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By AcademicElephant Posted in Culture — Comments (0) / Email this page » / Leave a comment »

Sandro Botticelli, Mystic Nativity, 1500.

The opening years of the sixteenth century were dramatic ones for Christianity—the Protestant Reformation of 1519 certainly did not spring from a void, and in the decades leading up to this denouement, a number of internal reform efforts were spawned. One particularly dramatic example was the brief and fiery rule of the Dominican monk Savonarola over the city of Florence. From 1494-1498 Savonarola turned Florence into a theocracy, which he tried to make an ideal state of shriven and reformed Catholics. The severity and extremity of Savonarola's theology eventually lead to his own death at the stake, but his deep—some would say fanatical—devotion to a pure and rigorous following of the teachings of Christ had a profound effect on many of his contemporaries, including the painter Botticelli. While we may generally think of Botticelli as the decorative painter of attractive mythological pictures (and you know what I mean), I would like to draw your attention today to his role as a religious painter--specifically his portrayal of nativity scenes.

Botticelli trained alongside the young Leonardo da Vinci in Verocchio's workshop, where he learned a healthy appreciation for the increasingly elevated status of the artist in Renaissance society. He quickly came to the attention of the Medici, producing for them, for example, an Adoration of the Magi in 1475 that includes the future Lorenzo the Magnificent in the lower-left corner--balanced by an equally dignified portrait of the artist himself in a voluminous gold robe in the right-hand corner. Botticelli invites us into a stable made up of the crumbling ruins of classical civilization which, in their decrepitude, provide shelter for the newborn Christ.

Read on...

Following the success of works such as this Adoration, Botticelli became one of the most sought-after painters in Italy and participated in the decoration of the newly-built Sistine Chapel in the 1480s. After he returned to Florence in around 1490, however, his world began to change. Lorenzo the Magnificent died in 1492 (attended to the end by Savonarola), and his incompetent successors were exiled from Florence shortly thereafter. As the year 1500 approached--interpreted by many, including Savonarola, as possibly the "time and a half" prophesied by John as the time of the second coming of Christ--attitudes toward classical antiquity underwent a profound (if temporary) change. Savonarola, now in political as well as theological control of Florence, identified the revival of antiquity as a corrupting element. The 1497 "Bonfire of the Vanities," in which classical texts and objects were consigned to the flames, was the most public and infamous demonstration of this broader cultural change. While the moment was brief, it was profound as is demonstrated by Botticelli's participation--the artist threw some of his own paintings of mythological scenes onto the bonfire.

Savonarola's extremism earned him his due turn in the flames, and the following year he was arrested, tortured, and burnt at the stake as a schismatic and heretic by Florentines who quickly tired of living in a perpetual doomsday state. He died prophesying their immanent doom, and while his followers were forced underground during the succeeding oligarchy, they did not vanish. Botticelli, for example, was still producing Savonarolan paintings some years later, notably the Mystic Nativity of 1500. The panel was executed as either a visual teaching tool for the Savonarolan schools that continued to operate, or as a personal statement by the artist. Given the highly-unusual inscription, I tend to favor the latter theory, unless Botticelli functioned as an actual teacher in such an institution.

Botticelli's subject is not the Nativity of Luke, but rather the re-birth of Christ in the wilderness by the new Mary, the Woman of the Apocalypse as described by John. The artist's symbolism is informed by Savonarola's so-called "Christmas Sermon" of 1493, in which he preached:

Behold, the sky opened, and right away I saw descending from the bosom of the Eternal Father a venerable woman with an olive branch in her hand, and she came singing Misericordia Domini plena est terra. That is, the earth of the Holy Virgin was filled with the mercy of the Lord. She urged and begged the Child to come forth and thus, Veritas de terra orta est. Suddenly from this 'earth' was born Truth. The Holy Child came forth. Then he set himself on the bare ground in front of the Holy Virgin. Now as soon as this Truth had come forth, Mercy met with her, and the two embraced each other and said, Universe vie Domini misericordia et vertas: All the ways of the Lord as mercy and truth. And while these things were being done on earth, Iustitia de cello prospexit: Righteousness looked from the sky. And seeing this marriage of the Son of God with human nature, and wishing to come to that banquet, she took leave of God and descended forthwith to earth, shouting and singing, Gloria in excelsis Deo. And lo, from the other part of heaven came a woman in a simple, white, and pure dress who was most beautiful and graceful, and with great haste she ran towards Righteousness, and they kissed each other; and thus, Iustitia et pax ovsculate sunt. And forthwith one of them, who was Lady Peace, said, Et in Terra pax hominibus bone vountatis. And so all four met together and united forever, so that anyone who might have one of them should have them all.

Savonarola insisted that the road to this very special manger was not a geographic but rather a spiritual journey attended by mercy, truth, righteousness and peace. And I think this notion is central to Botticelli's Mystic Nativity. He took the sermon not as a dictate, but as philosophical inspiration as he crafted his own vision of what this second coming would entail. In order to guide us, Botticelli inscribed the painting in his uncertain--and so authentic--Greek:

"I, Alessandro, painted this picture at the end of the year 1500, in the troubles of Italy, in the half-time after the time, during the fulfillment of the 11th chapter of John, in the loosing of the devil for three and a half years. Afterward he shall be chained according to the 12th chapter and we shall see him (trodden down) as in this picture."

Botticelli thus expands on Savonarola's sermon to visualize the subsequent vanquishing of Satan and the broader reconciliation that was to take place. Like Savonarola, he saw John's text as an inspiration through which contemporary events--and the future--could be understood. And as Botticelli looked forward, he was confident in a future in which Satan would be chained, and humanity reconciled. As such, it is hardly the bitter statement of a disillusioned and disappointed artist. Although by 1500 Botticelli had seen his hero executed and the next generation of artists introduce a radical new artistic style, he did not despair. He remained true to his beliefs--and to his art--and produced this visual document that is no less mighty for its small scale. Botticelli's vision remains informative for us today as we face our own demons. In this context, Christmas is more than the commemoration of a birth two thousand years ago in Bethlehem. It is the promise of a second, future, and even mightier birth.

[I am deeply indebted to Rob Hatfield, "Botticelli's Mystic Nativity, Savonarola and the Millenium." Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes (1995), 85-114.]