It was a “eureka” moment when a young family member recently showed me his orangutan toy (pictured above). Its extended arms and appearance triggered a thought and recollection of both ape and long arm features in Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of the Annunciation.
Leonardo’s ape connected to the monkey featured in one of Ismail al-Jazari’s Candle Clocks which I explained in a post almost a year ago.
Detail from Leonardo da Vinci’s Annunciation, Uffizi, Florence
I sensed the orangutan’s long arm was in some way associated with the Virgin Mary’s unusual extended right arm, but at the time could not come up with a satisfactory explanation until a few days ago when I discovered her long arm, often faulted by art critics and historians, was actually inspired by another feature found in Fra Lippi’s Seven Saints painting, proving that the distortion was indeed intentional and DID refer to the long arm of an ape.
Fra Lippi’s Seven Saints, National Gallery, London
While Vasari refers to several of Lippi’s paintings he makes no mention of the Seven Saints panel. Elsewhere in Lippi’s biography Vasari relates an account of the time the painter and a group friends were captured by Barbary pirates.
“Now, chancing to be in the Marches of Ancona, he was disporting himself one day with some of his friends in a little boat on the sea, when they were all captured together by the Moorish galleys that were scouring those parts, and taken to Barbary, where each of them was put in chains and held as a slave; and thus he remained in great misery for eighteen months. But one day, seeing that he was thrown much into contact with his master, there came to him the opportunity and the whim to make a portrait of him; whereupon, taking a piece of dead coal from the fire, with this he portrayed him at full length on a white wall in his Moorish costume. When this was reported by the other slaves to the master (for it appeared a miracle to them all, since drawing and painting were not known in these parts), it brought about his liberation from the chains in which he had been held for so long. Truly glorious was it for this art to have caused one to whom the power of condemnation and punishment was granted by law, to do the very opposite—nay, in place of inflicting pains and death, to consent to show friendliness and grant liberty! ”
This account is generally dismissed by art historians. Louis Gillet (1876-1943) wrote that Vasari’s account of Lippi being seized by Barbary pirates and held captive “is assuredly nothing but a romance”.
But was it? There is evidence in the Seven Saints painting that points to this account, even if it was a romantic notion on the part of Fra Lippi. Leonardo da Vinci was also aware of the story and adapted Lippi’s reference for his Annunciation painting.
The saintly figures shown above – Anthony Abbot and Peter of Verona – are part of Fra Filippo Lippi’s Seven Saints painting (1450-53) housed at the National Gallery, London.
Lippi also applied two other identities to the men – St Jude Thaddeus and himself (right). Pairing is one of several themes in the painting.
I mentioned in a previous post that the painting, and the artist, were a source of inspiration for Leonardo da Vinci’s Annunciation.
One of several features Leonardo adapted from the Seven Saints forms part of the dual figure of St Peter Martyr and Filippo Lippi – the sword and the nimbus.
Detail of St Peter of Verona from Fra Filippo’s Seven Saints painting
The sword represents the weapon used by an assassin hired by a group of Cathars to murder Peter as he was travelling with a companion to Milan. At the inquest following Peter’s death, his wound was described as “caused by the force of the impact of a falchion, whose blade ends in two horns, like the moon.”
Observe how the sword embedded in Peter’s head also appears to dissect the nimbus, to form a crescent shape of the upper half. The two points of the segment can be considered as “horns of a crescent moon”.
Detail of the crescent and sword from Leonardo’s Annunciation
In an earlier post – “I saw the crescent” – I presented a narrative on a similar feature which appears in Leonardo’s Annunciation but, at the time, without knowing the connection to Lippi’s Seven Saints. I pointed out the green crescent shape of the Angel Gabriel’s purse and his waistband shaped as the sheath of a curved scimitar as references to Al-Jazari’s Candle Clock of the Swordsman.
So now Leonardo’s adaption can also be recognised as referring to “a falchion, whose blade ends in two horns, like the moon” – further evidence that Lippi’s Seven Saints was a source of inspiration.
There is another narrative connecting the sword and the nimbus and relates to the second identity applied to the figure of Peter of Verona, that of the artist Fra Filippo Lippi.
So who was Fra Filippo Lippi? By most accounts the ordained Carmelite priest and painter did not lead an exemplary religious life.
He was born about 1406 and orphaned by the age of two, then sent to live with an aunt who later placed him in the care of a Carmelites when he was eight years old.
Ordained a priest in 1425, Lippi left the Carmelite monastery six years later to start his own painting workshop, but was still held to his vows.
In 1885 the English poet Robert Browning (1812-1889) penned a dramatic monologue about the wayward friar titled Fra Lippo Lippi. I recommend readers check out the audio version voiced by the American actor Paul Giamatti at the Poetry Foundation website where W. S. Di Piero sets the scene:
“It’s past midnight in Florence’s red-light district in the mid-15th century, and a man dressed as a monk has just been strong-armed by the police and questioned about his presence in such a place. Wait, he says, I can explain everything. “That’s where we find ourselves at the beginning of Browning’s “Fra Lippo Lippi.” What follows is a wild improvisation on assorted themes—lust, want, religion, art-making, and the nature of beauty. The good Fra Lippo—Carmelite Friar and in-house painter for Cosimo De’ Medici—does explain his presence, explains in fact pretty much his entire life and art, over the course of nearly 400 lines. He is, like other of Browning’s monologists, a world-class talker.”
My next post will deal with the self portrait of Lippi, in his painting of Seven Saints, and how it reveals some aspects of his colourful life.
In this post I reveal more about Fra Filippo Lippi’s Seven Saints and how some 400 years later it partly inspired Henry Holiday’s painting of Dante and Beatrice.
I mentioned in previous posts the Seven Saints library and books narrative and also that Lippi applied double identities to some of the saints in the lineup.
Seven Saints, by Fra Filippo Lippi, National Gallery, London.
The saint on the extreme right is identified as St Peter of Verona, martyred by an assassin’s blade through his head. He can also be recognised as the artist himself, the Carmelite friar Filippo Lippi.
At the opposite end of the line-up is St Francis of Assisi, founder of the Franciscan Order. The figure’s second identity is Francesco Zabarella (pictured), a bishop of Florence and Cardinal Deacon of the basilica in Rome dedicated to Cosmas and Damian, the twin saints seated either side of the central figure of John the Baptist.
Another theme in the painting is severance and separation. Some of the saints were beheaded, others had their heads cleaved (as Peter of Verona). Only St Francis kept his head intact, although the Franciscan Order did become divided after his death.
The tomb of Francesco Zabarella, Padua Cathedral.
Among his many writings, particularly on canon law, Francesco Zabarella produced an ecclesiastic-political treatise titled De Schismatic. Interestingly, sculpted at the feet of his tomb effigy in Padua Cathedral is a set of three books – a reference to the Trinity and unification, but can also be recognised as pointing to a time of the Papal Schism (1378-1417) when there were three claimants to the Papacy. The Papal schism ended at the Council of Constance on November 11, 1417, two months after the death of Zabarella who did much to promote and encourage unification among the fragmented Church.
The feature can also be considered as a “book end”. So here we can understand the St Francis figure at one end of the lineup, and the figure of St Peter Martyr at the other end and supporting a book, as “book ends” buttressing the wall of the Christian Church built on the blood of martyrs.
This also points to the time when St Francis was praying at the church of San Damiano (St Damian) and heard the voice of Jesus speaking to him from a crucifix: “Francis, go rebuild my Church which is falling down.”
References to the Seven Saints book-ends show up in Henry Holiday’s painting of Dante and Beatrice.
Dante and Beatrice, by Henry Holiday, Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool.
Dante, standing at the corner of the Ponte Santa Trinita in Florence, represents the dual figure of Fra Lippi and St Peter Martyr. Lippi’s figure is dressed in garments of two-tone green, as is the figure of Dante whose red cap is shaped as an axe to mirror the head of the martyred Peter. Dante’s brown footwear is also intended to match the colour of the Lippi figure. There is narrative associated with this feature which I will explain at another time. On the bridge corner are rectangular shapes carved into the wall which echo two similar shapes in the corner of the back rest behind Lippi. Another reminder of book-ends.
LeftL Henry Holiday at work. Right: Holiday’s rendition of Dante Alighieri.
Notice also the position and composition of Dante’s left hand and how a similar pose in a photograph of Henry Holiday for which I have no other detail other than his name. The reference to Ponte Santa Trinita is also reflected in the prominent beacon stand and its three-headed dragon feature. A similar feature appears in Botticelli’s Primavera.
Botticelli was an apprentice to Fra Filippo Lippi and it’s likely that the book-ends support feature inspired his famous painting of Venus who is depicted leaning and out of kilter, symbolic of the the Church at that time.
Venus, by Sandro Botticelli, Uffizi Gallery, Florence.
I pointed out in my previous post the barrel connection to Botticelli’s other famous painting, Primavera. But there is more to this section of Dante and Beatrice. The birds are a reference to the sermon St Francis gave to a flock of birds gathered in some trees.
Detail from Henry Holiday’s Dante and Beatrice
“My little sisters the birds, you owe much to God, your Creator, and you ought to sing his praise at all times and in all places, because he has given you liberty to fly about into all places; and though you neither spin nor sew, he has given you a twofold and a threefold clothing for yourselves and for your offspring. Two of all your species he sent into the Ark with Noah that you might not be lost to the world; besides which, he feeds you, though you neither sow nor reap. He has given you fountains and rivers to quench your thirst, mountains and valleys in which to take refuge, and trees in which to build your nests; your Creator loves you much, having favoured you with such bounties. Beware, my little sisters, of the sin of ingratitude, and study always to give praise to God.” Saint Francis of Assisi, 1220
I sense that Holiday was more than aware of these words by St Francis and have emphasised some parts of the passage to explain how Halliday seems to have expressed them in his painting.
“You neither spin nor sew…” and “twofold and threefold clothing” – not only a reference to the birds’ feathers, but emphasised by the silk and two-tone clothes worn by Dante, Beatrice and her friends.
“Two of all your species he sent into the Ark with Noah…” – The Ark is the barrel and its arc shape. Noah’s Ark also refers to the wooden chest known as the Ark of the Covenant, a description of which is written in the Book of Exodus, hence why the barrel, or Ark, is exiting at the left edge of the picture. “He took the covenant and put it into the ark, and put the poles on the ark, and set the mercy seat above the ark” (Exodus 40:20). The handles on the carrier supporting the barrel represent the poles, while the bird sitting on the top of the barrel is a reference to the seat of mercy.
“He feeds you…” – As seen by the birds feeding from the ground.
The two birds perched on the carrier handle may represent the birds, a raven and a dove, that Noah sent out to test if the Great Flood had receded. This is also pointer to the Great Flood of the River Arno in 1333 which devastated Florence when more than 3,000 people were killed. The Santa Trinita bridge collapsed except for one pier and an arch. The carrier section on which the two birds are perched is intended to represent the shape of a Tau Cross, another attribute of St Francis.
A wall plaque records the height of the 1333 flood of the River Arno.
For Henry Holiday, references to the Holy Trinity in the Dante and Beatrice painting are significant in another way.. He began his artistic career as a designer of stained glass, and his work is visible throughout Britain. He also fulfilled commissions for clients in the United States. The 17 stained-glass windows in the Lutheran church of the Holy Trinity in East 88th Street, New York, were all designed by Holiday and the artist’s only complete cycle of windows extant.
The Crucifixion stained-glass window, designed by Henry Holiday, in the Church of the Holy Trinity.
Fra Lippi’s Seven Saints was acquired by London’s National Gallery in 1861, some 20 years before Holiday began to start work on Dante and Beatrice.
This weekend I spent time researching more on Fra Lippi’s Seven Saints, a source used by Leonardo da Vinci for his Annunciation painting, and came across this work by the English artist Henry Holiday (1839-1927) titled Dante and Beatrice. It’s housed at the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool.
Dante and Beatrice, by Henry Holiday, Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool
“The painting is based on Dante Alighieri’s 1294 autobiographical workLa Vita Nuova which describes his love for Beatrice Portinari. Dante concealed his love by pretending to be attracted to other women. The painting depicts an incident when Beatrice, having heard gossip relating to this, refuses to speak to him. The event is shown as Beatrice (in a white dress) and two other women walk past Dante standing on the Santa Trinita Bridge in Florence. […] Holiday was anxious that the painting should be historically accurate and in 1881 travelled to Florence to carry out research. […] When Holiday died in 1927, he was described as ‘the last Pre-Raphaelite’. Many of Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s paintings, including Dante’s Dream, had as their subject the Italian poet Dante Alighieri, and this interest is the likely inspiration for Holiday’s painting.” (Wikipedia)
However, another inspiration was the Italian Renaissance painter Sandro Botticelli. It is said that after Botticelli died in 1510, interest in the artist and his work waned and was virtually forgotten until renewed by the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, founded in 1848.
While on his research visit to Florence, Holiday may have had the opportunity to seek out and closely study Botticelli’s paintings housed in the Uffizi Museum. So it should come as no surprise that Botticelli’s influence can be recognised in Holiday’s Dante and Beatrice – none more so than elements of Botticelli’s Primavera, the left half showing the Three Graces and the mythological figure generally identified as Mars. It is Mars who has turned away from the Three Graces, while in Holiday’s painting it is Dante who is ignored by the three women.
Primavera, by Sandro Botticelli, Uffizi Gallery, Florence
Compare the detail below of two of the women from both paintings. See how Holiday has matched the tilted head of the woman on the left. Another match is the woman’s hand resting on the shoulder. Then there is the rose paired with the brooch on the woman’s chest.
Matching pairs (above and below) from Primavera and Dante and Beatrice
But the clincher is the barrel placed at the left edge of Holiday’s painting. It’s a shout-out to Botticelli, a nickname given to the artist which means “little barrel”. Holiday adds a final touch by identifying some of the produce in the barrel, spring greens (perhaps lettuces) alongside lemons, and so pointing to the title of Botticelli’s painting, Primavera, translated from Italian as “Spring”. Instead of the oranges depicted in Primavera, Holiday has shown lemons.
Detail of the barrel in Holiday’s Dante and Beatrice painting.
There are other elements of Holiday’s painting which suggest he may also have known of the connection between Botticelli’s Primavera and Fra Filippo Lippi’s Seven Saints.
So if Leonardo da Vinci adapted elements from Fra LIppi’s Seven Saints painting for his own version of the Annunciation, then what source, if any, inspired the composition for Lippi’s saintly lineup?
Seven Saints by Fra Filippo Lippi, National Gallery, London
Mentioned in my previous post, was a comment by Nicholas Flory that the Seven Saints, originally housed in the Palazzo Medici, was possibly a doorway feature of the Medici family library.
A source that confirms the library connection and lends itself as the inspiration for Lippi’s composition is the basilica in Rome’s Forum dedicated to two of the figures featured in Lippi’s painting, saints Cosmas and Damian.
Originally a Roman temple, it was Christianised in 527 by pope Felix IV. The pope was then gifted with an adjacent building, the library of the Forum of Peace (Bibliotheca Pacis), and he amalgamated the two buildings to create a basilica dedicated to saints Cosmas and Damian.
Originally a Roman Temple, now the basilica dedicated to saints Cosimas and Damian.
The dome-shape caps worn by Cosmas and Damian are reminiscent of the dome covering the basilica’s circular vestibule, and the lunette arch of the painting’s frame.
The vault above the basilica’s apse is decorated with a sixth century mosaic depicting three figures either side of the Returning Christ. On the left, pope Felix IV, St Paul and St Damian; on the right, St Peter, St Cosmas and St Theodore – seven figures in total.
The apse of the basilica of Saints Cosimas and Damian
It is this parousia mosaic and the basilica’s library association that was the source of inspiration for Fra Lippi’s Seven Saints composition.
However, Lippi substituted five of the figures to represent saints associated with Florence and branches of the Medici family. The twins Cosmas and Damian were Arab physicians and the Medici name in Italian translates as ‘doctors’.
The seven figures are also a pointer to the seven branches of the Jewish Menorah, looted by the Romans when they destroyed Jerusalem’s Second Temple in AD 70. The Menorah and other Temple treasures were brought back to Rome and displayed in triumph. It is said that the Menorah was exhibited to the public in the Forum of Peace, which later became part of the basilica of Cosmas and Damian.
Rome’s Arch of Titus, constructed in AD 81, was referred to in a medieval guide book to the city as “the arch of the Seven Lamps of Titus and Vespasian”. Titus was the son of Vespasian and the Arch was built to commemorate the victory over the Jewish rebellion in Judaea. At the base of the arch is a relief depicting the Menorah carried in triumph.
Arch of Titus in Rome showing the Menorah
So the seven saints in Fra Lippi’s painting can also be viewed as branches of light that correspond to the learning and light provided by the books in the Medici library, in both a spiritual and secular sense – I.e. the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit*, and the seven Liberal Arts*.
Note the stance and clothing of the central figure of John the Baptist, the patron saint of Florence. John was the precursor of Jesus and so the figure represents both John and Jesus, twinned as the two brothers, Cosmas and Damian. The four other figures are also depicted as pairs and were given second identities by Fra Lippi.
* Seven gifts of the Holy Spirit: Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Fortitude, Knowledge, Piety, and Fear of the Lord. Seven Liberal Arts: Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, Geometry, Arithmetic, Astronomy and Music.
• More on Fra Lippi’s Seven Saints in a future post.
This is yet another work by Fra Filippo Lippi which Leonardo da Vinci sourced for producing his painting of the Annunciation. It’s known as the Seven Saints and housed at the National Gallery, along with its companion painting, Lippi’s ‘London’ version of the Annunciation.
Here’s how the National Gallery identifies the seven saints:
“Lippi has used traditional symbols to identify each figure. The group is framed on either side by two saints dressed in the habits (uniform) of the religious orders to which they belonged. On the far left is Saint Francis, founder of the Franciscans in the thirteenth century. His meditation on the suffering of Christ was so profound that he himself developed the wounds of the Crucifixion; here they emit rays of heavenly light. Mirroring him is Saint Peter Martyr, the knife embedded in his skull a reminder of his death.
“The barefoot saint in the centre is Saint John the Baptist. He holds a slender cross, a reference to his prophecies about Christ and his ministries. He sits between Saints Cosmas and Damian; the little golden boxes on the ledge behind them are their medicine boxes, a reminder that they were doctors. Cosmas appears to be having a divine vision and raises his hands towards heaven, while Damian presses his palms together in prayer. Next to them are Saint Lawrence, on the left, and Saint Anthony Abbot, on the right. Saint Lawrence was burnt to death on a grill, which became his symbol – it rests against the bench by his side. Saint Anthony Abbot is shown as an old man with a wooden crook, because he lived as a hermit in the wilderness.”
What the Gallery’s notes do not reveal is that Lippi applied more than one identity to the saints identified as St Anthony Abbot and St Peter Martyr. Anthony is also depicted as St Jude (Thaddeus), while St Peter Martyr is a portrait of the artist himself, Fra Filippo Lippi.
In a Youtube video discussing the Lippi’s London Annunciation painting, Dr Nicholas Flory explains that both lunettes were originally housed in the Palazzo Medici, Florence, but as to exactly where there is no definite answer. He explains:
“The paintings were not included in the extensive inventory taken there in 1492. Since they were likely in the palace, however they simply have been in a room which was not included in the list of goods. Only one room omitted from the document seems suitable for such beautiful and impressive paintings: the family library. Perhaps Lippi’s ‘overdoors’ then were installed here as part of the room’s furnishings, possibly either side of a doorway but where they could have been seen by members of the family and their close associates.”
The suggestion that one or both lunettes were possibly housed in a Medici family library makes sense. The seven saints all feature in the Golden Legend (Legenda Aurea), a collection of the lives of saints compiled by Jacobus de Voraigne (c.1230 – 1298), an Italian chronicler and archbishop of Genoa. Notice the book under Lippi’s right arm. Could this refer to the Golden Legend and the source of reference for Lippi, and a book that was part of the Medici library? Observe also the seven saints are placed as a line of books sitting on a shelf. Another library reference is St Laurence (second from the left) a patron saint of librarians.
It is said that you cannot judge a book by its cover, but the clothing worn by the seven saints all reveal aspects of their lives, including Lippi himself.
Earlier this month, at this link, I pointed out that Leonardo da Vinci had sourced two of Fra Filippo Lippi’s paintings of the Annunciation for his own version. Leonardo also referenced another work by Fra Lippi, The Vision of St Augustine.
Today I discovered another work Leonardo sourced: Tobias and the Angel, attributed to Andrea del Verrocchio and his workshop. It’s a painting that art historians believe Leonardo also had a hand in producing, notably the images of the dog and the fish. Leonardo confirms his contribution by adapting and reinterpreting some of its features for his version of the Annunciation.
Verrocchio’s Tobias and the Angel is housed at the National Gallery, London. The painting is dated between 1470-1475.
Detail from the Annunciation, Leonardo da Vinci, Uffizi Gallery, Florence
One of the tell-tale features in Tobias and the Angel that can be matched in Leonardo’s Annunciation is the right arm and hand of Tobias compared with the right arm and hand of the Virgin. Three colours are applied to the arm: blue on the upper arm; gold (at the elbow joint; and red/orange on the forearm. And then there is the hand formation, the crooked little finger, the extended thumb, and the three other fingers pressed down.
Detail from Tobias and the Angel, Andrea del Verrocchio, National Gallery, London
Other areas of Raphael’s clothing are echoed in the Annunciation. So, too, is Tobias’ doublet and decorative belt, adapted to reference Botticelli and Ghirlandaio. All very cryptic, I know, but embedded sub-narratives are all part of Leonardo’s version of the Annunciation, not just the biblical account at surface level recording the Angel Gabriel appearing before the Virgin Mary.
In a post I made on Tuesday of this week I mentioned the Waterboys, and then yesterday pointed to the five consecutive letters of the alphabet written in the Holy Book featured in Leonardo’s Annunciation painting.
Detail from The Annunciation, Leonardo da Vinci, Uffizi Gallery, Florence
Without realising at the time, the two posts link to today’s input featuring Fra Lippi’s painting of Augustine of Hippo and the child by the river, generally titled The Vision of St Augustine.
The Vision of Augustine (1465), Far Lippi, Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg, Russia
The child can be recognised as a “waterboy’; the letter ‘O’ in the string of five letters as the hole in which the boy is attempting to fill with water. This in turn links to the veil pouch (representing water) beneath the Holy Book supported on a barrel-shape pedestal that rests on the sarcophagus or small altar.
Detail from The Annunciation, Leonardo da Vinci, Uffizi Gallery, Florence
The shape of the pedestal is meant to represent Sandro Botticelli. Botticelli is a nickname, meaning ‘little barrel’, and it is a young Botticelli that Fra Lippi has used as his model for the boy attempting the impossible in his painting. Botticelli was first apprenticed to Fra Lippi sometime around 1462.
Some observers wonder if Lippi’s boy is an angel or not. But he is winged, the shape of which blend into the rock outcrop behind him. His left arm points up to the top right corner of the painting to the group of three heads representing the Holy Trinity, and so a link to Leonardo’s pointer to the mystery of the Holy Trinity in his painting of the Annunciation.
Above and below, detail from Fra Lippi’s The Vision of Augustine, Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg, Russia
Far Lippi’s painting records the story of Augustine of Hippo who, while writing his Latin book On the Trinity, took a break to meditate and went walking near the sea shore. He came across a young boy scooping water from the sea with a shell and then emptying it into a small hole in the sand. The bishop watched the event for a while and then asked the child what he was attempting to achieve. He answered, “I am pouring all the water of the sea into this hole.” Augustine replied, “but that’s impossible, the sea is large and the hole small.” And then the boy amazed Augustine with his response: “I will sooner pour all the water from the sea into this hole than you will be able to understand and penetrate in your lifetime the mystery of the Trinity.” Augustine continued his stroll and when he turned his head to look back, the child had disappeared.
So why does Botticelli feature in Leonardo’s Annunciation? The polymath punning on the word Annunciation and the time when Botticelli, along with Domenico Ghirlandaio, were the two men responsible for the denunciation of Leonardo, accusing him and four other men of sodomy in an anonymous letter to the Florentine authorities. Ghirlandaio is also featured in the Annunciation.
Botticelli continued the conversation in his famous Primavera painting, by depicting himself as the blindfolded, winged cupid firing a flame arrow in the direction of the Three Graces (portrayed as flowing water), and in particular the Grace portrayed as Simonetta Vespucci for whom he had an unrequited love, and which could never be returned as Simonetta was a married woman – an impossible achievement on Botticelli’s part which he likened to his portrait as a boy attempting to empty a river into a hole he had dug for himself.
Notice the outstretched left arm of the Cupid figure pointing down in the direction of Simonetta, and the outstretched arm of the boy pointing up in the direction of the Trinity, three representations of Grace.
Botticelli also picked up on other features in Leonardo’s Annunciation which he transformed and embedded in Primavera, some of which I have mentioned in earlier posts – for instance, the likeness of Zephyrus, god of the west wind, is based on Fra Lippi. Others I will explain in a future post.
The Florentine Carmelite friar and artist, Filippo Lippi (c. 1406–1469), produced several paintings of the Annunciation, two of which Leonardo da Vinci sourced for his version of the angel Gabriel appearing before the Virgin Mary with news she was to bear a son to be named Jesus.
The two Annunciation paintings by Fra Lippi which Leonardo adapted features from are: the version (c.1449–1459) housed at the National Gallery, London (above); and an earlier portrayal (c. 1435–1440 kept at the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC (below).Common to the three paintings is a reference to the image known as the Holy Face of Jesus.
The Annunciation, Fra Filippo Lippi, National Gallery of Art, Washington DC.
The Annunciation, Fra Filippo Lippi, National Gallery, London
An interesting feature of Fra Lippi’s Annunciation is the series of seemingly pseudo inscriptions in the hem of the Virgin’s blue gown. Do they have any meaning at all, or are they simply decorative attributes?
At sometime, this feature made a strong impression on Leonardo da Vinci – as did other parts of Fra Lippi’s painting – and when he later set out to paint his own version of The Annunciation, Leonardo made a point of acknowledging the mysterious detail in the Virgin’s hem and embedded narrative scripts of his own, disguised in the elaborate folds of the gowns worn by the Archangel Gabriel and Virgin Mary, particularly in the areas trailing on the ground.
The Annunciation, Leonardo da Vinci, UffiziGallery, Florence
This is the right hand of God that appears in Fra Filippo Lippi’s painting of The Annunciation (London version) sending forth the Holy Spirit to overshadow the Virgin Mary so she may conceive and bear a son to be named Jesus.
In Leonardo da Vinci’s version of The Annunciation, the hand of God is also indicated, but visibly absent, and for a specific reason.
It was the finger of God that inscribed the two tablets of stone setting out his Law – The Decalogue, or Ten Commandments – for the people to live by, an event disguised by Leonardo as the window above the Virgin’s head.
The window frame can also be visualised in another way: The two tablets as representing the Old and New Testaments, and the scroll with its wing-shaped edge, as a roll cloud. The ledge above can be understood as another cloud formation, a ledge cloud. Both clouds can sometimes hint at a coming thunderstorm in their wake.
When Moses responded to God’s call from within a cloud on Mount Sinai he spent 40 days and nights on the mountain in the cloud and was eventually given the two stone tablets. After descending from Sinai he witnessed the people he had led out of Egypt dancing and worshiping a calf made of gold. In anger, Moses smashed the tablets on the ground. The thunderstorm had broken and descended from the cloud. The dark area alongside the tablets in the window, and the unfurling shadow under the ledge represent the storm.
So the window is a cloud motif, and its connection to a storm and darkness points to an episode in Leonardo’s early life when, in April 1476, he was denounced to the Florentine authorities with four other men, accused of sodomy.
The letter of denunciation had been deposited in one of the city’s post boxes known as tambouri (drums). These holes in the wall or “holes of truth” were designed for the purpose of reporting misdemeanours and crimes.
The charges against Leonardo and the other men were eventually dropped, principally because the accuser had not signed the letter and remained anonymous.
Along with Leonardo, four other men were named: Bartolomeo di Pasquino, a goldsmith; Lionardo Tornabuoni, from a noble family connected to the Medici; a tailor named Baccino; and a young man said to be a male prostitute, Jacopo Saltarelli.
Two months later another anonymous accusation against Leonardo was posted in a tamburo, and again, the charge was dropped for the same reason as previous.
Now Leonardo’s window takes on a new identity. It becomes a “hole of truth”, a tamburo, The two tablets represent the two denunciations, unsigned; the scroll, the written accusation.Hence the reason for the absent visible hand of God in the painting.
That the last charge was not made until June 1476 is helpful in dating Leonardo’s Annunciation painting. It could not have been started until, at the earliest later, in the same year.
Having shone the light on the accusations, Leonardo proceeded to identify in his painting those who were charged with sodomy – and also the two men he considered were responsible for writing and placing the accusation in the tamburo – two notable artists, Domenico Ghirlandaio and Sandro Botticelli.
Not knowing at the time of the charges who his accuser was, Leonardo implied an alternative meaning to the cloud motif – an anonymous work of Christian mysticism written in the 14th century known as “The Cloud of Unknowing”. It’s placed in the window and paired with an earlier work from the late fourth century penned by Augustine of Hippo and generally referred to as “Confessions”. Augustine also wrote on a similar theme of unknowing as in The Cloud.
When introducing Leonardo’s father Piero, an established notary in Florence, Nicholl describes Piero’s notarial insignia as “a kind of trademark – not unlike a printer’s device – can be seen on a contract dated November 1458. It is hand drawn, and shows a cloud with a letter P in it…”
The window scroll is the reference to notary, while Leonardo has utilised the left side and bottom edges of the window frame to represent the letter L and the first letter of his full name which was Lionardo di ser Piero da Vinci (Leonardo, son of ser Piero da Vinci).
It is here that Leonardo laid the ground to reference the Trinity, Father Son and Holy Spirit (the Spirit being the winged edge of the scroll) to make a connection to Sandro Botticelli and another painting by Fra Filippo Lippi, The Vision of St Augustine. Botticelli served as an apprentice under Fra Filippo.
Like his father, a notary, Leonardo recorded in notebooks many of his observations and discoveries, a type of biography or confession of his life. The two stones in the window are also a reference to his early notebooks.
While Leonardo may never have made any handwritten record of his dark times being brought before the courts accused of sodomy, or if he did, they are are either lost or still to be discovered, his painting of The Annunciation paradoxically records his Denunciation, and is a visible record to his accusers and one which both Botticelli and Ghirlandaio parodied in later paintings of their own.
Botticelli, in particular, went on to further suggest that Leonardo may have fallen from grace again a few years later before he left Florence and moved to Milan, but in different circumstances,
Another source, both text and visual, Sandro Botticelli utilised to structure the Primavera painting was a medieval manuscript known as the Hortus deliciarum (Garden of Delights). It was compiled by Herrad of Landsberg, abbess of the Hohenburg Abbey in Alsace, as a teaching aid for novices in the convent.
Hohenburg Abbey built on the summit of Mount St Odile
In the manuscript’s prologue, Herrad describes herself as being “like a little bee inspired by God” to collect ”from the various flowers of sacred Scripture and philosophical writings” which she brought together in her book and offered “to the praise and honour of God and the Church […] as if into a single sweet honeycomb”.
From this statement it can be seen that Botticelli adopted a similar approach in his composition for the Primavera, sourcing from “various flowers” to create his “garden of delights”.
Herrad’s manuscript was destroyed in 1870 when the library where it was kept was bombed in the German Siege of Strasbourg. Portions of the work had been copied and so it has been possible to reconstruct parts for continued study and publication, including copies of many of the hundreds of illustrations that formed part of the original manuscript.
The Children of Israel Dance before the calf – from the Hortus deliciarum manuscript
Botticelli also referenced some of the HD illustrations in the Primavera, the most obvious being the line of mythological figures and bovine allusions which he matched to the drawing captioned: “The Children of Israel Dance before the calf”. It refers to the biblical passage from Exodus (32) when the Israelites melted the gold rings from their ears so as to form an effigy of a golden calf to worship.
A “pagan wall” of mythological figures in Botticelli’s Primavera painting
In this scenario the gold discs hanging from the trees represent the gold earrings. They also represent the gold or orange bezant coins associated with the Medici bankers, money growing on trees, so to speak. They can be recognised too as the golden apples in the Garden of Hera, which were guarded by the Hesperides and depicted in the Primavera as the Three Graces.
The theme of boundaries and enclosures is one of many threads Botticelli has woven into his “tapestry”. In this instance the line of mythological figures refer to the “pagan wall”, a term used by Pope Leo IX in the 11th century when he issued a bull concerning the independence of Hohenburg Abbey built on the summit of Mount St Odile. At the base of the mount is a mysterious ancient wall standing almost three metres high in places and over ten kilometres long. The pope declared that the area contained within the “pagan wall” belonged to the Abbey, now known as Mt St Odile Abbey.
The “Pagan Wall” at Mount St Odile
In the Primavera the “little bee inspired by God” is the painter himself, portrayed as Cupid whose bow is formed as a letter ‘B’. His arrow is directed at the group of Three Graces, the closest target being the woman portrayed as Simonetta Vespucci. The Vespucci name relates to wasps (vespa) and wasps are depicted on the family stemma or coat of arms. Botticelli is blindfolded, symbolic of love being blind, but also representing St Odile, Hohenburg Abbey’s first abbess. She was born blind but after her baptism at the age of twelve she miraculously recovered her sight.
Saint Odile was born blind
It is said that Botticelli carried a torch in his heart for Simonetta Vespucci, hence Cupid’s flamed arrow and the flame-shaped quiver. But it could only be love from a distance. Bees do not mate with wasps.
Botticelli never married and once when it was suggested he should, he explained that a few days earlier he dreamt he had married and awoke suddenly, struck with grief. He walked the streets for the rest of the night to avoid having to sleep and the dream possibly repeating.
Simonetta was considered the most beautiful woman in Florence and admired by all the people. Even Giuliano de’ Medici expressed a courtly love for the woman when in 1475 he dedicated a jousting victory to Simonetta, nominating her as the ‘Queen of Beauty’. Giuliano entered the arena carrying a banner which pictured Simonetta as a helmeted Pallas Athene. The image had been painted by Botticelli. On the banner was written ‘La Sans Pareille’ (The Unparalleled One). This inscription would be referred to again in other works by Botticelli.
Simonetta Vespucci
Simonetta (nee Cattaneo) married Marco Vespucci in 1469 when she was 16. She died from a suspected brain tumour in 1476, age 22, just a year after the jousting tournament. Twelve months later Giuliano de’ Medici also died, assassinated in Florence Cathedral on Easter Sunday 1478. Giuliano is one of the identities given to the figure ‘tilting’ at the dark, ominous cloud above him.
Simonetta and the Grace (or Virtue) to her left, Lucrezia Donati, are also shown ’tilting’ in another sense, that of leaning to one side, suggesting perhaps that the Three Graces are dancing in a clockwise direction. While Simonetta may have been awarded the epithet, ‘The Unparalleled One’, she is in fact portrayed leaning parallel with Lucrezia. The reason for this is because Lucrezia, said to have served as a mistress in a platonic sense to Lorenzo de’ Medici, Giuliano’s elder brother, was also awarded a title at La Giostra, that of ‘Queen of the Tournament’. So the ’tilting’ figure at the end of the line represents both brothers, Giuliano and Leonardo, as identified in an earlier post.
Lucrezia Donati is also the model for the Venus figure who in turn is matched to the Donati woman in the Nuova Crónica illustration, pointed out in a previous post, while Simonetta Vespucci is also reflected in the figure of Flora presented as the Florentine symbol of protection, the Marzocco.
There are two other leaning figures on the right side of the painting that relate to the Hortus deliciarum and one of its illustrations in particular, the Ladder of Virtue shown below. The ladder leans right’, grounded in the left corner at the foot of the page and rising diagonally to its opposite corner of the folio.
On the right side of the ladder several characters, mostly men, are shown falling from its steps, unable to resist the attractions and temptations of the world below. On the left side of the ladder one woman makes it to Heaven to receive her crown of glory, while lower down another is encouraged on her ascent by a friendly presbyter.
Botticelli has matched the cleric wearing a blue gown and somersaulting backwards to the the figure of the wind god Zephyrus, aka the painter-cum-cleric Fra Filippo Lippi whose abduction of the Dominican novice Lucrezia Butti and its connection with the Primavera painting was outlined in an earlier post.
Compare the distinctive circular, swirling fold in Zephyrus’ tunic with that of the cleric falling from the Ladder of Virtue. Observe also the similar blue colour of their clothing. See how the colour of the habit worn by the monk above the cleric, particularly the shape of his cowl is matched to Zephyrus’ green wings.
In her exceptional book, Painting the Hortus deliciarum, Medieval Women, Wisdom and Time, Danielle B Joyner describes the cleric as arching over backward toward both his “friend” and the golden dishes of fish and delectables atop the church. Botticelli connects this scene to Fra Filippo Lippi’s relationship with his novice “friend” and his clerical status.
Having already revealed several identities applied by Botticelli to the standing male figure in the Primavera painting, it would not be unreasonable to assume that other figures in the scene represent more than one person. There is a transforming or changing theme running through the painting and its many narratives.
The Marzocco
Perhaps the most obvious hint of this are the two women on the right of the frame representing Chloris, the Greek goddess of flowers and her Roman equivalent Flora. Chloris is seen being lowered alongside Flora by Zephyrus the West Wind. In fact, Chloris is depicted as being grafted to the thigh of Flora. Observe the cleft-shaped, right hand of Chloris. Flora’s thigh is shield-shaped (a stemma), suggesting shield-budding.
A further transformation feature is that Flora also represents a lion and the heraldic symbol of Florence, the Marzocco. In turn, Chloris is presented as a lamb or a goat (a sacrifice offered to the gods). When the two elements – lion and lamb, or goat – are combined or grafted they form the basis of a beast known in Greek mythology as a Chimera.
To complete the transformation a third creature is required, that of a serpent. This is represented by the scaled pattern on Flora’s arms, the serpent’s head being her left hand. Chimera is another term associated with horticulture grafting.
In an earlier post I pointed out that Zephyrus, the West Wind, also represented the painter Fra Filippo Lippi, and Chloris as Lucrezia Buti, the Dominican novice he abducted to use as a model to represent the Virgin Mary in his paintings.
The Renaissance painter Andrea Mantegna mirrored this section of Primavera in his painting titled Parnassus, except that for the West Wind he depicted the painter Leonardo da Vinci in the guise of Pegasus, the winged horse that Bellerophon rode to Lycia on his mission to slay the monstrous Chimera. Leonardo is another identity Botticelli applied to the Zephyrus figure.
Detail from Parnassus, by Andrea Mantegna, Louvre
In the Parnassus painting, the two figures nearest to Pegasus are Chloris and Flora. The serpent is the ribbon gripped by Chloris’ left hand, and her right hand gripping the thumb of Flora’s right hand is the graft feature.
The head of the lamb is formed by the shape of the dress at Chloris’ shoulder, turned towards the wind created by Pegasus’ wing, just as Chloris turns her head towards the wind (hot air?) blown from the mouth of Zephyrus in the Primavera painting.
Note also the brown-coloured profile at the side of the arch above the two women. It represents Donatello (pictured right), the sculptor commissioned to create a new version of the Marzocco between 1418-20, to replace the weather-beaten version erected in the late 14th century.
*There is a season for everything, a time for every occupation under heaven... (Ecclesiastes 3:1)
This picture is by Gabriele Castagnola (1828-1883). Titled Love or Duty, it was painted in 1874, ten years before the Italian artist’s death in Florence. The painting on the easel is a clue to the artist featured in the main picture and his model dressed as a nun.
Love or Duty, chromolithograph by Gabriele Castagnola, 1873, published in Paris by Hangard-Mangué
Although Castagnola was well aware of the account that inspired his painting and its two subjects, it’s unlikely he would have known that another painter, Sandro Botticelli, embedded the same narrative in his famous Primavera painting almost four hundred years earlier.
The picture propped on the easel is known as Madonna with the Child and Two Angels. It was painted in 1465 by the Carmelite priest and artist Fra Filippo Lippi. The original is housed in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence.
Madonna and Child with Two Angels, Fra Filippo Lippi, Ufizzi Gallery, Florence
The artist seated in Castagnola’s painting is Fra Filippo Lippi. His model is Lucrezia Buti, a Dominican novice and the mother of Lippi’s two children, a son named Filippino and a daughter Allesandra. The boy inherited his father’s talent for painting and went on to become one of the most noted Florentine painters.
Fra Filippo met Lucrezia when he was commissioned to produce a painting for the monastery chapel of San Margherita in Prato near Florence. The story goes that Filippo wanted Lucrezia as a model to portray the Virgin Mary. However, during the sittings he fell in love with the young novice and went on to take the extreme measure of kidnapping her while she was taking part in a procession. The friar brought Lucrezia to his house and refused to return her to the Dominican sisters at the monastery. Some years later the couple received a dispensation to marry from Pope Pius II, but seemingly Lippi declined to do so.
The comparison Botticelli makes to this story are the figures of Zephyrus and Chloris. The god of the West Wind came upon the flower nymph Chloris in the Elysian Fields, a place of the blessed. Zephyrus abducted Chloris and raped her. He later repented his crime and married Chloris who had no regrets and became Flora, the Roman goddess of flowers. The Roman poet Ovid wrote in Fasti 5: “The goddess replied to my questions; as she talks her lips breathe Spring roses: ‘I was Chloris, who am now called Flora'”. Hence the roses (?) depicted rambling from the mouth of Chloris and her attachment to the figure of Flora.
But Botticelli reinforces the connection between the two abduction accounts by “abducting” detail from two paintings attributed to Fra Lippi and morphing them as models for the figures of Zephyrus and Chloris.
The face of Zephyrus is based on Fra Lippi’s self portrait found in a fresco he painted in Duomo di Spoleto, Umbria. The large ears and shape of mouth are giveaways.
The turned head of Chloris is modelled on the pose of the foremost angel in Lippi’s Madonna and the Child with Two Angels. The nymph’s open mouth links to the mouth of the second angel, while the lifting or support action of the pair of angels is echoed by the lifting action of Zephyrus.
Fra Lippi’s son Filippino Lippi is also part of the Primavera painting. He is the model for the Hermes/Mercury figure. The Cupid or sprite figure is the link between Fra Lippi and his son. It’s barrel shape is a clue to its identity – Botticelli, meaning ‘little barrel’. The link can also be joined to the two Lippi’s in that Botticelli served as an apprentice to Fra Lippi whose son later worked in a similar role in Botticelli’s workshop.
Primavera, c1482, by Sandro Botticelli, Uffizi Gallery, Florence
Filippino was one of the painters who worked alongside Botticelli in producing some of the frescos in the Sistine Chapel. He is portrayed looking up and standing behind Botticelli in the Northern wall panel, Temptations of Christ.
Temptation of Christ, Sandro Botticelli, Sistine Chapel, Vatican City(Left) Filippino Lippi and (Right) looking up and standing behind the figure of Sandro Botticelli.
Like Mercury in the Primavera, Filippino is portrayed looking up to the sky, except that in the Sistine Chapel fresco Filippino is focused on the final temptation when the ‘Son of Man’ is led to a height and promised the world if he would worship his tempter. The devil is disguised as a holy man for he quotes Scripture to tempt Jesus during his forty days of fasting and prayer in the wilderness (another Lenten reference). Jesus, the Word made flesh, responds by also quoting from Scripture, and the devil departs, after which, angels appear to minister to Jesus with bread and water.
Detail from the Temptation of Christ, Sistine Chapel
The figure of Christ in his final temptation, his right arm raised as if to dismiss the darkness, his left hand placed in his hip, his blue coat wrapped across his left shoulder, are all features which can be recognised in the figure of Mercury. That Christ has his back to the three angels can be matched to Mercury turning his back on the Three Graces.
There are subtle references in the Primavera to the three temptations of Christ but the second temptation is one in particular that reconnects Filippino to his father in Fra Lippo’s Madonna and Child with Two Angels, and explains why Botticelli’s fresco depicted Filipino looking up in the scene at the second temptation of Christ, just as Filippino is looking up in the Primavera painting. Botticelli has portrayed Filippino as having made the connection to the symbolism in his father’s painting of the Madonna and Child with Two Angels, as an allegory for the temptations of Christ in the desert.
The relevant passage from Matthew’s gospel (4:3-7) reads: Then the devil took him to the holy city and made him stand on the parapet if the Temple. “If you are the Son of God” he said “throw yourself down; for scripture says: He will put you in his angels’ charge, and they will support you on their hands in case you hurt your foot against a stone” (Psalm 91:11-12). Jesus said to him, “You must not put the Lord your God to the test” (Dt 6:16).
In Fra Lippi’s painting we see the Child Jesus supported with the hands of two angels, the Temple being Mary, Mother of the Church. The prominent rock formation in the background refers to the stones the devil asked Jesus to turn into bread, while the bent knees, symbolic of the act of genuflection, coupled with the Virgin’s praying hands, reflect the response Jesus made to the devil wanting the Son of God to worship him: “You must worship the Lord your God, and serve him alone” (Dt 6:13). Or, in other words, “Every knee shall bend before me, and every tongue shall praise God” (Romans 14:11)
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