Masterpiece: Perugino's Sumptuously Painted Room
The Renaissance artist's Collegio del Cambio frescoes in Perugia, Italy, are lyrical, allegorical images of ancient and religious figures, breathtaking in their ornate beauty and harmony.

In the late 1400s, when the powerful moneychangers of Perugia, Italy, were decorating their new guild quarters in the Palace of the Priors, the city's ultimate political center, they entrusted the frescoes in the Audience Hall, where they transacted business, to Pietro Vannucci. Perugino—as he was called—was considered by many to be Italy's master artist. Pope Sixtus IV had hired him to oversee the work of Botticelli, Ghirlandaio and Signorelli, among others, in the Sistine Chapel, where he painted six of the many wall panels himself (three survive). His frescoes for the guild, the Collegio del Cambio, proved to be a capstone of his career, thrusting him to greater prominence.

One look reveals why. In arched wall spaces complementing the room's vaulting, Perugino painted lyrical, allegorical images of the cardinal virtues, ancient pagan heroes, and religious figures from both the Old and New Testaments, a kind of thematic magic reconciling disparate worlds. Along with sheer beauty, he infused them with a harmony and a rhythm uncommon for the time. As for the ceiling—seven deep blue medallions depicting the planetary gods, surrounded by lavish embellishments (painted with the help of assistants, probably including Raphael)—Edith Wharton, in "The Decoration of Houses," described it as one of the "three perfect ceilings of the world."

Perugino (c. 1450-1523) came to this task in 1496, when he was commissioned to paint the room for 350 large gold ducats. He was instructed to employ an iconographic scheme that was developed for the Collegio by Francesco Maturanzio, a Perugian humanist—a charge likened to expressing a libretto in paint.

Near the door, Perugino placed a finely modeled, full-length portrait of Cato the Younger, the conservative Roman senator, alone in his own archway, dressed in red. A Stoic known for his incorruptibility, Cato looks away and down, not quite overseeing the men making decisions in the room, but subtly urging them to ignore their own interests in exchanging currency and adjudicating commercial disputes.

Lunette with Prudence, Justice and wise men

In the two adjacent lunettes, Perugino portrays Prudence, Justice, Fortitude and Temperance, with identifying props (scales for Justice, shield and sword for Fortitude). Near each, he painted a deep-blue plaque inscribed in gold with moral lessons (the one near Justice reads in part, "When I am honored, the people flourish, in peace and in war, and without me, what had been great a short time before falls into ruin").

Below these allegories, Perugino created a parade of "illustrious men" against an unobtrusive horizon. Only a few of these ancients may be recognizable today—Socrates, Trajan, Pericles—but the moneychangers likely knew them, though Perugino inscribed their names below and gave each distinctive garments and often elaborate headgear. To modern eyes, some—like the curlicued helmets worn by the rebel Roman plebeian Lucius Sicinius and the Spartan king Leonidas—border on comical, and perhaps they delighted the guild members, too. Nevertheless, their exquisite renditions reinforce Cato's message exhorting fair, practical decisions.

Lunette with Fortitude, Temperance and wise men

On the back wall, Perugino had narrower arched spaces to work with, and there he depicted two scenes from the life of Christ. In one, he shows the adoration of the shepherds at the Nativity. In the other, the Transfiguration, Christ reveals himself as a radiant, divine figure to the apostles Peter, James and John in the presence of Moses and Elijah. Though they manifest Perugino's marvelous sense of color—the yellows of the Transfiguration and the blues of the Nativity, for example—they fittingly lack the sweetness for which Perugino was sometimes criticized.

Opposite the illustrious men, Perugino had just one panel to decorate, because half of the wall is occupied by an elaborately carved judges' bench. He used it well. Near the top, he painted God the Father holding a globe in a light-filled medallion, attended by angels. Below, six Old Testament prophets congregate on the left. They are mirrored on the right by six sibyls, the ancient female seers who were said to have predicted the coming of Christ. These 12 figures—painted into the same space as six men opposite them—look neither crowded nor cramped, just engaged.

Cato

There, as in all the lunettes, the spare, earthly background distinguishes them from the intensely colored celestial ceiling, enhancing the scenes' connection to guild members.

In lesser hands, the Audience Hall could have looked staged. With Perugino, everything fits. The symbolism and the message never seem heavy-handed. The images exhibit balance, grace, finesse. The room's overall richness gives visitors the feeling of being inside a jewel box. Aside from conservation measures, it has never been altered and is reputedly the finest 15th-century secular room in Italy.

Perugino completed the Collegio project in 1500, and for years enjoyed strong demand for his talents—perhaps too much. He sometimes repeated himself, drawing mockery from some younger artists, especially those in rival Florence. But at the Collegio, in a touch that may indicate how he felt about his work, he painted a small, realistic, unsmiling self-portrait into the pilaster dividing his illustrious men. It's as if he knew this effort was one for the ages.