The Madonna della Rondine: an attempt to trick the Devil?
Imagine stepping into a small side chapel in a church in 15th-century Matelica, the air is thick with incense, the light dim, and then your eye is drawn to this glittering altarpiece. But at first glance it seems to be teeming with unnecessary detail and embellishments, a mish-mash of International Gothic and New Renaissance. In short, a hybrid. A seemingly incoherent and slightly bonkers painting that defies expectations of 15th Century Renaissance religious art.
Altarpiece from S Francesco Dei Zoccolanti, Matelica, (here referred to as The Ottoni Altarpiece) including main panel La Madonna della Rondine (Madonna of the Swallow) and Predella, in original frame 1490’s, tempera and gold on poplar, 150.5 x 107.3 cm, National Gallery, London (illus 1)
Carlo Crivelli’s altarpieces are certainly perplexing and the Ottoni Altarpiece is no exception. Some of his puzzles are easy to decipher some are definitely more obscure. Crivelli was known for his extensive use of iconography, in fact his basic premise seemed to be to endow each detail with as much symbolic and spiritual meaning as possible. The challenge we face today is to know which of the innumerable interpretations for each symbol he intended. How much is Crivelli being cryptic and how much pure. showmanship? In order to crack the code we need to look at the political, social and cultural landscape in which he produced the works, most importantly who commissioned the altarpiece, how and by whom it was viewed. This will help us understand why the patrons and the artist chose these seemingly incongruous elements and deduce their importance to the whole altarpiece.
The Ottoni Altarpiece, known today as La Madonna della Rondine or the Madonna of the Swallow no longer occupies the church space for which it was designed, but instead adorns a wall of the National Gallery in London. Much of the contextual detail is thus lost. The altarpiece when designed would have represented a complex visual program reflecting the specific concerns and ambitions of its patrons, combined with the artistic and unique vision of Crivelli, the religious sensibilities of the era and place and the social, cultural and political realities of 1490s Matelica. Crivelli's Ottoni Altarpiece is not merely a beautiful object; it is a carefully constructed argument, a visual negotiation between theological dogma, local beliefs, and the personal ambitions of its patrons. Its iconography can only be understood through a deep consideration of its original context much of which is now obscure and hidden in the depths of time.
Let us examine the patrons first. The differing perspectives and priorities of the patrons has no doubt resulted in some of the altarpiece's perceived incongruities. It was commissioned jointly by Ranuccio Ottoni and Giorgio Di Giacome(1). They were two very different personalities, with very different agendas. Ottoni was a feudal lord with imperial credentials (his coat of arms dominated by the imperial eagle still adorns the parapet in the church). He was a condottiere (mercenary) , autocratic and eager to display his protectionism and hegemony. He commissioned the piece for a side chapel yet this was no half-baked vanity project, this was posturing and the choice of saints tendentious. Although in a side chapel the altarpiece was highly visible to the congregation and the guilds who regularly used the church. He knew what he was doing. He knew the importance of his place in the community and how vital was his role. In the Marche area there was endemic warfare: the town of Matelica was under a constant state of hostility with neighbouring towns, bands of mercenary troops roamed the mountains and the whole area was in dread of the menacing threat of Ottoman invasion after the fall of Constantinople in 1453. Ranuccio Ottoni was their protector and this altarpiece was commissioned to remind them of that fact.
Giorgio, on the other hand, was a conventual Franciscan and wanted to embellish his church with images that glorified God without being overly ostentatious(2) In the 15th century, Conventual Franciscan friars valued poverty, service to the poor, and a life of prayer and penance. However, unlike the Observant friars they allowed for more flexibility in their apostolic endeavours, encouraged academic development and most importantly had laxer views on property ownership and the need to live in poverty.
Crivelli though is not a passenger in this contract. His voice is clearly important. His signature, gold on white cloth, held in place with daubs of red wax, is prominent but, placed in a liminal location on the parapet, is conservative enough to not upset the patrons. It is unusual being written not in cursive script but in Roman majuscules mimicking carving, as if he had stopped in a fictional chapel to etch his name. Is this a subversive form of graffiti, sullying the image or a genuine respectful “hic eram”
And just who was Crivelli? Carlo Crivelli was born around 1430 in Venice, a city already teeming with late Gothic and early Renaissance innovations. Yet whilst Venetian by birth, he fled Venice following a prison sentence for adultery in 1457 and spent the majority of his career working outside the city in this, the Marche region of central Italy, an artistically peripheral location, away from the dominant Florentine and Venetian centres of innovation. This allowed Crivelli to develop an idiosyncratic style that remained rooted in Gothic visual language as the rest of Italy surged forward with classical naturalism and perspectival harmony, making him appear to us a cultural dinosaur. But is that the case? I think not, I think it was an informed decision based on his patrons needs and his own stylistic peculiarities. Crivelli’s work is often described as anachronistic, but I believe this oversimplifies the sophistication and symbolic intentionality of his art. His principles certainly defy the dominant Florentine ideal of classical balance, but offer instead a counter-vision of sacred excess, hyperreal ornamentation, and mystical symbolism. Crivelli had no interest in the heroic nude, classical architecture, or linear perspective championed by his Tuscan contemporaries. He developed a parallel Renaissance one rooted in surface, symbolism, and transcendence rather than corporeality and proportion. I celebrate his radical singularity. He is a painter who remained utterly true to a personal, mystical vision, defying the teleology of Renaissance progress and for that I adore him!
Carlo Crivelli Madonna and child with symbols of the Passion, 1460 71 × 48cm Verona, Museo di Castelvecchio
Crivelli’s work maintains the linear elegance and ornate detailing of International Gothic, but he fuses it with a sharp, sculptural realism. Figures are often sharply contoured and rigidly frontal, with a metallic sheen that gives them an almost repoussé-like appearance. Gold leaf was not just a background but a dynamic surface in Crivelli’s work. He incised, punched, and tooled gold to evoke texture, radiance, and spiritual presence. Combined with pastiglia (raised gesso), it created a sensuous surface that blurred the boundary between painting and object.His Madonnas and saints are rarely serene; they are psychologically complex, with downcast eyes, furrowed brows, and tightly drawn mouths. His Pietàs are anguished, and his saints often seem consumed by inner ecstasy or agony. There is a distinctly mystical quality that certainly looks more to the Gothic than to the Renaissance. Crivelli fell into obscurity by the 16th century. He was as expected and, crucially, dismissed by Vasari as outdated. I have a lot to say elsewhere on the legacy of Kingmaker Vasari! But he was rediscovered in the 19th and 20th centuries by British collectors most notably the National Gallery, who obtained the Ottoni altarpiece in 1862, and by modernists such as Roger Fry and Bernard Berenson.
As a Renaissance piece the Ottoni is most definlty not representative of the era. As we’ve touched on the Marche area was somewhat cut off from the rest of the peninsula and the patrons had provincial taste, still clinging onto medieval schemata. Yet Ranuccio Ottoni was in many ways fond of innovation and had presumptions to courtly sophistication: Crivelli, by now well established in the area, was the obvious choice, being both traditional enough yet somewhat subversively innovative, with his Venetian training and unique style. Being somewhat cynically he was also a local and in a besieged area that must have been an important consideration.
The altarpiece is designed in a Pala format(3). This format was in itself innovative and unusual in the Marche at this time. A point lost in its current hang is that the size of this particular altarpiece was dictated by its position on a side wall of a high ceilinged, narrow side-chapel, suspended above the altar. Crivelli’s further challenge was to provide clarity for the worshippers in this nascent form, a form that could cause confusion to viewers not used to its freedom. To get round this he used a simplified schema in which the old template was still obvious, using classically styled pillars and Cloths of Honour to divide the area: it is effectively a polyptych in disguise. (4) So there is enough of a nod to tradition to satisfy both the Franciscan Church and not to discombobulate the church goers. Furthermore the saints are clothed which must have been less distracting and was a concession to the friar’s conservative taste and any narrative is confined to the predella which makes the piece easier to decode.
Central to the main panel is the Madonna who is portrayed as Mother of God, patron of the chapel (Monstra Te Esse Matrem). There is as is common with Crivelli though a duality and she is additionally shown as Regina Coeli. This piece is a sacre conversazione(5) in its simplest, most stylised form. The saints placed below her, as expected are, if you know the code, easy to identify by their attributes. These saints, in complementary pairs, reflect the different patrons characters and aspirations, both lay and clerical: Saints Catherine and Jerome standing for theological learning, Ottoni as a soldier choosing two warrior saints, Sebastian and George. Their position in the piece is hierarchical: Giorgio paid 310 florins towards the piece yet Ottoni only 60 ducats, so St Jerome is in the Cornu Evangelii or place of honour to the Virgin’s right with the lay saint on her left. I wonder how much this irked Ottoni?
Much of the main panel was easy to decode if you were a 15th Century churchgoer. Criveli invokes traditional symbolism for the Virgin and child and each element is significant theologically. The way in which the Virgin and child are portrayed is most definitely not random. In the Marches belief in the Devil was widespread: keeping knowledge of Christ’s divinity hidden was vital, only then could he be fooled. Unusually for Crivelli, and probably directed by the patrons,the Child is shown in human form, naked. This is the subterfuge, hiding the Divine in plain sight. The Child is holding an apple, symbol of his later ultimate sacrifice to erase original sin and vanquish the Devil. This is the only clue to His Divine identity. And it is a clue that will not be wasted on the viewing congregation. The idea of the “divine trap" or “mystical deception”, was according to Gregory of Nyssa the reason God hid the divinity of Christ within human flesh, so the devil would unwittingly orchestrate his own defeat. This is cosmic irony: Satan believed he was destroying a man, but instead brought about the resurrection and redemption of humankind. The humanity of Christ was the veil. In mysticism, especially in Franciscan and Bridgettine traditions, Christ’s weakness, infancy, or suffering is symbolic camouflage: divine power hidden in humility. Satan, who seeks power and pride, cannot comprehend the truth of redemptive suffering. In the Marches area it was believed that even art should protect this secret. Church Fathers such as Origen, Augustine, and Ambrose argued that scripture, ritual, and art should contain layered meanings: literal, allegorical, moral, and mystical. These layers should function like veils, revealing truth only to the spiritually initiated. Symbolism, in this view, isn’t decorative, it’s protective.
The Virgin herself is depicted sitting in the Court of Heaven, and wears a crown with seven fleurons signifying her seven virtues, set with pearls for Heavenly purity, emeralds for obedience and rubies which evoke The Passion. She wears two veils indicating her espousal to both God (under the crown) and Joseph (under the mantle). Above her perches the titular Swallow, symbol of resurrection and also maternal love. The iconographic use of the swallow was well documented. St Amboise in his Hexameron indicates its link to maternal love saying, “the swallow has built a skilful nest for her young”. In the painting the Christ Child raises his finger to indicate his mother’s intercession with God through the swallow. In Jeremiah 8:7 we find the second meaning:”the swallow and the stork have observed the time of his coming”.
Joining The Virgin and Child in the Pala are four saints. The Franciscan St Jerome, holds a maquette of a Renaissance church symbolising the Church of God on Earth. He alone is in actual conversation and is shown invoking Christs aid for the Church Militant on Earth. Saint Sebastian on the other hand gazes away at his own narrative in the predella. He is holding a downturned arrow, an ancient emblematic sign of pestilence, representing his role of plague protector. His costume is symbolic of his chivalry and also of his martyrdom being festooned with pearls and a rubies. This is not the usual Renaissance depiction of the saint but as discussed the clothed saint was less distracting and in cognisance to the patrons’ conservative taste. The Franciscan friar Giorgio saw no contradiction in clothing his saints in sumptuous costumes: in the C15th Marche it was a fundamental belief they would be glorified in this way once they reached Heaven. Let us also consider Ottoni’s role here. Crivelli’s mastery of fabric must have been a deciding point for Ottoni’s patronage as he was a silk and wool manufacturer by trade. In the background we see Crivelli’s trademark gold ground. In the 1490s this was considered somewhat outré, yet in this autonomous area was still in widespread use and played the role of a mediator between the mystic and mimetic realms, catching as it does the ‘light of heaven’ as it filtered in through the church windows.
Beneath the main section sits the predella. The purpose of a predella was to raise this altarpiece higher and more importantly to provide a narrative at eye level for the laity. On this occasion it is not a narrative cycle based on a single story, and, unusually, includes saints not shown in the main panel. This makes the altarpiece even more alike to a poytypch by adding a secondary layer of saints. I propose that maybe Crivelli was originally designing a wider piece that may have included Saints Catherine and George in the main panel. Saint Catherine especially seems awkward in the space, having no narrative and retaining a gold ground. Was the predella originally designed in polyptych form and she the only part that remains? Whatever the reasons for the choice of saints the panel functions as a visual sermon on the dangers of worldly temptations and the importance of asceticism. It also serves as a timely reminder of the greater dangers at large, war and pestilence, sending clear messages to the congregation.
Let’s look in detail at the predella panels. St Jerome 2nd from the left appears as is traditional as a hermit, in the desert of Chalis, his cardinals' hat hanging from a tree, and with a walled Ottoman castello beyond. The panel is packed with detail to which an iconographical explanation can easily be attached. The Marche had deep rooted traditions for hermetical cults and St Jerome was concomitant with this, making him a figure well known to both the Church and the laity. Many of the objects and animals we see in the predella scene are symbolic of the battle over evil and St Jerome’s piety. The Golden Legend says “scorpions and wild beasts were his company”(7) and here is a scorpion symbolising evil, a rabbit at his feet which signals victory over lust, a vulture both death and rebirth, a lion which is the common attribute of St Jerome, a dragon signifying his fight with the Devil, and a snake, which has many meanings, from rebirth to Satan personified, but in this context I believe stands for temptation siting Jerome in his Epistle 22 where he lectured on the dangers of a worldly existence and the need to fight temptations of the flesh. The wild ass mirrors the donkey in the nativity panel. Of the deer Psalms 18:33 tells us “he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, enabling me to stand on the heights” symbolising devotion. So a lot going on in that small panel already.
St Sebastian, 2nd from the right, was a Roman officer, martyr and, since the C4th, an icon of a cult that guarded against pestilence, reflecting the devastation by plague of Matelica in 1485, which brought economic ruin to the town. As befits Ottoni’s choice he is portrayed as a dignified soldier, with a greyhound, a symbol of knightly virtues and faith, standing guard, and another swallow looking on from the cornice. The Golden Legend says he was tied to a tree and was “as full of arrows as an urchin”(8) but alive. Here he is hit by just three, however one arrow to his abdomen would have been undoubtedly fatal. A medical oversight on the part of Crivelli no doubt. The ancients believed disease was caused by the arrows of Apollo and here we find an explicit appropriation and the gesture assimilated into Christian iconography(9). Unlike in the main panel Sebastian wears only a loin cloth. His depiction wearing this garb is not from any written source but is a Renaissance trope largely adopted on the Peninsula. Crivelli has portrayed St Sebastian as Apollo Lykeios, with his left arm suspended above his head, an all’antica detail likely added for Ottoni.
The companion saint chosen by Ottoni is his patron saint, St George, to the far right, a clear symbol of chivalry and selflessness. St George stands for hope against evil. Warfare, as we’ve discussed, was endemic in Metalica: the town was constantly attacked, mercenary troops roamed the mountains and the Marches were in dread of Ottoman invasion after the fall of Constantinople in 1453. Saint George is shown battling a long-eared dragon next to the town of Silene, which here bears a striking resemblance to Matelica with its gates, fortified walls and the familiar Case-torri(10) built by Ottoni. Crivelli’s story diverges from the Golden Legend, emphasising weaponry and the killing of the dragon, pierced through the mouth with a sword, ignoring the important hagiographical detail that tells us it was the capture of the dragon and not its death which led to the miracle of conversion of the Sileneans. One wonders how much of this imagery was Crivelli’s idea and how much was dictated by his soldier patron. The dragon symbolises not only paganism, and the Devil, but also the Turks. The saint also has far reaching connotations, described in Revelations 12:9 as “personification of hope against evil”. The portrayal here of St. George resonates with Ottoni’s identity as a condottiere and directly addresses the threat of the Ottoman Empire. Idiosyncratically the Saint wears no obvious red cross:though his horse’s bridle integrates a subtle crusaders cross.
St Catherine to the left is the pendant saint to St Jerome. She is a patron of theological learning and has obvious links to the Christ Child. She functions here as a bridge between the celestial realm of the Madonna and the earthly realm of the viewers. Is this why she is portrayed as if part of the sacre conversazione? There is, unlike the other predella panels, no narrative which further makes me wonder whether in initial drawings she was destined for the main panel. St Catherine was a 4th century virgin martyr, an erudite royal princess and who, in her Passio, submitted “Christ has adopted me as his Bride”(11). She is portrayed with some of the identifying attributes of her martyrdom: a spiked wheel which is a symbol of her torture and near death, a martyr’s palm and she wears a crown. Poignantly it is not her mystical marriage that is depicted but her martyrdom, though to symbolise her marriage to Christ she wears His swaddling around her head as a veil binding her coils of hair which are worn in the distinctive style of a married woman.
The final panel, the Nativity panel is arguably the most important part of the whole altarpiece, at eye-level to the congregation in the centre of the predella. Primarily the predella functions as a backdrop for the mass, an aid to prayer and we see echoes of the mass in the depiction here. A flagon of wine and a pyx(12) for storing the host sits on the shelf of the stable and is clearly visible during Mass, a constant reminder of the focus of the Eucharist. Augustine tells us “Jesus is the grape of the promised land” drawing a line from Canaan’s grapes, to Christ's passion, to the Eucharistic chalice, and ultimately we surmise to Heavenly fulfillment. This is not just a flagon of wine it is a symbol linking the Christ Child in the main panel to the altar beneath.
The iconography of the panel follows the Gospels of Matthew and Luke but is largely Apocryphal, including details of the ox and the ass. Pseudo-Matthew’s gospel 14:1 says “the ox has recognised its owner and the ass the manger of its Lord”. fulfilling the prophesy of Isaiah 1:3. This imagery underscores that even humble, irrational creatures recognise the divine presence, while God’s own people often fail to do so. It serves as a theological critique and a Christological affirmation: Christ’s incarnation is acknowledged first by the lowly and the outsiders, inverting expectations and prefiguring the inclusivity of the Gospel.The humility and poverty of Christ’s birth was vitally important to Franciscans. Crivelli has depicted the whole tableau as St Bridget described it in her divine visions “that glorious infant was lying on the ground naked and glowing” with Mary kneeling before him in prayer and Joseph outside. Bridget shared with the Franciscans a deep devotion to the humanity and suffering of Christ, particularly his Passion, a hallmark of Franciscan spirituality initiated by St. Francis of Assisi and emphasised by figures like St. Bonaventure. This stark, humble birth scene also echoes the Franciscan emphasis on the radical poverty of the Incarnation, as first dramatised by St. Francis in 1223, where he staged the first Nativity scene in a stable with animals to inspire meditation on Christ's humble birth.The nature of this Nativity scene encouraged believers to see, feel, and meditate on the fragile, suffering body of the infant Jesus. Separated by architecture, which is a common trope in Medieval scenes, are the shepherds “standing on the right listening to the good news brought by an angel”(Luke 2:11) with the town of Beth-Zaur nestling in the hills beyond. Franciscans were guardians of Holy places and no doubt would have instructed Crivelli here on the exact nature of the landscape to be portrayed.
Detail from Carlo Crivelli The Annunciation with St Emidius, 1486, egg tempura with some oil on canvas, National Gallery, London
Well, so far the symbolism seems accessible. At least to a 15th Century churchgoer or Friar. However there is a problem when we consider the presence of the cucumber. Other fruits that Crivelli has depicted here are commonly used symbolically: peaches for salvation, pears as a symbol of Christ’s passion, figs from the tree of knowledge, the apple as sign of the Madonna as New Eve, the virgin instrument of humanity’s redemption, grapes signalling the saviour of mankind by the blood shed by Christ on the cross, pomegranates as a traditionally sign of fertility, and so on. These are common depictions. The fruit Crivelli paints is not purely decorative as in an all’antica garland but has realism. This is his trademark. So far so good. But then we consider the cucumber. It is almost unique to Crivelli. This is not a common iconographical element and is something of an artistic anomaly. There have been several different interpretations: Lightbown throughout his monograph believes the cucumber to be interchangeable with the gourd, thereby representing resurrection, Golsenne(13) thinks it is merely a signature, Crivelli showing off his mimetic abilities. Personally though I agree with both these points Leo Steinberg(14) takes it further and identifies the cucumber with the Incarnation of God in Christ, fundamental to the Christian religion. Crivelli had for 10 years been using the cucumber in his work. Steinberg believes in the Marche it would be known liturgically as a means of elevating the portrayal of a simple family to something pious, a signpost to those “in the know”. This was his solution to the dilemma of portraying Christ naked (to fool the Devil, remember?) and human, whilst retaining God’s dignity for the conservative yet fervent patrons. Like a gourd it grows rapidly and is full of seeds. The gourd is associated with fertility and the regenerative power of creation, so we might assume this has a similar meaning, even if we disregard the obvious phallic connotations. In Marian iconography seed-rich fruits reference the miraculous fertility of the Virgin Mary: her ability to bear Christ without loss of virginity, reflecting divine fecundity without corruption. So here placed in a Madonna and Child context, the cucumber likely speaks both to Christ’s divine origin and human birth.
What at first glance seems a disjointed series of panels covered in odd symbols and random fruit and vegetables becomes a coherent scheme when the iconography is decoded by examining its context, purpose and indeed the patronage. It is tempting to suggest nothing is placed indiscriminately and that Crivelli’s main aim was to enrich the altarpiece with as many layers of meaning as possible.However let’s temper this idea slightly and to paraphrase Panofsky when he cautions us: “How are we to decide where the general transfiguration of nature ends and actual specific symbolism begins?”(15). How far do we take the narrative that Crivelli has used the disguise of the familiar to signpost theological concepts? Are the prominent nails on shelves in the nativity scene prefiguring the crucifixion or are they just nails? Ultimately we might ask why use symbolism at all? In the 15th century Marche area the answer is obvious: to hide the truth of the from the devil and thwart his demonic understanding and interference.
Carlo Crivelli , St Michael 1476 egg tempura on wood, 90.5 × 26.5, National Gallery London
Notes
1. Two contracts dated 11 march 1490 between Carlo Crivelli and Ranuzio Ottoni (Signore della Cittá) and Giorgio di Giacomo (Guardino del Convento di S Francesco)
2. The conventuals were to be ousted by the Ottonis 20 years later in favour of the more austere Observants.
3. A single field altarpiece as opposed to a Polyptych with 4 or more panels
4. Eksedjan p20
5. Lit: Holy conversation. Saints are grouped in a unified space around the Virgin
6. Mother of God/ Queen of Heaven. The chapel is dedicated to the Virgin as Mother of God : the dedication Monstra Te Esse Matrim is over the entrance.
7. Voragine p94
8. Voragine P224
9. Marks pt IV
10.Tower houses of the wealthy Marche citizens
11. Voragine p134
12. Small round container for storing consecrated host
13. Golsenne p140
14. Tugendrajch p10
15. Preziosi P220
Illustrations
Illus 2 https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/carlo-crivelli-predella-of-la-madonna-della-rondine
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