La vérité
|Partie 3. La vérité de l’artiste
True Icons?
The Power of Supernatural Images in Late Medieval and Early Modern Italy
Texte intégral
- 1 For the medieval period in particular, see M. Camille, The Gothic Idol. Ideology and Image-Making (...)
- 2 Martin Luther, Works, ed. by H. C. Oswald, St Louis, Concordia, 1974, vol. 19, p. 8.
1As leader and guide of the Western Church, the Roman papacy took a long time before deciding to embrace whole-heartedly the potentiality of the visual icon as a means to communicate to the world the presence and power of the one true God. The first twelve hundred years of Christianity in Europe were rich in sacred images; yet ecclesiastical authority hesitated before the possibility of authorising any single example as an authentic representation of divinity. Pope Gregory the Great’s often cited concession that pictures were worthy aids by which, in a missionary context, the illiterate might learn the Bible stories carried within it an implied superiority inherent in the words of Scripture. An inherited Judaic anxiety about the deception of idols, enshrined in the second commandment of Moses, sowed in the Christian religion from its inception a scepticism about images which has proved both recurrent and enduring1. In its Lutheran and Protestant manifestation – the belief in sola Scriptura, and in a faith which, in Martin Luther’s words, “walks forward with its eyes closed2”, hearing only the Word of God – this profound uncertainty about the trustworthiness of images embedded itself within Western academies of culture from the Enlightenment onwards, and remains even in our own more secularised century a powerful constraint on our ability to understand how it came to pass in the history of the Church that certain images acquired the status of true icons, vectors of the supreme religious ideal. We too are book-learned heirs to ancient doubts about the truth of art. In consequence, while as scholars we find it relatively easy to imagine how a past culture might have identified truth with a written text, it remains much harder for us to understand why anyone should ever have believed in the real presence of divinity in an image.
- 3 G. Wolf, “From Mandylion to Veronica: Picturing the ‘disembodied’ face and disseminating the true (...)
2Against the background of this vein of doubt, the years from the 13th to the 17th century – the very period in question in this conference – were marked in the West by the high tide of official support for a strictly limited number of sacred images as the worldly embodiment of divine truth. This phase of papal sanction for the cult of specified icons was inaugurated at the beginning of the 13th century by Pope Innocent III. The universal Council which Innocent convened in 1215 is well known to have declared authoritatively on the real presence of Christ in the eucharist, a dogma which invested the consecrated host in the mass with the status of a true visible sign of divinity. Less discussed, yet perhaps of no less significance, was the same pope’s promotion throughout the Church of the image of Christ in the Veronica: the cloth veil in which, according to a tradition perhaps no older than the 8th century, the Saviour on Mount Calvary had left the imprint of his face. Although this relic had been present in Rome for some time, it was Innocent III who, at the climax of the papal Reform inaugurated by Gregory VII, and as part of a vastly increased pastoral role to be undertaken by the Church, published to the world this tangible trace of Christ’s presence on earth, and launched its universal veneration. The Veronica’s special status as a true icon resided in the fact that it was believed to be a contact relic of the divinity himself. The very name communicated its claim to absolute truthfulness, being an anagram of the two words, vera icon. Its presence in the basilica of St Peter enabled it to be recruited to serve simultaneously as a universal messenger of papal authority. The power of the image would also be the power of Rome3.
3The display of the Veronica at Easter to crowds of pilgrims became a high point of the Roman year, advertised indulgences bringing many thousands of men and women eager to feast their eyes on the true image of God made man (fig. 1). In the presence of the Veronica they would say the words of the officially designated prayer:
O God, you have left us the image of your face impressed as the Veronica on the sudarium. Grant us by your passion and crucifixion that as we now adore your face in this image, as in a glass, darkly, so when you come again as judge we may see one another face to face.
Fig. 1 – Ostensio of the Veronica in Rome. Woodblock on paper. From Stephanus Plannck (attrib.), Mirabilia Urbis Romae (c. 1486).

- 4 H. L. Kessler, “Configuring the invisible by copying the Holy Face”, in id., G. Wolf (dir.), The H (...)
- 5 G. Macy, The Theologies of the Eucharist in the Early Scholastic Period: a Study of the Salvific F (...)
4Nor was this the full extent of the papal exploitation of art to mediate the divine image to the Christian laity. Licence was also granted for the multiple reproduction of the Veronica so that, accompanied by the same prayer, this miraculous head of Christ could be transported into secular homes and workshops throughout the length and breadth of Christendom. In the entrance courtyard of St Peter’s basilica, a profession of copyists, the pictores veronicarum, sprang up to satisfy the desire of pilgrims to bear the image to their houses. Such was the mediated power of the copies that the Veronica prayer uttered in the sight of one of these was rewarded with the same spiritual indulgences as if the devotee were in St Peter’s in Rome. In the economy of reproduction of the miraculous prototype, the maker of an authentic Veronica was not obliged to have seen the original: several extant versions from mid-13th-century England were evidently not made by artists with first-hand knowledge of the model4 (fig. 2). The universal accessibility of this image deserves particular emphasis. The sacrament of the mass, although often cited as a principle of Catholic unity after the Fourth Lateran Council, was in fact far less inclusive. The enhanced status of the transubstantiated body and blood of Christ had the effect of discouraging and limiting lay communion at the mass, which in the later Middle Ages was a relative rarity5. By contrast, communion with the very face of Christ in his miraculously preserved and papally authenticated image was a privilege more readily accessible to every Christian.
Fig. 2 – Representation of the Veronica. Ink on parchment. English, c. 1250. London, British Library.

- 6 Dante, Vita Nuova, xl; id., Paradiso, xxxi.103-8.
5An indication of the enormous popular impact of this Roman visual strategy is provided, a century after Innocent III, by Dante, who in the Vita Nuova recorded seeing the Rome pilgrims passing in crowds through Florence on their way to see the Veronica. A few years later Dante would pay the highest tribute to the perceived authority of this papally sanctioned representation of Christ. At the very climax of his spiritual journey, at the moment towards the end of the Paradiso at which the poet was attempting to convey his vision of the face of God, he suddenly invoked, for comparison, the experience of the terrestrial pilgrim who, having travelled a great distance – as it might be, proposed Dante, from Croatia – now knelt in rapture before the Roman Veronica. Dante’s comparison depended entirely on his readers’ familiarity with this image and with the official account of its potency. The text assumes, in other words, an audience with a shared knowledge of the Roman cult image, whether that consciousness were derived from pilgrimage or through the medium of copies. The Divine Comedy thus bore witness, with the most profound emphasis, to the reputation of this divine portrait in St Peter’s as the true image of Christ6.
- 7 G. Hoffmann, “Der Crucifixus dorolosi aus S. Maria im Kapitol zu Köln. Neue Erkentnisse auslässlic (...)
6But if it were widely agreed by the time of Dante that Christ met the gaze of his followers in the Roman Veronica and its many copies, papal authentication was insufficient to establish the monopoly of this image as a means of access to the divine presence. To a degree which it is impossible fully to document, local and particular image cults sprang up in every corner of Christendom, in defiance of clerical scepticism and in contented disregard of the absence of institutional approval. Papal adoption of the Veronica as a palladium of Roman authority may have had the unlooked-for consequence that lay men and women were thereby encouraged to see a real divine presence also in other images, notwithstanding the scepticism of their bishops. Indeed, part of the very significance of such cults was that they offered an alternative focus for secular devotion, one free from clerical control. For those who expressed their loyalty to it, the reputedly miraculous image was a means not only to access divine aid in personal need, but also to celebrate a particular political and social identity. Clerical censorship of an image of this kind was generally indicative of official anxiety on precisely these counts. In April 1305, the rector of the London church of St Mildred in Poultry was reprimanded for having commissioned a certain German sculptor to make a new cross which had been installed in a chapel in the churchyard. It seems likely that the form of this cross, which was described in the London Annals as “a certain cross of terrible aspect” (crux horribilis) and was “adored by many” (adorabatur a multis), followed the very new kind of intensely affective representation of the suffering Christ. Probably originating in Italy, the type is exemplified north of the Alps in a cross, possibly dated to 1304 and certainly from the early 14th century, in Sankta Maria im Kapitol in Cologne7 (fig. 3). As the bishop of London subsequently recorded:
Concerning an erroneous sculpted image of the Crucifixion (yconia crucifixi erronee sculpta)…We have heard on trustworthy authority that one Thidemann of Germany has, some time since, sold to Geoffrey, rector of St Mildred’s in the Poultry, a certain carved crucifix with a gibbet lacking a cross-beam which does not represent the true shape of the Cross; which Cross the said rector had placed in his church, and whereunto the indiscreet populace flocked in crowds as if to a true image of the Cross – whereas it is no such thing.
Fig. 3 – Crucifix. Carved and painted wood. German, early 14th century (1304?). Cologne, church of Sankta Maria im Kapitol.

- 8 P. Binski, Becket’s Crown. Art and Imagination in Gothic England 1170-1300, New Haven/London, Yale (...)
7On the night of 1 May, the image was secretly carried away, to the canons of Holy Trinity Aldgate, and so vanished from history8. But the story is suggestive. We may suspect that the bishop’s concern was not confined to the unusual form of this carved cross, and to the fact that it did not have a conventionally horizontal cross-bar. The most disturbing aspect of the case, from the point of view of authority, was that “indiscreet populace” which, as the record states, “flocked in crowds” to see it. That they did so probably indicates that in the eyes of the many, this had become another image capable of giving unmediated access to divine power. The image’s unusual iconography and startling emotional impact doubtless contributed to this reputation. Whatever the origin of its perceived status as wonder-working, the miraculous image bypassed priestly authority, offering to the devout laity a direct source of supernatural protection.
8The popes of the 13th century had hoped to harness the power of the cult image to strengthen the authority of the Roman hierarchy in the Church. If they were partially successful in this aim, it must also be said that in choosing publicly to promote the cult of a particular miraculous image, they had opened Pandora’s Box. Encouraged by the example of the officially promoted Veronica, local communities must have been strengthened in their resolve to gather around their own wonder-working palladia. To the extent that such image cults could be contained and supervised within the shrines of great churches, under the eye of clerical guardians, this manifestation of lay piety was in many instances tolerated by the bishops as a sign of devotion. But the danger lay in the infinite potential for the discovery of fresh images believed, in the eyes of the laity, to offer direct communication with the divine. The unusual image of Christ on the cross in a London church at the start of the 14th century could not claim to be a contact relic, nor had it the sanction of papal or even episcopal approval. Worse, in the judgement of clerical authority, it was not a “true” image at all. None the less, it offered to its local and lay devotees, to whom its “truth” appeared to be clearly evident, an empowering sense of shared identity and protection, and every new story of its wonders confirmed its potency. The democracy of the image cult, which could burst into life wherever there were motives to express personal anxiety or collective aspirations, rendered null the attempt by authority to declare a singular truth in the miraculous image.
- 9 G. Wolf, Salus Populi Romani. Die Geschichte römischer Kultbilder im Mittelalter, Weinheim, VCH, A (...)
- 10 Id., “Regina Coeli, Facies Lunae, ‘Et in Terra Pax’: Aspekte der Ausstattung der Cappella Paolina (...)
9The Church which would employ a unitary authority to impose a single creed must always reckon with the realities of human diversity and the strength of localist resistance. In the 16th century, confessional debate, widening global horizons and a new pastoral programme caused the Catholic leadership to become acutely aware of the challenge of that diversity. In response it was decided, once again, to promote throughout the known world the authority of a single venerable image, in this case an ancient painting of the Virgin Mary holding the Christ Child (fig. 4). This icon in the basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore had already a long history as the chief palladium of the Roman people. Since the 8th century, the image had been a protagonist in one of the most important events in the annual civic calendar. During the night of 14 August, the eve of the Virgin Mary’s Assumption, an icon of Christ kept at the basilica of St John Lateran was carried across the city to visit the Mother of God in her image, which to complete the encounter was brought out to the porch of Santa Maria Maggiore. Together with the clergy of these two churches, the patronage of this event was in the hands of the senate and commune of Rome, and of the townspeople as participants in lay confraternities. During the medieval centuries, the icon of the Virgin and Child in Santa Maria Maggiore was the emblem and protector par excellence of the Roman citizens9. But towards the end of the 16th century, a desire on the part of leading Roman clergy to advertise the Virgin Mary’s role in human redemption led to the identification of the Santa Maria Maggiore Madonna as the ideal vehicle of the universal message of the Tridentine papacy. The old legend that the image had been painted by St Luke, and possibly completed by angels, lent it the authority needed for this picture to be presented as an authentic and true likeness of the Mother of God. Appropriated for this purpose by Pope Paul V, the image was reframed within the magnificent setting of a new chapel, explicitly designed as an evocation of Paradise, into which the Virgin, present in her image, is transported by carved and gilded angels (fig. 5). Flowers on the altar recall the story of Mary’s bodily Assumption at her death, after which flowers were discovered in her tomb. His predecessor, Clement VIII, and Paul V himself were both buried in the chapel, sealing the papal association with the now greatly enhanced cult. Papal sponsorship made use of the image to lend the highest ecclesiastical authority to the belief in the Assumption and in the Virgin’s importance as mediator with Christ on behalf of sinful mankind10.
Fig. 4 – Madonna Salus Populi Romani. Paint and gilding on panel. Rome, church of Santa Maria Maggiore.

- 11 G. Wolf, “Regina Coeli, Facies Lunae…”, op. cit.; G. A. Bailey, Between Renaissance and Baroque: J (...)
10The Pauline Chapel in Santa Maria Maggiore conflated the power of the sacred icon with the authority of the papacy in an awesome union. Guidebooks and descriptions of Rome from this period highlighted the association, in this splendid new shrine devoted to an extraordinary image, of the Evangelist St Luke, the Virgin Mary’s living image in its heavenly setting, and the universal papacy. Papal appropriation of the image removed it from its local and specifically Roman context, in order to publish it throughout the world, as a banner of the universal Church. This was achieved by means of the new technology of engraving, the Jesuit Order being given licence to print tens of thousands of copies of the icon for distribution across all continents (fig. 6). As with the copies of the Veronica, the engraving carried the guarantee that it was the “true icon” of the Madonna within the papal basilica in Rome. In the early 17th century this authenticated portrait of the Virgin Mary was the most widely distributed image in the world11.
- 12 N. Tanner (dir.), Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, London, Sheed and Ward, 1990, ii, pp. 775-77 (...)
11But for all the prestige of this papal model of a true image, it could do little to contain or to compete with the proliferation of hundreds of rivals, nor even to keep popular faith in holy images always within the bounds of orthodoxy. In the very years, at the start of the 17th century, during which the papal cult of the St Luke icon in Santa Maria Maggiore was being launched, dozens of local movements were starting up around images far less officially respectable and yet no less highly regarded by their devotees as “true” images of the Virgin Mary and of the incarnate divinity of Christ. In the harbour town of Chiavari in Liguria, in the northwest of Italy, in the years 1609 and 1610 the first miracles were reported of a frescoed Madonna on a garden wall (fig. 7). The location was a disreputable suburb, and the graces attributed to the image were related of humble people: a travelling midwife and a boy who sold eggs in the market. The miracles were modest, but word of them travelled fast, and in the summer of 1610 enormous crowds were seen to be gathering in the garden, prompting official enquiries and a visitation by the vicar of the archbishop of Genoa. The scenes which met the vicar’s eyes were disturbing to the Tridentine priest: large bands of men and women mingling together and singing litanies and even, with the help of confraternity priests, holding open-air services in front of the niche which contained the image; companies of battuti or flagellant fraternities whipping themselves in penitence; lights and processions by night; the cure of pilgrims with oil from the lamps at the shrine; and the exorcism of demons in the name of the Madonna of the Garden. This was not at all the image of humble Marian piety, tied to respect for papal authority, which had been envisaged by Paul V when he promoted the cult of the Madonna of Santa Maria Maggiore. The massing of pilgrims, the nocturnal singing and the cries of the possessed were also disconcerting to the secular authorities, the doge and senate of Genoa. The senate’s local representative, the captain of Chiavari, reported scornfully to his Genoese masters that the cult was a manifestation of vulgar credulity – a view shared by the cleric despatched by the archbishop to conduct an inquest. The aspersions of these officers, although ostensibly motivated by the disorderly behaviour of allegedly simple people, were prompted by profounder anxieties concerning both their religious unorthodoxy and their political strength. The Council of Trent had explicitly rejected the veneration of images made of fragile materials in exposed places12; yet in defiance of the regulation, an old fresco in an outdoor niche was being addressed and honoured by the populace as the Virgin Mary herself. Far from being unique or even unusual, the Chiavari Madonna was just one of hundreds of reportedly miraculous images documented in this and later periods, each one of which repudiated the special claim to authenticity of the papal icon in Santa Maria Maggiore.
Fig. 7 – Devotees before the Madonna dell’Orto, Chiavari. Paint on panel, c. 1700. Chiavari, cathedral and sanctuary of the Madonna dell’Orto.

- 13 J. Garnett, G. Rosser, Spectacular Miracles. Transforming Images in Italy from the Renaissance to (...)
12That the devotees of the Madonna of the Garden eventually succeeded in gaining the bishop’s approval for the cult was to a significant degree due to their own intelligence in submitting a carefully edited list of miracles attributed to the image. A draft of this list is headed: “Miracles and graces. These seven are those approved by Monsignor Bishop. Do not have any of the others investigated.” The few wonders which did, indeed, find favour and eventual publication in official histories of the Madonna of the Garden were standard and unremarkable cures, of poor eyesight, lameness and difficult childbirth. Meanwhile, a longer list of the early graces attributed to the image includes a number, marked with a cross, which were not submitted for formal examination at the vicarial inquest. These included pilgrims alleged to have been liberated by the fresco from malignant spirits. In a typical instance, one Marco Gianone, immediately upon entering the garden, began to utter great shouts and blasphemies, which intensified as he came into “the presence of the Virgin’s image”, at which point the voice – evidently that of a demonic spirit – was heard to say that “it was burning, and could not bear to stay in the Madonna’s presence”. These scenes could be violent, and called for the involvement in casting out these demons of friends and bystanders – but not priests, whose exclusive claim to be able and entitled to perform exorcisms was repeatedly ignored. This democratic accessibility of the image was not only a source of jealous annoyance to the clergy, but was also troubling to secular authority. In fact, the Madonna of the Garden rapidly became the focus of local, Chiavarese resentment and resistance towards the overbearing power of Genoa. When eventually the Genoese senate was persuaded, in return for a measure of supervision, to remove its opposition to the cult and allow the construction of a church to house the translated image, this triumph was celebrated locally as a victory for the whole population of Chiavari. Several patriotic townspeople wrote contemporary accounts of these events, celebrating them as the catalyst of a new community forged through shared loyalty to the Madonna of the Garden. Together with the personal graces reported of the picture, the significant concessions granted to the local population by both ecclesiastical and secular authorities appeared to add confirmation to the authentic status of this humble and yet potent image13.
13The lesson of these examples is evident. Authority may at any time choose to identify a particular image as the declared embodiment of truth. Depending upon its resources, the leadership may go to varying lengths to secure the dissemination of this image and the publication of its powers. The regime may then expect to bathe in its reflected glory. But as a system for the imposition of a unitary ideology, the power of images has a fatal flaw. As history demonstrates, that potency is available for appropriation by the disenfranchised, who may find in a favoured image consolation and succour in need, and courage to rally in defence of an otherwise fragile identity. No authoritarian visual propaganda is immune from the subversive potential of rival claimants to be true and trustworthy images. The infinite possibilities of the icon cult help to explain not only the successes, but also the limitations, of the great papal movements for mission and reform between the 13th and the 17th centuries.
Notes
1 For the medieval period in particular, see M. Camille, The Gothic Idol. Ideology and Image-Making in Medieval Art, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1989.
2 Martin Luther, Works, ed. by H. C. Oswald, St Louis, Concordia, 1974, vol. 19, p. 8.
3 G. Wolf, “From Mandylion to Veronica: Picturing the ‘disembodied’ face and disseminating the true image of Christ in the Latin West”, in H. L Kessler, G. Wolf (dir.), The Holy Face and the Paradox of Representation, Bologna, Nuova Alfa, 1998, pp. 153-179.
4 H. L. Kessler, “Configuring the invisible by copying the Holy Face”, in id., G. Wolf (dir.), The Holy Face…, op. cit., pp. 129-151; G. Wolf, “‘Or fu sì fatta la sembianza vostra?’ Sguardi alla ‘vera icona’ e alle sue copie artistiche”, in G. Morello, G. Wolf (dir.), Il Volto di Cristo, exhibition catalogue, La Reggia/Milan, Venaria Reale/Electa, 2000, pp. 103-114.
5 G. Macy, The Theologies of the Eucharist in the Early Scholastic Period: a Study of the Salvific Function of the Sacrament According to the Theologians, c. 1080-c. 1220, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1984, p. 86-93 and 118-119.
6 Dante, Vita Nuova, xl; id., Paradiso, xxxi.103-8.
7 G. Hoffmann, “Der Crucifixus dorolosi aus S. Maria im Kapitol zu Köln. Neue Erkentnisse auslässlich seiner Restaurierung”, Kunstchronik, 53, 2000, pp. 241-246; P. Kalina, “Giovanni Pisano, the Dominicans, and the origin of the crucifixus dolorosi”, Artibus et historiae, 47, 2003, pp. 81-101.
8 P. Binski, Becket’s Crown. Art and Imagination in Gothic England 1170-1300, New Haven/London, Yale University Press, 2004, pp. 201-205.
9 G. Wolf, Salus Populi Romani. Die Geschichte römischer Kultbilder im Mittelalter, Weinheim, VCH, Acta humaniora, 1990.
10 Id., “Regina Coeli, Facies Lunae, ‘Et in Terra Pax’: Aspekte der Ausstattung der Cappella Paolina in S. Maria Maggiore”, Römisches Jahrbuch der Bibliotheca Hertziana, 27, 1991-1992, pp. 283-336; id., “Kultbilder im Zeitalter des Barock”, in D. Breuer (dir.), Religion und Religiosität im Zeitalter des Barock, Wiesbaden, Harrassowitz, 1995, pp. 399-413; S. F. Ostrow, Art and Spirituality in Counter-Reformation Rome. The Sistine and Pauline Chapels in S. Maria Maggiore, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1996, pp. 118-183.
11 G. Wolf, “Regina Coeli, Facies Lunae…”, op. cit.; G. A. Bailey, Between Renaissance and Baroque: Jesuit Art in Rome, 1565-1610, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 2003, p. 10.
12 N. Tanner (dir.), Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, London, Sheed and Ward, 1990, ii, pp. 775-776.
13 J. Garnett, G. Rosser, Spectacular Miracles. Transforming Images in Italy from the Renaissance to the Present, London, Reaktion Books, 2013, pp. 80-83, 185-187 and 234-239.
Table des illustrations
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Titre | Fig. 1 – Ostensio of the Veronica in Rome. Woodblock on paper. From Stephanus Plannck (attrib.), Mirabilia Urbis Romae (c. 1486). |
URL | http://books.openedition.org/psorbonne/docannexe/image/6660/img-1.jpg |
Fichier | image/jpeg, 294k |
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Titre | Fig. 2 – Representation of the Veronica. Ink on parchment. English, c. 1250. London, British Library. |
URL | http://books.openedition.org/psorbonne/docannexe/image/6660/img-2.jpg |
Fichier | image/jpeg, 776k |
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Titre | Fig. 3 – Crucifix. Carved and painted wood. German, early 14th century (1304?). Cologne, church of Sankta Maria im Kapitol. |
URL | http://books.openedition.org/psorbonne/docannexe/image/6660/img-3.jpg |
Fichier | image/jpeg, 567k |
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Titre | Fig. 4 – Madonna Salus Populi Romani. Paint and gilding on panel. Rome, church of Santa Maria Maggiore. |
URL | http://books.openedition.org/psorbonne/docannexe/image/6660/img-4.jpg |
Fichier | image/jpeg, 735k |
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Titre | Fig. 5 – Chapel of the Madonna Salus Populi Romani in Santa Maria Maggiore. |
URL | http://books.openedition.org/psorbonne/docannexe/image/6660/img-5.jpg |
Fichier | image/jpeg, 1,3M |
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Titre | Fig. 6 – Hieronymus Wierix, Madonna Salus Populi Romani. Engraving, 1590-1600. |
URL | http://books.openedition.org/psorbonne/docannexe/image/6660/img-6.jpg |
Fichier | image/jpeg, 1,1M |
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Titre | Fig. 7 – Devotees before the Madonna dell’Orto, Chiavari. Paint on panel, c. 1700. Chiavari, cathedral and sanctuary of the Madonna dell’Orto. |
URL | http://books.openedition.org/psorbonne/docannexe/image/6660/img-7.jpg |
Fichier | image/jpeg, 366k |
© Éditions de la Sorbonne, 2015