He next appears in what many of his admirers find his most fascinating mood, as a joyous allegorist, the picture of Venus rising from the sea in this room, the “Primavera” which we shall see at the Accademia, and the “Mars and Venus” in our National Gallery, belonging to this epoch.  But in order to understand them we must again go to history.  Piero was succeeded in 1469 by his son Lorenzo the Magnificent, who continued his father’s friendship for the young painter, now twenty-two years of age.  In 1474 Lorenzo devised for his brother Giuliano a tournament in the Piazza of S. Croce very like that which Piero had given for Lorenzo on the occasion of his betrothal in 1469; and Botticelli was commissioned by Lorenzo to make pictures commemorating the event.  Verrocchio again helped with the costumes; Lucrezia Donati again was Queen of the Tournament; but the Queen of Beauty was the sixteen-year-old bride of Marco Vespucci—­the lovely Simonetta Cattaneo, a lady greatly beloved by all and a close friend both of Giuliano and Lorenzo.

The praises of Lorenzo’s tournament had been sung by Luca Pulci:  Giuliano’s were sung by Poliziano, under the title “La Giostra di Giuliano de’ Medici,” and it is this poem which Botticelli may be said to have illustrated, for both poet and artist employ the same imagery.  Thus Poliziano, or Politian (of whom we shall hear more in the chapter on S. Marco) compares Simonetta to Venus, and in stanzas 100 and 101 speaks of her birth, describing her blown to earth over the sea by the breath of the Zephyrs, and welcomed there by the Hours, one of whom offers her a robe.  This, Botticelli translates into exquisite tempera with a wealth of pretty thoughts.  The cornflowers and daisies on the Hour’s dress are alone a perennial joy.

Simonetta as Venus has some of the wistfulness of the Madonnas; and not without reason does Botticelli give her this expression, for her days were very short.  In the “Primavera,” which we are to see at the Accademia, but which must be described here, we find Simonetta again but we do not see her first.  We see first that slender upright commanding figure, all flowers and youth and conquest, in her lovely floral dress, advancing over the grass like thistle-down.  Never before in painting had anything been done at once so distinguished and joyous and pagan as this.  For a kindred emotion one had to go to Greek sculpture, but Botticelli, while his grace and joy are Hellenic, was intensely modern too:  the problems of the Renaissance, the tragedy of Christianity, equally cloud his brow.

The symbolism of the “Primavera” is interesting.  Glorious Spring is returning to earth—­in the presence of Venus—­once more to make all glad, and with her her attendants to dance and sing, and the Zephyrs to bring the soft breezes; and by Spring Botticelli meant the reign of Lorenzo, whose tournament motto was “Le temps revient”.  Simonetta is again the central figure, and never did Botticelli paint more exquisitely than here.  Her bosom is the prettiest in Florence; the lining of her robe over her right arm has such green and blue and gold as never were seen elsewhere; her golden sandals are delicate as gossamer.  Over her head a little cupid hovers, directing his arrow at Mercury, on the extreme left, beside the three Graces.