Diana Norman's book on Siena and the Angevins has a very engaging opening. We find Robert of Anjou, accompanied by his queen, Sancia of Mallorca, processing through the streets of Siena in 1310, sheltered under a ceremonial canopy, and receiving a silver-gilt cup brimming with gold florins. Between 1273 and 1327, Norman tells us, Siena received members of the Angevin royal family, both male and female, at least thirteen times, honouring them with silk canopies and presenting them with cups containing variable amounts of florins, pro rata, depending on their place in the royal hierarchy. Most studies of the interactions between Sienese painters, sculptors, and goldsmiths and their Angevin patrons are situated in Naples, or in the Lower Church of S. Francesco at Assisi, or, occasionally, in their Provençal territories, but Norman's book takes a novel starting point: the occasions on which the Angevins passed through Siena. By shifting the viewpoint, Norman provides a very valuable new approach, focusing not only on the individual local artists whose careers were transformed through the magnificence of Angevin commissions, but also on their city of origin, and the political and diplomatic relations between a major European royal court and a Tuscan city state.
Norman's meticulous attention to the historical context, based on extensive knowledge of the archival sources, is familiar from her previous work, notably Siena and the Virgin, Art and Politics in a Late Medieval City State (1999) and, subsequently, an important series of articles on Simone Martini's Angevin-related commissions. In the present study Norman draws together hitherto scattered and under-researched material concerning connections between the city state of Siena and the Angevins. As this book's very substantial endnotes and bibliography demonstrate, in recent years there have been many publications on the Angevins, their history and art patronage, often in languages other than English. Norman's engagement with this literature--in its own right a significant contribution--also serves to open up the field for a wider readership. Those unfamiliar with the material are provided with generous assistance. The book opens with a genealogical tree of the House of Anjou and--equally valuable in navigating the people and places to be encountered--a map of Angevin territory in the early fourteenth century. Throughout the volume a wealth of visual material: numerous colour illustrations, ground plans, town plans, diagrams and carefully-chosen photographic details, play a crucial role.
The book is divided into three sections. Part I, Siena and the Angevins, begins with a chapter entitled Politics and Civic Ritual. This sets out the course of diplomatic and political relations between Siena and the Angevins, from the battle of Montaperti (1260), when Siena was still in the Ghibelline alliance, through the city's move to the Guelph league of Tuscany (1271 onwards), to the end of Robert of Anjou's reign (1343) , and the end of the government of the Nine in Siena (1355). Norman's detailed account is particularly valuable in its focus on Siena--generally a marginal player in studies of Tuscan/Guelph relations. Angevin visits to Siena, evoked at the opening of the book, are enumerated more fully here, setting the scene for chapter 2, Art and Diplomacy, which focuses on Simone Martini's frescoed Maestà in the Sala del Consiglio of Siena's Palazzo Pubblico (c.1312 to 1315). Martini's version of the main front image of Duccio'sMaestà for the Cathedral of Siena is convincingly described by Norman as "an image of diplomac" in which Angevin heraldry joins the black and white balzana of Siena, the lion of the Capitano del Popolo and the arms of France in ornamenting the lavish canopy beneath which the Virgin and saints gather, recalling the actual silk canopies that honoured Angevin visitors, one of which was commissioned from Simone himself in 1327. Norman draws attention to French aspects of Martini's painting such as the gothic-inflected architecture of the Virgin's gilded throne. Although, as Norman concedes, there is no record of any of the Angevin visitors being received within the Palazzo Pubblico, she interprets Martini's Maestà and Ambrogio Lorenzetti's Good and Bad Government in the adjoining room (1338-1339), which may have included the Angevin arms within its borders, in the light of such relations.
The second section of the book moves to Naples, discussing the employment of Sienese painters, sculptors, and goldsmiths by members of the Angevin court. The precise mechanisms by which these contacts were initially formed, and commissions were awarded, are unknown, but Norman emphasises the potential importance of diplomatic and political relations in encouraging cultural exchange. What is known about the Neapolitan connections of Simone Martini, Lando di Pietro and Tino di Camaino is clearly set out in chapter 3 (Patrons and Projects), illustrating three quite different scenarios for the manner and length of engagement with the Angevin court. The magnificent panel painting of St Louis of Toulouse Crowning Robert of Anjou, signed by Martini, and thought to date around the time of Louis' canonisation in 1317, is the quintessence of Sienese art in the service of Angevin dynastic ambitions, but the lack of documentary evidence means that fundamental questions remain unanswered: who commissioned the work and where was it initially located? How did Martini come to be known to his patron(s)? Was the artist based at the Angevin Court while executing the work? If so, how long did he remain there? (Giotto's documented stay in Naples stretched from 1328 to 1332, and included the establishment of a workshop in the city.) Norman emphasises that there is no evidence that Martini ever went to Naples and considers it "entirely possible" that the St Louis painting was executed in Siena, implicitly arguing against those who wish to see the influence of the tastes and possessions of the Neapolitan Court on Martini's work. Norman notes the probable link between the St Louis panel and Martini's frescoes in the Lower Church of S. Francesco at Assisi "commissioned by or closely associated with the Angevin royal family" (71). (In subsequent chapters Norman argues for the involvement of Mary of Hungary, widow of Charles II and mother of Louis of Toulouse, in the genesis of both works.)
We are on firmer ground in the case of the renowned Sienese goldsmith Lando di Pietro. Lando must have been resident in Naples since he was recalled from there to Siena in December 1339 to work on plans for the expansion of the Cathedral. In line with an attribution made by Pierluigi Leone De Castris, Norman argues for his authorship of the exquisite silver-gilt, rock crystal and basse-taille enamel arm reliquaries of Louis of Toulouse and St Luke (both now in the Louvre). Heraldry indicates the patronage of Sancia of Mallorca, Robert of Anjou's wife. Payments for these reliquaries from the royal treasury, in December 1336 and April 1338, indicate Court involvement and suggest (if the attributions are correct) an extended Neapolitan stay for the Sienese goldsmith.
The Sienese sculptor Tino di Camaino settled in Naples for the latter part of his career, from c.1324 to his death c.1337, producing at least twelve tombs for members of the Angevin royal family (of which 4 survive relatively complete) and also working on architectural projects. Tino's funerary designs, setting full-scale effigies, smaller-scale images of chosen family members or narrative reliefs, and heraldic emblems, within imposing architectural frames, provide plentiful evidence for the shared dynastic concerns and distinctive identities expressed by the funerary monuments of royal men and, notably, women. Chapter 4, "Royal Tombs," focuses on the monuments of Catherine of Austria (c.1324-1325), Mary of Hungary (c.1325-1326) Mary of Valois (c.1332-1337) and Charles of Calabria (c. 1332-36), and analyses the tomb of Robert of Anjou (c.1343-1344), executed by the two Florentine sculptors Pacio and Giovanni Bertini, as a measure of Tino's dominant legacy. Tino's works from earlier in his career, in Siena, Florence and Pisa, are often viewed as his greatest achievements, but Norman defends and praises the quality of his Neapolitan oeuvre. Whilst Martini's Louis of Toulouse panel, with its carefully-calibrated heraldry, royal portraiture and dynastic messages, looks like the embodiment of a work of Angevin court art, it is Tino's Neapolitan activities that provide a yardstick for characterising the career of an Angevin court artist.
The third section of the book comprises three chapters discussing images of St Louis of Toulouse. After describing the early cult of the saint, his burial and translation in Marseille, and the transfer of selected relics to Naples, chapter 5 ("A Royal Altarpiece and a Reliquary") returns to Simone Martini's St Louis of Toulouse panel, and engages with the disputed question of the original location of the painting. The main contenders are the Franciscan church of S. Lorenzo (favoured by Francesco Aceto, who suggests Franciscan patronage); S. Chiara; and the Oratory of St. Louis of Toulouse, adjoining the Neapolitan cathedral (initially proposed by Jurgen Krüger, and subsequently favoured by Nicholas Bock, by Norman herself, and most recently by Sarah Kozlowski whose work, despite having appeared at a late stage in the writing of this book, receives due consideration). Norman's presentation of the various arguments, and their implications for patronage and function, is judicious, and she makes a strong case for the Cathedral oratory, and for the importance of Mary of Hungary, Philip Prince of Taranto (founder of the oratory) and Robert himself, in the commission.
The last two chapters move away from Naples, going first to Assisi, then Florence and finally returning to the book's starting point in Siena. Simone Martini executed two groups of frescoes in the Lower Church of S. Francesco: a series of seven saints with the Virgin and Child in the right transept, and the decoration of the St. Martin Chapel. The documented patron of the St Martin Chapel was the Franciscan cardinal Gentile Partino da Montefiore who died in 1312. Norman notes that the Cardinal might have passed through Siena in the Spring of 1312 and seen the start of work on Simone's frescoedMaestà in the Palazzo Pubblico, thus establishing the possibility of a link between painter and patron. The inclusion on the St. Martin Chapel entrance arch of images of St Louis IX of France, and Louis of Toulouse, both set against heraldic backgrounds, has long encouraged scholars to look for Angevin connections. Indeed, Cardinal Gentile seems to have been instrumental in the coronation of Carobert, a son of Charles II of Anjou and Mary of Hungary, as king of Hungary in 1310. Meanwhile, the predominantly Franciscan, Angevin and Hungarian choice of saints in the right transept, at the site of the former chapel of St Elizabeth of Hungary, together with the inclusion of Louis of Toulouse in the stained glass of the Lower Church St. Louis Chapel, form part of Norman's argument that Mary of Hungary was the Angevin who actively intervened in the choice of imagery, most notably in the transept saints.
Norman accepts a dating span of 1312 to 1319 for Martini's works at Assisi and places his Palazzo Pubblico Maestà and St Louis of Toulouse panel in the same years. The sequence in which these commissions were completed is not documented but raises key questions about the relation between Siena-based and Angevin-related commissions and their effects on Simone's career. Technical evidence and stylistic analysis show that work on the Palazzo Pubblico Maestà, begun c.1312 and completed by June 1315, was interrupted, probably for an extended period, two-thirds of the way down the fresco. Some or all of Simone's work at Assisi probably took place during this interruption. Who was sufficiently powerful to oblige Martini to leave the Palazzo Pubblico Maestà temporarily incomplete? Did diplomatic considerations, perhaps even pressure, have a role to play in releasing the artist from his commitment to a major image at the heart of the Sienese seat of government in order to work on an Angevin-related project?
The remainder of chapter 6 traces other images of Louis of Toulouse in the Florentine Franciscan church of S. Croce, and in a number of Sienese polyptychs. To what extent did the inclusion of the bishop-saint, robed in a fleur-de-lys patterned cope, indicate Angevin interests, as Norman proposes? Perhaps some of these examples could just as well be explained by artistic convenience, the repetition of a recognisable type for the saint, and the desire of Franciscan patrons, like other religious Orders, to display a full set of canonised members on their altarpieces.
The final chapter concerns the Lorenzetti brother's frescoes for the Chapter House of S. Francesco in Siena, notably Ambrogio's painting of St. Louis of Toulouse before the Pope. Louis himself stayed at S. Francesco when passing through Siena en route to Toulouse in 1297. Norman guides the reader through a reconstruction of the programme of the murals, now fragmentary and dispersed. The St. Louis fresco shared a wall with the scene of a martyrdom of Franciscan friars, both presumed to be painted at the same time. A dating in the third decade of the fourteenth century has often been accepted but Norman follows the later dating in the early 1340s, proposed by Maureen Burke on the grounds that the martyrdom fresco represents an event that took place at Almalyq in central Asia in 1339. Some scholars accept that the martyrdom scene reflects a specific occurrence, whereas others argue that the scene has multiple readings, evoking several such incidents occurring in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The precise event depicted in the St Louis fresco has also been debated. It shows neither Louis' secret entry into the Franciscan order nor Boniface VIII consecrating Louis as Bishop of Toulouse (both included on the predella of Simone's St Louis of Toulouse panel). Among those present are Charles II, pondering Louis' renunciation of his succession to the throne, and probably also the future King Robert, acknowledging that this role now falls to him. Francesca Interguglielmi proposed that the scene shows the public acknowledgment, in 1297, of Louis' entrance into the Franciscan order, but Norman, having opted for the identification of a specific event in the martyrdom scene, in this case notes that there is no evidence that Charles or Robert attended the public ceremony, and suggests, instead, that the painting is a composite referring to several events. A stronger argument for Norman's multiple readings of the St Louis scene might have been made had she accepted that the martyrdom scene, too, was a composite. It would also have removed the need for a late dating for the paintings, "in the 1340s," which pushes them into a time around Robert's death (January 1343) when, as Norman points out, Siena/Angevin political and diplomatic relations "had become much more sporadic and less central to the foreign policy of the Nine" (217).
This handsomely-produced and beautifully-illustrated book pieces together the interactions, as currently known or conjectured, between members of the Angevin dynasty and the government, citizens, and artists of Siena. It gives us the opportunity to reflect on connections between political power, the exercise of diplomacy, dynastic ambitions, the artistic preferences of members of the Angevin family, and the growing prestige of Sienese art. It draws attention to different ways in which Angevin patronage might affect the trajectory of an individual artist's career. Most importantly, it ensures that future work in the dynamic field of Angevin studies will give due weight to the role played by the city state of Siena, from which some of the most talented artists in the service of its court originated.