After much flattery and applause, he took his place behind the podium and addressed the crowd in fluid Italian. “My lecture this evening will be somewhat unusual. I am not an art historian, yet I will be speaking to you about Sandro Botticelli’s muse, La Bella Simonetta.” At this, his eyes sought Julia’s.
She smiled, trying to suppress the blush that threatened her cheeks. She knew the story of Botticelli and Simonetta Vespucci. Simonetta was referred to as the Queen of Beauty in the court of Florence, prior to her death at the tender age of twenty-two. To be compared to Simonetta by Gabriel was very high praise, indeed.
“I am tackling this controversial topic as a professor of literature, choosing Botticelli’s artwork as a representation of various female archetypes. Historically speaking, there have been many debates as to how close Simonetta was to Botticelli and to what degree she was the actual inspiration for his paintings. I hope to skirt some of those disagreements in order to focus your attention on a straightforward visual comparison of a few figures.
“I shall begin with the first three slides. In them, you will recognize pen and ink illustrations of Dante and Beatrice in Paradise.”
Gabriel couldn’t help but admire the images himself, transported as he was to the first time he’d welcomed Julianne into his home. That was the night he’d realized how much he wanted to please her, how beautiful she looked when she was happy.
As he gazed at the quiescence of Beatrice’s expression, he compared her countenance with Julia’s. She sat with rapt attention, her lovely head turned in profile as she admired Botticelli’s handiwork. Gabriel wanted to make her look at him.
“Notice Beatrice’s face.” His voice grew soft as his eyes met those of his sweetheart. “The most beautiful face…
“We begin with Dante’s muse and the figure of Beatrice. Although I’m sure she needs no introduction, allow me to point out that Beatrice represents courtly love, poetic inspiration, faith, hope, and charity. She is the ideal of feminine perfection, at once intelligent and compassionate, and vibrant with the kind of selfless love that can only come from God. She inspires Dante to be a better man.”
Gabriel paused a moment to touch his tie. It did not need straightening, but his fingers lingered against the blue silk. Julia blinked at the gesture, and Gabriel knew that he’d been understood.
“Now consider the face of the goddess Venus.”
All eyes in the room except Gabriel’s focused on the Birth of Venus. He looked over his notes eagerly as the audience admired one of Botticelli’s greatest and largest works.
“It appears that Venus has Beatrice’s face. Once again, I’m not interested in a historical analysis of the models for the painting. I’m simply asking you to note the visible similarities between the figures. They represent two muses, two ideal types, one theological and one secular. Beatrice is the lover of the soul; Venus is the lover of the body. Botticelli’s La Bella has both faces—one of sacrificial love or agape, and one of sexual love or eros.”
His voice deepened, and Julia found her skin warming at the sound.
“In the portrait of Venus, the emphasis is on her physical beauty. Even though she represents sexual love, she maintains a venerable modesty, clutching part of her hair in order to cover herself. Notice the demure expression and the placement of her hand across her breast. Her shyness increases the eroticism of her portrayal—it doesn’t diminish it.” He removed his glasses for dramatic effect and fixed Julia with an unblinking eye. “Many people fail to see how modesty and sweetness of temper compound erotic appeal.”
Julia fidgeted with the zipper on her purse, resisting the urge to squirm in her seat. Gabriel replaced his glasses.
“Eros is not lust. According to Dante, lust is one of the seven deadly sins. Erotic love can include sex but is not limited to it. Eros is the all-consuming fire of infatuation and affection that is expressed in the emotion of being in love. And believe me when I say that it far outstrips the rivals for its affections, in every respect.”
Julia couldn’t help but notice the dismissive way with which he’d pronounced the word rivals, punctuating his expression with a wave of his hand. It was as if he were casting aside all previous lovers with a mere gesture, while his blazing blue eyes fixed on her.
“Anyone who has ever been in love knows the difference between eros and lust. There’s no comparison. One is an empty, unfulfilling shadow of the other.
“Of course, one might object that it is impossible for one person, one woman, to represent the ideal of both agape and eros. If you will allow my indulgence for a moment, I will suggest that such skepticism is a form of misogyny. For only a misogynist would argue that women are either saints or seductresses—virgins or whores. Of course, a woman, or a man for that matter, can be both—the muse can be lover to both soul and body.
“Now consider the painting behind me, Madonna of the Pomegranate.”
Again, the eyes of the audience shifted to one of Botticelli’s paintings. Gabriel noticed with satisfaction the way Julia intentionally fingered one of her diamond earrings, as if she understood his revelations and received them gladly. As if she knew he was revealing his love for her through art. His heart swelled.
“Once again, we see the same face repeated in the figure of the Madonna. Beatrice, Venus, and Mary—a trinity of ideal women, each wearing the same face. Agape,eros, and chastity, a heady combination that would make even the strongest man fall to his knees, if he was fortunate enough to find one person who manifests all three.”
A cough that sounded suspiciously as if it were covering a derisive remark echoed throughout the room. Angry at being interrupted, Gabriel scowled in the general direction of the second row, over Julia’s shoulder. The cough was repeated once more for dramatic effect and a testosterone fueled staring contest began between a clearly annoyed Italian and Gabriel.
Conscious of the fact that he was speaking into a microphone, Gabriel resisted the urge to curse and, with a scathing look at his detractor, continued.
“Some have argued that it was a pomegranate and not an apple that tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden. With respect to Botticelli’s painting, many have argued that the pomegranate symbolizes the blood of Christ in his suffering and his subsequent new life through the resurrection.
“For my purposes, the pomegranate represents the Edenic fruit, the Madonna as the second Eve and Christ as the second Adam. With the Madonna, Botticelli hearkens back to the first Eve, the archetype of femininity, beauty, and female companionship.
“I’ll go further, by asserting that Eve is also the ideal of female friendship, the friend of Adam, and thus she is the ideal of philia, the love that emerges out of friendship. The friendship between Mary and Joseph manifests this ideal, as well.”
His voice caught, so he took a moment to sip some water before continuing. Something about the comparison between Julia and Eve made him feel vulnerable, naked, hearkening back to the night he’d given her an apple and held her in his arms under the stars.
The audience began murmuring, wondering why a polite pause to take a drink had extended into a break. Gabriel’s color deepened as he raised his eyes to look at his beloved once again, desperate for her understanding.
Her ruby lips parted into an encouraging smile. Instantly, Gabriel exhaled.
“Botticelli’s muse is a saint, a lover, and a friend, not a cardboard cut-out of a woman or an adolescent fantasy. She is real, she is complicated, and she is endlessly fascinating. A woman to worship.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, the preciseness of the Greek language allows one to speak more perspicuously about the different kinds of love. A modern treatment of this discussion can be found in C.S. Lewis’s The Four Loves, if you’re interested.”
He cleared his throat and smiled winningly at the room.
“Finally, consider the painting to my left, Primavera. One might expect to see the face of Botticelli’s muse reflected in the central figure in the painting. But consider the face of Flora, on the right. Once again, she bears a similarity to Beatrice, Venus, and the Madonna.
“Surprisingly, Flora appears twice in the painting. As we move from the center of the painting to the right, you see Flora pregnant, swollen with Zephyr’s child. Zephyr is on the far right, hovering amongst the orange trees with the second depiction of Flora, as a virgin nymph. Her expression is marked with fear. She’s fleeing the arms of her prospective lover and gazing back at him in panic. However, when she’s pregnant, her countenance is serene. Her fear is replaced by contentment.”
Julia flushed as she remembered how kind Gabriel had been to her the night before. He’d been tender and gentle, and in his arms she’d felt worshipped. Remembering the myth of Flora and Zephyr she shuddered, wishing that all lovers would be as tender with their virgin partners as Gabriel had been.
“Flora represents the consummation of physical love and motherhood. She is the ideal of storge, or familial love, the kind of love manifested from a mother to her child, and between lovers who share a commitment that is not based solely on sex or pleasure, but is between married partners.”
No one but Julia noticed the white knuckling as he held the edge of the podium with two hands. No one but Julia noticed the slight tremor in his voice as he pronounced the words pregnant and motherhood.