." Of Giuliano's end we have read in Chapter II,
and it was Botticelli, whose destinies were so closely bound up with
the Medici, who was commissioned to paint portraits of the murderous
Pazzi to be displayed outside the Palazzo Vecchio.

A third picture in what may be called the tournament period is found by
some in the "Venus and Mars," No. 915, in our National Gallery. Here
Giuliano would be Mars, and Venus either one woman in particular
whom Florence wished him to marry, or all women, typified by one,
trying to lure him from other pre-occupations, such as hunting. To
make her Simonetta is to go too far; for she is not like the Simonetta
of the other pictures, and Simonetta was but recently married and a
very model of fair repute. In No. 916 in the National Gallery is a
"Venus with Cupids" (which might be by Botticelli and might be by that
interesting painter of whom Mr. Berenson has written so attractively
as Amico di Sandro), in which Politian's description of Venus, in
his poem, is again closely followed.

After the tournament pictures we come in Botticelli's career to the
Sixtine Chapel frescoes, and on his return to Florence to other
frescoes, including that lovely one at the Villa Lemmi (then the
Villa Tornabuoni) which is now on the staircase of the Louvre. These
are followed by at least two more Medici pictures--the portrait of
Piero di Lorenzo de' Medici, in this room, No. 1154, the sad-faced
youth with the medal; and the "Pallas and the Centaur" at the Pitti,
an historical record of Lorenzo's success as a diplomatist when he
went to Naples in 1480.

The latter part of Botticelli's life was spent under the influence
of Savonarola and in despair at the wickedness of the world and its
treatment of that prophet. His pictures became wholly religious, but
it was religion without joy. Never capable of disguising the sorrow
that underlies all human happiness--or, as I think of it in looking
at his work, the sense of transience--Botticelli, as age came upon
him, was more than ever depressed. One has the feeling that he was
persuaded that only through devotion and self-negation could peace of
mind be gained, and yet for himself could find none. The sceptic was
too strong in him. Savonarola's eloquence could not make him serene,
however much he may have come beneath its spell. It but served to
increase his melancholy. Hence these wistful despondent Madonnas, all
so conscious of the tragedy before their Child; hence