Bernard Berenson

Bernard Berenson was a celebrated connoisseur of Italian Renaissance art whose villa, I Tatti, served both as a home for extraordinary collections and as a gathering place for prominent cultural figures. In Florence, his conversation with Harry S. Truman brought the former president into that world; Berenson, in turn, came away from the encounter with a renewed confidence in America, grounded in Truman’s unaffected ease.

Identity and Reputation

Born in Lithuania and a graduate of Harvard, Berenson had become a leading authority on Italian Renaissance art. By the time Truman visited him, Berenson was nearly ninety-one. The account presents him as tiny and frail, with a white beard, yet still vital, talkative, and mentally alert. He was widely regarded as a consummate connoisseur and described as “the world’s last great aesthete.”

I Tatti and Its Circle

Berenson had made I Tatti his home before World War I, when Truman was still living on a farm. Over time, the villa also became a shrine-like institution: its incomparable paintings and sculpture and its library of 55,000 volumes formed a setting for a continuous stream of literary and theatrical visitors. Those guests came to hear Berenson, who customarily did most of the talking, and to be able to say they had known him. His authority rested not only on his standing as a scholar but also on the cultivated social world gathered around him.

The Meeting with Truman

Truman, Bess Wallace Truman, and the Woodwards were Berenson’s luncheon guests at I Tatti. The visit lasted from one until three. Truman later explained the reason for seeking him out simply: “We just had to look him up. He was the best in his line.” In his diary, Truman judged Berenson “as clear headed and mentally alert as a man of 35 or 40,” a striking assessment of a host approaching ninety-one.

Their conversation ranged beyond art to international affairs and the origins of World War I. Berenson spoke of modern diplomacy as having degenerated into “Open insults openly arrived at.” They also discussed the Austrian prime minister, Serbia, and the reasoning behind the Austrian ultimatum that began the war. The exchange suited Truman, who was stimulated by Berenson’s company and pleasure in conversation, much as he had once been by Sunday afternoon teas with Louis D. Brandeis. In a later letter, Truman wished that those in power would listen, think, and mock at things as Berenson had.

Berenson’s Impression of Truman

Berenson’s diary records the encounter from the other side. He found Truman and his wife natural and “unspoiled by high office,” as though Truman had never risen beyond alderman of Independence, Missouri. He was struck by Truman’s openness and lack of reserve, and by his willingness to discuss any subject, even a personal one. The former president’s informality made the meeting feel immediate rather than ceremonial.

For Berenson, that ease carried a larger meaning. He connected Truman’s character to what he called a solid and sensible basis in the British stock of the United States, and wrote that the encounter left him more assured about America than he had been in a long time. He believed that if the “Truman miracle” could still occur, the country need not fear even the McCarthys. The episode thus gives Berenson more than the role of an eminent host: his judgment of Truman turns a private luncheon into a test of what democratic leadership might still produce.