When Barbaro and Palladio went to Rome they studied the antiquities—with an eye to Vitruvius—but they also toured two modern country houses, collecting ideas for the planned villa at Maser. The Villa Giulia, which Pope Julius III was building on the outskirts of Rome, had supplanted the Villa Madama as the most elaborate and beautiful house in the city, designed by no fewer than three architects: Vasari, Giacomo da Vignola, and Bartolomeo Ammanati. Its most striking feature was an elaborate garden whose centerpiece was a nymphaeum, or fanciful semicircular loggia, replete with stucco sculptures and fountains. The second project, also under construction, was equally spectacular. It was a country retreat at Tivoli, about twenty miles east of Rome, belonging to Cardinal Ippolito d’Este, a friend of Daniele Barbaro (who dedicated his translation of Vitruvius to the cardinal). At Tivoli, Barbaro and Palladio were given a tour of the elaborate water gardens by d’Este’s architect, Pirro Ligorio.
In 1556, Barbaro’s Vitruvius was published in Venice—to great acclaim. He acknowledged Palladio’s contribution in a high-blown tribute:
For the important illustrations I used the work of Messer Andrea Palladio, architect of Vicenza, who, of all those whom I have known personally or by hearsay, has, according to the judgment of excellent men, best understood the true meaning of architecture and vastly profited from it, having not only grasped its most beautiful and subtle principles but having also put them into practice, both in his beautiful and exquisite drawings of plans, elevations, and sections and in the execution and erection of many and superb buildings, both in his own country [Vicenza] and elsewhere; works which vie with the ancients, which enlighten his contemporaries, and will arouse the admiration of those yet to come.2
The construction of the Barbaro villa began soon after the book appeared.3 The reasons for the long gestation may have been professional demands on the brothers’ time, or simply lack of building funds, for they were not independently wealthy. The villa’s protracted design was likely also caused by their architectural ambition. Daniele took his avocation seriously. When he commissioned his portrait—now in Amsterdam’s Rijksmuseum—he donned his bishop’s robes but had himself portrayed surrounded by his architectural books and sitting at the base of a classical column. Marc’antonio, an amateur sculptor, also had a passion for architecture, so much so that he was later nicknamed “The Builder.”I The Barbaro brothers were connoisseurs and Palladio’s friends, but this did not necessarily make them ideal clients. I can well imagine them bombarding him with suggestions, especially Daniele, who had considerable architectural experience. In Padua, he had laid out the university’s new botanical garden—one of the first in Europe. In Venice, he had planned the iconographic program for the ceiling of the main council chamber in the Doge’s Palace, and personally designed a palazzo on the island of Murano (probably with the help of either Palladio or Sanmicheli).4 He also knew many architects and it has been suggested that he canvassed their advice about his proposed villa.5 Such opinionated clients, no matter how well-intentioned, considerably complicate an architect’s job. Palladio later wrote that architecture was a “profession everyone is convinced they know something about.”6 He must have been thinking of the Barbaro brothers.
THE VILLA BARBARO IS MASTERFULLY INTEGRATED INTO ITS SITE AT THE FOOTHILLS OF THE DOLOMITIC ALPS.
The villa at Maser was, in any case, a challenging project. The site, a hill called Castellano (Lord of the manor), contained a medieval fortified house.7 Evidence of old fireplaces in the attic of the casa del padrone indicates that Palladio reused the exterior walls of the old structure in their entirety. This meant that he had to find a way to accommodate the space needs of not one but two households within the tight dimensions of the relatively small castello.
The castello was built into the slope, and he took advantage of the situation to open the upper floor of the house to a large rear terrace cut into the hill, a landscape feature no doubt influenced by the stepped gardens of Tivoli. The villa at Maser had water features, too. The terrace was the site of a natural spring that fed a fountain that “forms a little lake that serves as a fishpond,” he wrote. “Having left this spot, the water runs to the kitchen and then, having irrigated the gardens to right and left of the road which gently ascends and leads to the building, forms two fishponds with their horse troughs on the public road; from there it goes off to water the orchard, which is very large and full of superb fruit and various wild plants.”8 The troughs are gone, but they must have been located in the semicircle where I am parked.
The formal approach road is still here, but is permanently gated. Leaving my car, I walk down the highway and follow the signs to the side entrance. The large parking lot near the house is starting to fill up with cars and a couple of tour buses, and there is already a crowd of people milling about in front of a locked gate. I usually wander through Palladio’s villas alone, but clearly that will not be the case today.
A custodian opens the gate and the crowd swarms into a small courtyard at the eastern end of the house. From this vantage point, it is obvious that the giant curved brackets of the pavilion are nothing more than screens masking a small box-like structure that in a modern building might house an air-conditioning unit. Judging from the rows of small holes, it’s a dovecote. Pigeons were a familiar sight on terraferma farms since they provided food, fertilizer, and communications—homing pigeons could reach Venice from Maser in less than an hour. The contrast between the grand architectural gesture in front and the utilitarian pigeon coop behind reminds me of false-fronted buildings of the Old West.
A tall arched opening signals the entrance to the arcaded loggia. People are pushing their way in and lining up to buy tickets, so I walk around to the front of the villa until things settle down. The upper part of the pavilion contains a giant zodiac dial, reflecting Daniele’s interest in astronomy (the corresponding face of the other pavilion has a sundial). His other interest, Roman antiquity, is expressed by the plaster statues that occupy the niches in the piers. First dour Charon, the god of death, then Flora, the Roman goddess of flowers, next the huntress Diana with her dog, and finally wily Mercury, messenger of the gods and patron of merchants. The antique theme of gods and goddesses is echoed in the mascheroni, or masks, that adorn the keystone. It was long thought that the sculptural plasterwork that abounds in this villa was the work of Alessandro Vittoria, an artist who frequently collaborated with Palladio, but many historians now credit Marc’antonio Barbaro.9 That seems likely—some of the modeling is distinctly amateurish.
The irrepressible Marc’antonio (who was in between postings when the villa was being completed) did not miss a chance to practice his art. Probably under his brother’s direction, he crammed the tympanum of the pediment of the casa del padrone with symbolic statuary. The composition is dominated by an imperial double eagle adorned with the Barbaro coat of arms and surmounted by a papal tiara. Two smaller crests refer to the families of their mother and of Marc’antonio’s wife. The male figures astride dragonlike dolphins must be the brothers, although they are fondling naked buxom maidens, which seems inappropriate for Daniele the churchman. Yet the fraternal allusion is unavoidable. The frieze, which is broken in two by a garlanded cornucopia, bears a shorthand inscription DAN. BARBARUS. PA. AQUIL. (Daniele Barbaro, Patriarch of Aquiléia) under one figure, and ET.MARCUS.ANT.FR. FRANC. F. (and his brother Marc’antonio, sons of Francesco) under the other. Each brother grasps one horn of an ox skull that is the centerpiece of this cheerfully pagan composition.
Ox skulls, or bucrania, were a common classical motif, but one that Palladio rarely used in villas. The striking giant brackets that recall the scrolls on the façade of Alberti’s Santa Maria Novella in Florence, which Palladio probably had seen, are likewise unusual. So are the tall arched windows that interrupt the entablature. The window frames are more delicately modeled and the façades are more articulated with moldings than other Palladio villas. Such stylistic anomalies have caused some historians to question whethe
r the Villa Barbaro was entirely Palladio’s creation.10 In fact, despite the uniformity of Palladian houses in Britain and America, there is no such thing as a typical Palladio villa. Some of his designs incorporate temple fronts, some do not; some have pedimented windows, some have plain openings; some porticoes are supported by elaborate Corinthian columns, others by unadorned piers. His fertile imagination brimmed with ideas. In a later villa for Count Marc’antonio Sarego of Verona, for example, he struck out in an entirely new direction and dispensed with temple fronts and porticoes entirely, instead planning the two-story house around courtyards. As published in Quattro libri, the house consisted of two back-to-back courtyards: one enclosed, for residential functions; the other, U-shaped, for farm use. Only a part of the first courtyard was built, but its colonnade is astonishing. “The columns are Ionic and made of unpolished stone,” Palladio wrote, “as seems appropriate here, since farms seem to require things which are rather plain and simple instead of refined.”11 The giant stone columns (Sarego owned a quarry), which Palladio had already used once before in the Antonini house in Udine, are composed of rusticated drums of different thicknesses, piled crudely one on top of the other. They look like stacks of huge stone doughnuts.
PALLADIO’S SKETCHES OF DETAILS FROM THE ARCH OF CONSTANTINE, LATE 1560S (RIBA, XVII/5 verso)
The Villa Sarego is Palladio at his most whimsical, but there are underlying consistencies in his work: ingenious planning that neatly combines rooms of predetermined proportions within simple rectangular buildings; inflexible biaxial symmetry of plan and elevation; the taut geometry of the façades; the fusion of everyday building materials and techniques with antique elements; and a sophisticated aesthetic playfulness. If there is one current that underlies Palladio’s sense of style, it is what one historian has called his penchant for “telling details.”12 Perhaps because he was trained as a stonemason, Palladio was particularly appreciative of the carved elements that adorned the exteriors—and interiors—of his otherwise rather plain villas. The pages of Quattro libri, and many surviving sheets of his drawings, are covered with minutely dimensioned cornices, friezes, moldings, and capitals. While the deployment of these details formed the basis of Palladio’s style, the manner of deployment varied greatly. Sometimes he re-created entire parts of ancient buildings, such as the Villa Barbaro temple front, sometimes he merely sketched in a molding or two. The quantity and intensity of detail varied from abundant to minimal, depending on the circumstances of the commission—the site, the functional program, the budget, and the client. The last was a particularly important consideration, for Palladio believed that houses should not only be functional, well-built, and beautiful, but that they should also express what he called convenienza, or suitability.
One must describe as suitable a house which will be appropriate to the status of the person who will have to live in it and of which the parts will correspond to the whole and to each other. But above all the architect must observe that . . . for great men and especially those in public office, houses with loggias and spacious, ornate halls will be required, so that those waiting to greet the master of the house or to ask him for some help or a favor can spend their time pleasantly in such spaces; similarly, smaller buildings of lesser expense and ornament will be appropriate for men of lower status. . . .13
Thus what might appear to be stylistic variety in his villas was really a conscious fitting of houses to their owners. “As far as possible one must (as I have said) pay particular attention to those who want to build,” Palladio wrote, “not so much for what they can afford as for the type of building that would suit them.”14 Bonifacio Poiana got a house with a soldierly bearing; the Foscari brothers got a sort of suburban palazzo; and Giorgio Cornaro got a house that would both glorify his ancestors and impress on his visitors that this second son was not taking second place. What would suit the Barbaro brothers? They clearly qualified as “great men in public office,” but they were also scholars and dilettantes. Daniele’s literary interests are reflected in the Latin maxims that surmount the windows of the front façade: OMNIA TUTI BONIS (All is safe for good people); HOSPES NON HOSPI (A guest not a stranger); NON SOLUM DOMINI (Not only for the master); and NIL TECTI SUB TECTO (Nothing hidden under this roof). The sayings convey a genial hospitality that is the classical equivalent of a “Welcome” doormat.
Convenienza was also affected by the particular nature of the Barbaro estate. At only one hundred acres (largely vineyards), it was considerably smaller than Pisani’s fourteen hundred acres at Bagnolo, by cinquecento standards a hobby farm. Maser was not, however, merely a temporary pastoral retreat. The house appears to have been the brothers’ permanent year-round home, at least as permanent as their demanding public careers allowed. Consequently, the Villa Barbaro is less countrified than most of Palladio’s villas. He incorporated elements from his urban projects: pedimented windows and sculpture niches from the Palazzo Civena; a balustraded balcony from the Palazzo da Porto; mascheroni from the Basilica; and bucrania from the Palazzo Chiericati.
Having now seen several Palladio villas, I’m more critical of the Villa Barbaro than I was on my first visit. It’s a beautiful house that responds eloquently to its bucolic setting, but it is occasionally awkward. The scribed pattern of the stonework lacks Palladio’s usual flair. The little balustraded balconies are uncharacteristically fussy. The arcaded wings have his usual robust proportions, but the central block is too delicate to hold its own; nor is the abrupt collision of house and arcades fully resolved. Similarly brusque is the relationship between the ornate temple front of the casa del padrone and the rather plain sides. Having the brothers looking over his shoulder—and probably contributing their own ideas—has slightly blurred Palladio’s normally penetrating eye.
SCULPTURES BY MARC’ANTONIO BARBARO ADORN PALLADIO’S RICH AND MANNERED ENTRANCE TO THE VILLA BARBARO.
• • •
A panorama of vineyards and fields spreads out below the villa. On the left, in the distance, is a large stone barn, on the right, some houses. The Villa Godi has a dramatic outlook, but that stolid house perched on its walled bastion is isolated from its setting; the Villa Barbaro embraces its surroundings: the formal garden, a gravel drive leading down to the fountain near the road, and beyond that a long, poplar-lined allée.
Originally, visitors from Venice arrived by the allée, pausing at the Neptune fountain, which is in the center of a sort of forecourt. Here, while watering their horses, they had their first full view of the villa. On the semicircular wall that defines the back of the court still stand the two statues that were the putative household gods of the Villa Barbaro: on the east side Saturn, the patron of agriculture, and on the west the goddess Fortuna with one foot atop a sphere indicating the uncertainty of fate. Progressing up the drive, visitors passed between additional pairs of Olympian deities, arriving at two lions, symbols of St. Mark and the Republic. Alighting from horseback, the travelers climbed several steps to a paved stone terrace where they were greeted by their welcoming hosts. The terrace is unusual, more than forty feet square, paved in pink and white marble, and bounded on two sides by long stone benches. The Barbaro brothers were enthusiastic patrons of the theater, and it is likely that this was originally a performance space, for which the façade of the house formed a classical backdrop.15
The crowd of visitors has thinned out, so I return to the entrance courtyard. An arched opening leads into one end of the arcaded wing. The tall space resembles a long porch and is derived from a traditional Trevigian farm building called a barchessa. Barchesse were long barns whose south-facing sides consisted of open arcades providing sunny, protected outdoor areas for unloading wagons and doing farmwork. The custom of combining country houses and barchesse was established early in the Trevigiana and can be seen in the nearby Villa Tiretta, built by an unknown architect in 1500.16 About forty years later, when Sanmicheli designed the Villa La Soranza at Treville, he adopted the same model of a residential block flanked by two
arcaded barchesse. La Soranza (now demolished) was a famous villa, “the most beautiful and the most commodious that had been built in those parts up to that time,” according to Vasari.17 Treville is only ten miles from Maser, and it is impossible that Palladio, who admired Sanmicheli, did not know about it.
The local pedigree of the Maser arcades is a reminder that Palladio, the famous reviver of the all’antica style, was also interested in regional traditions.18 But his barchesse were unusual. The Sanmicheli’s barchesse were barns, places to store animals and farm implements, but at the Villa Barbaro the arcaded wings were an integral part of the house. On the lower floors they contained kitchens, cellars, and service spaces, and on the upper, suites of rooms for the owners. The covered spaces of barchesse were traditionally for farm use, but Palladio specifically referred to the Maser arcades as “loggias,” and expected them to be used by the owners “for walking in, eating in, and other pastimes.”19 On the other hand, the fancy end pavilions contained mundane uses such as stables and rooms for pressing and storing wine, so the Maser arcades had a utilitarian side, too. Palladio was usually careful to articulate the functional elements of his villas, but such distinctions are somewhat obscured at Maser. It is likely that as he struggled to incorporate the demands of his clients and fit his design to the existing castello, he had to compromise.
The Perfect House: A Journey with Renaissance Master Andrea Palladio Page 13
