In 1894, a single question reshaped the course of American art collecting: “How much do you want a Botticelli?” The query came from Bernard Berenson, a rising authority on Italian Renaissance art, in a letter sent to Isabella Stewart Gardner in Boston. With this, Gardner embarked on a bold journey that would bring Botticelli’s Death of Lucretia to America for the first time, firmly establishing her legacy as a pioneering art collector.

A Rising Expert Meets a Visionary Collector

Berenson, then thirty-one, had already garnered acclaim for his groundbreaking work, Venetian Painters of the Renaissance. Just months earlier, he had sent Gardner a copy of his book. While she was in Paris that summer, he encouraged her to attend an exhibition of English paintings, subtly setting the stage for what would become a transformative art acquisition.

Soon after, Gardner consulted Berenson about several Italian Old Master paintings offered by French dealers. His response was frank: the paintings weren’t what the dealers claimed. Instead, he had a better option: Botticelli’s Death of Lucretia from the collection of Lord Ashburnham. “One of the greatest,” Berenson emphasized, though he noted the owner wasn’t particularly eager to sell. Still, he believed a “handsome offer” might be persuasive.

The Price of Passion

Berenson estimated the cost at around £3,000—approximately $15,000. He offered to help negotiate the best terms. Gardner didn’t hesitate. The purchase would become a milestone not only in her collection but also in the broader context of American appreciation for Italian Renaissance art.

Gardner’s interest in Old Masters had already been made clear two years earlier. On December 5, 1892, she made her first significant purchase at a Paris auction of the late Théophile Thoré’s collection, which featured three works by Vermeer. Using Fernand Robert, a Parisian antiques dealer, to bid on her behalf, she acquired The Concert for 29,000 francs—just over $6,000 with commission. It was the first Vermeer to reach Boston and only the second in the United States.

Shifting the Landscape of American Collecting

Gardner’s eye for quality was impeccable. The Concert was a luminous scene featuring two women and a man making music in a Dutch interior. The painting’s intricate arrangement of instruments, figures, light, and color translated the fleeting beauty of music into visual poetry. The purchase, though expensive at the time, quickly appreciated in value. A Dutch art expert soon estimated its worth at 150,000 to 200,000 francs. Not long after, Stephen Bourgeois resold another Vermeer from the same auction to London’s National Gallery for 50,000 francs.

In the 1890s, few Americans were collecting Old Masters. Gardner’s choice to buy a Botticelli and a Vermeer placed her ahead of the curve. Unlike many of her contemporaries, who favored Dutch painters like Rembrandt, Gardner was drawn to the spiritual and aesthetic depth of the Italian Renaissance. She once wrote to Berenson, “You know, or rather, you don’t know, that I adore Giotto and really don’t adore Rembrandt. I only like him.”

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The Making of a Taste-Maker

Gardner had a distinct and discerning taste. In addition to Vermeer and Botticelli, she coveted works by Filippino Lippi and Tintoretto. Religious imagery did not deter her—she was a devout Anglican and appreciated spiritual themes in art. During the same summer she acquired The Concert, she also bought a Spanish Madonna and a Florentine Virgin and Child.

What set Gardner apart was her intent. She wasn’t acquiring art as a symbol of wealth or status but for her personal enjoyment and intellectual fulfillment. Her Boston home on Beacon Hill became a private gallery where Old and New Masters hung together, some propped casually on chairs.

Berenson understood her better than most. He dismissed the idea of her owning “braces of Rembrandts, like any vulgar millionaire.” Their shared passion for Italian art would soon evolve into a professional partnership. Gardner agreed to pay Berenson a 5% commission on each acquisition—half the standard dealer rate at the time.

Isabella Gardner: The Woman Behind the Collection

At age fifty-six, Isabella Stewart Gardner was a striking figure. Slim and elegant, she had pale skin, almond-shaped eyes, and a strong, defined presence. Her fashion sense was theatrical—tailored Parisian dresses, large hats, and flowing veils. She carried herself with a confident grace that mirrored her passionate approach to life and art.

Though originally from New York, Gardner made a distinct mark in Boston. Her marriage to Jack Gardner, a well-established Boston Brahmin, gave her the social freedom to pursue her artistic interests. She became a fixture in avant-garde circles, championing young artists, musicians, and writers.

Gardner’s home was a hub of culture, where she could summon an entire orchestra for a private musicale. But for all her flamboyance, she was never fully accepted by Boston’s conservative elite. Rather than conform, she used her outsider status as a platform for creative expression and bold acquisitions—like Botticelli’s Death of Lucretia.

Botticelli’s American Debut

In December 1894, four months after Berenson first wrote to her about the painting, Gardner met him in Paris. They visited the Louvre together, and the next day she agreed to purchase Botticelli’s Death of Lucretia. At $15,000, it was more than double what she had paid for the Vermeer. But it was worth every penny.

The painting was a dramatic narrative of Lucretia’s suicide, captured in rich color and classical composition. The Roman heroine lies prostrate, a knife in her chest, while Roman soldiers react to her death. Botticelli masterfully balanced human emotion and architectural perspective, setting the tragedy in a grand piazza surrounded by monumental buildings.

Later, art historian Laurence Kanter would describe the painting as “one of the great masterpieces of Florentine painting from the golden age of the fifteenth century.” With this acquisition, Gardner didn’t just buy a painting—she made history. Death of Lucretia was the first Botticelli to reach American shores.

A Legacy in Stone and Paint

Gardner’s acquisition marked the beginning of a long collaboration with Berenson, who would help her build one of the most significant collections of Italian Renaissance art in America. Eventually, she turned her private collection into a public legacy. When she built her museum, she inscribed its mission above the doorway: C’est Mon Plaisir—It Is My Pleasure.

The phrase embodied her belief that art should be a source of joy and spiritual enrichment. Through Botticelli, Vermeer, and others, Gardner created a sanctuary for beauty and intellect, one that continues to inspire to this day.

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