane, 3, no. 1, 391, 405; Ezechiele, 184.

52. BNF, Fondo Principale ii.iii. 409 (“Prediche sopra i vangeli”).

39. For Antoninus, see Howard, Beyond the Written Word, 208–11, and Rubinstein, “Lay Patronage,” in Verdon and Henderson, Christianity and the Renaissance. 40. Ruth e Michea, 1:95. 41. Quoted in Polizzotto, The Elect Nation, 75–78. 42. ASF, NA 2874 (Ser Bartolommeo di Domenico Bindi, 1472–1512), fil. 1, no. 26, fols. 116r–v, 119r. 43. Salmi, 189: “oggi si fa le figure nelle chiese con tanto artificio, e tanto ornate e tirate, che guastono il lume di Dio e la vera contemplazione, e non si considera Iddio ma solo l’artificio che è nelle figure.” See also De Simplicitate, 193. 44. Cannon, Dominican Patronage, 77, 79–82; Savonarola, Ezechiele, 1:358 and 2:276.

53. Ibid., fol. 3r. 54. Savonarola was praised for not “dividing” his sermons by Cerretani, Storia Fiorentina, 192. 55. See, as well as the Lenten sermons cited above, the preaching of Fra Mariano da Genezzano as recorded by Margarita Soderini in BNF, Magl. xxxv, 98; the confraternity sermons in Biblioteca Riccardiana, Fondo Riccardiano MS 2204 (“Protesti Orazioni, epistole e Sermoni, sec. xv”); and sermon accounts published by Zafarana,“Per la storia religiosa,” Studi Medievali (1968): esp. 1093–97. 56. For the use of sermon manuals in general, see D’Avray, The Preaching of the Friars, esp. 64–131; for Tuscany in the quattrocento, Paton, Preaching Friars, 38–39. 57. Lesnick, Preaching in Medieval Florence, 161–71; Baxandall, Painting and Experience, 46–56. 58. See the evidence given in Rusconi, Predicazione e Vita Religiosa, 192–98.

45. Camporeale, “Humanism and the Religious Crisis,” in Verdon and Henderson, Christianity and the Renaissance, esp. 455–57.

59. Triumphis Crucis, 295–97. Steinberg comments on this passage in Fra Girolamo Savonarola, 47–48.

46. Prediche Italiane, 3, no. 1, 391:“Voi dipintori, fate male, che se voi sapessi lo scandolo che ne segue e quello che so io, voi nolle dipingeresti.”

60. Cerretani, Storia Fiorentina, 193: “cominciò a edifichare una archa, come fe’ nel testamento vechio Noè, et in ogni predicha edifichava et commetteva quatro assi chon espositioni mirabili.”

47. Zafarana,“Per la storia religiosa,” Studi Medievali (1968): 1066–67:“e’ dipintori per tocchare danaro dipinghono e dipingnierebbono ongni chosa.” 48. Reprinted and discussed by Gilbert, “The Archbishop and the Painters of Florence,” Art Bulletin (1959): 79–80. 49. Prediche Italiane, 3, no. 1, 413–14: “le belle cerimonie, le chiese piene di drappelloni e organi, e dice:—qua non c’è forma nessuna nè culto interiore, ma solamente di fuori c’è la figura e il colore.” 50. Giobbe, 278–79: “hanno il cuore negli occhi e non hanno gli occhi loro nel cuore, amano solo quelle cose che di fuora.” This theme is constantly repeated; see, for example, Giobbe, 131; Prediche Italiane, 3, no. 1, 388–89, 405; ibid., 3, no. 2, 15; Ruth e Michea, 1:95 and 2:144.

61. Parenti, Ricordanze, 70: “Figurò etiam la citta di Firenze chome una nave in mezzo del mare circumdata da altre navi, le quali affondando per tempesta a questa nostra barca appiccare si volessino, mostrando che sola la terra nostra era salda, tutte l’altre d’Italia rotte.” 62. Zafarana, “Per la storia religiosa,” Studi Medievali (1968): 1059: “più tosto voleva tirare le chriature a divozioni e chogitazioni interiori cholla mente, che a ffare piangniere a llagrimare chon atti ’steriori, di fuori, di lagrime e ppianti che passono via presto . . . ma che delle chogitazione de’ 7 schalini sono dolciezze e ppensieri interiori e mentali che fanno più frutto e sono più utili alla salute.” Compare with Savonarola, Prediche Italiane, 3, no. 2, 450–74.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

252

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 252

notes to pages 17 1–175

63. Prediche Italiane, 3, no. 2, 449: “Io non ti voglio esporre altrimenti questa figura, perchè la conclusione è chiara, ma quanto alle particularità, quello che significa quella croce rossa, quella vesta, quella spada, quelle maschere e le altre cose particulari, esaminate da voi: lascio a te questa esposizione.” 64. See Savonarola, Ezechiele, 1:357–58, 2:275–77; Prediche Italiane, 3, no. 1, 127. 65. Pseudo-Burlamacchi, Vita Latina, 96–97: “una bella et devota cappella in onore della vergine con mirabile artificio era fabbricata; imperochè fra l’altre cosa vi era un altare edificato di mirabile bellezza, con una imagine della gloriosa Vergine scolpita, la quale haveva in braccio il suo unigenito Figliuolo che dormiva, di tanta bellezza che parevano vivi, et reclinava il suo capo nel seno della sua Mamma et faceva stare le persone stupite per devotione;”“pareva loro esser in Paradiso. . . . Et finito il sermone, innanzi a quella imagine della Vergine fece una devota et bella oratione.” 66. See Spencer, “Ut Rhetorica Pictura,” JWCI (1957), Land, The Viewer as Poet, esp. 3–24, and Baxandall, Giotto and the Orators. 67. Pseudo-Burlamacchi, Vita Latina, 96–97: “La Santa Vergine sedeva in un trono, alli gradi del quale era cinque brevi scritti a lettere d’oro . . . gli adornamenti del cielo et degli lati della cappella, d’oro et d’argento, seta et arazzi ornati.” 68. Ibid., 51: “in chiesa non figure curiose, ma semplice et devote, senza alcuna vanità.” 69. Ibid., 127: “un tabernacolo humile et devoto nel quale era dipinto l’imagine del nostro Salvatore sedente sopra ‘l mansueto asinello.” 70. Baxandall, Painting and Experience, 149. 71. Cerretani, Storia Fiorentina, 192: “introduxe quasi nuovo modo di pronuntiare il verbo d’ Iddio, c[i]oè a l’apostolescha sanza dividere el sermone, non propenendo quistione, fugendo el chantare, gl’ ornamenti d’eloquentie, solo il suo fine era exporre qualchosa del vechio testamento et introdurre la semplicità della primitiva chiesa.” 72. Filipepi,“Cronaca,” 475:“La voce et la pronuncia del Padre era tale che da tutti universalmente era udito benissimo, che parea cosa miracolosa; con tanto spirito poi, che parea un santo Paolo.” See also Nardi, Istorie, 1:51–52. 73. Didi-Huberman, Fra Angelico, 23–26.

74. Savonarola, Tractato . . . in Defensione (unpaginated): “non è dacercharlo ne in cielo ne in terra: ma nei proprio cuore.” 75. More fully discussed Chapter 1. For a discussion of Alessandro Nasi’s support of Savonarola, see Polizzotto, “Dell’Arte del Ben Morire,” I Tatti Studies (1989): 38. 76. ASF, NA 7545 (Ser Bartolomeo Fineschi da Radda, 1507–11), fols. 182r, 183r–84v, 186r, 188v, and 189v. 77. Nuttall’s figures do have to be qualified, however, as they are based on the assumption that the inventories in the Pupilli archive are representative of the Florentine population as a whole and consistent in the way they were taken. See her “Early Netherlandish Painting,” 132–60. 78. Strozzi, Lettere, 230, and Michelangelo as cited by Francisco de Hollanda, quoted in Klein and Zerner, Italian Art 1500–1600, 34. 79. Nuttall,“Early Netherlandish Painting,” 348. 80. Given the contemporary renown of Jan van Eyck in Italy, and the fame of this particular work, it seems quite possible that Filippino could have seen drawings or engravings after the Ghent Altarpiece. The influence of placing the realistically modeled saints in sculptural niches can be seen in several Flemish engravings of about 1480. See, for example, Der Meister der Van Eyck-Schule, plates 31, 45, and 59. 81. Discussed by Bietti, “‘Una divota figura,’” in Prinz and Seidel, Domenico Ghirlandaio, 150–51. Landucci reports how the miraculous crucifix, owned by a poor woman in Camaldoli, had broken into a sweat in 1473, hence the suitability of the cloth of Veronica as a cover. See Burke, “Visualizing Neighbourhood,” Journal of Urban History, forthcoming. 82. Translated extract in Gilbert, Italian Art, 1400–1500, 152. 83. Quoted by Baxandall, Painting and Experience, 149–50. 84. Vasari-Bettarini/Barocchi, 4:89. 85. For a discussion and possible reconstruction of this tabernacle, see Francesco Caglioti’s and Andrea De Marchi’s catalogue entries in Barocchi, Il Giardino di San Marco, 69–82.

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 253

notes to pages 176–185

253

86. Suggested by Fisher, Fra Bartolommeo, 33 and 170.

1490. A more easily available Latin version of the text is in Migne, Patrologia Latina, 22:239–82.

87. Ruth e Michea, 2:372–73: “che ti fussi spesso innanzi alli occhi, ma non però che tu ne facessi uno abito di vederla, e che poi la non ti movessi nulla.”

99. Eusebius, Il Devoto Transito, chap. v: “sopportare voluntariamente ogni infirmita e pena corporale et mentale per amor della giustitia.”

88. On this issue, see Decker, “Reform Within the Cult Image,” in Humfrey and Kemp, The Altarpiece in the Renaissance, and Nova, “Hangings, Curtains and Shutters,” in the same volume. 89. For Savonarola’s discussion of this, see particularly his Tractato . . . in Defensione (unpaginated). 90. Michelangelo, Carteggio, 1:17.

100. Ibid., chaps. vii, viii, xi: “onde ne ricchi, nobili et possenti e la luxuria, superbia et avaritia: i quali sono ladroni che usurpano et consumano quello che e de povere. . . . Et fanno grandi edificii et honorati palatii per esser contemplati da gli occhi humani: et stare bene adagio: et li poveri di Christo si muoiono.” 101. Ruth e Michea, 2:362–95 (2 November 1496).

91. For the popularity and availability of Flemish painting in Florence, see Nuttall,“Early Netherlandish Painting,” 58–79, and Rohlmann, Auftragskunst und Sammlerbild, 91–124.

102. See Binski, Medieval Death, esp. 29–47, and Boase, Death in the Middle Ages, 119–39.

92. The frame is discussed by Hatfield Strens, “Le aggiunte di Filippino,” in Dupré dal Poggetto, Scritti di storia dell’arte (1977): 284–85.

104. See Goff, “The Four Florentine Editions,” New Colophon (1950).

93. Alessandra’s sympathies to Savonarola as shown in her testament are discussed by Polizzotto,“Dell’Arte del Ben Morire,” I Tatti Studies (1989): 60–61. Her will can be found in ASF, NA 5439 (Ser Filippo Cioni, Testamenti 1515–19), fols. 136r–37v. 94. Pseudo- Burlamacchi, Vita Latina, 189. 95. Prediche Italiane, 3, no. 2, 12: “non è cosa più delettabile nè più soave che la contemplazione delle cose di Cristo: qualche volta voi vi state in villa e andatevi a spasso; sara meglio che voi contemplassi le cose di Cristo. Voi non attendete se non per le vie a cicalare: gli uomini santi non fanno così, anzi vanno sempre pensando e ruminando le cose della vita del Salvatore. Mettetevi dunque innanzi agli occhi queste cose, che saranno un fonte d’acqua viva, che vi condurranno in vita eterna.” 96. Prediche Italiane, 3, no. 2, 7–8: “Le ricchezze non vi cavan sete; gli onori non vi cavan sete; niuna cosa terrena vi cava la sete, nè vi sazia mai.”

103. Ruth e Miche, 2:372: “volendoti tu preparare bene all morte, tu ti facessi dipingere tre carte.”

105. Ruth and Michea, 2:378: “fatti fare uno paio di occhiali che si chiamino li occhiali della morte.” 106. Ibid., 380: “Se tu vuoi adunque fare bene e fuggire il peccato, fatti una forte fantasia della morte. Questi sono li occhiali che io ti dico: fa’ che la morte ti sia impressa sempre nella fantasia, e in ogni opera tua ricordati della morta.” 107. Ibid., 382: “qualche cosa sensibile che ti fa ricordare della morte, perché la fantasia viene dal senso, che è mosso dalle cose sensibili.” 108. Ibid., 383:“se tu pure se’ molto fragile, doverresti farti dipingere la morte in casa tua, e etiam portare in mano una morticina d’osso e guardala spesso.” 109. Ibid., 372–73: “La prima fu, che tu ti facessi dipingere in una carta el Paradiso di sopra e lo Inferno di sotto . . . e guardassi molto bene questa figura, e che la morte ti sta sempre incontro per levarti di questa vita, quasi dicendoti—Tu hai a morire a ogni modo e non puoi campare dalle mie mani; guarda, dove tu vuoi andare, o quassù in Paradiso, o quaggiù in Inferno?”

97. ASF, CRS 78, 316 (Archivio Familiarum: Dei), fol. 213v: “mori cosi bene e contanta patientia e conoscimento e reverentia di Dio quanta uno optimo religioso e divino spirito con tali parole sancte in boccha che pareva uno San Girolamo novello.”

110. Ibid., 386: “La seconda carta, . . . è questa: che tu ti facci dipingere uno omo, cominciato a infirmarsi, con la morte che sta allo uscio e picchia per entrare drento.”

98. The edition I used, in the British Library, was printed for Ser Francesco Bonnacorsi in Florence in

111. Ibid., 390:“uno infermo nel letto, che era condotto al punto estremo a fare penitenzia.”

13.Burke.225-254.FINALqu

254

4/1/04

10:26 AM

Page 254

notes to pages 185–194

112. Lightbown, Botticelli, 2:86–87. One was formerly in the Palazzo Balbi-Senarega, Genoa; another in an American private collection (sold Christie’s, London, 5 May 1911); and one is possibly in Paris after being sold in Christie’s, London, on 22 March 1929. 113. Landucci, A Florentine Diary, 129. 114. Trexler, Public Life, 189–90 and 483.

Conclusion 1. For the objects inside their home, see Bocchi and Cinelli, Le Bellezze, 172, and the inventory of 1565 in ASF, Libri di Commercio e di Famiglia 228, fols. 2r–7r. 2. Guicciardini, History of Italy, 3. 3. For an extended discussion of the motif of the golden age in the years after 1494, see Burke, “Form and Power,” chap. 8. 4. Polizzotto, The Elect Nation, passim. 5. David Franklin has recently published a new synthetic interpretation of the painting of this period (Painting in Renaissance Florence), yet compared with the fifteenth century in Florence, it remains comparatively underexamined. 6. This is not the first time the comparison between Piero and Francesco Pugliese has been made, though with a different question in mind. See Wackernagel, The World of the Florentine Renaissance Artist, 121–22. 7. Catalogued in Sotheby’s, Catalogue of Highly Important Old Master Paintings, London, 24 March 1965, and formerly in the collection at Locko Park. See Burke, “Form and Power,” 133–34, for a longer discussion of these paintings. 8. Though it has been dated up to a year later than this for stylistic reasons; see Meyer zur Cappellen, Raphael in Florence, 197–200. 9. The letter was originally published in Golzio, Raffaello nei documenti, 10; John Shearman suggested it was possibly a nineteenth-century forgery at a public lecture given at the Courtauld Institute in London in November 1998. His Raphael in Early Modern Sources has just been published by Yale University Press. See for Raphael’s drawings of this period, Jones and Penny, Raphael, 21–47, and Meyer zur Cappellen, Raphael in Florence, 98–141.

10. See F. W. Kent, Lorenzo de’ Medici, chap. 1. 11. See Gilbert, “Bernardo Rucellai,” JWCI (1949), for a discussion of the meetings at the Rucellai gardens and the importance of the posthumous image of Lorenzo, and Rubinstein, “The Formation of the Posthumous Image,” in Chaney and Ritchie, Oxford, China and Italy. 12. See Raffaello a Firenze, 39–40. Agnolo Doni’s wife, Maddalena di Giovanni Strozzi, was niece to Dionigi di Piero Nasi (see BNF, Carte Passerini, Nasi). 13. See Cecchi, in Raffaello a Firenze, 40; VasariBettarini/Barocchi, 4:160; and for a letter about Taddei by Raphael, Golzio, Raffaello nei Documenti, 19. 14. ASF, C. Strozzi, Ser i, cccxxv, fols. 1r–4v. 15. Vasari-Bettarini/Barocchi, 4:160–61. Restoration work confirms that the panel was broken into sixteen pieces that were glued together at some early point in its history; see Raffaello a Firenze, 77–78.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 255

biblio graphy

Archival Sources Cited Florence, Archivio Arcivescovile Cause Civile, Chiese Varie Notari, Atti Straordinari Visite Pastorali Florence, Archivio del Ospedale degli Innocenti Ser. V Ser. X Ser. CXVII Ser. CXX Ser. CXXII Florence, Archivio di Stato Arte della Seta Carte Bagni Carte Dei (Manoscritti) Carte Strozziane Catasto Ceremelli Papiani Compagnie Religiose Soppresse incamerate nel Bigallo: Compagnia di Santa Maria del Laude detta S. Agnese Corporazioni Religiose Soppresse dal Governo Francese Decima Repubblicana Libri di Commercio e di Famiglia Magistrati dei Pupilli Manoscritti Notarile Antecosimiano Otto di Guardia Raccolta Sebregondi Signori, Dieci di Balìa, Otto di Pratica: Legazioni e Commissarie, Missive e Responsive Statuti delle Comunità Autonome e Soggette Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana Archivio di San Marco Pluteus Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale Conventi Soppressi Fondo Passerini Fondo Principale Nuovi Acquisti

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:28 AM

256

Page 256

biblio graphy

Florence, Biblioteca Riccardiana Fondo Riccardiano Florence, Biblioteca di San Marco Razzi, Serafino,“Breve Discrizione del luogho chiamato Santa Maria di Lecceto”

Published Primary Sources Alberti, Leon Battista. De Iciarchia. Vol. 2 of Opere Volgari. Edited by C. Grayson. Bari: G. Laterza, 1966. ———. I Libri della Famiglia. Edited by R. Romano and A. Tenenti. Turin: Einaudi, 1969. Translated into English as The Family in Renaissance Florence. Translated by R. Neu Watkins. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1969. ———. On the Art of Building in Ten Books. Translated by J. Rykwert, N. Leach, and R. Tavernor. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1988. ———. On Painting and On Sculpture: The Latin Texts of “De Pictura” and “De Statua.” Edited and translated by C. Grayson. London: Phaidon, 1972. Albertini, Francesco. Memoriale di Molte Statue e Picture di Florentia. London: Chatto and Windus, 1909. Altoviti, Francesco. Defensione contro all’archa di Fra Girolamo. Florence: Francesco di Dino, 1497. Ammirato, Sciopione. Delle famiglie nobili fiorentine di Scipione Ammirato. Florence: G. Donato and B. Giunti and Company, 1615). Antoninus, Saint. Summa Theologica. 4 vols. Graz: Adademische Drucku, 1959. Arlotto, Piovano. Motti e Facezie del Piovano Arlotto. Edited by G. Folena. Milan: Ricciardi, 1995. Bartolo da Sassoferrato. A Grammar of Signs: Bartolo da Sassoferrato’s “Tract on Insignia and Coats of Arms.” Edited by O. Cavaller, S. Degenring, and J. Kirshner. Berkeley: Robbins Collection, University of California, 1994. Bernard of Clairvaux, Saint. À la louange de la Vierge Mère. Parallel texts, French and Latin, translated and edited by M. Huile and J. Reynard. Paris: Le Cerf, 1993. Bertolini, L., ed. De Vera Amicitia: I Testi del Primo Certame Coronario. Ferrara: Panini, 1993. Bettini, Antonio, Bishop of Foligno. Monte Sancto di Dio. Florence: Nicolo di Lorenzo Dellamagna, 1477. Bocchi, F., and G. Cinelli. Le Bellezze della Città di Firenze. Florence: G. Guglianti, 1677. Bombe, W., ed. Nachlass-Inventare des Angelo da Uzzano und des Lodovico di Gino Capponi. Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1928. Borghini, Vincenzio. Storia della Nobiltà Fiorentina. Discorsi Inediti o Rari. Edited by J. Woodhouse. Pisa: Marlin, 1974. Braccesi, Alessandro. Carmina. Edited by A. Perosa. Florence: Bibliopolis, 1944. Bruni, Leonardo. The Humanism of Leonardo Bruni: Selected Texts. Edited and translated by G. Griffiths, J. Hankins, and D. Thompson. Binghampton, N.Y.: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1987. Caggese, R., ed. Statuti della Repubblica fiorentina. 2 vols. Florence: Tip. Galileiana, 1910–21. Cambi, Giovanni, Istorie. 4 vols. In Delizie degli eruditi toscani. Edited by I. de San Luigi, XXI–XXV. Florence: Gaetano Cambiagi, 1785. Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent. Translated and edited by H. J. Schroeder. St. Louis: Vail-ballou Press, 1960. Cerretani, Bartolommeo. Ricordi. Edited by G. Berti. Florence: Olschki, 1994. ———. Storia Fiorentina. Edited by G. Berti. Florence: Olschki, 1994. Condivi, Ascanio. Vita di Michelangelo. Edited by G. B. Bondoni. Florence: Rinascimento del Libro, 1927. Dante Alighieri. The Divine Comedy. Paradiso I: Italian Text and Translation. Translated by C. S. Singleton. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975. Dei, Benedetto. La Cronica dall’anno 1400 all’anno 1500. Edited by R. Barducci. Florence: Papafeva, 1984.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 257

biblio graphy

257

———. Memorie Notate. Partially published in G. C. Romby, Descrizioni e Rappresentazioni della Città di Firenze nel XV secolo. Florence: Libreria Editrice Fiorentina, 1976, 56–73. Epictetus. Manuale. Edited by E. V. Maltese. Milan: Garzanti, 1990. Eusebius. Il Devoto Transito del Glorioso Sancto Hieronymo ridocto in lingua Fiorentina. Florence: Ser Francesco Bonacorsi, 1490. ———. De Morte Hieronymi ad Damasum. In Patrologia Latina 22, edited by J. P. Migne, 239–82. Paris: PetitMontrouge, 1854. Ficino, Marsilio. The Letters of Marsilio Ficino. 5 vols. London: Shepheard-Walwyn, 1978. ———. Opera. 2 vols. Basel: Henrici Petrina, 1576. Filarete. Treatise on Architecture: Being the Treatise by Antonio di Piero Averlino, Known as Filarete. Translated and edited by J. R. Spencer. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1965. Filipepi, Simone. “Estratto della Cronaca di Simone Filipepi.” In Scelta di Prediche e Scritti di Fra Girolamo Savonarola con nuovi documenti intorno alla sua vita. Edited by P. Villari and E. Casanova, 453–511. Florence: G. C. Sansoni, 1898. Gaye, G., ed. Carteggio inedito d’artisti dei secoli XIV, XV, XVI. 3 vols. Florence: G. Molini, 1839–40. Gilbert, F., ed. Italian Art 1400–1500: Sources and Documents. Eaglewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1980. Golzio, V., ed. Raffaello nei Documenti, nelle testimonianze dei contemporanei e nella letteratura del suo secolo. Vatican City: Gregg International Publishers, 1936. Guicciardini, Francesco. The History of Italy. Translated and edited by S. Alexander. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984. Guicciardini, Francesco. Storie Fiorentine. Edited by R. Palmarocchi. Bari: G. Laterza e Figli, 1931. Translated into English as The History of Florence. Translated and edited by M. Domandi. New York: Harper and Row, 1970. Jacobus da Voragine. The Golden Legend. Translated by W. Granger Ryan. 2 vols. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993. Klein, R., and H. Zerner, eds. Italian Art 1500–1600: Sources and Documents. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1966. Landucci, Luca. Diario Fiorentino dal 1450 al 1516. Edited by I. del Badia. Florence: G. C. Sansoni, 1883. Translated into English by A. de Rosen Jervis as A Florentine Diary from 1450 to 1516 Continued by an Anonymous Writer till 1542 with Notes by Iodoco del Badia. London: Arno Press, 1927. Manetti, Antonio. The Life of Brunelleschi. Edited by H. Saalman. Translated by C. Engass. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1970. Masi, Bartolommeo. Ricordanze di Bartolommeo Masi, Calderaio fiorentino dal 1478 al 1526. Edited by O. Corazzini. Florence: G. C. Sansoni, 1906. Merkel, C., ed. “I beni della famiglia de Puccio Pucci.” In Miscellanea nuziale Rossi-Teiss. Bergamo: Istituto Italiano Arti Grafiche, 1897, 155–221. Michelangelo Buonarotti. Il Carteggio di Michelangelo. 5 vols. Edited by G. Poggi, P. Barocchi, and R. Ristori. Florence: Sansoni Editore, 1965. Migne, J.-P., ed. Patrologiae cursus completus. Series Latina. 217 vols. Paris: Garnier, 1844–55. Morelli, Giovanni di Pagolo. Ricordi. Edited by V. Branca. Florence: F. Le Monnier, 1956. Nardi, Iacopo. Istorie della Città di Firenze. Edited by L. Arbib. 2 vols. Florence: Società Editrice delle Storie del Nardi e del Varchi, 1838–41. Neri di Bicci. Le Ricordanze. Edited by B. Santi. Pisa: Marlin, 1976. Palmieri, Matteo. Vita Civile. Edited by G. Belloni. Florence: Sansoni, 1982. Parenti, Piero. Storia Fiorentina I, 1476–78 and 1492–96. Edited by A. Matucci. Florence: Olschki, 1994. ———. Ricordanze. In vol. 4 of Quellen und Forschungen zur Geschichte Savonarolas. Edited by J. Schnitzer. Leipzig: J. J. Lentner, 1910. Pliny the Elder. The Elder Pliny’s Chapters on the History of Art. Translated by K. Jex-Blake. London: Macmillan, 1896. Pseudo-Burlamacchi. La Vita del Beato Ieronimo Savonarola. Edited by P. Ginori Conti Florence: Olschki, 1937.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

258

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 258

biblio graphy

Rinuccini, Francesco, Alamanno, and Neri. Ricordi Storici di Filippo di Cino Rinuccini dal 1282 al 1460 colla continuazione di Alamanno e Neri suoi figli fino al 1506. Edited by G. Aiazzi. Florence: Stamperia Piatti, 1840. Rucellai, Giovanni. Giovanni Rucellai ed il suo zibaldone. Vol. 1. Il Zibaldone Quaresimale. Edited by A. Perosa. London: Warburg Institute, 1960. Rusconi, R., ed. Predicazione e Vita Religiosa nella Società Italiana da Carlo Magno alla Controriforma. Turin: Loescher, 1981. Savonarola, Girolamo. De Simplicitate Christianae Vitae. Edited by P. G. Ricci. Rome: A. Belardetti, 1959. ———. Predica dell’arte del ben morire. Florence, 1494. Facsimile reprint with introduction by E. von Rath. Berlin: Hrsg. von der Wiegendruckgesellschaft, 1926. ———. Prediche Italiane ai Fiorentini. Edited by R. Palmarocchi. 3 vols. Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1933. ———. Prediche sopra Amos e Zaccaria. Edited by P. Ghighieri. 2 vols. Rome: A. Belardetti, 1971–72. ———. Prediche sopra Ezechiele. Edited by R. Ridolfi. 2 vols. Rome: A. Belardetti, 1955. ———. Prediche sopra Giobbe. Edited by R. Ridolfi. 2 vols. Rome: A. Belardetti, 1957. ———. Prediche sopra Ruth e Michea. Edited by V. Romano. 2 vols. Rome: A. Belardetti, 1962. ———. Prediche sopra i Salmi. Edited by V. Romano. Rome: A. Belardetti, 1969. ———. Tractato . . . in Defensione e Commendatione dell’Oratione Mentale. Florence: Lorenzo Morgiani, 1497. ———. Triumphis Crucis. Edited by M. Ferrara. Rome: A Belardetti, 1961. Spallanzani, M., and G. Gaeta Bertelà, eds. Libro d’Inventario dei Beni di Lorenzo il Magnifico. Florence: Associazione “Amici del Bargello,” 1992. Strozzi, Alessandra Macinghi degli. Lettere. Edited by C. Guasti. Florence: G. C. Sansoni, 1877. Suetonius, Gaius. The Twelve Caesars. Translated by R. Graves. London: Penguin Books, 1957. Vasari, Giorgio. Le Vite de’ Più Eccellenti Pittori, Scultori e Architettori nelle redazioni del 1550 e 1568. Edited by R. Bettarini and P. Barocchi. 3 vols. Florence: Sansoni, 1976. Verino, Ugolino. De Illustratione Urbis Florentiae con la versione toscana a confronto del poema in metro eroico. Paris: n.p., 1790. Vespasiano da Bisticci. Le Vite. Edited by A. Greco. 2 vols. Florence: Istituto Nazionale di studi sul Rinasamento, 1970. Translated into English by W. George and E. Waters as The Vespasiano Memoirs: Lives of Illustrious Men of the XVth Century. London: G. Routledge & Sons, 1926. Villani, Giovanni. Cronica. Edited by F. Gherardi Dragomanni. 4 vols. Florence: Sansoni, 1845.

Secondary Sources Agostini, G.“La Chiesa di Santo Spirito a Firenze dalle origini a tutto il quattrocento.” Ph.D. diss., Faculty of Arts, University of Florence, 1976–77. Ames-Lewis, F., ed. Cosimo “Il Vecchio” de’ Medici 1389–1464. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992. ———. The Early Medici and Their Artists. London: Department of History of Art, Birkbeck College, 1995. Ames-Lewis, F., and A. Bednarek, eds. Decorum in Renaissance Narrative Art. London: Department of History of Art, Birbeck College, 1992. Anderson, J.“Rewriting the History of Art Patronage.” Renaissance Studies 10 (1996): 126–38. Antal, F. Florentine Painting and Its Social Background. Cambridge: K. Paul, 1986. ———. “The Social Background to Italian Mannerism.” Appendix to “Observations on Girolamo da Carpi,” Art Bulletin 30 (1948): 102–3. Bacci, M. Piero di Cosimo. Milan: Bramante, 1966. Barocchi, P., ed. Il Giardino di San Marco: Maestri e compagni del giovane Michelangelo. Florence: Silvana, 1992. Baron, H.“Franciscan Poverty and Civic Wealth as Factors in the Rise of Humanistic Thought.” Speculum 13 (1938): 1–37. Baskins, C. Cassone Painting, Humanism and Gender in Early Modern Italy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Baxandall, M.“Art, Society and the Bouguer Principle.” Representations 12 (1985): 32–43. ———. Giotto and the Orators: Humanist Observers of Painting in Italy and the Discovery of Pictorial Composition, 1350–1450. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 259

biblio graphy

259

———.“The Language of Art History.” New Literary History 10 (1978): 453–65. ———. Painting and Experience in Fifteenth Century Italy. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972. ———. Patterns of Intention. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1982. ———. Review of F. W. Kent and P. Simons, eds., Patronage, Art, and Society in Renaissance Italy. English Historical Review 105 (1990): 455–56. Bec, C. Les Livres des Florentins (1413–1608). Florence: Olschki, 1984. Becker, M.“Aspects of Lay Piety.” In The Pursuit of Holiness in Late Medieval and Renaissance Religion, edited by C. Trinkaus and H. Oberman, 177–99. Leiden: Brill, 1974. Bellosi, R., ed. Il Museo dello Spedale degli Innocenti a Firenze. Milan: Electa, 1977. Belting, H. Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image Before the Era of Art. Translated by E. Jephcott. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994. Berti, L., ed. La chiesa di Santa Maria del Carmine a Firenze. Florence: Cassa di Risparmio di Firenze, 1992. Berti, L., and U. Baldini. Filippino Lippi. Reprint. Florence: Edizioni d’Arte il Fiorino, 1991. Beyer, B., and B. Boucher, eds. Piero de’ Medici “il Gottoso”: Kunst im Dienste der Mediceer. Berlin: Akademie, 1993. Bibliotheca Sanctorum. 12 vols. Rome: Istituto Giovanni XXIII della Pontificia Università, 1961–69. Bietti, M. “‘Una divota figura e Bella.’” In Domenico Ghirlandaio: Atti del Convegno, edited by W. Prinz and M. Seidel, 150–53. Florence: Centro Di, 1996. Binski, P. Medieval Death: Ritual and Representation. London: British Museum Press, 1996. Bizzocchi, R. Chiesa e potere nella Toscana del Quattrocento. Bologna: Il Mulino, 1987. ———. “La dissoluzione di un clan familiare. I Buondelmonte di Firenze nei secoli XV e XXVI.” Archivio Storico Italiano 140 (1982): 3–45. ———. Genealogie Incredibili. Scritti di Storia nell’Europa Moderna. Bologna: Il Mulino, 1995. ———.“Struttura familiare e memoria storica.” In Palazzo Strozzi: Metà Millennio 1489–1989. Atti del Convegno di Studi, Firenze, 3–6 Luglio 1989, edited by D. Lamberini, 92–107. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991. Blum, R. La Biblioteca della Badia Fiorentina. Vatican City: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1951. Blume, A.“Giovanni de’ Bardi and Sandro Botticelli in Santo Spirito.” Jahrbuch des Berliner Museen 37 (1995): 169–83. ———.“Studies in the Religious Paintings of Sandro Botticelli.” Ph.D. diss., Harvard University, 1995. Boase, T. S. R. Death in the Middle Ages: Mortality, Judgement and Remembrance. London: Thames & Hudson, 1972. Bolton, S. D.“Friendship in the Renaissance: An Examination of Theoretical Writings on Friendship by 15th and 16th Century Italian Authors.” M.Phil. diss., University of London, 1990. Borsook, E. “Documenti relativi alle cappelle di Lecceto e delle Selve di Filippo Strozzi.” Antichità Viva 9, no. 3 (1970): 3–20. ———.“Ritratto di Filippo Strozzi il Vecchio.” In Palazzo Strozzi: Metà Millenio 1489–1989: Atti del Convegno di Studi, edited by D. Lamberini, 1–14. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991. Borsook, E., and J. Offerhaus. Francesco Sassetti and Ghirlandaio at Santa Trinita, Florence: History and Legend in a Renaissance Chapel. Doornspijk: Davaco Publishers, 1981. Borsook, E., and F. Superbi Gioffredi, eds. Italian Altarpieces, 1250–1550: Function and Design. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. Botterill, S. Dante and the Mystical Tradition: Bernard of Clairvaux in the Commedia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Botto, C.“L’edificazione di Santo Spirito,” pt. 1, Rivista d’Arte 13 (1931): 477–511. ———.“L’edificazione di Santo Spirito,” pt. 2, Rivista d’Arte 14 (1932): 23–55. Bourdieu, P. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. Translated by R. Nice. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984. Bridgeman, R. J. “Aspects of Dress and Ceremony in Quattrocento Florence.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1986.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

260

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 260

biblio graphy

———. “‘Pagare le pompe’: Why Quattrocento Sumptuary Laws Did Not Work.” In Women in Italian Renaissance Culture and Society, edited by L. Panizza, 209–26. Oxford: Legenda, 2000. Broude, N., and Garrard, M. D., eds. The Expanding Discourse: Feminism and Art History. New York: Icon Editions, 1992. Brown, A. Language and Images of Renaissance Italy. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995. ———.“Lorenzo and Public Opinion in Florence: The Problem of Opposition.” In Lorenzo il Magnifico e il suo Mondo. Convegno Internazionale di Studi (Firenze 9–13 giugno 1992), edited by G. C. Garfagnini, 61–85. Florence: Olschki, 1994. ———.“Lorenzo de’ Medici’s New Men and Their Mores: The Changing Lifestyle of Quattrocento Florence.” Renaissance Studies 16 (2002): 113–42. ———. The Medici in Florence: The Exercise and Language of Power. Florence: Olschki, 1992. Brucker, G. Florentine Politics and Society, 1348–1378. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962. ———. Renaissance Florence. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1965. ———.“Urban Parishes and Their Clergy in Quattrocento Florence: A Preliminary ‘Sondage.’” In Renaissance Studies in Honor of Craig Hugh Smyth, edited by A. Morrogh, 17–28. Florence: Giunti Barbèra, 1985. Bruscoli, G. L’Adorazione dei Magi. Tavola di Domenico Ghirlandaio della chiesa dello Spedale degli Innocenti, con documenti inediti. Florence: Enrico Ariani, 1902. Bryson, N., M. A. Holly, and K. Moxey, eds. Visual Culture: Images and Interpretations. Hanover: Wesleyan University Press, 1994. Bullard, M.“Lorenzo and Patterns of Diplomatic Discourse in the Late Fifteenth Century.” In Lorenzo the Magnificent: Culture and Politics, edited by M. Mallett and N. Mann, 263–74. London: Warburg Institute, 1996. ———. Lorenzo il Magnifico: Image and Anxiety, Politics and Finance. Florence: Olschki, 1994. ———. “Marsilio Ficino and the Medici: The Inner Dimensions of Patronage.” In Christianity and the Renaissance: Image and Religious Imagination in the Quattrocento, edited by T. Verdon and J. H. Henderson, 467–92. Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1990. Bulman, L.“Artistic Patronage at SS Annunziata 1440–c. 1520.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1971. Burckhardt, J. The Civilisation of the Renaissance in Italy. Translated by S. G. C. Middlemore. Vienna: George Allen and Unwin, 1937. Burke, J. “Politics and Public Space: Piero Soderini and the Commissioning of Civic Art.” M.A. thesis, University of London, 1994. ———.“Form and Power: Patronage and the Visual Arts in Florence, c. 1480–1512.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1999. ———.“Patronage and Identity in Renaissance Florence: The Case of Santa Maria a Lecceto.” In Fashioning Identities in Renaissance Art, edited by M. Rogers, 51–61. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000. ———. “Visualizing Neighbourhood in Renaissance Florence: Santo Spirito and Santa Maria del Carmine.” Journal of Urban History, forthcoming. Burke, P. The Italian Renaissance: Culture and Society in Italy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986. ———. The European Renaissance: Centres and Peripheries. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1998. Burroughs, C.“Florentine Palaces: Cubes and Context.” Art History 6 (1983): 359–63. Buschmann, L. Raffaellino del Garbo: Werkmonographie und Katolog. Ph.D. diss., Albert-Ludwigs-Universitat, Freiburg, 1993. Butters, H. C. Governors and Government in Early Sixteenth Century Florence, 1502–1519. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985. Caglioti, F. Donatello e i Medici. Storia del “David” e della “Giuditta.” 2 vols. Florence: Olschki, 2000. Callman, E. Apollonio di Giovanni. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1974. ———. Beyond Nobility: Art for the Private Citizen in the Early Renaissance. Allentown, Pa.: Allentown Art Museum, 1980. Calvi, G. “Reconstructing the Family: Widowhood and Remarriage in Tuscany in the Early Modern Period.” In Marriage in Italy, 1300–1650, edited by T. Dean and K. J. P. Lowe, 275–96. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 261

biblio graphy

261

Calzolai, C.C., ed. La Chiesa Fiorentina. Florence: Curia Arcivescovile, 1970. Camporeale, S.“Humanism and the Religious Crisis of the Late Quattrocento: Giovanni Caroli O.P. and the Liber dierum lucensium.” In Christianity and the Renaissance: Image and Religious Imagination in the Quattrocento, edited by T. Verdon and J. H. Henderson, 445–66. Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1990. Cannon, J. “Dominican Patronage of the Arts in Central Italy: The “Provincia Romana” c. 1220–c. 1320.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1980. Capretti, E. “La cappella e l’altare: evoluzione di un rapporto.” In La Chiesa e il Convento di Santo Spirito a Firenze, edited by C. A. Luchinat, 229–38. Florence: Cassa di Risparmio di Firenze, 1996. ———.“La Pinacoteca Sacra.” In La Chiesa e il Convento di Santo Spirito a Firenze, edited by C. A. Luchinat, 239–301. Florence: Cassa di Risparmio di Firenze, 1996. ———.“Antefatti della Controriforma in Santo Spirito: tipologia, iconografia e sviluppo dell’altare, dalla “Visitazione” di Piero di Cosimo all’ altare maggiore del Caccini.” In Altari e Immagini nello spazio ecclesiale: Progetti e realizzazione fra Firenze e Bologna nell’età della Controriforma, edited by A. Forlani Tempesti, 43–69. Florence: Pontecorboli, 1996. Carl, D.“Das Inventar der Werkstatt von Filippino Lippi aus dem Jahre 1504,” MKIF 31 (1987): 373–83. Carocci, G.“Le antiche divisioni della città di Firenze in Quartieri e Gonfaloni.” L’Illustratore Fiorentino: Calendario Storico per l’anno 1909. Florence: Giovanni Cirri, 81–89. ———.“Chiesa e convento di SS. Filippo e Jacopo a Lecceto nel Comune della Lastra a Signa.” L’Illustratore Fiorentino: Calendario Storico per l’anno 1904. Florence: Giovanni Cirri, 61–67. ———. I dintorni di Firenze. 2 vols. Florence: Gallettie Cocci, 1907. Casali, G.“Il gonfalone Drago Verde nel Quattrocento.” In Drago Verde: Quali case e quali abitanti? edited by V. Franchetti Pardo, 21–57. Florence: Alinea, 1985. Cavazzini, L.“Dipinti e Sculture nelle chiese dell’Ospedale.” In Gli Innocenti e Firenze nei secoli. Un Ospedale, un Archivio, una Città, edited by L. Sandri, 113–52. Florence: Studio per Edizioni Scelte, 1996. Cecchi, A.“L’ingresso di Carlo VIII in Firenze del Granacci: Nuovi documenti e ipotesi sulla commitenza.” Paragone 37 (1986): 41–48. ———.“Una predella e altri contributi per l’Adorazione dei Magi di Filippino.” In Gli Uffizi, Studi e ricerche V: I Pittori della Brancacci agli Uffizi, 59–72. Florence: Centro Di, 1988. Chambers, D. Review of Kent and Simons, Patronage, Art, and Society. Journal of Ecclesiastical History 39 (1989): 115–16. Chartier, R.“Popular Appropriations: The Readers and Their Books.” In his Forms and Meanings: Texts, Performances, and Audiences from Codex to Computer, 83–97. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995. Chastel, A. Art et Humanisme à Florence au temps de Laurent le Magnifique. Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1981. Cherubini, G., and Fanelli, G. eds. Il Palazzo Medici Riccardi di Firenze. Florence: Giunti, 1990. Chiarini, M.“Paintings by Raphael in the Palazzo Pitti, Florence.” In The Princeton Raphael Symposium: Science in the Service of Art History, edited by J. Shearman and M. Hall, 79–84. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990. Chiarini, M., M. Ciatti, and S. Padovani, eds. Raffaello a Pitti, “La Madonna del Baldacchino.” Storia e Restauro. Florence: Centro Di, 1991. Ciappelli, G., and P. L. Rubin, eds. Art, Memory, and Family in Early Renaissance Florence. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Clare, E. G. St Nicholas: His Legends and Iconography. Florence: Olschki, 1985. Clark, D. L.“Filippino Lippi’s The Virgin Inspiring St Bernard and Florentine Humanism.” Studies in Iconography 7–8 (1981–82): 175–87. Cohn, S. J. The Cult of Remembrance and the Black Death. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992. ———. Death and Property in Siena 1205–1800: Strategies for the Afterlife. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1988.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

262

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 262

biblio graphy

———. The Laboring Classes in Renaissance Florence. New York: Academic Press, 1980. Colvin, H. Architecture and the After-Life. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991. Connell, W.“‘Libri di famiglia’ and the Family History of Florentine Patricians.” Italian Culture 8 (1990): 279–92. Cooper, T. E. “Mecenatismo or Clientelismo? The Character of Renaissance Patronage.” In The Search for a Patron in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, edited by D. G. and R. L. Wilkins, 19–32. Lampeter, Eng.: Mellen Press, 1996. Covi, D. A.“The Inscription in Fifteenth Century Florentine Painting.” Ph.D. diss., New York University, 1958. Cranston, J. The Poetics of Portraiture in the Italian Renaissance. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Craven, S. J.“Aspects of Patronage in Florence 1494–1512.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1973. Crollalanza, G. B. Dizionario storico-blasonico delle famiglie nobili e notabile italiane. 3 vols. Pisa: Giornale Araldico, 1886–90. Cropper, E. “Problems in the Rhetoric of Renaissance Portraiture.” In Rewriting the Renaissance: The Discourses of Sexual Difference in Early Modern Europe, edited by M. W. Ferguson, M. Quilligan, and N. J. Vickers, 175–95. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986. Crum, R. “Controlling Women or Women Controlled?” In Beyond Isabella: Secular Women Patrons of Art in Renaissance Italy, edited by S. E. Reiss and D. G. Wilkins, 37–50. Kirksville, Mo.: Truman State University Press, 2001. Dal Prà, L., ed. Bernardo di Chiaravalle nell’arte italiana dal XIV al XVIII secolo. Milan: Electa, 1990. Davis, M. The Earlier Italian Schools, National Gallery Catalogue. London: National Gallery Publications, 1961. D’Avray, D. L. The Preaching of the Friars: Sermons Diffused from Paris Before 1300. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985. Decker, B.“Reform Within the Cult Image: The German Winged Altarpiece Before the Reformation.” In The Altarpiece in the Renaissance, edited by J. Humfrey and M. Kemp, 90–105. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. De la Mare, A.“New Research on Humanistic Scribes in Florence.” In Minatura Fiorentina del Rinascimento 1440–1525. Un primo censimento, edited by A. Garzelli, 395–476. 2 vols. Florence: Giunta Regionala Toscana, 1985. Denley, P., and C. Elam, eds. Florence and Italy: Renaissance Studies in Honour of Nicolai Rubinstein. London: Westfield College, 1988. De Roover, R. The Rise and Decline of the Medici Bank, 1397–1494.Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1963. Desloges, N. “Piero di Cosimo’s Virgin and Child with Saints.” St. Louis Art Museum Bulletin, winter 1988, 30–33. Didi-Huberman, G. Fra Angelico: Dissemblance et Figuration. Paris: Flammarion, 1990. ———.“The Portrait, the Individual and the Singular: Remarks on the Legacy of Aby Warburg.” In The Image of the Individual: Portraits in the Renaissance, edited by N. Mann and L. Syson, 165–87. London: British Museum Press, 1998. Diefendorf, B.“Family Culture, Renaissance Culture.” Renaissance Quarterly 40 (1987): 661–81. Doren, A. Le arti fiorentine. 2 vols. Florence: F. Le Monnier, 1940. Douglas, R. L. Piero di Cosimo. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1946. Eckstein, N. A. The District of the Green Dragon: Neighbourhood Life and Social Change in Renaissance Florence. Florence: Olschki, 1995. Eisenbichler, K. Crossing the Boundaries: Christian Piety and the Arts in Italian Medieval and Renaissance Confraternities. Kalamazoo: Western Michigan University, 1992. Eisenstadt, S. N., and L. Roniger. Patrons, Clients, and Friends: Interpersonal Relations and the Structure of Trust in Society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984. Elam, C. “Cosimo de’ Medici and San Lorenzo.” In Cosimo “il Vecchio” de Medici, 1385–1464, edited by F. Ames-Lewis, 157–80. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 263

biblio graphy

263

———.“Lorenzo’s Architectural and Urban Policies.” In Lorenzo il Magnifico e il suo mondo. Convegno internazionale di studi (Firenze 9–13 giugno 1992), edited by G. C. Garfagnini, 357–84. Florence: Olschki, 1994. ———. “Lorenzo de’ Medici and the Urban Development of Renaissance Florence.” Art History 1 (1978): 43–66. ———.“Lorenzo de’ Medici’s Sculpture Garden.” MKIF 36 (1992): 41–84. ———. “Palazzo Strozzi nel contesto urbano.” In Palazzo Strozzi: Metà Millennio 1489–1989. Atti del Convegno di Studi, Firenze, 3–6 Luglio 1989, edited by D. Lamberini, 183–94. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991. ———. “Piazza Strozzi. Two Drawings by Baccio d’Agnolo and the Problems of a Private Renaissance Square.” I Tatti Studies 1 (1985): 105–35. Fabbri, L. Alleanza matrimoniale e patriziato nell Firenze del ‘400. Studio sulla famiglia Strozzi. Florence: Olschki, 1991. Fabriczy, C. von.“Brunelleschiana. Urkunden und Forschungen zur Biographie des Meisters.” Jahrbuch der Königlich Preuszichen Kunstsammlungen 28 (1907): Beiheft, 1–84. Fantozzi, F. Nuova guida ovvero descrizione storico-artistico-critica della città e contorni di Firenze. Florence: G. e fratelli Ducci, 1842. Fermor, S. Piero di Cosimo: Fiction, Invention and Fantasia. London: Reaktion Books, 1993. Fischer, C. Fra Bartolommeo, Master Draughtsman of the High Renaissance. Rotterdam: Museum Boymans-van Beuningen, 1990. Fitch Little, G. “Friendship and Patronage in Renaissance Europe.” In Patronage, Art and Society in Renaissance Italy, edited by F. W. Kent and P. Simons, 47–61. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987. Forlani Tempesti, A. Altari e immagini nello spazio ecclesiale. Progetti e realizzazione fra Firenze e Bologna nell’ età della controriforma. Florence: Pontecorboli, 1996. Forlani Tempesti, A., and E. Capretti. Piero di Cosimo: Catalogo Completo. Florence: Octavo Franco Cantini Editore, 1996. Fossi, G. “Grandi casati, uomini illustri e committenti.” In La chiesa di Santa Maria del Carmine a Firenze, edited by L. Berti, 313–42. Florence: Cassa di Risparmio di Firenze, 1992. Foucault, M. Power/Knowlege: Selected Interviews and other Writings 1972–1977. Edited by C. Gordon. New York: Harvester Press, 1980. Franceschi, F. Oltre il “tumulto.” I lavoratori fiorentini dell’arte della lana fra tre e quattrocento. Florence: Olschki, 1993. Franchetti Pardo, V., ed. Drago Verde: Quali Case e Quali Abitanti? Florence: Alinea, 1985. Franklin, D. Painting in Renaissance Florence 1500–1550. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001. Freedberg, D. The Power of Images: Studies in the History and Theory of Response. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989. Frick, C. C. “Dressing a Renaissance City: Society, Economics and Gender in the Clothing of FifteenthCentury Florence.” Ph.D. diss., University of California, 1995. Friedman, D.“The Burial Chapel of Filippo Strozzi in Santa Maria Novella in Florence.” L’Arte 9 (1979): 109–31. Gabelentz, H. von der. Fra Bartolommeo und die Florentiner Renaissance. Leipzig: K. W. Hiersemann, 1922. Gamba, C. Botticelli. Milan: U. Hoepli, 1936. ———. Filippino Lippi nella storia della critica. Florence: Arnaud, 1958. Gardner, J. “Altars, Altarpieces and Art History: Legislation and Usage.” In Italian Altarpieces, 1250–1550: Function and Design, edited by E. Borsook and F. Superbi Gioffredi, 5–40. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. Gardner von Teuffel, K. “Lorenzo Monaco, Filippo Lippi and Filippo Brunelleschi.” Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 45 (1982): 1–30. Garfagnini, G. C., ed. Lorenzo de’ Medici. Studi. Florence: Olschki, 1992.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

264

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 264

biblio graphy

———. Lorenzo il Magnifico e il suo mondo. Convegno internazionale di studi (Firenze 9–13 giugno 1992). Florence: Olschki, 1994. Garzelli, A., ed. Miniatura fiorentina del Rinascimento, 1440-1525.Un primo censimento. 2 vols. Florence: Giunta Regionale Toscana, 1985. Gaston, R. “Liturgy and Patronage in San Lorenzo, Florence 1350–1650.” In Patronage, Art and Society in Renaissance Italy, edited by F. W. Kent and P. Simons, 111–33. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987. Gatti, L. “‘Delle cose de’ pictori et sculptori si può mal promettere cosa certa’: La diplomazia Fiorentina presso la corte del Re di Francia e il “Davide” bronzeo di Michelangelo Buonarotti.” Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome. Italie e Méditeranée 106 (1994): 433–72. Gavitt, P. Charity and Children in Renaissance Florence: The Ospedale degli Innocenti 1410–1536. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1990. Gherardi, A. Nuovi documenti e studi intorno a Girolamo Savonarola. Florence: Sansoni, 1887. Gilbert, C.“The Archbishop and the Painters of Florence, 1450.” Art Bulletin 41 (1959): 75–87. ———.“Saint Antonin de Florence et l’art. Théologie pastorale, administration et commande d’oeuvres.” Revue de l’art 90 (1990): 9–20. ———. “The Patron of Starnina’s Frescoes.” Studies in Late Medieval and Renaissance Painting in Honour of Millard Meiss, 185–91. New York: New York University Press, 1977. ———.“What Did the Renaissance Patron Buy?” Renaissance Quarterly 51 (1998): 392–450. Gilbert, F. “Bernardo Rucellai and the Orti Oricellarai: A Study on the Origins of Modern Political Thought.” JWCI 12 (1949): 101–31. ———. Machiavelli and Guicciardini: Politics and History in Sixteenth Century Florence. New York: W. W. Norton, 1984. Ginori Conti, P. La Basilica di S. Lorenzo di Firenze e la famiglia Ginori. Florence: P. Ginori Conti, 1940. Ginori Lisci, L. I Palazzi di Firenze nella storia e nell’arte. 2 vols. Florence: Giunti G. Barbèra, 1972. Ginzburg, C. The Cheese and the Worms: The Cosmos of a Sixteenth-Century Miller. Baltimore: Penguin, 1992 Giovanni Rucellai ed il suo Zibaldone. Vol. 2, A Florentine Patrician and His Palace. London: Warburg Institute, 1981. Giovannini, P., and S. Vitolo. Il Convento del Carmine di Firenze: Caratteri e Documenti. Florence: Tipografia Nazionale, 1981. Glasser, H.“Artists’ Contracts of the Early Renaissance.” Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1965. Gnocchi, L.“Le preferenze artistiche di Piero de’ Medici.” Artibus et Historiae 9 (1988): 41–78. Goff. F. R.“The Four Florentine Editions of Savonarola’s ‘Predica dell’arte di ben morire.’” New Colophon 3 (1950): 286–99. Goldthwaite, R. The Building of Renaissance Florence: An Economic and Social History. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980. ———.“The Economic Value of a Renaissance Palace: Investment, Production, Consumption.” Annali di Architettura 2 (1990): 1–10. Reprinted in Banks, Palaces and Entrepreneurs in Renaissance Florence. Aldershot: Variorum, 1995. ———.“The Empire of Things: Consumer Demand in Renaissance Italy.” In Patronage, Art and Society in Renaissance Italy, edited by F. W. Kent and P. Simons, 154–75. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987. ———.“The Florentine Palace as Domestic Architecture.” American Historical Review 77 (1972): 977–1012. ———.“L’interno del Palazzo e il consumo dei beni.” In Palazzo Strozzi: Metà Millennio 1489–1989. Atti del Convegno di Studi, Firenze, 3–6 Luglio 1989, edited by D. Lamberini, 159–66. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991. ———. “Organizzazione economia e struttura famigliare.” In I ceti dirigenti nella Toscana tardo communale, 1–13. Florence: F. Papafava, 1983. ———. Private Wealth in Renaissance Florence: A Study of Four Families. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1968.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 265

biblio graphy

265

———. Wealth and the Demand for Art in Italy 1300–1600. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993. Gombrich, E. H. Aby Warburg: An Intellectual Biography. London: Warburg Institute, 1970. ———. Norm and Form: Studies in the Art of the Renaissance. London: Phaidon, 1966. Greenblatt, S. Renaissance Self-Fashioning from More to Shakespeare. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980. Gregori, M., A. Paolucci, and C. A. Lucinat, eds. Maestri e Botteghe: Pittura a Firenze alla fine del Quattrocento. Florence: Silvana, 1992. Gregory, H.“Chi erano gli Strozzi nel Quattrocento?” In Palazzo Strozzi: Metà Millennio 1489–1989. Atti del Convegno di Studi, Firenze, 3–6 Luglio 1989, edited by D. Lamberini, 15–29. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991. Griswold, W. M.“The Drawings of Piero di Cosimo.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1988. Gruyer, G. Les Illustrations des Écrits de Jérome Savonarole et les Paroles de Savonarole sur l’Art. Paris: FirminDidot, 1879. Gundersheimer, W. L.“Patronage in the Renaissance: An Exploratory Approach.” In Patronage in the Renaissance, edited by G. F. Lytle and S. Orgel, 3–26. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. Gurney Salter, E. Franciscan Legends in Italian Art. London: Dent, 1905. Hain, L. Repertorium Bibliographicum. 2 vols. Paris: J. C. Cotta, 1831. Haines, M. “Brunelleschi and Bureaucracy: The Tradition of Public Patronage at the Florentine Cathedral.” I Tatti Studies 3 (1989): 89–125. Haines, M., and L. Riccetti, eds. Opera: Carattere e ruolo delle fabbriche cittadine fino all’inizio dell’Età Moderna. Florence: Olschki, 1995. Hall, M. “The Italian Rood Screen: Some Implications for Liturgy and Function.” In Essays Presented to Myron P. Gilmore, edited by S. Bertelli and G. Ramakus, 2: 2:13–18. Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1978. ———.“Savonarola’s Preaching and the Patronage of Art.” In Christianity and the Renaissance: Image and Religious Imagination in the Quattrocento, edited by T. Verdon and J. H. Henderson, 493–522. Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1990. Harck, F.“Notizen über italienische Bilder in Petersburger Sammlungen.” Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaft 19 (1896): 413–34. Hartt, F. History of Italian Renaissance Art: Painting, Sculpture, Architecture. 4th ed. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1994. Haskell, F. Patrons and Painters: A Study in the Relations Between Italian Art and Society in the Age of the Baroque. London: Chatto and Windus, 1963. Hatfield, R.“Botticelli’s Mystic Nativity, Savonarola and the Millenium.” JWCI 58 (1995): 88–114. ———. Botticelli’s Uffizi “Adoration”: A Study in Pictorial Content. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976. ———.“The Compagnia de’ Magi.” JWCI 33 (1970): 107–61. ———.“Some Unknown Descriptions of the Medici Palace in 1459.” Art Bulletin 52 (1970): 232–49. Hatfield Strens, B.“Le aggiunte di Filippino a un Volto di Cristo fiammingo.” In Scritti di storia dell’arte in onore di Ugo Procacci, edited by M. G. Ciardi Dupré Dal Poggetto and P. Dal Poggetto, 284–88. Milan: Electa, 1977. Hegarty, M.“Laurentian Patronage in the Palazzo Vecchio: The Frescos of the Sala dei Gigli.” Art Bulletin 78 (1996): 264–85. Henderson, J. H. Piety and Charity in Late Medieval Florence. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. Herlihy, D. Women, Family and Society in Medieval Europe: Historical Essays, 1978–1991. Providence, R.I.: Berghahn, 1995. Herlihy, D., and C. Klapisch-Zuber. Tuscans and Their Families: A Study of the Florentine Catasto of 1427. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985. Hill, G. F. “Notes on Italian Medals XI.” Burlington Magazine 19 (1911): 138–44. ———.“Notes on Italian Medals XII.” Burlington Magazine 20 (1911–12): 200–208. Hirst, M.“Michelangelo, Carrara, and the Marble for the Cardinal’s Pietà.” Burlington Magazine 127 (1985): 154–59.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

266

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 266

biblio graphy

Hirst, M., and J. Dunkerton. Making and Meaning : The Young Michelangelo. London: National Gallery Publications, 1994. Höger, A. Studien zur Entstehung der Familienkappelle und zu Familienkapellen und -Altären des Trecento in Florentiner Kirchen. Ph.D. diss., Rheinischen Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität, Bonn, 1976. Hollingsworth, M. Patronage in Renaissance Italy from 1400 to the Early Sixteenth Century. London: John Murray, 1994. Holly, M. A. Past Looking: Historical Imagination and the Rhetoric of the Image. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996. Hood, W. Fra Angelico at San Marco. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994. ———.“The State of Research in Italian Renaissance Art.” Art Bulletin 69 (1987): 174–86. Hope, C.“Altarpieces and the Requirements of Patrons.” In Christianity and the Renaissance: Image and Religious Imagination in the Quattrocento, edited by T. Verdon and J. H. Henderson, 535–71. Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1990. Horne, H. P. Alessandro Filipepi, Commonly Called Sandro Botticelli, Painter of Florence. London: G. Bell, 1906. ———. “The Last Communion of St. Jerome by Botticelli.” Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum of Art 10 (1915): 52–56, 72–75, and 101–5. Howard, P. Beyond the Written Word: Preaching and Theology in the Florence of Archbishop Antoninus 1427–1459. Florence: Olschki, 1995. ———.“Entrepreneurial ne’er-do-wells: Sin and Fear in Renaissance Florence.” Memorie Domenicane, n.s., 25 (1994): 245–58. Humfrey, P.“Co-ordinated Altarpieces in Renaissance Venice: The Progress of an Ideal.” In The Altarpiece in the Renaissance, edited by P. Humfrey and M. Kemp, 190–211. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Humfrey, P., and M. Kemp, eds. The Altarpiece in the Renaissance. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Hyatte, R. The Arts of Friendship: The Idealisation of Friendship in Medieval and Early Renaissance Literature. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994. Ianziti, G.“Patronage and the Production of History: The Case of Quattrocento Milan.” In Patronage, Art and Society in Renaissance Italy, edited by F. W. Kent and P. Simons, 299–311. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987. Jameson, A. Legends of the Monastic Orders as Represented in the Fine Arts. London: Longmans Green and Co., 1890. Janke, S. “The Vision of St. Bernard: A Study in Florentine Iconography.” In Hortus Imaginum, Essays in Western Art, edited by R. Engass and M. Stokstad, 45–48. Lawrence: University of Kansas Press, 1974. Janson, H. W.“The Birth of ‘Artistic License’: The Dissatisfied Patron in the Early Renaissance.” In Patronage in the Renaissance, edited by G. F. Lytle and S. Orgel, 344–53. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. Jardine, L. Worldly Goods: A New History of the Renaissance. London: Macmillan, 1996. Jenkins, A. D. F.“Cosimo de’ Medici’s Patronage of Architecture and the Theory of Magnificence.” JWCI 33 (1970): 162–70. Johnson, G.“Family Values: Sculpture and the Family in Fifteenth Century Florence.” In Art, Memory, and Family in Renaissace Italy, edited by G. Ciappelli and P. Rubin, 215–33. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Johnson, L. E.“The Religious Paintings of Piero di Cosimo.” Ph.D. diss., University of Maryland, 1992. Jones, R., and and N. Penny. Raphael. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983. Kaftal, G. The Iconography of the Saints in Tuscan Painting. Florence: Sansoni, 1952. Kemp, M.“From mimesis to fantasia: The Quattrocento Vocabulary of Creation, Inspiration and Genius in the Visual Arts.” Viator 7 (1977): 347–98. ———.“The Taking and Use of Evidence; with a Botticellian Case Study.” Art Journal 44 (1984): 207–15.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 267

biblio graphy

267

Kempers, B. Painting, Power and Patronage: The Rise of the Professional Artist in the Italian Renaissance. London: Allen Lane, 1992. Kent, D. Cosimo de’ Medici and the Florentine Renaissance: The Patron’s Oeuvre. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000. ———.“The Florentine ‘Reggimento’ in the Fifteenth Century.” Renaissance Quarterly 28 (1975): 575–638. ———. The Rise of the Medici: Faction in Florence 1426–1434. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978. Kent, D., and F. W. Kent. Neighbours and Neighbourhood in Renaissance Florence: The District of the Red Lion in the Fifteenth Century. Locust Valley, N.Y.: J. J. Augustin, 1982. Kent, F. W. Bartolommeo Cederni and His Friends. Florence: Olschki, 1991. ———.“Bertoldo sculptore and Lorenzo de’ Medici.” Burlington Magazine 134 (1992): 248–49. ———.“La famiglia patrizia fiorentina nel Quattrocento. Nuovi orientamenti nella storiografia recente.” In Palazzo Strozzi: Metà Millennio 1489–1989. Atti del Convegno di Studi, Firenze, 3–6 Luglio 1989, edited by D. Lamberini, 70–91. Rome: Istitute della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991. ———. Household and Lineage in Renaissance Florence: The Family Life of the Capponi, Ginori and Rucellai. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1977. ———.“Individuals and Families as Patrons of Culture in Quattrocento Florence.” In A. Brown, Language and Images of Renaissance Italy Oxford, 1995. ———.“Lorenzo . . .‘Amico degli Uomini da Bene’: Lorenzo de’ Medici and Oligarchy.” In Lorenzo il Magnifico e il suo mondo, edited by G. C. Garfagnini, 43–60. Florence: Olschki, 1994. ———.“Lorenzo di Credi, His Patron Jacopo Bongianni and Savonarola.” Burlington Magazine 125 (1983): 539–41. ———. Lorenzo de’ Medici and the Art of Magnificence. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2004. ———.“Lorenzo de’ Medici at the Duomo.” In La cattedrale e la città. Saggi sul Duomo di Firenze, Atti del VII Centenario del Duomo di Firenze, edited by T. Verdon and A. Innocenti, 1: 340–68. 3 vols. Florence: Edifir, 2001. ———.“The Making of a Renaissance Patron of the Arts.” In Giovanni Rucellai ed il suo Zibaldone, vol. 2, A Florentine Patrician and His Palace, 7–95. London: Warburg Institute, 1981. ———.“Palaces, Politics and Society in Fifteenth Century Florence.” I Tatti Studies 2 (1987): 41–70. ———. “‘Più superba de quella di Lorenzo’: Courtly and Family Interest in the Building of Filippo Strozzi’s Palace.” Renaissance Quarterly 30 (1977): 311–23. Kent, F. W., and P. Simons, eds. Patronage, Art and Society in Renaissance Italy. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987. Kent, F. W., with P. Simons.“Renaissance Patronage: An Introductory Essay.” In Patronage, Art and Society in Renaissance Italy, edited by F. W. Kent and P. Simons, 1–21. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987. King, C. E. Renaissance Women Patrons: Wives and Widows in Italy c. 1300–1550. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998. Klapisch-Zuber, C. “Family Trees and the Construction of Kinship in Renaissance Italy.” In Gender, Kinship, Power: A Comparitive and Interdisciplinary History, M. Maynes, A. Walterer, B. Soland, and U. Strasser, 100–113. New York: Routledge, 1996. ———. Women, Family, and Ritual in Renaissance Italy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985. Kuehn, T. Emancipation in Late Medieval Florence. New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1982. ———. Law, Family and Women: Toward a Legal Anthropology of Renaissance Italy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991. Küppers, P. Die Tafelbilder des Domenico Ghirlandaio. Strasbourg: Heitz, 1916. Lamberini, D. Calenzano e la val di Marina. Storia di un territorio fiorentino. 2 vols. Prato: Comune di Calenzano, 1987. ———, ed. Palazzo Strozzi: Metà millennio 1489–1989. Atti del convegno di studi, Firenze, 3–6 Luglio 1989. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991. Land, N. E. The Viewer as Poet: The Renaissance Response to Art. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

268

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 268

biblio graphy

Landau, P. Jus Patronatus: Studien zur Entwicklung des Patronats im Dekretalenrecht und der Kanonistik des 12. und 13. Jahrhunderts. Cologne: Böhlau, 1975. Lasareff, V.“An Unnoticed Botticelli in Petersburg.” Burlington Magazine 44 (1924): 119–26. Lavin, I.“On the Sources and Meaning of the Renaissance Portrait Bust.” Art Quarterly 33 (1970): 207–26. Lazzari, A. Ugolino e Michele Verino. Studi biografici e critici. Turin: Libreria C. Clausen, 1897. Lesher, M. K. “The Vision of Saint Bernard and the Chapel of the Priors: Private and Public Images of Bernard of Clairvaux in Renaissance Florence.” Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1979. ———.“St. Bernard of Clairvaux and the Republic of Florence in the Later Middle Ages.” Citeaux: Comentarii Cistercienses 3–4 (1984): 258–67. Lesnick, D. R.“Dominican Preaching and the Creation of Capitalist Ideology in Late Medieval Florence.” Memorie Domenicane, n.s., 8–9 (1977–78): 199–247. ———. Preaching in Medieval Florence: The Social World of Franciscan and Dominican Spirituality. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1989. Levi d’Ancona, M. Miniatura e Miniatori a Firenze dal XIV al XVI secolo. Florence: Olschki, 1962. Lightbown, R. Sandro Botticelli. 2 vols. London: Elek, 1978. ———. Mantegna; With a Complete Catalogue of the Paintings, Drawings and Prints. Oxford: Phaidon, 1986. Lillie, A.“Florentine Villas in the Fifteenth Century: A Study of the Strozzi and Sassetti Country Properties.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1986. ———.“The Patronage of Villa Chapels and Oratories near Florence: A Typology of Private Religion.” In With and Without the Medici: Studies in Tuscan Art and Politics 1434–1530, edited by E. Marchand and A. Wright, 19–46. Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998. ———. “Memory of Place: Luogo and Lineage in the Fifteenth-Century Florentine Countryside.” In Art, Memory, and Family in Renaissance Florence, edited by G. Ciappelli and P. Rubin, 195–214. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. ———.“Vita di palazzo, vita in villa: l’attività edilizia di Filippo Strozzi il Vecchio.” In Palazzo Strozzi metà millenio 1489-1989 Atti del convegno di studi, Firenze, 3–6 luglio 1989, edited by D. Lamberini, 167–82. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991. Linnenkamp, R.“Botticelli, affreschi sconosciuti.” Pantheon 39 (1981): 123–26. ———.“Opera sconosciuta di Paolo Schiavo a Castellaccio.” Rivista d’Arte 33 (1958): 27–33. Long, J.“Bardi Patronage at Santa Croce in Florence 1320–1343.” Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1988. Lopez, R. “Dal mecenatismo del Medioevo a quello del Rinascimento.” Quaderni Medievali 34 (1992): 123–30. Lowe, K.“Patronage and Territoriality in Renaissance Florence.” Renaissance Studies 7 (1993): 258–71. ———. “Towards an Understanding of Goro Gheri’s Views on amicizia in Early Sixteenth-Century Medicean Florence.” In Florence and Italy: Renaissance Studies in Honour of Nicolai Rubinstein, edited by P. Denley and C. Elam, 91–105. London: Westfield College, 1988. Luchs, A. Cestello: A Cistercian Church of the Florentine Renaissance. New York: Garland, 1977. ———. Guida Storico-Artistica del Monastero di Santa Maria Maddalena de’ Pazzi. Florence: Pubblicazioni Studio Comunicare, 1990. Luchinat, C. A., ed. La Chiesa e il convento di Santo Spirito a Firenze. Florence: Cassa di Risparmio di Firenze, 1996. Lydecker, J. K. “The Domestic Setting of the Arts in Renaissance Florence.” Ph.D. diss., Johns Hopkins University, 1987. ———. “Il patriziato Fiorentino e la commitenza artistica per la casa.” In I ceti dirigenti nella Toscana del Quattrocento, 209–21. Florence: Papafeva, 1987. Lytle, G. F., and S. Orgel, eds. Patronage in the Renaissance. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. Mallet, M. “Diplomacy and War in Later Fifteenth Century Italy.” In Art and Politics in Renaissance Italy, edited by G. Holmes, 137–58. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993. ———. The Florentine Galleys in the Fifteenth Century. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967. Mallet, M., and N. Mann, eds. Lorenzo the Magnificent: Culture and Politics. London: Warburg Institute, 1996.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 269

biblio graphy

269

Mancini, G.“Il bel San Giovanni e le feste patronali di Firenze descritte nel 1475 da Piero Cennini.” Rivista d’Arte 6 (1909): 185–227. Mann, N. “Petrarch and Portraits.” In The Image of the Individual: Portraits in the Renaissance, edited by N. Mann and L. Syson, 15–21. London: British Museum Press, 1998. Mann, N., and L. Syson, eds. The Image of the Individual: Portraits in the Renaissance. London: British Museum Press, 1998. Mantini, S. Lo spazio sacro della Firenze medicea. Trasformazioni urbane e cerimoniali pubblici tra quattrocento e cinquecento. Florence: Loggia de’ Lanzi, 1995. Marchand, E., and A. Wright. With and Without the Medici: Studies in Tuscan Art and Politics 1434–1530. Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998. Marchese, P. V. Memorie dei più insegni pittori, scultori e architetti domenicani. 2 vols. Bologna: Romagnoli, 1878. Markowsky, B.“Eine Gruppe bemalter Paliotti in Florenz.” MKIF 17 (1973): 105–40. Marquand, A. Andrea della Robbia and His Atelier. 2 vols. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1922. ———. Giovanni della Robbia. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1920. Martines, L. Lawyers and Statecraft in Renaissance Florence. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1968. ———. Power and Imagination: City-States in Renaissance Italy.London: Allen Lane, 1979. Mateer, D., ed. Courts, Patrons, and Poets. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000. Meiss, M.“Light as Form and Symbol in Some Fifteenth Century Paintings.” In The Painter’s Choice: Problems in the Interpretation of Renaissance Art, 4–8. New York: Harper and Row, 1976. Der Meister der Van Eyck-Schule auch genannt der unbekannte Meister von 1480. Haarlam, n.d. Meltzoff, S. Botticelli, Signorelli and Savonarola: Theologica Poetica and Painting in the Renaissance. Florence: Olschki, 1986. Meyer zur Cappellen, J. Raphael in Florence. London: Azimuth, 1996. Miller, J. I.“Major Florentine Altarpieces from 1430–1450.” Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1983. Mitchell, B.“The Patron of Art in Giorgio Vasari’s Lives.” Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 1975. Molho, A. Marriage Alliance in Late Medieval Florence. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1994. Moretti, L., and R. Stopani. Architettura romanica religiosa nel contado Fiorentino. Florence: Salimbeni, 1974. Morozzi, G., and Piccini, A. Il restauro dello spedale di Santa Maria degli Innocenti 1966–1970. Florence: Giunti Barbèra, 1971. Morrogh, A., ed. Renaissance Studies in Honor of Craig Hugh Smyth. Florence: Giunti Barbèra, 1985. Moxey, K.“Motivating History.” Art Bulletin 77 (1995): 392–401. Murphy, K.“Piazza Santa Trinita in Florence, 1427–1498.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1998. Neilson, K. B. Filippino Lippi: A Critical Study. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1938. Nelson, J.“The Later Works of Filippino Lippi: From His Roman Sojourn Until His Death (ca. 1489–1504).” Ph.D. diss., New York University, 1992. Nelson, J., and P. Zambrano. Filippino Lippi. 2 vols. Florence: Electa, 2004. Nelson, J., and R. Zeckhauser. “Private Benefits to Secure Support for Nonprofit Institutions: The Church in Renaissance Florence.” In The Economics of Not-for-Profit Organizations, edited by E. Glaeser. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. Nesbitt, J.“Multiple Figure Portraiture in Rome 1510–1520.” M.A. thesis, University of London, 1985. New Catholic Encyclopaedia. 17 vols. New York: Catholic University of America, 1967–79. Newbigin, N. Feste d’Oltrarno: Plays in Churches in Fifteenth-Century Florence. 2 vols. Florence: Olschki, 1996. Nova, A.“Hangings, Curtains and Shutters of Sixteenth Century Lombard Altarpieces.” In The Altarpiece in the Renaissance, edited by J. Humfrey and M. Kemp, 177–200. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Nuttall, P. “Decorum, Devotion and Dramatic Expression: Early Netherlandish Painting in Renaissance Italy.” In Decorum in Renaissance Narrative Art, edited by F. Ames-Lewis and A. Bednarek, 70–77. London: Department of History of Art, Birkbeck College, 1992. ———. “Early Netherlandish Painting in Florence: Acquisition, Ownership and Influence c 1435–1500.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1989.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

270

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 270

biblio graphy

L’Officina della maniera. Varietà e fierezza nell’arte fiorentina del cinquecento fra le due repubbliche (1494–1530). Florence: Giunta regionale Toscana, 1996. O’Malley, M. M. “The Business of Art: Contracts and Payment Documents for Fourteenth- and Fifteenth-Century Italian Altarpieces and Frescoes.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1994. Ottokar, N. “Intorno ai Reciproci Rapporti fra Chiesa ed Organizzazioni Cittadini nel Medio Evo Italiano.” In his Studi Communali e Fiorentini, 163–77. Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1948. Paatz, W., and E. Paatz. Die Kirchen von Florenz: Ein Kunstgeschichtliches Handbuch. 4 vols. Frankfurt: Klostermann, 1952. Pandolfi, P. Quota: Castello dei Conti Guidi in Casentino. La storia, la gente, le immagini. Florence: Banca Popolare dell’Etruria e del Lazio, 1998. Panofsky, E.“The Early History of Man in Two Cycles of Paintings by Piero di Cosimo.” In his Studies in Iconology. New York: Harper and Row, 1962. ———.“The History of Art as a Humanistic Discipline.” In his Meaning in the Visual Arts, 1–25. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1955. Paoletti, J. T. “Strategies and Structures of Medici Artistic Patronage in the Fifteenth Century.” In The Early Medici and Their Artists, edited by F. Ames-Lewis, 19–36. London: Department of History of Art, Birkbeck College, 1995. Paton, B. Preaching Friars and the Civic Ethos: Siena, 1380–1480. London: Queen Mary and Westfield College, 1992. Perosa, A.“Un opera sconosciuta di Filippino Lippi nella testamonia di un poeta umanista.” Rivista d’Arte 24 (1942): 193–99. Pesman Cooper, R. “The Florentine Ruling Group Under the ‘governo popolare,’ 1494–1512.” Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History 7 (1985): 71–182. Polizzotto, L. “Dell’Arte del Ben Morire: The Piagnone Way of Death 1494–1545.” I Tatti Studies 3 (1989): 27–87. ———. The Elect Nation: The Savonarolan Movement in Florence 1494–1512. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. Pollard, J. G. Italian Renaissance Medals in the Museo Nazionale of Bargello. 3 vols. Florence: Studio per Edizioni Scelte, 1984. Pope-Hennessy, John. Fra Angelico. London: Phaidon, 1974. ———. The Portrait in the Renaissance. London: Phaidon, 1966. Preyer, B.“Florentine Palaces and Memories of the Past.” In Art, Memory, and Family in Early Renaissance Florence, edited by G. Ciappelli and P. Rubin, 176–94. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. ———. Il palazzo Corsi-Horne. Dal diario di restauro di H. P. Horne. Rome: Libreria dello Stato, 1993. ———. “The Rucellai Palace.” In Giovanni Rucellai ed il suo Zibaldone, vol. 2, A Florentine Patrician and His Palace, 155–225. London: Warburg Institute, 1981. ———.“Planning for Visitors at Florentine Palaces.” Renaissance Studies 12 (1998): 357–66. Price, B. “The Effect of Patronage on the Intellectualization of Medieval Endeavours.” In The Search for a Patron in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, edited by D. G. and R. L. Wilkins, 5–18. Lampeter: Mellen Press, 1996. Prinz, W., and M. Seidel, eds. Domenico Ghirlandaio 1449–1494: Atti del Convegno. Florence: Centro Di, 1996. Procacci, U.“L’incendio della Chiesa del Carmine del 1771.” Rivista d’Arte 14 (1932): 141–232. Quinterio, F. “Un tempio per la Repubblica: La chiesa dei SS. Maria, Matteo e dello Spirito Santo in Firenze, dal primo nucleo duecentesco al progetto brunelleschiano.” In Saggi in onore di Renato Bonelli, edited by C. Bozzoni, G. Carbonara, and G. Villetti, 305–16. Rome: Multigrafica, 1992. Raffaello a Firenze: Dipinti e disegni delle collezioni fiorentine. Florence: Electa, 1984. Randolph, A. W. B. “Performing the Bridal Body in Fifteenth-Century Florence.” Art History 21 (1998): 182–200. ———.“Regarding Women in Sacred Space.” In Picturing Women in Renaissance and Baroque Italy, edited by S. Matthews Grieco and G. Johnson, 17–41. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 271

biblio graphy

271

Rathbone, P. T. “The Madonna Enthroned with Saints by Piero di Cosimo.” Bulletin of the City Art Museum of St. Louis, 1940, 42–49. Reiss, S. E., and D. G. Wilkins, eds. Beyond Isabella: Secular Women Patrons of Art in Renaissance Italy. Kirksville, Mo.: Truman State University Press, 2001. Richa, G. Notizie Istoriche delle Chiese Fiorentine divise ne’ suoi Quartiere. 10 vols. Florence: P. G. Viviani, 1754–62. Riedl, P. A.“Raffael’s Madonna del Baldacchino.” MKIF 8 (1957–59): 223–46. Rocke, M. Forbidden Friendships: Homosexuality and Male Culture in Renaissance Florence. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996. Rogers, M.“Sonnets on Female Portraits from Renaissance North Italy.” Word and Image 2 (1986): 291–305. ———, ed. Fashioning Identities in Renaissance Art. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000. Rohlmann, M. Auftragskunst und Sammlerbild: Altniederländische Tafelmalerei im Florenz des Quattrocento. Alfter: Verlag und Datenbank für Geisteswissenschaften, 1994. Romagnoli, G. Santa Maria a Lecceto. Lastra a Signa: Comune di Lastra a Signa, 1991. Rosenthal, D. C.“Plebeian Ritual and the Boundaries of Transgression.” In Re-Visioning the Renaissance City: Art, Patronage and the Dynamics of Space, edited by R. Crum and J. Paoletti. New York: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming. Rosenthal, E. “Lineage Bonds in Fifteenth Century Florence: The Giovanni, Parenti, and Petrucci.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1988. Rosenwein, B., and L. K. Little “Social Meaning in the Monastic and Mendicant Spiritualities.” Past and Present 63, no. 2 (1974): 4–32. Rubin, P. L. “Commission and Design in Central Italian Altarpieces c. 1450–1550.” In Italian Altarpieces, 1250–1550: Function and Design, edited by E. Borsook and F. Superbi Gioffredi, 201–30. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. ———. Giorgio Vasari: Art and History. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995. ———. Images and Identity in Fifteenth Century Florence. New Haven: Yale University Press, forthcoming. ———. “Magnificence and the Medici.” In The Early Medici and Their Artists, edited by F. Ames Lewis, 37–49. London: Department of History of Art, Birkbeck College, 1995. Rubinstein, N. “The Formation of the Posthumous Image of Lorenzo de’ Medici.” In Oxford, China and Italy: Writings in Honour of Sir Harold Acton on His Eightieth Birthday, edited by E. Chaney and N. Ritchie, 97–102. London: Thames and Hudson, 1984. ———. The Government of Florence Under the Medici, 1434–1494. 2d ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. ———. “Lay Patronage and Observant Reform in Fifteenth Century Florence.” In Christianity and the Renaissance: Image and Religious Imagination in the Quattrocento, edited by T. Verdon and J. H. Henderson, 63–82. Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1990. ———. The Palazzo Vecchio 1298–1532: Government, Architecture and Imagery in the Civic Palace of the Florentine Republic. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995. Ruda, J.“A 1434 Building Programme for San Lorenzo in Florence.” Burlington Magazine 120 (1978): 358–61. Saalman, H. Filippo Brunelleschi: The Buildings. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993. ———.“San Lorenzo: The 1434 Chapel Project.” Burlington Magazine 120 (1978): 361–64. Sale, J. R. Filippino Lippi’s Strozzi Chapel in Santa Maria Novella. New York: Garland, 1979. Sandri, L., ed. Gli Innocenti e Firenze nei secoli. Un Ospedale, un Archivio, una Città. Florence: Studio per Edizioni Scelte, 1996. Santini, E. Firenze e suoi Oratori nel Quattrocento. Palermo: G. B. Palumbo, 1950. Scarpellini, P. Perugino. Milan: Electa, 1984. Scharf, A. Filippino Lippi. Vienna: A. Schroll, 1935. Schiaparelli, A. La Casa Fiorentina e i suoi arredi nei secoli XIVe XV. 2 vols. Florence: Le Lettere, 1983. Schmidt, V. C.“Filippo Brunelleschi e il problema della tavola d’altare.” Arte Cristiana 80 (1992): 451–61. Schnitzer, J. Quellen und Forschungen zur Geschichte Savonarolas. 4 vols. Leipzig: J. J. Lentner, 1916.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

272

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 272

biblio graphy

Schuyler, J. Florentine Busts: Sculpted Portraiture in the Fifteenth Century. New York: Garland, 1976. Seidel, M. “The Social Status of Patronage and Its Impact on Pictorial Language in Fifteenth-Century Siena.” In Italian Altarpieces, 1250–1550: Function and Design, edited by E. Borsook and P. Superbi Gioffredi, 119–38. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. Settis, S.“Artisti e Committenti fra Quattro e Cinquecento.” In Storia d’Italia 4. Intelletuali e Potere, 701–61. Turin: Einaudi, 1981. Shapley, F. Rusk. Catalogue of the Italian Paintings. National Gallery of Art. Washington. Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art, 1979. Shearman, J.“The Collections of the Younger Branch of the Medici.” Burlington Magazine 117 (1975): 12–27. ———. Only Connect . . . Art and the Spectator in the Italian Renaissance. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992. ———. Raphael in Early Modern Sources, 1483–1602. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003. Shearman, J., and M. Hall. The Princeton Raphael Symposium: Science in the Service of Art History. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990. Shepherd, R. “An Examination of Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti’s Writings on Art and Architecture.” Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1997. Simons, P.“Homosociality and Erotics in Italian Renaissance Portraiture.” In Portraiture: Facing the Subject, edited by J. Woodall, 29–51. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997. ———.“Patronage in the Tornaquinci Chapel, Santa Maria Novella, Florence.” In Patronage, Art and Society in Renaissance Italy, edited by F. W. Kent and P. Simons, 221–50. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987. ———.“Portraiture and Patronage in Quattrocento Florence with Special Reference to the Tournaquinci and Their Chapel in Santa Maria Novella.” Ph.D. diss., University of Melbourne, 1985. ———.“Portraiture, Portrayal and Idealization: Ambiguous Individualism in Representations of Renaissance Women.” In Language and Images of Renaissance Italy, edited by A. Brown, 263–311. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995, ———.“Women in Frames: The Gaze, the Eye, the Profile in Renaissance Portraiture.” In The Expanding Discourse: Feminism and Art History, edited by N. Broude and M. D. Garrard, 39–58. New York: Icon Editions, 1992. Sinding-Larsen, S. Iconography and Ritual: A Study of Analytical Perspectives. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget as, 1984. Spencer, J. R. Andrea del Castagno and His Patrons. Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1991. ———.“Ut Rhetorica Pictura: A Study in the Quattrocento Theory of Painting.” JWCI 20 (1957): 26–44. Steinberg, R. M. Fra Girolamo Savonarola, Florentine Art and Renaissance Historiography. Athens: Ohio University Press, 1977. Supino, I. B.“La Capella del Pugliese alla Campora e il quadro di Filippino.” Miscellanea d’Arte 1 (1903): 1–4. Syson, L., and D. Thornton. Objects of Virtue: Art in Renaissance Italy. London: British Museum, 2001. Taylor-Mitchell, L. “Botticelli’s San Barnaba Altarpiece: Guild Patronage in a Florentine Context.” The Search for a Patron in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, edited by D. G. and R. L. Wilkins, 115–35. Lampeter: Mellen Press, 1996. Teubner, H. Zur Entwicklung der Saalkirche in der Florentiner Frührenaissance. Ph.D. diss., University of Heidelberg, 1975. Thiem, G., and C. Thiem. Toskanische Fassaden-Dekoration in Sgraffito und Fresko, 14. bis 17. Jahrhundert. Munich: F. Bruckmann, 1964. Thomas, A.“Neri di Bicci, Francesco Botticini, and the Augustinians.” Arte Cristiana 81 (1993): 23–34. ———. The Painter’s Practice in Renaissance Tuscany. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Tognetti, S. Il Banco Cambini. Affari e mercati di una compagnia mercantile-bancaria nella Firenze del XV secolo. Florence: Olschki, 1999. Tomas, N. R. “Negotiated Spaces: Gender, Power and the Medici Women in Renaissance Florence.” Ph.D. diss., Monash University, 1997.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 273

biblio graphy

273

Trexler, R. Dependence in Context in Renaissance Florence. Binghamton, N.Y.: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1994. ———.“Florentine Religious Experience: The Sacred Image.” Studies in the Renaissance 19 (1972): 7–41. ———. Power and Dependence. Vol. 2, The Women of Renaissance Florence. Binghamton, N.Y.: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1993. ———. Public Life in Renaissance Florence. Ithaca, N.Y.: Academic Press, 1980. ———. Synodal Law in Florence and Fiesole, 1306–1518 .Vatican City: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1971. Gli Uffizi: Catalogo Generale. Florence: Centro Di, 1979. Van der Velden, H.“Medici Votive Images and the Scope and Limits of Likeness.” In The Image of the Individual: Portraits in the Renaissance, edited by N. Mann and L. Syson, 126–37. London: British Museum Press, 1998. Van Os, H.“Painting in a House of Glass: The Altarpieces of Pienza.” Simiolus 17 (1987): 23–38. Van Os, H., and M. Prakken. The Florentine Paintings in Holland 1300–1500. Maarssen: G. Schwartz, 1974. Verdon, T., and J. H. Henderson, eds. Christianity and the Renaissance: Image and Religious Imagination in the Quattrocento. Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1990. Villari, P. La Storia di Girolamo Savonarola e de’ suoi tempi. 2 vols. Florence: Le Monnier, 1888. Wackernagel, M. The World of the Florentine Renaissance Artist: Projects and Patrons, Workshop and Art Market. Translated by A. Luchs. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. Wallace, W.“Manoeuvring for Patronage: Michelangelo’s Dagger.” Renaissance Studies 11 (1997): 20–26. ———. “Michelangelo in and out of Florence Between 1500 and 1508.” In Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raphael in Renaissance Florence from 1500–1506, edited by S. Hager, 54–88. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1992. Warburg, A. “The Art of Portraiture and the Florentine Bourgeoisie: Domenico Ghirlandaio in Santa Trinita; The Portraits of Lorenzo de’ Medici and His Household.” In his The Renewal of Pagan Antiquity: Contributions to the Cultural History of the European Renaissance, 185–221. Translated by D. Britt. Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 1999. Ward-Perkins, B. From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages: Urban Public Building in Northern and Central Italy AD 300–850. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984. Weinstein, D.“Hagiography, Demonology, Biography: Savonarola Studies Today.” Journal of Medieval History 63 (1991): 483–503. ———. Savonarola and Florence: Prophecy and Patriotism in the Renaissance. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1970. Weissman, R. Ritual Brotherhood in Renaissance Florence. New York: Academic Press, 1982. ———. “Taking Patronage Seriously: Mediterranean Values and Renaissance Society.” In Patronage, Art and Society in Renaissance Italy, edited by F. W. Kent and P. Simons, 25–45. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987. Welch, E. “Naming Names: The Transience of Individual Identity in Fifteenth-Century Italian Portraiture.” In The Image of the Individual: Portraits in the Renaissance, edited by N. Mann and L. Syson, 91–104. London: British Museum Press, 1998. ———.“Engendering Italian Renaissance Art—A Bibliographic Review.” Papers of the British School at Rome 68 (2000): 201–16. ———. Shopping in the Renaissance: Consumer Culture in Italy 1300–1530. New Haven: Yale University Press, forthcoming. Wilkins, D. G., and R. L. Wilkins, eds. The Search for a Patron in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Lampeter: Mellen Press, 1996. Wilson, B. Music and Merchants: The Laudesi Companies of Renaissance Florence. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992. Wisch, B., and D. Cole Ahl. Confraternities and the Visual Arts in Renaissance Italy: Ritual, Spectacle, Image. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000.

14.Burke.255-274.FINALqu

274

4/1/04

10:28 AM

Page 274

biblio graphy

Woods-Marsden, J.“‘Ritratto al Naturale’: Questions of Realism and Idealism in Early Renaissance Portraits.” Art Journal 46 (1987): 209–16. ———. “Toward a History of Art Patronage in the Renaissance: The Case of Pietro Aretino.” Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 24 (1994): 275–99. ———. “Introduction: Collective Identity/Individual Identity.” In Fashioning Identities in Renaissance Art, edited by M. Rogers, 1–16. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000. Wright, A. “The Memory of Faces: Representational Choices in Fifteenth-Century Florentine Portraiture.” In Art, Memory and Family in Renaissance Florence, edited by G. Ciappelli and P. Rubin, 86–113. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Zafarana, Z.“Per la storia religiosa di Firenze nel Quattrocento: Una Raccolta Privata di Prediche.” Studi Medievali 9, no. 2 (1968): 1017–113. Zeri, F. “Aggiunta a una predella Ghirlandaiesca.” In his Diari di Lavoro, vol. 1, 56–58. Bergamo: Emblema, 1971. Zeri, F., with E. E. Gardner. Italian Paintings: A Catalogue of the Collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Florentine School. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1971. Zervas, D. F.“Orsanmichele and Its Operai, 1336–1436.” In Opera: Carattere e ruolo delle fabbriche cittadine fino all’inizio dell’Età Moderna, edited by M. Haines and L. Riccetti, 315–29. Florence: Olschki, 1995. Zucchi, A.“Ospizi Domenicani in Toscana.” Memorie Domenicane 5 (1947): 49–56.

15.Burke.275-280.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:30 AM

Page 275

index

Art works and buildings such as chapels are listed under the relevant artist or location, rather than the patron’s name; thus the Capponi chapel in Santo Spirito is listed under Florence: Santo Spirito, not under Capponi. Illustrations are indicated by page numbers in italics.

Alberti, Leon Battista, 17, 59, 89, 91, 94 and church decoration, 126, 127, 138 Albertini, Francesco, 128 Albizzi family, 106 Andrea di Matteo, 55 Lando, 106 Altoviti, Francesco, 37, 171 ambassadors, 22–23, 59–60 Ambrose, Saint, 127 amicizia. See friendship Angelico, Fra, 175, 176 Last Judgement, 162, 163, 184 Annunciation, 151–52 Antal, Frederick, 139 Antinori family, 65 Antoninus, Saint, 102, 103, 127, 168, 169 consecration of Innocenti church, 134–35 Apelles, 94 Apollonio di Giovanni, 7, 55 n. 103 archival work, 1 Arlotto, Pievano, 120 Arrighi, Pippa di Jacopo, 29, 114 Ars Morendi, 183 art patronage, historiography of, 3–8 meaning of, 5–6 Renaissance notions of artist/patron relationship, 61, 85, 93–98, 137–38, 189–90, 194 Arte della Seta, 130, 135, 164 artistic fashion, 138  Badia a Settimo, 145, 146 Banchi, Nera di Mariotto, 20 Bardi family, 73, 143 Angelo di Bernardo, 72, 142 Cassandra di Ridolfo, 43 Baron, Hans, 36

Bartholomew, Saint, 149 Bartolommei, de’, Giovanni di Ser Antonio, 72 Bartolommeo da Colle, Fra, 169 Bartolommeo di Giovanni, Innocenti altarpiece predella, 132, 133–35, 134 attributed, Trinity with Angels lunette, 163, 182 Bartolommeo, Fra, George and the Dragon, 12, 32 The Annunciation, The Presentation at the Temple, and The Adoration of the Child, 175, 177 Baxandall, Michael, 9, 85, 173 beauty, and civic virtue, 36–37, 61, 127, 138 and piety, 172–73, 176 Bellini, Jacopo, 126 Benci, Donato, 20 Benino, del, Piero di Gregorio, 66–67, 70 Bernard, Saint, 144–52, 167, 170 and Annunciation, 146–47, 151–52 Bernardo di Francesco, Fra, friar of the Ingesuati, 128, 133, 138 Bertoldo, 95 Bianco, del, Bernardo, 123 Biliotti family, 73, 74 Matteo di Sandro, 55 Bindi, Ser Bartolommeo, 158 Blume, Andrew, 6 Bongiani, Jacopo, 167 Boni family, 123 Bonsi, Alessandra di Domenico, 32, 122, 142, 143, 180 Domenico, 143 Borghini, Vicenzo, 103 Botti family, 190 Botticelli, Sandro Adoration of the Magi, 112–13

Last Communion of Saint Jerome, 161–62, 166–67, 181–86, 182 Saint Jerome and Saint Vincent Ferrer (wings for a tabernacle), 163, 163–65, 184 and Savonarola, 156, 174 Braccesi, Alessandro, poems about the portrait of Piero del Pugliese, 85–86, 87, 88–89 Bridgeman, Jane, 59 Brucker, Gene, 2 Brunelleschi, Filippo church of San Lorenzo, 125 church of Santo Spirito, 66, 67, 74, 82–83 Bruscoli, Gaetano, 128 Bulman, Louisa, 126 Burlamacchi, Pseudo, Vita Latina, 172–73, 180  Callman, Ellen, 7 Canigiani, Domenico, 193 Capponi family, 64, 72, 73, 74, 96 Niccolò di Giovanni, 64, 73 Capretti, Elena, 73, 79 Carnesecchi, Pierantonio, 21 Caroli, Giovanni, 168, 169 Castiglione, Baldassare, 190 Catherine of Alexandria, Saint, 136 Cattani, Francesca di Jacopo (Monna Checca Nasi), 20, 40, 55, 60 Cecchi, Alessandro, 193 Cennini, Piero, 37 Cerretani, Bartolommeo, 169, 171 Certame Coronario, 91 chapels, 64, 119–27. See also relevant church for individual chapels access to, 120–21 allocation, 73–76

15.Burke.275-280.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:30 AM

276

Page 276

index

decoration of, 122–23, 125–26 dedication, 79, 123–25 homogeneity in decoration of, 76–83, 119, 125–27, 137, 138 chaplains, 121–22 charity, 36, 117–18, 135–37, 167–68 children, 55–56 church and chapel patronage. See chapels; patronage rights church interior, 74, 82–83, 125–27, 137, 138, 174 Ciappelli, Giovanni, 3 Cistercian order, 144 clientelismo, 4–5 clothing, 59–60, 136 coats of arms, 58–59, 68–69, 74–75, 106 legal implications in church setting, 103, 105–7, 117–18 Condivi, Ascanio, 95 confraternities, 12, 116 Archangel Raphael, 74 Piccione, 68–69, 83 Sant’Agnese, 69 Santa Barbara, 48 Santa Caterina, 48 Corbinelli family, 65, 70–71, 75 Corella, Fra Domenico, 175 Corsi, Margherita di Bartolommeo (Monna Tita Nasi), 41, 50, 55, 57 Corsini family, 72 Corvinus, Matthias, 89 Covi, Dario, 147 Cronaca, Il (Simone del Pollaiuolo), 96  Daddi, Bernardo, 144 Dante Aligheri, Divine Comedy, 144, 146, 150 Datini, Francesco di Marco, 93 death, 181–86 Dei, Bartolommeo, Ser, 91, 94, 96, 181 Benedetto, 18, 28, 36, 38, 59, 95, 181 Rinieri di Bernardo, 72, 80–82 Del Pugliese. See Pugliese, Del devoto, meaning of, 173 Didi-Huberman, Georges, 173 Dominic, Saint, 112, 169 Donatello, 38, 93, 94–95, 97, 176 Virgin and Child relief, 175, 176 Donati, Borghini di Niccolò, 161 Niccolò di Donato, 157 Doni, Agnolo, 193 double portraits, 86, 89, 91–94 dowries, 50, 136–37

 Eckstein, Nicholas, 27, 64 Elam, Caroline, 39 Elizabeth of Hungary, Saint, 135–36 Epictetus, 147–48 espedita, 126–27 Eusebius, Pseudo, Il Devoto Transito del Glorioso Sancto Hieronymo, 181 Eyck, Jan van, 175  family, concept of, 17–18, 33 identity creation, 17–33, 58 women’s role in. See women: role within family fatherhood, 31 Feo, Felice di Michele, 149 festivals, Epiphany, 186–87 John the Baptist, 47, 60 Filarete (Antonio Averlino), 7 Filicaia, da, Antonio di Piero, 170 Leonardo di Leonardo, 50 Flemish painting, 174–75, 176 Florence Badia, 123, 142, 147, 149 Baptistery, 126 Borgo della Stella, 49 Borgo Pinti, 142 Borgo San Lorenzo, 158 families of, 17–18 foreign relations, 22–23 gonfaloni, 17, 64; Drago Verde, 27, 28, 48, 64–65, 107, 158; Ferza, 28, 64; Nicchio, 64; Scala, 39, 53, 64 government, and church patronage, 65–69, 76, 105; changes after 1494, 72–73, 80–83 historiography of, 11 Ingesuati, friars of, 128, 138 Innocenti, Ospedale degli, 135, 136–37; cappella maggiore, 127–29; church, 96–97, 119–20, 121–22, 127, 127–33, 128, 134–35; Del Pugliese chapel, 120, 127, 129, 131–33; Lenzi chapel, 119–20, 122, 124, 125–26, 127, 129, 132–33 palaces, 38–39; Arte della Seta, 42; Medici–Riccardi, 42; Mozzi (once Nasi), 23, 42–43, 43, 53–61; Piero Nasi, 40–42, 40, 41, 53–61; Pugliese, Del, 46–49, 47, 48; Torrigiani (formerly Bernardo, Bartolommeo, and Filippo Nasi), 44, 45, 53–61, 190

Palazzo della Signoria (now Palazzo Vecchio), 145 Piazza Mozzi, 42–45, 46 piazzas, political importance of, 44 political system, 18, 19 Ponte Rubaconte (alle Grazie), 44, 143 Porta San Piero Gattolini, 142 San Donato a Scopeto, 142 San Francesco al Monte, 123, 127 San Frediano, 104 San Gallo, 105 San Giovanni. See Florence: Baptistery San Jacopo Oltrarno, 122 San Lorenzo, 82, 104, 122, 125–26, 138 San Marco, 31, 101, 158, 159, 160, 164, 167, 172, 180, 186–87; Chapel of Arte della Seta, 164 San Niccolò sopr’Arno, 104 San Procolo, Valori chapel, 155 Santa Lucia de’Magnoli, 121, 122 Santa Lucia de’Via San Gallo, 122, 158, 159, 168, 180 Santa Maria alle Campora, 139, 146; Del Pugliese chapel, 106, 123, 124, 139–42, 146–49 Santa Maria de’ Ughi, 109 Santa Maria del Carmine, 120, 144, 175; Brancacci chapel, 90; and church of Santo Spirito, 63–65, 68, 71; Del Pugliese chapel, 26, 63–65, 89–90, 121, 122, 124, 143, 159; Serragli chapel, 120–21 Santa Maria Maddalena di Cestello (now de’Pazzi), 94, 127, 144, 159; Bardi chapel, 142, 143; Del Pugliese chapel, 142, 143; and Medici allies, 142; Nasi chapel, 124, 139, 142–43, 149–51 Santa Maria Novella, 103; cappella maggiore (Tornabuoni chapel), 123, 125, 164; Del Lama chapel, 120, 167; Strozzi chapel (formerly Boni), 121, 123 Santa Maria Nuova, 168 Santissima Annunziata, 126 Santo Spirito, church of, 26, 63–83, 75, 76, 77, 94, 120, 144; Capponi chapel, 65, 77, 79, 120, 124; chapel allocation, 73–76; Dei chapel, 80–82; interior homogeneity, 76–83, 126, 127; Nasi chapel, 63,

15.Burke.275-280.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:30 AM

Page 277

index 65, 77–80, 123, 124; old church, 65–66, 120; opera, 66–73 Santo Spirito, quarter of, 44, 64–66, 82 topography, 17–18 Via de’Bardi, 193 Via degli Serragli (formerly della Cuculia), 48, 142 Via del Fondaccio, 71 Via Maggio, 71 florin, increase in value of, 28 Foucault, Michel, 10 Francesco da Empoli, 106 Franciscans, 125 Frescobaldi family, 45, 65, 71–72, 73, 74, 75 Stoldo di Lionardo, 66–67, 70, 73 Frick, Catherine, 59 friendship, 85, 89, 90–91, 93–94, 96–98  Gamba, Carlo, 163 Gangalandi, commune of, 101, 103–4, 105, 107, 114 Gardner, Julian, 120 Gaston, Robert, 122 Gentile da Fabriano, Adoration of the Magi, 112 Ghirlandaio, Domenico, Adoration of the Magi (Innocenti), 128, 129, 133–35. See also Bartolommeo di Giovanni altarpiece for Ingesuati church, 128 Birth of Saint John the Baptist, 55, 56 Portrait of Francesco Sassetti and His Son Teodoro, 91, 92 Portrait of Giovanna degli Albizzi, 87, 88 Portrait of Old Man and Boy, 90, 91 Santa Maria Novella altarpiece, 164 Virgin and Child in Glory with Saints John and James (now lost), 110 workshop of, Adoration of the Magi (predella panel), 115; Annunciation to the Shepherds (predella panel), 110, 115–17; Taking of an Inventory, 51 Gilbert, Creighton, 7 Ginori family, 157, 158 Agostino di Giovanni, 158 Bartolommeo di Leonardo, 158 Giovanni di Francesco, 157 Ginzburg, Carlo, 1

Giovanni d’Alemagna, 126 Giovanni, de’, Francesco, 71 Goes, Hugo van der, Adoration of the Shepherds, 115, 175 Goldthwaite, Richard, 35, 53, 70, 72 golden age, 193 Gombrich, E. H., 5, 6–7, 131 Gozzoli, Benozzo, 95 Granacci, Francesco, Entries of Charles VII into Florence and Rome, 21 Gratian, 101 Gruyer, Gustave, 156 Gualterotti, Lorenzo di Niccolò, 43 Guerrucci family, 107 Domenico, Fra, 101, 103–4, 105, 107–9, 111 Guicciardini family, 71–72, 73 Francesco, 20, 190 Jacopo di Piero, 71 Guidi family, 21–22  Haines, Margaret, 69 Hartt, Frederick, 4 Hatfield Strens, Bianca, 177 Hatfield, Rab, 113, 167 Hegarty, Melinda, 72 Hope, Charles, 7, 124–25 Horne, Herbert, 166 Hugues de Fouillol, 168  Ianziti, Gary, 4 inventories, 49–61 writing of, 50–53, 57–58 ius patronatus. See patronage rights  Jerome, Saint, 167, 168, 169, 181–82, 186 jewelry, 60 John the Baptist, Saint, 112, 135 John the Evangelist, Saint, 135, 136 Johnson, Geraldine, 31  Kent, Dale, 2, 3, 8 Kent, F. W., 2, 72, 95 Klapisch-Zuber, Christiane, 2, 55, 112 Knorr, Christina, 115  Lama, Del, Guasparre, 120, 167 Landino, Cristoforo, 175

277 Landucci, Luca, 36, 120–21 Lanfredini family, 96 Lastra a Signa. See Gangalandi, commune of Lateran Council, Fourth (1215), 122, 123 Lecceto, church of Santa Maria a (now SS. Filippo e Giacomo), 101, 103–5, 107–10, 108, 160 cappella maggiore, 108–10, 109 Del Pugliese chapel, 110–12 Lenzi, Lorenzo and Piero di Ampherone, 119–20 Leonardo da Vinci, 190, 193 Lesher, Melinda, 149 lineage. See family, concept of Lippi, Filippino, 89, 90, 96, 174 Adoration of the Magi (Uffizi), 142, 191 Adoration of the Magi (for Francesco del Pugliese), 90, 165, 165–66, 187 Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, 90, 96, 112, 113, 139–41, 140, 145, 146–49, 152 Crucifixion with Virgin Mary and Saint Francis (San Procolo altarpiece), 155, 156, 174–75 Double Portrait of Piero del Pugliese and Filippino Lippi, 85–94, 86 John the Baptist and Mary Magdalen (wings for San Procolo altarpiece), 155, 157, 174–75 Noli me tangere and Samaritan Woman at the Well, 90, 161, 166–67, 177–81, 178, 179, 184 and Piero del Pugliese, 89–91, 93–94, 96, 131, 165, 189–90 Lippi, Filippo, Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, 145 Long, J. C., 125 Lopez, R. S., 5 Lorenzo di Credi, 167 Louis XII, King of France, 20, 21 Luchs, Alison, 142, 143 Luti family, 71 Lydecker, Kent, 52, 60 Lyons, 20, 190  Machiavelli, Niccolò, 190 Maecenas, 193 magi, 112–13, 133, 186–87 magnificence, theory of, 35–36, 39, 167–68

15.Burke.275-280.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:30 AM

278 Maiano, da, Giuliano, 95 Manelli, Jacopo, 36 Manetti, Antonio, 67 Mantegna, Andrea, Portrait of Janus Pannonius and Galleotto Marzio da Narni, 89 Mantellate, nuns of, 74 manuscripts, 30, 146–47 Marchese, Vincenzo, 156 Marchi, Francesco di Piero, 121 Martelli, Costanza di Roberto, 232 n. 44 Martial, epigrams on portraits, 87 Mary Magdalen, 178–81 Masi, Bartolommeo, 36, 60 Maso di Bartolommeo, 46 Master of the Legend of Saint Ursula, Head of Christ, 161, 177–81, 178 Master of the Rinuccini Chapel, Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, 144, 145–46 Mazzei, Lapo, 93 mecenatismo, 4–5 Medici family, 10–11, 20, 82, 104 Averardo, 93 bank, 21,142 Cosimo “il Vecchio,” 5, 6–7, 20, 66–67, 113; relationship with Donatello, 38, 94–95 Cosimo I, 175 Francesco di Lazzaro, 158 Giovanni di Bicci, 125 Giovanni di Lorenzo, 36–37 Giuliano di Lorenzo, 73 Giuliano di Piero, 36 Lorenzo “il Magnifico,” 5, 6, 20, 95, 147; affair with Bartolommea Nasi, 20; and Cestello, 142; and church of Santo Spirito, 68–69, 72–73, 76, 83; death of, 181; friendship with Piero Nasi, 20; as model art patron, 95, 131, 190, 193; political alliances with, 20, 27; sculpture garden in palace, 95 Lorenzo di Piero, later Duke of Urbino, 32, 158 and the Magi, 112–13 Piero di Cosimo, 6, 20 Piero di Lorenzo, 21, 60, 72, 95, 158 Mercanzia, Sei di, 67–68 Michelangelo, 95, 97, 174, 177, 190, 193 Mitchell, Barbara, 94 Molho, Anthony, 2

Page 278

index Morelli, Giovanni, 31  Nasi family, 1, 11–12, 73, 94, 189, 190 Agostino and Jacopo di Giovanni, 44 Alessandro di Francesco, 21, 22, 60, 97; follower of Savonarola, 57, 174; inventory of goods, 50, 52–61, 174 bank, 20, 190 operai of Santo Spirito, 72, 83 palaces, 39–47, 49–61 Bartolommea di Lorenzo, 20 Bartolommea di Piero, 143 Bartolommeo di Lutozzo, 20; inventory of goods, 50, 52–61; palace with brothers, 44–45, 50, 53–61; provision for chapel in Santo Spirito, 77–78, 123 Battista di Giovanni, 44 Battista di Lorenzo, 194 Bernardo di Lutozzo, 20, 24–25; palace with brothers, 44–45, 50, 53–61; portrait medals of, 23–26 Checca. See Cattani, Francesca coat of arms, 22 Costanza di Lutozzo, 55, 60 Filippo di Lutozzo, 20, 50; and church patronage, 121, 123; palace with brothers, 44–45, 50, 53–61 Francesco di Lutozzo, 20, 21, 23, 43–44 Gabriello, Fra, 21–22 Giovanni di Jacopo, 40, 67 identity creation, 18–26, 33, 44–45 inventories, 49–61 Lorenzo di Lutozzo, 20 Lorenzo di Bartolommeo, 191, 193 Luto di Giunta, 19 Lutozzo di Jacopo, 19, 20, 27, 40 Piero di Lutozzo, 20–23; inventory of goods, 50, 52–61; palace, 40–42, 50, 53–61; Raffaello, 194 Roberto di Bernardo, 44, 50 Tita. See Corsi, Margherita di Bartolommeo Nelson, Jonathan, 6 Neri di Bicci, 7, 94 Coronation of the Virgin, 129, 130 Nerli family, 72, 79 Tanai, 73 Nero, del, family, 44 Marco di Simone, 50

Newbigin, Nerida, 67 Nicholas, Saint, 112, 114–15, 135–36 Nuttall, Paula, 174  O’Malley, Michelle, 7 Open University, 4 opere, 63–64, 69, 70 Duomo (Santa Reparata), 66, 70 Innocenti, 69, 70, 120–21 Santa Maria del Carmine, 71, 90 Santo Spirito, 66, 69–73, 77 Ottokar, Nicolai, 69  palaces, 35, 38–49, 168 interiors, 49–61 Palagio, del, family, 22 Ginevra di Piero, 20, 22 Palla, della, family, 73 Marco di Mariotto, 74 Mariotto, 74 Palmieri, Matteo, 38, 51, 61 Parenti, Piero di Marco, 60, 171 paterfamilias, role of, 31–32 patronage, 3–8. See also art patronage patronage rights, 101–8, 117–18 and chapels, 119, 121–22, 124, 137–38 and church/chapel foundation, 102–3, 115–16 Pazzi, Guglielmo, 20 Piero, 60 Pazzi conspiracy, 95 Perosa, Alessandro, 85 Perugino, Pietro, 94 Annunciation, 151 Apparition of the Virgin to Saint Bernard, 139, 141, 142–43, 149–51 Pesellino, Madonna and Child with Six Saints, 164, 165 painting in chapel at Sommaia, 165 Peter the Chanter, 168 Peter, Saint, 112, 135, 136 Petrarch, poems about portraiture, 87 Petrini, Francesco, 74 Philip, Saint, 149 Pienza cathedral, 126 Piero di Cosimo, 93 and Piero del Pugliese, 12, 32, 96, 131 Early History of Man, 12, 32, 96 Virgin and Child with Saints (Innocenti altarpiece), 96–97, 131, 131–32, 135–37

15.Burke.275-280.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:30 AM

Page 279

index Virgin and Child with Saints (Lecceto altarpiece), 31–32, 111–15, 111, 137 Visitation with Saints Nicholas and Anthony Abbot, 79, 80, 82, 124 Piero di Michele, 194 Pitti family, 73 Luca di Buonaccorso, 71, 73, 74 Pius II, 126 Pliny the Elder, Natural History, 94, 96 Poliziano, Angelo, 97, 147 Polizzotto, Lorenzo, 158 Pollaiuolo, Antonio, 96 polyphony, 168 Portinari family, 115 portrait medal of Bernardo Nasi, 23–26, 24, 25 portraiture, 86–87, 91–93, 112–17, 191. See also double portraits preaching, 169–74 pregnancy, 114, 143 Pucci family, 142 Pugliese, Del, family, 1, 11–12, 26–33, 189, 190 Alessandra. See Bonsi, Alessandra di Domenico Buonaccorso di Filippo, 27 Caterina di Filippo, 157–58 Costanza di Piero, 157 Filippo di Francesco, 27 Francesco di Filippo, 32, 89, 114, 156–58; and Savonarola, 32, 157, 158–59, 182, 186–87; tabernacle on palace, 48–49; wills, 158–60, 167, 168. See also Sommaia, Estate of Francesco del Pugliese Francesco di Iacopo, 46 Giovanni di Iacopo, 27, 46, 130 Jacopo di Filippo, 27 lineage identity, 28–29, 46 Niccolò di Piero, 112, 114 palace, 46–49 Piero di Francesco, 28, 29–32, 91, 122, 175 as art patron, 96, 190 as artistic authority, 130–31, 138; and Badia Fiorentina, 142, 149; and decoration of Innocenti, 129–31, 135–37; as donor, 146, 148–49, 152; and Filippino Lippi, 89–91, 93–94, 189–90; in the guise of Saint Nicholas, 112, 114–15, 116–17, 135; and manuscripts, 30, 146, 147, 149; palace, 46–48; representa-

tions of, 31–32, 139–40, 148–49, 191; and San Donato a Scopeto, 142; and Santa Maria a Lecceto, 101, 103–4, 107–8, 110–15; and Santa Maria alle Campora, 114, 123, 145–46. See also Rossellino, Antonio; Lippi, Filippino Ridolfo (Messer), 26  Quaratesi family, 41, 42  Raffaellino del Garbo, 94, 96 Pietà with Saints John the Baptist, John the Evangelist, Mary Magdalen, and James, 78, 78–79 Virgin and Child with Saints Catherine and Barbara, tabernacle, 48–49 Virgin and Child with Saints John the Evangelist, Lawrence, Stephen, and Bernard, 80 Randolph, Adrian, 136 Raphael, 190, 191–94 Madonna del Baldacchino, 80–82, 81 Madonna del Cardellino, 191–92, 192, 194 Renaissance, concept of, 2–3 Ricetti, Licio, 69 Ridolfi family, 72 Giuliano di Pagnazzo, 142 Robbia, della, Andrea Annunciation, 132 Holy Innocents, 127, 132 Robbia, della, Giovanni, Biliemme Tabernacle, 49 Rocke, Michael, 92 Rohan, Cardinal, 97 role models, for religious devotion, 147, 148–49, 152 for sons, 31–32 for women, 135–37, 191–92 role playing, 152, 180–81, 186–87, 191 Rose of Viterbo, Saint, 135 Rossellino, Antonio, Portrait Bust of Piero del Pugliese, 30–32, 30, 87 Rubin, Patricia, 3, 93 Rucellai, Giovanni, 6, 39, 49, 93 Rufinus, 102 Rutini family, 143  Saalman, Howard, 67

279 sacra rappresentazione, 68 Salvi d’Andrea, 70 Salviati family, 142 Alamanno, 143 Samaritan woman, 178–81 Sangallo, da, Antonio, the Elder, 128 Giuliano, 72, 82, 95, 128, 142 Savonarola, Fra Girolamo, 9, 138, 186–87 attitudes toward wealth, 36–37, 39, 167–68 De Simplicitate Christianae Vitae, 167–68 Defensione dell’oratione mentale, 173 followers, 57, 174–75, 190 historiography of influence on visual arts, 155–56 ideas about painting, 112, 167–69, 171–72, 183–86 mental imagery, 170–72, 173–74, 170–81, 183–85, 187 opposition to, 37, 168, 171 Predica dell’arte del ben’ morire, 172, 175–76, 183–85 sermons, 167–72, 180, 183–85 theme of interior and exterior, 117, 168–69, 171–72, 176, 181, 190 Triumphis Crucis, 170–71 Scharf, Alfred, 140 Schiaparelli, Attilio, 60 Schiavo, Paolo, attributed, Virgin and Child with Saints (frescoes at Sommaia), 161, 162 Scorbaccia, 70 Segni family, 74 Bernardo di Stefano, 21, 60, 80 Selve, Santa Maria alle, 106 Serragli, Nannozzo di Giovanni, 27 Serristori, Lisabetta di Ristoro, 50 servants, 53–55 Shearman, John, 87 Siege of Florence (1529), 141 Siena Cathedral, 126 Simons, Patricia, 91 social identity, 8–10 Soderini family, 45, 64, 72 Francesco di Tommaso, 27 Piero, leader of Florentine republic, 72–73, 83, 97, 158, 193 Tommaso di Lorenzo, 104 Tommaso di Paol’Antonio, 72 Sommaia, 12, 142 parish of San Ruffignano, 160, 161 Sommaia, da, family, 124, 157 Francesco di Guglielmo, 157

15.Burke.275-280.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:30 AM

280

Page 280

index

Guglielmo di Francesco, 157 Rosso, 158 Sommaia, Estate of Francesco del Pugliese, 12, 156–58 chapel of Sant’Andrea, 124, 159–67, 160, 162, 175–87 spalliere, meaning of, 55–56 Spigliatti, Tommaso, 125 Starnina, Gherardo, frescos in Del Pugliese chapel, 29 Stephen of Tournai, 102 Strozzi family, 105, 109 Alessandra, 174 Filippo, 6, 106, 121; in guise of shepherd, 110, 115–17; and Santa Maria a Lecceto, 101, 103, 104–5, 107–10 Lorenzo, 96 Palla, 112 Synod of Florence (1336), 105 Synod of Trier (1310), 123–24 Syson, Luke, 3, 49  Taddei, Taddeo, 193 tavola quadrata, 82, 125 Tedaldi, Lactantio di Papi, 50 Tesori, Francesco di Giovanni, 119–20, 126, 127–28, 133

Thomas, Anabel, 7 Thornton, Dora, 3, 49 Tornabuoni family, 103 Lorenzo di Giovanni, 142, 143 Trent, Council of, 102, 103 Trexler, Richard, 2, 22, 31, 113, 186–87  Ugolini, Niccolò di Giorgio, 21, 60 Uzzano, da, Niccolò, 67  Valori, Francesco, 155 Vasari, Giorgio, 5, 10, 93, 175, 193, 194 and idea of art patronage, 93, 94–95, 96–97, 98 Velluti family, 77 Venice San Francesco della Vigna, 126 Santa Maria della Carità, 126 Verino, Ugolino, De Illustratione Urbis Florentiae, 18, 19, 26, 38 Poem celebrating a portrait of Piero del Pugliese, 85, 89 Vespasiano da Bisticci, 60, 94–95 Vincent Ferrer, Saint, 164 Violi, Ser Lorenzo, 158 Virgil, Aeneid, 30, 149

visitations of Florentine churches, 102–3, 121, 122 Vivarini, Antonio, 126  Wackernagel, Martin, 5 Warburg, Aby, 6, 9 wealth, attitudes toward, 35–39, 63–64, 113–14, 117–18, 167–68, 181–82, 187. See also magnificence, theory of Weissman, Ronald, 2 Welch, Evelyn, 3 widows. See women wings of tabernacles, 175–76, 187 women 12, 60, 91–92, 120, 136–37 as audience to imagery, 9–10, 136–37, 172, 180 role within family, 18, 19–20, 50–51, 158 widows, 55, 57, 136 woodcuts, 183–85 Wright, Alison, 91–92  Zambrano, Patrizia, 86–97 Zeri, Federico, 115

15.Burke.275-280.FINALqu

4/1/04

10:30 AM

Page 281