The understanding of a woman: Vittoria Colonna and Michelangelo's Christ and the Samaritan Woman

The understanding of a woman: Vittoria Colonnaand Michelangelo’s Christ and the

Samaritan Woman

Bernadine Barnes

In July of 1542 or 1543, Vittoria Colonna wrote to Michelangelo from theconvent of Santa Caterina in Viterbo. She excuses herself for not respondingto his last letter sooner, saying that if they wrote as often as they ought, neitherof them could fulfill their other obligations. She concludes by saying that shehopes that when she returns to Rome, she will find that Michelangelo has arenewed image of Christ in his soul, brought alive by true faith, just as theartist depicted him in ‘my woman of Samaria’ (‘. . . che io vi trovi al mioritorno con l’imagin sua si rinovata et per vera fede viva nel anima vostra,come ben l’avete dipinta nella mia Samaritana’).1

There is general agreement that what Colonna called ‘la mia Samaritana’corresponds to a lost design by Michelangelo, known best from engravings byNicolas Beatrizet (Fig. 1). Vasari names a Christ and the Samaritan woman asone of the drawings that Michelangelo made for Colonna, along with theCrucifixion and Pietà. However, unlike the latter two, no painting or drawing ofthe composition by Michelangelo’s hand survives.2 The one autographdrawing possibly related to it shows Christ and the woman in different posesand positioned close together without the tree or the detailed background.This drawing may be a later reworking of the theme; it was apparently nevermade into a finished piece.3 But the composition seen in the print must have

1 Vittoria Colonna, Carteggio, Ermanno Ferrero and Giuseppe Müller, 2nd edn. (Turin, 1892), CLVII,268–269. Also published in Giovanni Poggi, Paola Barocchi and Enzo Ristori (eds.), Carteggio di Michelangelo(Florence: Sansoni, 1965), Vol. 4, MXII, 169. On the date of the letter, see Sergio M. Pagano and ConcettaRanieri, Nuovi documenti su Vittoria Colonna e Reginald Pole (Vatican City: Archivio Vaticano, 1989), 96.

2 Giorgio Vasari, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori scultori e architettori, ed. Rosanna Bettarini, commentary by PaolaBarocchi (Florence: Sansoni, 1966), Vol. 6, 111–12. The Crucifixion is in the British Museum, while the Pietà isin the Isabella Stuart Gardner Museum, Boston. The scholarly literature on these drawings is vast. An accessibleintroduction to the drawings and their context is in Hugo Chapman, Michelangelo Drawings: Closer to the Master(New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2005), 249–57.

3 Noel Annesley and Michael Hirst, ‘Christ and the Woman of Samaria by Michelangelo’, Burlington Magazine,123 (1981), 608–14; the authors date the drawing to c. 1542. Paul Joannides dates the drawing to c. 1550; ‘IDisegni tardi di Michelangelo’ in Alessandro Rovetta (ed.), L’Ultimo Michelangelo (Milan: Silvana, 2011), 28. Seealso the discussion in Sylvia Ferino-Pagden, Vittoria Colonna: Dichterin und Muse Michelangelos (Vienna: Kunsthis-torisches Museum, 1997), 437–40. The drawing was sold at Sotheby’s in New York on 28 January 1998 to a

Renaissance Studies Vol. •• No. •• DOI: 10.1111/j.1477-4658.2012.00845.x

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been enormously popular, since Beatrizet’s engraving was reissued by at leastseven different publishers; in addition five copies by other printmakers areknown.4 The design also survives in several small paintings and in a fresco inthe Vatican.5

And yet, this composition has received much less attention thanMichelangelo’s other drawings for Vittoria Colonna. It is mentioned in stand-

private collector. In the auction catalogue entry (lot 102) there is added information that the watermark on thesheet is only found on two other Michelangelo drawings, both from the late 1550s.

4 The states and copies of Beatrizet’s engraving (B. 17) are listed in Silvia Bianchi, ‘Contributi per l’operaincisa di Nicolas Beatrizet’, Rassegna di Studi e di Notizie Castello Sforzesco Milano, 9 (1981), 72.

5 The most important copies are: Siena, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Inv. 535, see Georg W. Kamp, Marcello Venusti(Egelsbach: Verlag Hänsel-Hohenhausen, 1993), No. 32, 123–4 (reproduced here as Fig. 6); Liverpool, WalkerArt Gallery, Inv. 2789, see Paul Joannides, The Drawings of Michelangelo and his Followers in the Ashmolean Museum(Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 135–6; and Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum,Inv. 9868, see Ferino-Pagden, Vittoria Colonna, 440–43. Other copies are in the Hampton Court Palace Collec-tion, the Devonshire Collection in Chatsworth, and the Wilhelm Lehmbruck Museum, Duisberg. Inv. 4099/1994. The fresco by Daniele da Volterra is in the Stanza della Cleopatra; see Roberto Paolo Ciardi andBenedetta Moreschini, Daniele Ricciarelli. Da Volterra a Roma (Milan: Motta, 2004), 217.

Fig. 1 Nicolas Beatrizet, Christ and the Samaritan Woman after Michelangelo, c. 1546, engraving, 38.8 x 28.7 cm,London, British Museum (photo: ©Trustees of the British Museum)

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ard works on Michelangelo but without much discussion.6 A few recent cata-logues have given it more consideration, with Kristina Hermann-Fiore findingMichelangelo’s inspiration in a passage in Dante’s Purgatorio.7 This referenceis plausible since Michelangelo knew Dante’s work so well, but there isnothing in Dante’s description of the woman that explains the significance ofthe image or any of its more puzzling details. More recently, Vittoria Romaniand Monica Bianco discussed several of the copies, and Romani pointed outthat the three designs for Vittoria Colonna are related as expressions of solafide – salvation through faith alone.8 Ludwig Goldschneider also thought thethree works formed a series, representing justification through faith (theCrucifixion), justification through works (the Samaritan Woman), and ‘sacrificefor the sake of truth, or Salvation through the sacred blood’ (the Pietà).9

However, there is little reason to think that the three designs were con-ceived as a series by either Michelangelo or Vittoria Colonna. The Crucifixionand the Pietà drawings are usually dated 1539–40, while Christ and the SamaritanWoman is dated 1542–43 on the basis of Colonna’s letter. More significantlythe compositions are visually quite different. The Crucifixion and the Pietà forColonna are iconic, meditative images focused on the Passion of Christ, andso they parallel the focus on faith in Christ’s sacrifice as the means of justifi-cation that was so important to Colonna and the other spirituali in her circle.Christ and the Samaritan Woman, on the other hand, is a narrative composition,illustrating a moment from Christ’s ministry. Michelangelo’s Crucifixion andPietà were made as gifts freely given, in a gesture paralleling Christ’s own giftof grace.10 Michelangelo’s Christ and the Samaritan Woman, in its subject matterand form, suggests another moment in the spiritual life of a believer: thatgrace, once received, must be revealed to others. This movement from privaterevelation to proselytizing runs parallel to the development of the spirituali.First centred on small aristocratic groups gathered to discuss matters of faith,the Catholic reform movement became more public – and encountered moreresistance – in the 1540s.11 The theme of the Samaritan woman is particularly

6 Henry Thode, Michelangelo: Kritische Untersuchungen über seine Werke (Berlin: G. Grote, 1908) Vol. 2, 464;Charles de Tolnay, Michelangelo (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971), Vol. 5, 64–5. Similarly, the recentresearch of Maria Forcellino concentrates on the Crucifixion and Pietà with only a brief mention (64) of theSamaritan woman design, although she adds significant information about the religious context for these works;Michelangelo, Vittoria Colonna e gli ‘spirituali’: Religiosità e vita artistica a Roma negli anni Quaranta (Rome: Viella,2009).

7 Kristina Hermann-Fiore, ‘Disegni di Michelangelo in omaggio a Vittoria Colonna e trace del poema diDante’, in Corrado Gizzi (ed.), Michelangelo e Dante (Milan: Electa, 1995), 107.

8 Monica Bianco and Vittoria Romani in Pina Ragionieri (ed.), Vittoria Colonna e Michelangelo (Florence:Mandragora, 2005), 152–4, and 162–5.

9 Ludwig Goldscheider, Michelangelo Drawings (New York: Phaidon Press, 1966), 20–21.10 See Alexander Nagel, Michelangelo and the Reform of Art (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000),

169–87.11 Elizabeth Gleason’s review article, ‘On the Nature of Sixteenth-Century Evangelism,’ The Sixteenth Century

Journal, 9 (1978), 3–26 provides a useful critique of earlier scholarship on Italian reform movements. Thepublications of Massimo Firpo (e.g. Inquisizione romana e Controriforma. Studi sul Cardinal Giovanni Morone e il suoprocesso d’eresia, Bologna: Il Mulino, 1992) and Paolo Simoncelli (Evangelismo italiano del cinquecento, Rome:

Michelangelo’s Christ and the Samaritan Woman 3

suited to this moment, and, as I shall argue, Vittoria Colonna herself musthave reflected on how the Samaritan woman could serve as a model for herselfand other women who might now take a more active role in spreading reformideas. The design probably evolved in a dialogue between Colonna andMichelangelo, since it includes significant variations from the visual traditionthat parallel ideas found in other works written by Colonna. These ideas inturn correspond with those expressed by Colonna’s friend and adviser, Ber-nardino Ochino, whose recent activities may have spurred Colonna’s interestin the subject. Furthermore, the minor differences seen in the copies mayreflect continued dialogue between Colonna and members of her circle.Dialogue then is evoked not only in the subject matter, but also in the designprocess and its dissemination.

The story of the Samaritan woman is told in the fourth chapter of the gospelof John. Jesus, weary from his journey from Judea to Galilee, stops to restbeside a well – the very well from which Jacob had drawn water centuriesbefore. A woman of the town comes to draw water, and Jesus asks her for adrink, but she hesitates because she sees he is a Jew; by law Jews and Samari-tans could not share food or drink. Jesus tells her that if she knew who he was,she would have asked him for his living water. To this she asks how he couldoffer her water since he has no bucket. Jesus, of course, is offering spiritualwater that will give eternal life. She then asks for this miraculous water, butJesus asks her to get her husband and return to the well. When she replies thatshe has no husband, Christ reveals that he knows she has been married fivetimes in the past and is now living with another man to whom she is notmarried. Impressed, she believes he is a prophet and she asks where oneshould worship. He replies, ‘Woman, believe me, the hour is coming whenyou will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. . . .God is spirit and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.’ Shethen acknowledges that he is the Messiah, and she goes back to her town to tellthe Samaritan people what she has learned. She seems hesitant in telling them(‘He cannot be the Messiah, can he?’), and they are similarly doubtful, butthey go out from the city to listen to Christ and so come to believe in histeaching. They say to the woman, ‘It is no longer because of what you said thatwe believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly theSavior of the world.’

The scriptural source is richly detailed, and in the earliest years of theChurch, the story elicited a variety of responses. The woman’s promiscuity wasof concern to all, and some writers explain the husbands as allegories of thesenses or the books of the Old Testament. Still almost all patristic writers

Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1979) are especially important, although more recent scholarship has addednuance to their arguments. See Paul V. Murphy, ‘Between Spirituali and Intransigenti: Cardinal Ercole Gonzagaand Patrician Reform in Sixteenth-Century Italy,’ The Catholic Historical Review, 88 (2002), 446–69; and JohnJeffries Martin, ‘Renovatio and Reform in Early Modern Italy’, in Ronald K. Delph, Michelle M. Fontaine andJohn Jeffries Martin (eds.), Heresy, Culture, and Religion in Early Modern Italy (Kirksville MO: Truman StateUniversity Press, 2006), 1–18.

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praised the woman’s evangelism. John Chrysostom, for example, tempered hiscondemnation of her sexuality with praise for her eagerness to hear the wordsof Christ, saying that she was ‘wiser than Nicodemus’ and acted like an apostleby preaching the gospel to the people of her city and bringing them toChrist.12 Medieval writers continued to see her in a positive light, and theEastern Orthodox Church considers her a saint.

The visual tradition, however, tends to simplify the story and focuses almostexclusively on the woman and Christ.13 In most early examples, there are signsof the woman’s lower status (Christ is usually slightly larger in scale and setabove her, even though he is sitting), but she is usually modestly clothed. Stillher moral character was underscored by representations of the disciples, whoobserved Christ and the woman talking when they returned from town wherethey had gone to get food (John 4:27). Two examples demonstrate thistendency. Around 1310, Duccio painted the theme on the predella of theMaestà (Fig. 2). Four disciples look out from the gate of the city and see thetwo in conversation; their reactions show confusion and perhaps consterna-tion at seeing this ‘unseemly’ encounter. Another example from the secondhalf of the fifteenth century, a terracotta high relief sculpture attributed toBenedetto da Maiano, shows the disciples reacting even more dramatically.14

Although these examples still focus on the woman and Christ, the insertion ofthe disciples shifts the meaning to the propriety of her speaking with him.

However, there is one intriguing example from around 1500 that empha-sizes, through context, a different point. Filippino Lippi’s panel showingChrist and the woman of Samaria was commissioned along with a matchingpanel depicting the scene in which Mary Magdalene encounters Christ afterhis death, the ‘Noli me tangere’ (John 20:14–18). The panels were commis-sioned to flank a Flemish painting of the Sudarium, which had been acquiredby Francesco del Pugliese. The triptych was meant to go in a small chapel onhis estate; its size (about 55 cm tall) confirms it was meant to be used in privatedevotion (Fig. 3).15 The unifying theme of Christ revealing himself to womenhas been tied convincingly to the teachings of Savonarola, who espoused theimportance of such direct, personal encounters with God. Pugliese was a

12 The early commentaries are discussed in Janeth Norfleete Day, The Woman at the Well: Interpretation of John4:1–42 in Retrospect and Prospect (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 13–18. John Chrysostom, ‘Homilies on the Gospel of St.John’, in A Select library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, first series, Vol. 14, ed. Philip Schaff (Grand Rapids:Eerdmans, 1956), 112, 114.

13 Gertrud Schiller, Iconography of Christian Art (London: Lund Humphries, 1971), Vol. 1, 159–60; Louis Réau,Iconographie de l’art chrétien, (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1955–1959), Vol. 2, Part 3, 322–3; and Day,Woman at the Well, 43–120. For the tradition in northern Europe during the sixteenth century, see Donald A.McColl, ‘Christ and the Woman of Samaria: Studies in Art and Piety in the Age of the Reformation’ (Ph.D. diss.University of Virginia, 1996).

14 Katalog der ausländischen Bildwerke des Museums der Bildenden Künste in Budapest: IV. – XVIII. Jahrhundert(Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1975), cat. no. 71.

15 The scholarship on this triptych is summarized in the recent catalogue entry by Jonathan Nelson inBotticelli and Filippino: Passion and Grace in Fifteenth-Century Florentine Painting (Milan: Skira Editore, 2004), 282–5.


passionate follower of Savonarola, and his wife, Alessandra Bonsi, may haveowned a collection of Savonarola’s sermons including one on the Samaritanwoman.16

It is not very likely that Michelangelo knew this triptych – there are fewvisual similarities – but the parallel between the Magdalene’s and the Samari-tan woman’s direct encounters with Jesus might have inspired Colonna torequest an image of the Samaritan woman from Michelangelo. Indeed, inconceiving the Samaritan woman composition, Michelangelo reworked hisown composition for a Noli me tangere, which he made for Vittoria Colonna

16 Jill Burke, Changing Patrons: Social Identity and the Visual Arts in Renaissance Florence (University Park PA:Pennsylvania State University Press, 2004), 177–81 and 253, note 93.

Fig. 2 Duccio, Christ and the Samaritan Woman, from the Maestà, 1310–1311, tempera and gold on panel, 43.5x 46 cm, Madrid, Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza (photo: Scala/Art Resource, NY)

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about ten years earlier.17 Michelangelo only made the cartoon, which is lost,but paintings made from it by Pontormo and other artists survive (Fig. 4). Theresemblance between Michelangelo’s Noli me tangere and his Samaritan womancomposition has been noted before, with one scholar suggesting that theSamaritan woman design was meant to be a pendant for the Noli me tangere.18

This was probably not the case, since the copies of the Samaritan womandesign are consistently small-scale works suited for the kind of private medi-tation that is suggested in Colonna’s letter.19

I would suggest instead that the painting of the Magdalene’s encounter withChrist formed a starting point in the evolution of Michelangelo’s ideas for the

17 Philippe Costamagna, Pontormo (Milan: Electa, 1994), 215–17; and Michael Hirst and Gudula Mayr,‘Michelangelo, Pontormo und das Noli me Tangere für Vittoria Colonna’, in Ferino-Pagden, Vittoria Colonna,335–44. The commission very probably originated with Colonna herself; see Marjorie Och, ‘Vittoria Colonnaand a Commission for a Mary Magdalene by Titian’, in Sheryl E. Reiss and David G. Wilkins (eds.), Beyond Isabella:Secular Women Patrons of Art in Sixteenth-Century Italy (Kirksville MO: Truman State University Press, 2001),193–223.

18 Costamagna, Pontormo, 217.19 The copies of the Samaritan Woman design range from 36 cm to 77.7 cm tall; the smallest version of Noli

me tangere, in contrast, is 125 cm tall; the largest is 175 cm tall.

Fig. 3 Triptych, side panels by Filippino Lippi, Christ and the Samaritan Woman (left) and Noli me tangere (right),central panel attributed to the St Veronica Master, oil on panel, 56 cm x 92 cm (overall), c. 1490 Venice,Seminario Patriarcale (photo: Cameraphoto Arte Venezia/ The Bridgeman Art Library)


Samaritan and that his ideas changed as his dialogue with Colonna continued.The similarities between the compositions are most obvious in the poses of thewomen, both of whom step forward toward Christ, their upper bodies leaningforward. But in a number of details, the two women are subtly differentiated:the Samaritan woman’s clothing is somewhat more ornate, perhaps a sign ofher belonging to a different ethnicity and faith than Mary Magdalene andChrist.20 The Magdalene steps forward with her right leg and her upper bodyfaces the viewer, while the Samaritan woman’s breasts are turned away fromthe viewer; this may be a way to minimize the Samaritan woman’s wantonsexuality which other commentators found so central to her story. The posi-tions of both women’s arms are also varied in a meaningful way: both mirrorChrist’s gesture – the Magdalene’s startled response seems to echo Christ’sgesture which wards her off, while the Samaritan’s finger points, like Christ’s,

20 Another work that makes this point through an even more striking visual contrast is Garofalo’s painting ofthe Samaritan woman in the Hermitage; see Tatiana Kustodieva and Mauro Lucco (eds.), Garofalo, Pittore dellFerrara Estense (Milan: Skira, 2008), cat. 57. The woman is dressed in an extremely elaborate (and sexuallyprovocative) manner, in contrast to Christ’s more humble appearance.

Fig. 4 Jacopo Pontormo, Noli me tangere after Michelangelo, c. 1532, panel, 169 x 139 cm, Florence, CasaBuonarroti (photo: Scala/ Art Resource NY)

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into the well. In the Noli me tangere, Christ resists the advances of the woman;in the scene with the Samaritan woman he gently touches his breast with onehand as if drawing her toward him. Each variation seems to be a thoughtfulconsideration of how the Samaritan woman differs from the Magdalene, whileyet receiving the gift of Christ’s word.

The importance that Colonna gave to both the Samaritan woman and theMagdalene is also seen in her Pianto della Marchesa di Pescara sopra la passione diChristo, which was first published in 1556, although it was written between 1539and 1541.21 This meditation is most often called upon to show how Colonnamight have responded to the Crucifixion and Pietà.22 It is an intense, personalvisualization of the Crucifixion, full of emotion and written in vivid language.In most of the text Colonna speaks as if for the Virgin, imagining her sufferingas she goes over the tortured human form of her son, even as she acknowl-edges that his death was for the benefit of all humanity. She speaks in her ownvoice, however, when she wonders why so many good people who had encoun-ters with Christ in his lifetime were not present at the Crucifixion to receive hisgrace. She gives special praise to Mary Magdalene, one of the few followers ofChrist who were there, and in contrast she gives a long list of those whoabandoned Christ, including four apostles, the publican, the man born blind,and the Samaritan woman. Colonna writes, ‘Why does the Samaritan womannot come to drink anew at the fountain of life? Why does she not now lead allof her Samaria, if she truly recognised Him?’23 While these questions mayseem to show Colonna’s criticism of the woman from Samaria, they can also beread as expressions of intense longing for both of these great female leadersto appear together to witness Christ’s death. This is surely an example ofColonna thinking through the implications of events described in scripture assuggested by her personal reading.

In one of her sonnets, Colonna writes about the Samaritan woman in adecidedly positive way, addressing her as a ‘happy woman’. This sonnet –which has been noticed by few scholars – is not dated, and it does not appearin any of the early editions of Colonna’s work.24 We do not know if it waswritten before or after Michelangelo made his design. Nevertheless it is worthexamining both image and text together.

21 Archivio Segreto Vaticano Misc. Arm. II, Vol. 79, fols. 229r–234r. See Simoncelli, Evangelismo italiano,209–25. An English translation is in Susan Haskins (ed. and trans.), Who is Mary? Three Early Modern Women onthe Idea of the Virgin Mary (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008), 53–65.

22 See especially, Emidio Campi, Michelangelo e Vittoria Colonna: Un dialogo artistico-teologico ispirato da Ber-nardino Ochino (Turin: Claudiana, 1994), 49–54.

23 ‘Como non viene la Samaritana a ber di nuovo al fonte de la vita, perché non conduce adesso tuttal la suaSamaria el cognobbe.’ Transcribed in Simoncelli, Evangelismo, 425; Haskins, Who is Mary? 59.

24 Vittoria Colonna, Rime, ed. Alan Bullock (Rome: Gius. Laterza e Figli, 1982), S2: 29, 241–2; BibliotecaAngelica, Rome (Cod. 2051 I. Rime Antiche). Among those who have considered this sonnet in relation to thisimage is Ferino-Pagden, Vittoria Colonna, 440.


Felice donna, a cui disse sul fonteColui, che d’ogni vero è il proprio mare,che in spirito e verità deveasi orare,e non piú al tempo antico o al sacro monte,

ma con sincera fede ed umil fronte,or con lacrime dolci, or con amare,far al gran Padre, a cui son sempre chiare,l’interne voglie in bel silenzio conte.

Ma alor fu sazio il tuo desire ardentequando ti aperse I vivi accesi raggidel Sol ch’avea a infiammar Sammaria e’l mondo;

onde in fretta n’andasti a quei piú saggiche venisser col cor, l’alma e la mentead onorar il dí festo e giocondo.

[O happy woman, he who is the sea of truth itself spoke to you at the font.It is to him that you must pray in spirit and in truth,No longer at the ancient temple or on the holy mountain,

But with sincere faith and humble bearing,Now with sweet tears, now with bitter ones,In blessed silence, bring your inner wishesTo the great father, to whom they are always clear.

But then your ardent desire was satedWhen he opened to you the living burning raysOf the sun that had enflamed Samaria and the world;

When you hurried to those more wiseThat they should come with heart, soul and mindTo honour the day celebrating and laughing.]25

In the sonnet, the woman is described as ardently moving toward Christ, butColonna does not emphasize her boldness in speaking with him. She also saysthat he already knows her innermost thoughts, but she does not suggest thatChrist is specifically thinking of her scandalous past. Rather than showingarrogance or shame, the woman as Colonna describes her is happy, sincere,and humble. The tears she sheds are not explained by remorse for her sins.They seem instead to be an outpouring of her overwhelming emotion; in aPetrarchan conceit, her tears are described as being both sweet and bitter. Inits first verse, the sonnet reveals a close reading of the Bible, with a reference

25 My translation is adapted from those by Roland H. Bainton, in Women of the Reformation in Germany and Italy(Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1971), 210; and Ellen Moody, ‘Amaro Lagrimar: The Poems ofVittoria Colonna’, http://www.jimandellen.org/vcsonnets/vcsonnet342.html, updated 6 January 2003.

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to a new mode of worship, not ‘on holy mountains’ or in ‘ancient temples’.The third line of the first stanza draws directly from John 4:24: ‘But the hourcometh, and now is, when the true adorers shall adore the Father in spirit andin truth.’ However in the context of the reform movements of the time, thisstatement can be seen as a call to worship in a more direct and personal way,without being bound to the traditional sites and ritual practices of the Church.Colonna and the other spirituali embraced this idea through their practice ofreading and discussing religious ideas in private gatherings.26 In the thirdverse of the sonnet, Colonna shifts the metaphor of grace from water tosunshine. Christ is able to quench her ardent desire by his burning rays, likethose of the sun that ‘enflame’ Samaria and the world. Imagining Christ as thesun, and grace as light allowed Colonna to better envision the spread of faiththat engulfed the woman as well as the others in the city and beyond. Similarmetaphors are found in other sonnets by Colonna, and may be traced back tothe ideas of Juan de Valdés who compared the light of the sun to the illumi-nation of the Holy Spirit.27 Finally in the last verse, the woman hurries to tell‘those more wise’ about Christ, so that they too can come to Christ joyfully.

In this sonnet, and even in the Pianto, Colonna emphasizes an aspect ofthe woman’s story that is not given prominence by many of her contempo-raries: her leadership in bringing the other people of Samaria to Christ.Protestant reformers like John Calvin focused more on the woman’s resist-ance, and the fact that she needed to be chastened by Christ’s rebuke abouther husbands before she was ready to listen to his teaching.28 Martin Luther,on the other hand, saw her challenging remarks to Christ not as an indicatorof female brashness, but as a sign of the misguided beliefs of the Samaritanpeople who valued the words of ‘the fathers’ more than the word of Christ.29

But for Colonna, the Samaritan woman, above all else, was a woman who toldothers about Christ. In this too she may have been thinking of her as avariation of Mary Magdalene, who is presented in other sonnets as a passion-ate devotee who was first to tell the apostles about Christ’s resurrection.30

The Samaritan woman on the other hand, listens to Christ and silentlyponders his words, but then actively spreads Christ’s message so that othersmay joyfully come to him.

Turning to the design that Michelangelo made for Colonna, there are someobvious parallels to the ‘Felice donna’ sonnet, but because only copies survive,the question of which details are part of the original design and which are

26 Abigail Brundin, Vittoria Colonna and the Spiritual Poetics of the Italian Reformation, (Aldershot: Ashgate,2008), 44.

27 Brundin, Spiritual Poetics, 43.28 John Calvin, The Gospel According to St John 1–10, trans. T. H. L. Parker (Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1959),

94. See also Craig S. Farmer, ‘Changing Images of the Samaritan Woman in Early Reformed Commentaries onJohn’, Church History, 65 (1996), 365–75; and Day, Woman at the Well, 20–24.

29 Martin Luther, ‘Sermons on the Gospel of St John, Chapter 1–4’, in Jaroslav Pelikan (ed.), Luther’s Works,Vol. 22 (St Louis MO: Concordia, 1957), 522–5. Both Luther and Calvin compared the Samaritans to ‘papists’.Calvin, Gospel According to S. John, 95–7.

30 Colonna, Rime, S1: 121.


later additions needs to be addressed. All the copies of Michelangelo’s designshow the woman and Christ in the same poses, with only minor variations.They also include the rectangular well and the tree with a dead branch overChrist’s head and, opposite it, another cut branch from which hangs thepulley wheel. This central group was surely part of the original design, and Iwill use Beatrizet’s print as an illustration of it (Fig. 1). In Michelangelo’scomposition, there is an avoidance of any sexual innuendo and the woman’spose is respectful, but not submissive; she seems to bow slightly but is not setbelow Christ. There is a kind of meeting of minds, and her gesture eloquentlyreflects a true response to his as their fingers align above the well.

The enormous tree that seems to divide the Samaritan woman fromChrist is the most unusual element in this image. It is not directly describedin Colonna’s sonnet. It might seem to be a natural part of the story – theshade of the tree, like the well itself, offers respite to the weary traveller. Butin this composition, the central placement of the tree suggests a more sym-bolic meaning. Other religious images include such trees as indicators divid-ing correct and incorrect ways of being (an example is Lucas Cranach theElder’s Allegory of Law and Grace from 1530). A similar tree dividing a com-position is found in Michelangelo’s own work on the Sistine ceiling, TheTemptation and Expulsion of Adam and Eve (Fig. 5). There the tree of knowl-edge separates the two halves of the scene; it is in leaf only on the sideshowing Adam and Eve before the Fall. The tree in the Samaritan womanimage, however, is not dead on one side. Rather, it flourishes above the twodead branches – the one sawn off by human hands, the other dead butpointing to a hill in the background upon which stands a simple building.

Fig. 5 Michelangelo, The Temptation and Fall of Adam and Eve, from the Sistine Chapel Ceiling, 1508–12, fresco,Vatican City (photo: Vatican Museums and Galleries/ The Bridgeman Art Library)

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Both side branches lack life, but the tree thrives because of what is in thecentre, the spiritual water offered by Christ whose right hand lies on thecentre line above the well.

In the copies, the landscape is configured as two hills with a walled city onthe hill behind the woman. This is surely meant to be the town called Sycharin the Bible, although St Jerome had already realized that this was a mistakefor Shechem, the town near Jacob’s well.31 This seemingly simple error isimportant because Shechem is a location with a rich history. It is mentionedin several places in the Old Testament, including Joshua 24:32 where it is saidto be the site of Jacob’s tomb, while in the Acts of the Apostles it is named asthe location of Abraham’s tomb.32 The first reference to Shechem in Scriptureoccurs in Genesis 12:6–8. This passage records how Abram travelled south-wards through Canaan until he reached the great tree of Moreh at Shechemin the centre of the land, perhaps the very tree seen in Michelangelo’s image.The corrected identification of Shechem was widely known in the Renaissanceand sometimes the references to these very texts were provided in the marginsof Bibles, including the Bible translated into the vernacular by Antonio Bru-cioli.33 Other representations of Christ and the Samaritan woman show littleconcern for biblical topography and give no importance to a tree. But if theimage Michelangelo designed for Colonna is the result of discussions basedon careful reading of Scripture, these details assume greater importance.

Identifying the city as Shechem also gives a clue to the meaning of thelandscape on the opposite side behind Christ. Here, the hill is more barrenwith a small structure at the top that is repeated in most of the copies. I believethe area on the right side may be identified with the sacred burial place nearShechem and the structure at the top of the hill with a patriarch’s tomb,perhaps Abraham’s.34 The painted copy in Siena (Fig. 6) makes clear that thisis an area with other tombs, some in ruinous condition suggesting they are ofgreat age. It is of some interest that the letter in which St Jerome corrects thename of the town contains a vivid description of his student Paula’s visit to theHoly Land where she wanders among the sacred burial places near Shechem.In the Samaritan woman image, the ancient burial place might suggest the olddispensation of the Jewish people that was replaced by the gospel of Christ,with the withered branch indicating a belief system that was once alive but is

31 St Jerome, Letter CVIII, ‘To Eustochium,’ Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 2nd series (New York: ChristianLiterature Publishing Co, 1893), Vol. 6, 201. On the archeology of Shechem, see G. Ernest Wright, Shechem: TheBiography of a Biblical City (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1965).

32 Other references are in Genesis 33:18–19 and 48: 22.33 See Calvin, Gospel According to St John, 88–9, where he says this identification is common knowledge.

Antonio Brucioli’s Italian translation of the Bible published in Lyons in 1558 notes all three references; earliereditions list one or more.

34 I know of only one other explanation for this structure: Hermann-Fiore, ‘Disegni’, 109, calls it a sanctuarybut does not elaborate. The painted copy in Vienna has a more agrarian scene in the background. The smallbuilding seems to be a farmhouse enclosed by a fence, and there are other outbuildings, fences, and grainfields. It is a conceptual opposite to the city on the other hill, but does not have a strong connection to the OldTestament, nor the three-part structure indicated by the tree.


no longer viable. St Jerome’s letters were published in the Renaissance, andthe great care that he gave to his female followers made his writings particu-larly interesting to nuns and widows.35 This source might have had particularresonance with Colonna and other women in her circle. However, othercopies, like Beatrizet’s prints, show only the hill with its small building (some-times another tree is next to it). The visual message of opposition – withoutthe precise biblical references – is still strong, although the opposition mightbe interpreted only as a way of contrasting the complex rituals of the Samari-tans with the simpler mode of worship that Christ espoused.36

35 See Mary Vaccaro, ‘Dutiful Widow: Female Patronage and Two Marian Altarpieces by Parmigianino’, inBeyond Isabella, 183 and the notes on 190–92.

36 Savonarola’s sermon on the Samaritan woman, mentioned above in reference to Filippino Lippi’s paint-ing, is of interest in this regard. Savonarola uses the text in the gospel of John as a starting point and expands

Fig. 6 Attributed to Marcello Venusti, Christ and the Samaritan Woman after Michelangelo, c. 1550, oil on panel,45 x 29.5 cm, Siena, Pinacoteca Nazionale

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The Samaritan city, on the other hand, is a worldly place, with magnificentdomed buildings and obelisks. Visually it stands in sharp contrast to thebarren scene on the other side. The triadic relationship between the pagan,Old Testament, and Christian eras is well established in religious writings andart, and in this case, the city surely represents the ‘pagan’ world, here definedas non-Jewish rather than classical. Indeed, just this division is described in thebiblical text when the Samaritan woman asks Christ if she should worship onthis mountain (a reference to Mount Gerizim sacred to the Samaritans) or inJerusalem, but Jesus replies: ‘. . . You will worship the Father neither on thismountain nor in Jerusalem’ ( John 4:20–21). In Michelangelo’s image, thebranch that points toward this worldly city is cut by human hands, and itsupports a human device for drawing the water (the pulley wheel), while therope that would make it possible to draw the earthly water is held by theSamaritan woman.

Even more interesting are the small figures in the background. In Beat-rizet’s print (Fig. 7) and in the panel paintings in Siena (Fig. 6) and Vienna,many distant figures are seen coming down from the city, including at leastone who raises an arm to point in the direction of the well. Such figures arenot found in earlier representations of the theme. When any people otherthan Christ and the woman are shown, they are clearly meant to be thedisciples who went to get food; usually there are only three or four men. InBeatrizet’s print, however, eight figures are shown, and none hold food. Thefigures are too far away to think of them as registering disapproval; they mustinstead represent the people who came down from the city after the womantold them about Christ. The copy in Vienna, indeed, seems to show thewoman herself talking to some of the men. Although there are variationsbetween the individual figures in the different copies, it seems very likely thatthey all record an idea that was significant to Vittoria Colonna and others inher circle.

But such figures are not common in the visual tradition and their presencemust have been puzzling to later viewers. There are two plates illustrating thestory of the Samaritan woman in the Evangelicae historiae imagines, the series ofengravings made to accompany Jerome Nadal’s Annotations and Meditations onthe Gospels (Figs. 8 and 9).37 While it is likely that these engravings were

the imagery. The spiritual water Christ offers becomes a golden river that causes a great garden to grow. He alsoexpands on the idea of opposition between the ways in which Samaritans worshipped and the simpler experi-ence of Christ’s words. Although I cannot at this time confirm that Colonna or one of her close associates owneda copy of the sermon, there are distinctive similarities between Savonarola’s recorded words and those inColonna’s poem, particularly in that Savonarola, like Colonna, addresses the woman as ‘felice don[n]a’ andSavonarola marvels that Christ should talk to her so ‘domestically’ (‘domesticamente’). Savonarola’s ideas,particularly his call for a direct emotional response to the Christ’s teachings, parallel those of the spirituali.Savonarola, Prediche . . . sopra Amos Propheta (Venice, 1528), Sermon for the Friday after the third Sunday ofLent, CXVIr-CXXv. The reference to ‘felice dona’ is on CXVIIIr.

37 See Walter S. Melion, ‘The Art of Vision in Jerome Nadal’s Adnotationes et meditations in Evangelia’, inJerome Nadal, S.J., Annotations and Meditations on the Gospels, trans. Frederick A. Homann, S.J. (Philadelphia:Saint Joseph’s University Press, 2003), Vol. 1, 1–96.


inspired by Beatrizet’s prints, which were in wide circulation at that time, thewoman shown in the second plate is not speaking to the crowds, but ratherleading them herself down to Christ. This change may seem to be a slightmisunderstanding, but it points to a significant difference in the way VittoriaColonna thought about the Samaritan woman and, indeed, how she saw herown role in spreading ideas about faith.

In her poetry and letters, Colonna often presents a select group of holywomen as models for women’s lives.38 These women include the Virgin Mary,St Catherine of Alexandria, and Mary Magdalene. In her poetic descriptionof the Samaritan woman and her presumed suggestions to Michelangelo, shewas probably also creating an image of the Samaritan woman that she andother women could emulate. The Samaritan woman is not a saint and inmany ways is an unlikely model of female behaviour, being neither chastenor silent. And yet, in the context of evangelical reform, she is a model inextremely important ways. First, she did nothing to solicit Christ’s attentionor his offer of the living water, which could be seen as an expression of solafide. She learns directly from the words of Jesus, perhaps reflecting indi-vidual, direct reading of scripture. She does not make the pretence of con-fessing her sins, and yet she receives Christ’s grace. Perhaps most importantlyshe recognizes him as the Messiah and then tells others who similarly cometo recognize Christ.

38 Brundin, Spiritual Poetics, 146–54; Sara M. Adler, ‘Strong Mothers, Strong Daughters: The Representationof Female Identity in Vittoria Colonna’s Rime and Carteggio’, Italica, 77 (2000), 314–18.

Fig. 7 Detail showing upper left corner of Fig. 1

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How a woman should spread the word of Christ is a theme in Colonna’sletters and poetry. In her letters of advice to her cousin, Costanza d’Avalos,Colonna compares St Catherine of Alexandria to Mary Magdalene on exactlythis point.39 Catherine uses her profound intellect to reason with her captors;Mary Magdalene, because of her ardent love, is given the role of ‘the apostleof the apostles’ so that she could convey the news of Christ’s resurrection tothe other apostles. The Samaritan woman, I would argue, is presented in thepoem ‘Felice donna’ and in the image designed by Michelangelo, as a woman

39 Colonna, Carteggio, CLXX, 299–302. See Adler, ‘Strong Mothers’, 315–16. See also Colonna, Rime, ed.Bullock, S1: 79 where St Catherine is praised for leading others to Christ. Similarly, in Colonna’s letters, theVirgin Mary is said to be a teacher and a leader; see Brundin, Spiritual Poetics, 151.

Fig. 8 Hieronymus Wiericx, Christ and the Samaritan Woman at the Well, from Jerome Nadal, Adnotationes etMeditationes in Evangelia . . . (Antwerp, 1607 edition), Plate 35, engraving, 23.2 x 14.7 cm (photo: St JosephUniversity Press)


who can be instrumental in spreading the faith, not through her own learn-ing, but by displaying her faith to those ‘more wise’. I do not want to suggestthat Vittoria Colonna was disparaging her own intelligence, but I do think thatshe may have been drawing a distinction between those who professed theirfaith through complex theological arguments, and those who had a moreintuitive understanding of matters of faith. In her spiritual poetry Colonnafrequently says she has a weak understanding, or that she cannot comprehendfully.40 For example, in one of her sonnets which was included in the giftmanuscript that she gave to Michelangelo in 1540, she says ‘Weak and infirm

40 Colonna, Rime, S1: 3 and S1: 57.

Fig. 9 Antoon Wiericx, The Woman Tells the Samaritan People about Christ, from Jerome Nadal, Adnotationes etMeditationes in Evangelia . . . (Antwerp, 1607 edition), Plate 36, engraving, 23.2 x 14.7 cm (photo: St JosephUniversity Press)

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I run towards true salvation and blindly I call out to the sun. . . .’41 In othersonnets, she claims humility is God’s most preferred virtue and that humilityallows her to think about ‘invisible things’ and to ‘untie and break the hardknots that bind my tongue so I may honour him’.42 In yet another, she says hermind is confused, and yet ‘. . . among such doubts a bold and sincere faith asksfor sustenance from my soul and then pushes on towards the bright clarity ofthat sun’.43

This humble belief that a person can have true faith, even without fullyunderstanding theology is also reflected in the writings of Bernardino Ochino,who similarly made use of the Samaritan woman as an exemplar. Colonna wasparticularly close to him in the years around 1542. In his sermons and dia-logues, the Samaritan woman is repeatedly called upon as an example of a typeof believer who believes in spite of a lack of understanding, that is, with a beliefthat is pure and not based on an intellectual grasp of theology. Indeed,Ochino’s own preaching style emphasized directness, clarity, and passion, allqualities that helped him appeal to a wide range of listeners; this approachbecame a hallmark of preaching within the Capuchin order, which Ochinohelped found with Colonna’s support.44 In his dialogues, his interlocutor isoften a woman who asks simple questions, allowing him to expound on his ownideas in response. Ochino often makes the point that faith in Christ’s love doesnot require great learning; that Christ himself showed his love through hisactions and conversations with ordinary people. For example, in his ‘Dialogueabout How to Grow to Love God’ (published in 1540, but probably writtenearlier) he says, ‘. . . through Christ, a simple Christian can obtain an under-standing of God and his perfection a thousand times better than that which allthe philosophers and sages of this world can obtain through creation.’45 Inanother dialogue from this early period, Ochino uses the good thief as anexample of a person ‘who had not read or seen the Scriptures and who knewnothing about signs or miracles’ but who was ‘as disposed as his own frailtyallowed’ to receive the divine grace, and so was saved.46

A direct statement on the Samaritan woman is found in his sermonpreached on Easter Monday in Venice probably in 1539 or 1540; it was

41 Ibid., S1:52; ‘Debile e ‘nferma a la salute vera/ Ricorro, e cieca il sol cui solo adoro/ Invoco, . . .’.Translation by Abigail Brundin in Sonnets for Michelangelo: A Bilingual Edition (Chicago: University of ChicagoPress, 2005), 73.

42 Colonna, Rime, S1: 3 (‘parlar de l’invisibil cose’; ‘. . . sciolga e spezzi I duri nodi/ A la mia lingua, onde glirenda onore’.). Translation by Brundin in Sonnets for Michelangelo, 103. See also S1: 134, transcribed andtranslated in Brundin, ibid., 74–5.

43 Colonna, Rime, S1: 20; translated in Brundin, Sonnets for Michelangelo, 103. ‘Ma la fede fra i dubbi ardita efranca/ Chiede il cibo de l’alma, onde si sforza/ D’accostarsi a quel sol candida e bianca’.

44 Rita Belladonna, ‘Bernardino Ochino’s Fourth Dialogue (Dialogo del ladrone in croce) and Ubertino daCasale’s Arbor Vitae: Adaptation and Ambiguity’, Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance, 47 (1985), 125–45.

45 Bernardino Ochino, Seven Dialogues, trans. Rita Belladonna (Ottawa: Dovehouse Editions, 1988), 14.46 Ochino, Dialogue IV in Seven Dialogues, 43–4. The Italian text is in Bernardino Ochino, I ‘Dialoghi sette’ e altri

scritti del tempo della fuga, ed. Ugo Rozzo (Turin: Caludiana, 1985), 83–8: ‘. . . uno povero ladrone e cieco etignorante, senza haver lette, or viste le Scritture, senza segni e miracoli . . . crede che sia Dio . . .’ (83); ‘Sedispose secondo la sua fragilità, però Christo lo illuminò’ (84).


published in 1541. He lists the people of the New Testament who believedJesus was the Son of God, includes the Samaritan woman who asked, ‘Is it truethat you are the Messiah?’ Even though the Samaritan woman glimpsed onlya small glimmer of light (‘un poco poco di lume’) from Christ, that wasenough for her to leave all and run to her city so that the entire city wouldcome to know and believe in Christ.47 In a later dialogue, Ochino refers to thewoman of Samaria as one of several examples of untutored Christians who aresaved, including also the good thief, the Ethiopian eunuch (Acts 8:26–40),and the Roman centurion Cornelius (Acts 10:1–43).48

Ochino’s conception of the Samaritan woman parallels that found in Col-onna’s own writings and the image made for her by Michelangelo. Howeverthere is another oblique reference to the Samaritan woman in his writings,and it is one that suggests a reason why the Samaritan woman was in Colonna’smind at precisely this time. In August, 1542 when Ochino was justifying hisflight from Italy to his friends and followers, including Vittoria Colonna, heobsessively pointed to Christ’s ‘flight’ into Galilee and Samaria when he heardthat John the Baptist had been captured. In his famous letter to VittoriaColonna, written from Florence, on 22 August 1542, just before he left forGeneva he writes, ‘Christ taught me to flee some times, into Egypt or to theSamaritans, and so too did Paul, indeed, he told me that I should go toanother city when in one I am not welcome.’49 If the letter in which Colonnarefers to the Samaritan woman was written 1543, the Samaritan woman designmight even be seen as a response to Ochino’s flight. Christ’s journey toSamaria is characterized by Ochino as an escape from his detractors; it wassimilarly described by Luther in his sermon on the fourth chapter of John.50

Jesus’ flight led to his meeting with the woman at the well. It was through herthat his message was spread to those who were more receptive than those inChrist’s own land. Colonna did not approve of Ochino’s flight, but she con-tinued to believe in the message that he preached: that salvation camethrough faith alone, without the approval or mediation of the Church.51

47 Philip McNair, Patterns of Perfection: Seven Sermons Preached in Patria by Bernardino Ochino (Cambridge:Anastasia Press, 1999), 70 and 74.

48 Bernardino Ochino, Dialogi XXX . . . , Basel, 1563, Vol. 2, 156–7. Other statements on the Samaritanwoman are on 51, 82, and 135. See also Mark Taplin, The Italian Reformers and the Zurich Church, c. 1540–1620,(Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), 129.

49 Ochino, ‘Dialogi sette’, ed. Rozzo, 123: ‘Christo m’insegnò a fuggire più volte, in Egitto e alli Samaritani etcosì Paulo, immo mi disse che io andassi in altra città quando in una io non ero ricevuto . . .’; similar statementsare on 124 and 127. See also Gigliola Fragnito, ‘Gli “spirituali” e la fuga di Bernardino Ochino’, Rivista storicaitaliana, 84 (1972), 777–813.

50 Luther, ‘Sermons on the Gospel of St John’, 503–7.51 Colonna’s response to Ochino’s flight is famous: she gives his letter to Cardinal Cervini, a member of the

Inquisition, saying, ‘Mi duole assai che quanto più pensa scusarsi, più se accusa, et quanto più crede salvar altrida naufragii, più li expone al diluvio, essendo lui fuor dell’Arca, che salva et assicuar.’ [It hurts me much thatthe more he thinks to excuse himself the more he accuses himself, and the more he thinks to save others fromthe shipwreck, the more he exposes them to the deluge, because he is outside the ark, which saves and makessecure.] Colonna, Carteggio, 257; trans. Eva-Maria Jung, ‘Vittoria Colonna: Between Reformation and Counter-Reformation’, Review of Religion, 15 (1951), 154.

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Given the fact that dissemination of Christ’s message is the essentialmeaning of this image, and given that the printed image is a perfect vehiclefor such dissemination, can we conclude that Vittoria Colonna herself wantedto have this image made into a print? Since the engraving may not have beenmade until she was in the last months of her life, her direct agency in itsproduction is not likely. Indeed by drawing a parallel with Colonna’s statedattitudes toward the use of print to disseminate her writings we would prob-ably say that she would have disapproved of ‘her Samaritan woman’ beingmade into prints. Colonna said she did not want her poetry published, and yether poetry circulated in manuscript form to friends and acquaintances, manyof whom had great influence in literary and religious circles.52 Circulatingmanuscripts in this way was more intimate, but also more directed than printpublication – the poetry did not go out to just anyone, but rather to those whomight give her good feedback and who were in sympathy with her ideas. It islikely that something like this happened with the image of the Samaritanwoman as well. The composition, in large part designed by Michelangelo,although perhaps completed by an artist like Venusti, was made into a paint-ing that itself was copied and distributed to others in her circle. This sort ofcirculation would very likely have been thought of as gift-giving among thosein Colonna’s circle who shared her aristocratic and spiritual values.53 Ratherthan think of these paintings as ‘mere copies’, we might think of them ashand-made versions of a design, like a handwritten gift of poems. Some ofthose recipients must have seen the value of this image being made into printand distributed for the edification of others. Whether that broader audienceunderstood the subtleties of its message remains a question. Certainly therewere some who purchased the print because it was invented by Michelangelo,but there were surely many others who purchased it for its subject matter. Oneof the copies published by Lafreri does not name Michelangelo at all, butsubstitutes instead the words of Christ to the Samaritan woman.54 VittoriaColonna herself may not have imagined that ‘her’ Samaritan woman could beunderstood by those outside of her circle, but perhaps she would have beengratified if its message was spread by others.

Wake Forest University

52 Brundin, Spiritual Poetics, 25, 31, and 33.53 Brundin, Spiritual Poetics, 71–2.54 An impression is in the British Museum, inv. no.V,2.35. In the inventory of Pietro di Nobili’s shop, a print

of ‘La Samaritana’ is listed in the category of devotional prints; see Evelyn Lincoln, Invention of the ItalianRenaissance Printmaker (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), 185.


Abstract

bernadine barnes, The understanding of a woman: Vittoria Colonna and Michelange-lo’s Christ and the Samaritan Woman

This article presents a new contextualization and interpretation of Michelangelo’scomposition, Christ and the Samaritan Woman, which was made for Vittoria Colonnaaround 1542. Known only through copies, it is an unusual representation of the theme,which eschews commentary on the sexuality or arrogance of the woman and insteadincludes elements that point to the woman’s role in leading others to Christ. Byreconsidering Colonna’s own statements on the Samaritan woman and parallels foundin Bernardino Ochino’s comments, I argue that the design reflects the way Colonnapositioned herself as a person of incomplete understanding who could still be savedthrough a direct encounter with Christ’s words. The theme had particular resonancearound 1542 when Italian reformers like Colonna faced increasing scrutiny from theChurch. Indeed Colonna’s interest in the subject may be a response to Ochino’s flightfrom Italy in the face of threats from the Church.

Keywords: Colonna; Michelangelo; Samaritan woman

The understanding of a woman: Vittoria Colonna and Michelangelo's Christ and the Samaritan Woman

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Transcript of The understanding of a woman: Vittoria Colonna and Michelangelo's Christ and the Samaritan Woman