the hourglass of siena

07 May 2024

the hourglass of siena

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Today's selection -- from About Time by David Rooney. The Allegory of Good and Bad Government is a series of three fresco panels painted between February 1338 and May 1339 by Ambrogio Lorenzetti in Siena’s Palazzo Pubblico:

“Ambrogio Lorenzetti gazed out of the window of Siena's Palazzo Pubblico, the city hall, for artistic inspiration. The year was 1338, and the view that faced him was of a divided and troubled city. On one hand, the evidence of prosperity and innovation was everywhere to be seen. There were institutions of banking, financial services and commerce. Venture capitalists were investing heavily in Siena's businesses and residents, and profits from trade connections as far afield as China were pouring into the city. Masons were busily constructing buildings to house Siena's growing population. Outside the city walls, carefully tended fields and gardens provided food and materials.

“But Lorenzetti could see danger, too. Siena was a self-governing republic run by the Signori Nove, or Nine, a council of banking and merchant oligarchs. The city was embroiled in a bitter struggle with the neighboring republics of Florence and Pisa, with war an ever-present threat. This was part of a wider battle between the Roman Catholic Church, represented by the Pope, and the emperors of the Holy Roman Empire, based in northern Europe. Sometimes, this political battle spilled over into violent conflict, with cities fighting cities, and with deep bloody rifts opening within cities and even among families. But at greater risk was the idea of republican government itself in the face of those who wanted to sweep it aside and vest power in a single, autocratic ruler, whether a monarch or a dictator. At stake was the right to control land and people across Europe, and war was never far away. Alliances and factions constantly shifted, and for politicians in the wrong place at the wrong time it could mean life or death. In fourteenth-century Siena, some of the greatest political ideas in history were playing out in the meeting rooms of the city hall.

“With this intense political background in mind, Lorenzetti turned his attention to the Palazzo's Council Chamber in which he was standing. He had been commissioned by the Nine to cover the walls of their meeting hall with a series of wall paintings, or frescoes, that told a story of political virtue. What they wanted laid out for all to see was a depiction of Siena's prosperity under their own government, and a contrasting vision of what would happen if the people decided instead to invest their support in a single, autocratic ruler. This was not just an abstract threat: autocratic local rule was sweeping Italy, and Siena had suffered under it before. What the Nine demanded was a detailed and powerful depiction of good and evil; of peace and of war. This was to be a bold work of propaganda: a vivid description of the Nine's political program, and one that was grounded in the daily experiences of Siena's citizens. The Nine were sending a powerful message to the people of Siena, as well as to their own colleagues, and Lorenzetti was the person to carry out their plan.

“These brightly colored and exquisitely detailed paintings, completed in 1339, can still be seen at the Palazzo, and a trip there is in every sense a revelation. I visited with a group of friends in 2019. We chose to make our excursion in the middle of winter to avoid the crowds of summer tourists. Even so, the streets were full, and we found the building a welcome respite from the bustle of the city's central Piazza del Campo outside. Inside the Palazzo, the rooms were cool and quiet, and we reached the chamber in which Lorenzetti's paintings reside, known as the Sala dei Nove, by passing through a series of larger halls, each filled with the decorative treasures of a city that was once one of the richest in the world. Finally, passing through a low doorway, we had revealed to us the sequence of dramatic and thrilling images. They were sumptuous visions stretching right up to the high and ornate ceilings; images that once looked down onto the merchant oligarchs that ruled this commercial metropolis.

Detail of Allegory of Good Government

“I stood with my back to the wall which contains the room's only window and surveyed the images that line the chamber. On the wall to my left, a panoramic landscape laid out Lorenzetti's vision of the effects of war through bad government, showing to the room's visitors the violence, destruction and loss of property they would face under the rule of a tyrant, depicted as a monstrous, horned, cross-eyed devil. Bad government looked out for itself, not the common good. The vices of Avarice, Pride and Vainglory hover menacingly over the tyrant's head. Cruelty, Betrayal and Fraud sit at his right hand; Fury, Division and War at his left. Justice has been bound in chains at their feet. A woman is being assaulted and dragged away by a soldier and a merchant. At their feet lies a man, either dead or dying, his stomach slashed open and his bowels spilling out onto the ground. Buildings are on fire. The city is at war with itself. The countryside, outside the city walls, is barren. Fear pervades the scene.

“I turned instead to the wall to my right, directly opposite the images of war and tyranny. Here I saw a longer panorama that set out a vision of peace through good government. In this scene, members of the city community are working in the service of each other for the betterment of all. Buildings are under construction and residents trade freely and cheerfully. There is a wedding procession and people are dancing. Outside the city walls is a rich, lush and productive countryside, laid out carefully and rationally. The two halves of the scene sit in harmony with each other. The figure of Security hovers reassuringly overhead, although by holding in her hand a wooden gibbet containing the dead body of a hanged criminal, she gives viewers a reminder that peace comes at a price. But by paying the price for this good government, Siena prospers in this scene, and everyone enjoys the benefit.

“The political vision laid out in these two images was clear. Good government, and the widespread shared prosperity it would bring Siena's citizens, required virtue, not vice. Republicanism, not the tyranny of a local despot from one of the rich families, was the route to a good life. The third fresco showed how it would be done. Occupying the central position between the two landscapes, facing the window of the hall and thus bathed in the brightest light, is the painting that offered a symbolic representation of Siena's ruling Nine themselves.

“An imposing bearded figure near the center of the frame stands for the civic government of Siena. Seated nearby is the figure of Peace, holding an olive branch. Above their heads are the three holy virtues of Faith, Charity and Hope. The civic virtue of Justice sits in a commanding position, with a mighty sword in her hand and the decapitated head of an executed criminal in her lap. Seated among them are the remaining four civic virtues of public life: Fortitude, Prudence, Magnanimity and Temperance. Five civic virtues in total, and three holy virtues, and peace itself, all arranged around the personification of Siena's government. Nine virtuous figures celebrating the nine ruling officials who met in that room and who had commissioned Lorenzetti to paint the remarkable series of scenes. As a vivid expression of their manifesto for governing Siena, it was a breathtaking vision of political virtue. It was a blueprint for republican self-government—and the struggle between good and evil. And it was impossible to ignore.

“There was one figure in particular that I had come to the Palazzo—indeed, to Siena—to see. She could almost be missed amid the massed figures depicted around the room. Unlike other virtues staring defiantly out toward the viewer, her gaze is averted; she sits toward the right-hand edge of the wall. Yet, despite all this, I spotted her immediately. The virtue of Temperance, with flaming red hair, dressed in startlingly rich pink and cerulean blue robes, holds in her right hand a curious technical instrument, comprising two conical glass vessels joined at their necks, held within a simple wooden frame. In real life it would have measured something like eighteen inches in height and eight inches across, and it is remarkable for the prominence it is given in this crowded painted scene. Temperance gestures toward the object with her left hand and looks down upon it with an expression of concern on her face.

“The instrument in Temperance's hand is something that is so familiar to us today that we only ever think of it as a kitsch plastic novelty that was once used for timing the cooking of eggs. But in 1338, when Lorenzetti started painting these scenes, this type of instrument was at the cutting edge of horological technology, and its inclusion in this Sienese fresco was about to change the way Western civilization thought of good and bad, right and wrong, and even the most fundamental human concerns of all: life and death. Human virtue was at stake, and this timekeeping device was to become the symbol of a better future. Ambrogio Lorenzetti had painted what is now the oldest known depiction of an hourglass, and Temperance was warning us that the sands of time were running out.”