Allegory
a fine example can survive and impress after centuries
Dear word explorer,
When writing my final newsletter of 2024, ‘Time Flies’, I discovered the following image.
As is often the case with me, I wished to uncover the artist and story behind the work, and this side-tracked me half-way down a research topic that didn’t even make it into the newsletter. Sometimes as I write these posts they twist under my fingers and I must follow the urgent weave even when it means I must snip errant threads. Occasionally, I get back to them, and this one is too good to ignore.
The artist, Ambrogio Lorenzetti (c. 1290-1348), lived in the Republic of Siena, Italy, during a unique political period. At the time, the concept of ‘Italy’ as a nation didn’t exist as we know it. Instead, Siena was part of a collection of squabbling independent city-states and territories that were governed mostly by feudal families or foreign powers. The Republic of Siena was a prosperous province (think of it as just above the knee joint of Italy’s boot) that operated for approximately four hundred years (1125 — 1555).
Siena benefited greatly from its strategic location upon major trading routes, including the Via Francigena pilgrimage to Rome. This historic track was mentioned in 990 AD by Archbishop Sigeric of Canterbury in his travel diary, where he listed eighty safe places to stop on a journey from England to Rome. Long before Fodor’s or the Lonely Planet books, Europeans depended upon these early travel guides, most of which were in manuscript form, and only available to the wealthy or via the monastic network.1 There were few accurate maps available, so these itineraries with written descriptions, advice about local customs and potential dangers were highly valued. Of course they also offered lists of the premium spiritual locations for the dedicated pilgrim to visit.
While the first proper travel manuscript was probably the Pilgrim's Guide to Santiago de Compostela2, the first bestseller was Peregrinatio in Terram Sanctam (Pilgrimage to the Holy Land) written by a wealthy German canon of Mainz Cathedral, Bernhard von Breydenbach, and illustrated with woodcuts fashioned by the Dutch artist Erhard Reuwich, which was published in 1486. The duo’s journey took two years to complete. Their travelogue fortuitously arrived at the dawn of mass-publishing thanks to the printing press, long after Lorenzetti’s time.
Overlapping Lorenzetti’s lifetime, from 1287 — 1355, the Republic of Siena was governed from its small, elegant city by a system known as the ‘Council of the Nine’ (or Il Buon Governo, the good government). They were men drawn from well-to-do families, but mostly the mercantile class — lawyers and the most wealthy were not allowed to take the position. Siena at the time was a prosperous city based on banking, trade and touring pilgrims, with a high literacy rate and a large middle class.3
Il Buon Governo was based upon a surprising system:
The nine citizens were chosen by drawing lots and served as the city’s chief magistrates.
The council’s duration lasted approximately two months, and each of the nine served as chair of the council for one week.
During their term, the council members lived in seclusion at the Palazzo Pubblico, the seat of government.
A councilor could not be re-appointed until twenty months had lapsed since his last term. The rotation was designed to prevent any family gaining too much power (like the Medici in Florence).
It was remarkably egalitarian (for the era) and worked well despite the constant churn of council members.
Ambrogio Lorenzetti was commissioned to paint the interior walls of the Sala dei Nove (‘Salon of Nine’) in the Palazzo Pubblico, where the council deliberated. He worked on his frescoes between February 1338 and May 13394, and created one of the finest European masterpieces of pre-Renaissance art.
His Allegory of Good and Bad Government is composed of three fresco panels, featuring six scenes:
Allegory of Good Government
Allegory of Bad Government
Effects of Bad Government in the City
Effects of Bad Government in the Country
Effects of Good Government in the City
Effects of Good Government in the Country
The word allegory is described as ‘the expression by means of symbolic fictional figures and actions of truths or generalizations about human existence’ by Merriam-Webster. It has been a common device for millennia, allowing archetypes to hang, ghost-like, behind the characters and settings of a work of art. Allegories can have a range of expressions, from on-the-nose to subtle, but in this period allegory was a favourite way to instruct people who were better attuned to religious or mythological symbols.
For the nine councillors arbitrating upon the arguments and problems of their petitioners, the Lorenzetti frescoes were a constant reminder of the importance of their decisions.
It would take too long to describe his beautiful innovative art and the clever depictions of characters such as Justice, Wisdom, and Peace and its glorious vision of how good governance improves the city and the countryside, along with its awful understanding of the destruction of life under the heel of despots.
I highly recommend you watch the below video hosted by Dr Beth Harris and Dr Steven Zucker, which shows you the artwork along with their excellent commentary.
What is so astonishing about Siena’s council system and Lorenzetti’s art is the perfect encapsulation of the dynamics of power, and how those at the bottom suffer the most during periods of decline. If prosperity is distributed evenly among everyone concord is possible.5 Work, trade, learning and fun are possible. This concept was clearly understood and articulated in 1339, over six hundred years ago.
On the wall depicting bad government, ruled over by a demonic man labelled Tryanny, a wrathful figure labelled Terror flourishes a blade and menaces the charred landscape. She holds a banner with the words, ‘Because each seeks only his own good, in this city Justice is subjected to Tyranny.’
Sadly, Lorenzetti (and his brother, who was also a painter) died during the outbreak of the Black Death between 1346-1352, which devastated Europe, and reduced the population of Siena by up to two-thirds.
Conflict from within and without ate away at the Republic in the following centuries, until Siena surrendered to Spain. It was ceded to the Medici family and incorporated into the Duchy of Florence in 1557, later becoming part of the Grand Duchy of Tuscany in 1569.
Despite the intervening centuries, and many other wars and troubles, the frescoes have survived — the Bad Government wall has been badly affected by weather damage, eroding the scenes and leaving them incomplete, but the scenes of good sense, plenty and pleasure remain mostly intact.
We need little reminder of the hardships, what we require most is inspiration.
Ordinary merchants and traders lived on shared wisdom and advice at the towns along the routes.
It was designed for pilgrims traveling to the shrine of Saint James the Great in Santiago de Compostela in Spain, and was compiled between the 1130s - 1140s, and attributed to Aymeric Picaud.
Siena had a number of innovations for the time, including being one of the first cities in Europe to pave its streets, and it created the first publicly funded university.
I am unsure if Lorenzetti was working during sessions, or in between deliberations, but either way he must have developed a keen insight into Siena’s governance, as is most evident in his artwork.
Yes of course, this was a stratified, unequal society, I’m not romanticising it. It’s an allegory after all.
Fascinating, Maura!