The Emblem in Early Modern Europe: Contributions to the Theory of the Emblem [1 ed.] 1472430131, 9781472430137

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The Emblem in Early Modern Europe

This book is dedicated to Joan McIlhone Daly, my wife, and to our animals Chloe and Pebbles, the golden retrievers and Tornado and Orio, the cats, who needed us. Not that they always knew.

The Emblem in Early Modern Europe Contributions to the Theory of the Emblem

Peter M. Daly

McGill University, Canada

First published 2014 by Ashgate Publishing Published 2016 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017, USA Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business Copyright © Peter M. Daly Peter M. Daly has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:

Daly, Peter M. (Peter Maurice) The emblem in early modern Europe: contributions to the theory of the emblem/by Peter M. Daly. pages cm Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-4724-3013-7 (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. Emblems—Europe—History. 2. Emblems—Themes, motives. 3. Emblem books, European. I. Title. PN56.E57D339 2014 809’.987—dc23 2013037836 ISBN 9781472430137 (hbk)

Contents

List of Figures   Preface   Introduction   1 Recent Emblem Theory  

vii xiii 1 13

2

The Importance of Emblems  

31

3

Truth in Emblems  

39

4 Emblems as Transmitters of Knowledge and Traditions  

55

5 Mnemonics and Emblems  

87

6 Are Emblem Inscriptiones always Mottoes?  

131

7 Is There Visual Rhetoric in Some Emblem Pictures?  

151

8 How Were and How Are Emblems Read?  

167

9 On the Interpretation of Emblems  

175

10

Jesuit Emblems: In the Service of God, Man, or the Society of Jesus?  

Select Bibliography   Index  

185 221 231

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List of Figures

1.1 Herman Hugo, Pia desideria, Antwerp 1624, first edition. Illustrated title page. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   1.2 Herman Hugo, Pia desideria, Antwerp 1624. Frontispiece. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   1.3 Herman Hugo, Pia desideria, Antwerp 1627, colophon dated 1624. The engraved title page is the same as in the 1624 edition. Emblem 14, 107. Reproduced from a private collection   1.4 The Antwerp Jesuit College, Typus mundi, Antwerp 1627. Engraved title page. Reproduced from a private collection   1.5 The Antwerp Jesuit College, Typus mundi, Antwerp 1627. Adam, tree and serpent. Reproduced from a private collection   2.1

3.1 3.2 3.3

3.4

Gabriel Rollenhagen, Selectorum emblematum centuria secunda, 1613, no. 20. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   Guillaume de la Perrière, Le Theatre des bons engins, Paris [1540], no. 98. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press   Gabriel Rollenhagen, Nucleus emblematum selectissimorum, [1611], no. 30. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   Joachim Camerarius, Symbolorum et Emblematum ex volatilibus et insectis, Nuremberg 1596, no. 100. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   Georgette de Montenay, Emblemes ou devises chrestiennes, Lyons 1571, no. 44. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press  

4.1 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, E2r. Reproduced by permission of Olms  

21 22

23 25 26

34 44 45

46 52 64

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4.2 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, B6r. Reproduced by permission of Olms   4.3 George Wither, A Collection of Emblemes, London 1635, Book 2 emblem 39. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press   4.4 George Wither, A Collection of Emblemes, London 1635, Book 3, emblem 8. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press   4.5 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, C1r. Reproduced by permission of Olms   4.6 Johannes Gossner, Das Herz des Menschen, Harrisburg, PA, 1881, first illustration. Reproduced from a private collection   4.7 George Wither, A Collection of Emblemes, London 1635, Book 2 emblem 49. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press   4.8 George Wither, A Collection of Emblemes, London 1635, Book 3 emblem 45. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press   4.9 George Wither, A Collection of Emblemes, London 1635, Book 2 emblem 5. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press   Sebastián de Covarrubias y Horozco (Orozoco), Emblemas Morales, Madrid 1610, emblem I, 12. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press   5.2 Guillaume de la Perrière, Le Theatre des bons engins, Paris n.d., emblem 54. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press   5.3 Guillaume de la Perrière, Morosophie, Lyons 1553, emblem 99. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press   5.4 Johannes Sambucus, Emblemata, Antwerp 1566, “altera editio,” 75. Reproduced by permission of Olms   5.5 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, A8. Reproduced by permission of Olms   5.6 Gabriel Rollenhagen, Nucleus emblematum, [Arnheim 1611], emblem 4. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   5.7 Otto van Veen, Emblemata amorum, Antwerp 1608, 107. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press   5.8 Geffrey Whitney, A Choice of Emblemes, Leyden 1586, 19. Reproduced from a private collection   5.9 Geffrey Whitney, A Choice of Emblemes, Leyden 1586, 94. Reproduced from a private collection  

66 68 69 71 74 77 79 80

5.1

89 92 93 94 100 101 102 103 105

List of Figures

5.10 Geffrey Whitney, A Choice of Emblemes, Leyden 1586,  215. Reproduced from a private collection   5.11 Francis Quarles, Emblemes, London 1635, Book 1 emblem 5. Reproduced by permission of Olms   5.12 Jakob Bosch, Symbolographia, Augsburg and Dillingen 1701. The book contains 2052 illustrations on the plates. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   5.13 Johann Amos Comenius, Orbis sensualium pictus …  die sichtbare Welt, Nuremberg 1658, 12–13. Reproduced from a private collection   5.14 Jan David, Duodecim specula, Antwerp 1610, plate 9. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   6.1 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, no. 92. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   6.2 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, no. 47. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   6.3 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, no. 197. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   6.4 Johannes Sambucus, Emblemata, Antwerp 1566, altera editio, 24. Reproduced by permission of Olms   6.5 Mathias Holtzwart, Emblematum Tyrocinia … Eingeblümete Zierwerck / oder Gemälpoesy, Strasburg 1581, no. 61. Reproduced by permission of Reclam   6.6 Mathias Holtzwart, Emblematum Tyrocinia … Eingeblümete Zierwerck / oder Gemälpoesy, Strassburg 1581, no. 71. Reproduced by permission of Reclam   6.7 Joachim Camerarius, Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Re Herbaria , Nuremberg 1590, no. 29. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections  

ix

106 107

120 125 127

134 136 137 138 139 141

143

x

6.8

6.9

The Emblem in Early Modern Europe

Joachim Camerarius, Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Volatibus et Insectis … Nuremberg 1596, no. 8. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   Sebastián de Covarrubias Horozco (or Orozco), Emblemas morales, Madrid 1610, emblem III, 83. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press  

7.1 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, emblem 13. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   7.2 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, emblem 4. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   7.3 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, emblem 5. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   7.4 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, emblem 10. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   7.5 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, emblem 3. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   7.6 The Schönborn lions, heraldic and natural-looking, a wall decoration at Schloß Weißenstein, Germany. Reproduced by permission of the Wilhelm Fink Verlag   8.1 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, A6v. Reproduced by permission of Olms   9.1 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, emblem F2r. Reproduced by permission of Olms   9.2 Gabriel Rollenhagen, Selectorum Emblematum. Centuria secunda of 1613, emblem 24. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections  

144 145

157 158 160 161 162 163 171 178 181

List of Figures

10.1 The Imago primi saeculi, Antwerp 1640, engraved title page. Reproduced by permission of the Ruusbroecgenootschap Library in Antwerp   10.2 The Imago primi saeculi, Antwerp 1640, 44. Reproduced by permission of the Ruusbroecgenootschap Library in Antwerp   10.3 Kaspar Mändl, Haimb=Garten Zweyer Herren von Augsburg Eines Catholischen / und Eines Lutherischen, [Augsburg] 1709, emblem 10. Reproduced by permission of the Library of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich (8 Theol. 1294[1])   10.4 Wilhelm Stanyhurst, Veteris hominis. Cologne 1682, engraved frontispiece. Reproduced by permission of the Ruusbroecgenootschap Library in Antwerp   10.5 Paul Zetl, Philosophia sacra sive vita St. Kostka, Dillingen 1715, emblem 1. Reproduced by permission of the Ruusbroecgenootschap Library in Antwerp   10.6 The Augsburg Jesuit College, Divi episcopi, Augsburg 1691, engraved frontispiece portrait. Reproduced by permission of the Library of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich (W 2 H.eccl. 933[4])   10.7 Georg Spaiser, Plausus symbolicus, Ingolstadt 1623, 26. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections   10.8 Andreas Brunner, Excubiae tutelares serenissimi Principis Ferdinandi Mariae, Munich 1637. Reproduced by permission of the Library of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich (8 Hist. 1511)   10.9 The Munich Jesuit College, Fama prognostica, Munich 1662, 39. Reproduced by permission of the Library of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich (W 2 H.aux. 820[2])   10.10 Andreas Brunner and the Munich Jesuit College, Mausoleum virtutis et honoris piis manibus Guilielmi V, Munich 1626, 48. Reproduced by permission of the Library of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich (4 WA 825)   10.11 Johann Wazin, Christliche Leichpredig mit acht Ehrenkränzen, Munich 1630, 24, with the seventh wreath. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections  

xi

186 187

191 196 197

201 205

206 208

210

211

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10.12 Georg Stengel, Ova paschalia, Munich 1635, 424. Reproduced by permission of the Ruusbroecgenootschap Library in Antwerp  

213

Preface

There has been a considerable increase in published scholarship on things emblematic in recent years. Most publications concern a given emblem in the print or material culture, at times a group of emblems or the oeuvre of a particular emblem writer. Relatively little seems to have been published on what might be called emblem theory, although with so many printed books of emblems and imprese it would be difficult to formulate one theory that would encompass them all. But that does not mean that existing theories, whether of Mario Praz, Rosemary Freeman, William S. Heckscher, or Albrecht Schöne, have solved all the problems. Disagreement is likely to continue, but certain issues do appear to remain.

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Introduction

Emblem studies have come a long way in the last 20 or 30 years. But much still remains to be done. Emblems represent a relatively new subfield of literary and art historical studies. It is then hardly surprising that literally thousands of emblem books await a first critical discussion. The last 150 years have seen many discussions of emblem theory: Henry Green,1 Mario Praz,2 Robert Clements,3 Rosemary Freeman,4 William Heckscher,5 Karl-August Wirth,6 Albrecht Schöne,7 Dietrich Walter Jöns,8 John Manning9—the list could easily be extended. The names are so well known that it is unnecessary to rehearse their accomplishments. In addition to the rare original prints we have some facsimile reprints and now we have some digital versions. The digitization of emblem books is a recent and very promising development. 1 See Henry Green, Andrea Alciati and His Books of Emblems: A Biographical and Bibliographical Study. New York: Burt Franklin, 1964. This is a reprint of the original edition of London, 1872. See also Henry Green, Shakespeare and the Emblem Writers. London: Trübner & Co., 1870. 2 See Mario Praz, Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1939; 2nd edn London: Warburg Institute, 1964; offset reprint, 1975; Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Part II. Addenda et Corrigenda (1974). 3 See Robert J. Clements, Picta Poesis: Literary and Humanistic Theory in Renaissance Emblem Books. Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1960. 4 See Rosemary Freeman, English Emblem Books. London: Chatto & Windus, 1948; reprinted 1967. 5 See William S. Heckscher and Karl-August Wirth, “Emblem, Emblembuch.” In Reallexikon zur Deutschen Kunstgeschichte, vol. 5. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1959, cols. 85–228. 6 See note 5. 7 Schöne’s theory of the emblem was first published in article form in 1963, in Deutsche Vierteljahrsschrift für Literaturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte 37 (1963): 197–321. It informed his Emblematik und Drama im Zeitalter des Barock. Munich: Beck’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1964; 2nd edn 1968, and 3rd edn 1993, and was incorporated into the introduction of Emblemata. Handbuch zur Sinnbildkunst des XVI. und XVII. Jahrhunderts, ed. Arthur Henkel and Albrecht Schöne. Stuttgart: Metzler, l967, l976, which quickly established itself as the standard reference work on emblems. 8 See Dietrich Walter Jöns, Das “Sinnen-Bild”: Studien zur allegorischen Bildlichkeit bei Andreas Gryphius. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1966. 9 See John Manning, The Emblem. London: Reaktion Books, 2002.

2

The Emblem in Early Modern Europe

The increase in conference presentations has been matched by new publications such as the journal Emblematica and recently by a new Spanish journal Imago, monographic series published by AMS Press, Brepols, Brill, and Glasgow University, as well as facsimile editions of emblem books published by AMS Press, Brepols, Brill, Niemeyer, Olms, Scolar Press, and the University of Toronto Press. There has in fact been something of a boom in emblem studies. I estimate that alone in the two decades 1990–2009 over 1,400 articles, essays, and books were published in western European languages on emblem studies. I may not able to assess everything that has been done—too much has been published in languages that I hardly read or do not read at all, and often on subjects about which I have little first-hand knowledge.10 But as an editor of Emblematica and several publication series,11 I see a lot of contemporary scholarship. I also admit to being an avid reader. Theory remains a difficult issue. With perhaps over 6,500 printed books it is little wonder. This number only concerns print and not the material culture, which in some ways may have been more important at least in terms of direct reception. The fact is that each time someone writes about anything “emblematic” in the print or material culture, the writer will have to decide if the combination of picture and word is emblematic, and that implies a decision whether the thing in question belongs to the genre of emblem or not. Not every picture is emblematic nor, obviously, are all words, whether taken singly or in sentences or clauses. In questions of theory, one might differentiate between modern and perhaps early modern attempts to define or describe the genre of emblematic books. Since the present book takes up some questions that have not received, in my view, sufficient consideration, it might be useful to indicate briefly what is said in some of the most influential modern attempts to describe the genre of the emblem. In this I shall mention briefly the views of those generally recognized as authorities: Praz, dating from the early 1930s, Freeman, dating from the 1940s, Heckscher, dating from the 1950s, Schöne, dating from the 1960s, and Jöns, 10 I have compiled An Annotated Bibliography of Emblem Studies for the decades 1990–2009, which has over 1,400 entries, over half in English. It will probably appear with AMS Press in New York. I am currently working on a follow-up bibliography for the decade 2010–2019, which is unlikely to smaller than the list for either of the previous decades. 11 AMS Studies in the Emblem (New York: AMS Press), the Index Emblematicus project (Toronto: University of Toronto Press), Imago Figurata with Brepols in Turnhout, Belgium, and the Corpus Librorum Emblematum (Saur [Munich], McGill-Queen’s University Press [Montreal], and now University of Toronto Press [Toronto]).

Introduction

3

also dating from the 1960s. This is suggested in Chapter 1 dealing with “Recent Emblem Theory.” There is a question whether some writers use terms perhaps a little loosely. It matters little whether the terms used are English, French, German, or Latin. I shall use the Latin terms, probably first used widely by Albrecht Schöne: inscriptio, pictura and subscriptio because they they imply nothing about the form or function of the part in question. The translation into English of Praz’s Studies uses the English terms motto and epigram, which in themselves are far from unusual. But not every inscriptio of an emblem is in fact a motto, and not every subscriptio is an epigram. Some may feel that it does not matter. But many emblems have a title and not a motto that appears over the picture. Some subscriptiones are prose and when poetry, then often of different lengths. Work is being done on theoretical questions concerning the emblem, but more needs to be done. I prefer not to enter into the general debate again, but would observe that some aspects need more study. There is already more than enough information on most of the precursors of the emblem. However, it is still unclear just how many, and which, printed emblems owe how much to these precursors of the emblem. Disagreement may well continue on what is primary in an emblem: the visual illustration or the texts. But even this issue seems to avoid the rather obvious question: primary to whom, the creator of the emblem or a reader? Creator is also something of an ambiguity since most emblem texts were written by someone recognized on the printed title-page as the author, but he or she rarely produced the pictura. The woodcut or engraving was usually created by a named artist who either worked directly for a publisher, who may have provided written or oral instructions, or the artist may have received instructions from the writer of texts, or simply proceeded directly from the subscriptiones, which will in some cases suggest that he had a good command of, say, Latin. Some issues in the theory of the emblem were hardly ever addressed until quite recently. The possible role of mnemonics in the creation of emblems is one. Mnemonics are the subject of my Chapter 5. We also have seldom asked how emblems were actually read. This is the subject of my Chapter 8. These and other matters are the subject of certain chapters in this book. The interpretation of emblems is an issue that most people do not actively think much about. That is the topic of Chapter 9. My hope is that the book will stimulate further reflection on essential elements in the modern theory of the emblem, which does not have to be normative because modern. In earlier books and articles12 I 12 See Peter M. Daly, Literature in the Light of the Emblem: Structural Parallels between the Emblem and Literature in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries [1979]. 2nd revised

4

The Emblem in Early Modern Europe

have dealt with some of these issues. Chapter 2 of the present book deals with a question that most of us simply take for granted: “The Importance of Emblems.” Chapter 3 deals with a perhaps related issue, namely “Truth in Emblems.” Chapter 4 considers “Emblems as Transmitters of Knowledge and Traditions.” This was a topic that I was invited to address at a conference in Berlin.13 In a sense, it could be seen in relation to another topic that I was invited to address at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, “Emblems as Indicators of Cultural Change.”14 It is, of course, well known, that Ignatius’s Jesuits published many emblem books and studies of symbology. The role of things emblematic in the Jesuit colleges in the early modern period is also fairly well known. But whom do these Jesuit emblems really serve? Is it all “propaganda,” as Praz suggests?15 That is the topic of Chapter 10 with the deliberately provocative title “Jesuit Emblems: In the Service of God, Man or the Society of Jesus?” Printed emblems may well exist in over 6,500 books of emblems and imprese, not all illustrated, printed between 1531 and last year. For my bibliographic purposes I do not distinguish emblem books from books with emblems, since I and expanded edn Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998. See also Daly, Emblem Theory: Recent German Contributions to the Characterization of the Emblem Genre. Nendeln: KTO, 1979; Daly, “The Union Catalogue of Emblem Books Project and the Corpus Librorum Emblematum,” Emblematica 3 (1988): 121–33; Daly, “Alciato’s Emblem ‘Concordiae Symbolum’: A Medusa’s Mirror for Rulers?” German Life and Letters 411 (1988): 349–62; Daly, “The Intertextuality of Word and Image in Wolfgang Hunger’s German Translation of Alciato’s Emblematum liber.” In Intertextuality: German Literature and the Visual Arts, ed. Ingeborg Hoesterey and Ulrich Weisstein. Columbia, SC: Camden House, 1993, 30–46; Daly, “The Emblem and Emblematic Forms in Early Modern Germany.” In Early Modern German Literature 1350–1700, vol. 4 of the Camden House History of German Literature, ed. Max Reinhart. Columbia, SC: Camden House, 2007, 509–45; Daly (ed.), Companion to Emblem Studies. New York: AMS Press, 2008; Daly, “Emblem Studies: Achievements and Challenges.” In The International Emblem: From Incunabula to the Internet. Selected Proceedings of the Eighth International Conference of the Society for Emblem Studies, 28th July–1st August, 2008, Winchester College, ed. Simon McKeown. Newcastle-upon-Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010, 523–31; Daly, “Emblems through the Magnifying Glass or Telescope,” Emblematica 18 (2010): 315–37; and Daly, “Bildtheorie, Bildrhetorik and Emblems.” Emblematica 19 (2012): 207–27. 13 The conference was entitled “The Exigencies of Tradition. The Transformation and Ossification of Topics in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period.” It was held in Berlin from June 10 to June 12, 2009. 14 It was published as “Sixteenth-Century Emblems and Imprese as Indicators of Cultural Change.” In Allegory and Cultural Change, ed. Jon Whitman. Leiden: Brill, 2000, 381–418. 15 See Mario Praz, Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. , Rome: edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1939; 2 edn London: Warburg Institute, 1964; offset reprint, 1975, p. 170.

Introduction

5

would not want to lose sight of those emblematic illustrations in certain works of meditation and spirituality. I doubt whether anyone really knows how many printed emblems all this represents because no one knows how large was the printrun for each title, or how many emblems each book contained. We have little factual information on the actual number of emblems printed. We would need to know not only how many emblematic books were printed, but how large was the print-run of each edition, as well as the number of emblems each book contained. We can only hazard some informed guesses. The number of printed emblems is probably over 100 million.16 Then there is the material culture which will include secular and ecclesiastical buildings with their emblematic wall and ceiling decorations, household furnishings ranging from cupboards and wall hangings to trenchers and drinking vessels as well as the many decorative arts. Modernization, fire, and warfare, not forgetting wear and tear, have obliterated most of the earlier manifestations of the emblem in the material culture. As I see it, genre questions still remain important, although much has been accomplished. Opinions will likely continue to differ on what constitutes an emblem, and this has helped to shape bibliography. Are the three parts (no matter how named) known from Alciato’s emblems a sine qua non for the emblem genre? Praz17 had a broad understanding of the emblem, and his general bibliography is still the most valuable and informative. Freeman18 had a narrower conception, restricting the use of the term to the three part combination associated with Alciato. John Landwehr’s bibliographies of German, Dutch, and Romance language emblem books19 are useful, but frequently inaccurate and incomplete. It is the bane of the bibliographer’s life to recognize that no bibliography can ever be complete, or perfectly accurate. See Peter M. Daly, “How Many Printed Emblem Books Were There? And How Many Printed Emblems Does That Represent?” In In Nocte Consilium: Studies in Emblematics in Honor of Pedro F. Campa, ed. John T. Cull and Peter M. Daly. Baden-Baden: Verlag Valentin Koerner, 2011, 215–22. 17 See note 2. 18 See note 4. 19 See John Landwehr, Dutch Emblem Books. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l962; Emblem Books of the Low Countries. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l970; German Emblem Books. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l972; French, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese Books of Devices and Emblems l534–l827. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l976. Landwehr’s most recent bibliography is entitled Emblem and Fable Books Printed in the Low Countries 1542–1813: A Bibliography. Utrecht: Hes, 1988. This work supersedes the earlier bibliography. All of Landwehr’s bibliographies need to be used with prudence; see reviews by Karel Porteman in Emblematica 4 (1989): 211–15, and B. van Selm in Dokumentaal 17 (1988): 152–7. 16

The Emblem in Early Modern Europe

6

Modern scholars have attempted to create theories to embrace the various manifestations of the emblematic mode, or to explain its workings. As I have argued elsewhere,20 it seems to me that “part of the purpose for the modern theoretical exercise, whether articulated or not, was the necessary attempt to rehabilitate the phenomenon itself, to rescue the emblem from oblivion, from misunderstanding, even ridicule, and thereby to set the study of things emblematic on a firmer and more respectable basis.”21 There seems little doubt about the importance of emblems, the subject of my Chapter 2. Should the emblem as a genre be characterized by three parts, no matter what we may call them? The emblema triplex was certainly the usual printed form, but it is not the only form. The notion that emblems are by generic definition tripartite has been challenged by a number of recent writers including Sabine Mödersheim and David Graham. Both recently came, and independently, to the conclusion that it is a simplification to assume that all emblems are tripartite in form. The question for some is not so much whether the emblem has three parts, but what is the nature of the collaboration between the visual and the verbal. In other words, it is a question of semantics and semiosis. No matter how the printed emblem was finally produced, the emblem as a printed whole produces a meaning, sense, significance (call it what one will) through the interaction of text(s) and graphic image. But there is still the necessary distinction to be made between intention and reception. The intention could be said to be of the printed emblem (and it may be another simplification to assume the writer of the texts alone should be considered when it comes to intention). Reception is by a subsequent reader; here, too, one might wish to distinguish the reader then and now. Schöne, today probably more maligned than read, introduced the notion that the emblem is characterized by a dual function of representation and interpretation. It is not difficult to find emblems that fit that description and emblems that do not. But as a general principle it seems to work. The prestigious French journal Littérature devoted a special issue, no. 145, March, 2007, to L’Emblème Littéraire: Théories and Pratiques. This is probably the most recently published attempt to deal with things emblematic in terms of theory and practice. But it should be noted that the topic concerns the literary emblem, i.e., the printed emblem. It took over a decade for someone to challenge Schöne’s notion of “ideelle Priorität” and “potenzielle Faktizität” and perhaps more than three decades for a serious objection to be lodged against the idea that See Peter M. Daly, “Emblem Studies: Achievements and Challenges,” 523–31. See note 20.

20 21

Introduction

7

the emblem is a tripartite structure. As we now recognize, many emblems are and some are not. Of course, Schöne was primarily, perhaps exclusively interested in printed emblems. There is much to recommend readers in this special issue of Littérature, the title of which would lead one to think that it deals primarily with the printed emblem in terms of theory and practice. It is important to recognize that in the production of emblematic books there will be collaboration in many ways: between a writer, and/or the translator, a publisher, an artist, perhaps more than one, and an engraver. These appear to be the most important forms of collaboration. Opposing modern theoretical constructs is the attempt to focus more narrowly on historically delimited contexts for theoretical discourse. There have been a number of studies that ask how an emblematic term was understood and used in the early modern period.22 These should be consulted. But is an emblem a product or a process? The question may sound simplistic in so far as it glosses over the difference between creation (by whom?) and reception (by whom?). My good friend Daniel Russell argues that “the emblem demonstrated a process” (The Emblem and Device in France, 179). Russell makes it clear that he is thinking of the creation of emblems when he observes that the emblem “is a way of taking a position in relation to fragments of earlier artworks” (179). In the 1520s Alciato was translating epigrams from the Greek Anthology into Latin, and many found their way into his emblems. Many of Alciato’s emblems recall those earlier artworks. But do we assume that Alciato’s French or German readers recognized echoes of the Greek Anthology in the Latin emblems now translated into French or German? It would stretch credulity somewhat to assume that a French or German sixteenth-century reader with little Latin and no Greek read those French or German Alciato emblems as a process, recognizing the extent to which those French or German texts derived ultimately from Alciato’s Latin translation of the Greek Anthology. See Ayres Bagley, “English Dictionary Definitions of ‘Emblem’ and ‘Device’ from Elyot to Johnson.” Emblematica 4 (1989): 177–99; Daniel Russell, “The Term ‘Emblème’ in SixteenthCentury France.” Neophilologus 59 (1975): 337–51; Peter M. Daly, “The Arbitrariness of George Wither’s Emblems: A Reconsideration.” In The Art of the Emblem: Studies in Honour of Karl Josef Höltgen, ed. Michael Bath, John Manning, and Alan R. Young. New York: AMS Press, 1993, 201–24; Pedro F. Campa, “Terms for Emblem in the Spanish Tradition.” In Aspects of Renaissance and Baroque Symbol Theory 1500–1700, ed. Peter M. Daly and John Manning. New York: AMS Press, 1999, 13–26. An invaluable source is the compendium of terms entitled Emblematic Variants: Literary Echoes of Alciati’s Term Emblema. A Vocabulary Drawn from the Title Pages of Emblem Books, compiled by William S. Heckscher and Agnes B. Sherman, and published as vol. 10 in AMS Studies in the Emblem. New York: AMS Press, 1995. 22

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How can it be shown that emblem books helped to form readers “in their personalized interpretation of texts”? (Russell, 178). It is an attractive argument but presumes a certain leap of faith if modern scholars are to accept that the emblem represents a “reading process” that helped readers take a step towards the more active and independent role in the production of meaning. (See Russell, 179f.) Where is the evidence of reader response? Given the attraction of the idea of emblem as a reading process, it was inevitable that someone would seek to apply such emblematic reading to modern novels. Sonja Lagerwall did that in her Illinois paper23 with nodding recognition of Wolfgang Iser and Michael Riffaterre. The aesthetics of reception and reader engagement become central. But notions of point of view and univalence24 are perhaps not as easy they might appear (Lagerwall, “On the Act of Reading,” 176). We may read of “univalence,” but univalence of what, and how? For me this is a matter of semantics and assumed knowledge. Especially in the early modern period a lion, a chameleon, and a snake were viewed as being composed of several different qualities and associated with very different stories. The one creature could thus become associated with several different ideas. Not with just one idea, although in a given emblem usually only one meaning is stated or implied. The creature could be regarded negatively or positively, in bonam partem or in malam partem, depending on which attributes or characteristics or stories were highlighted. The snake could be an image of cleverness or wisdom, of spiritual renewal, or medicinal help (we may still see today outside of a doctor’s office the wand of Aesculapius with its serpent), but the snake could also denote poison, treachery, and death. And there are other notions that come with that creature. All nature motifs in emblems could be used positively or negatively. Do we associate snakes today with marriage? Let us forget Freud. In his collection Emblemas moralizadas (Madrid, 1599) Hernando de Soto has an emblem (51) that shows two snakes entwined in a circle, as nature’s demonstration of a forced marriage, “El matrimonio forçado” as stated in the inscriptio, or “El matrimonio violento,” which are the final words of the subscriptio. This particular snake image may go back to Aristotle and Pliny. De Soto’s snakes demonstrate a dangerous relationship between the sexes.

Published in Emblematica 15 (2007): 171–89 as “On the Act of Reading: The Emblem and Michel Butor’s Novel La Modification.” 24 Russell has suggested that in an emblem “meaning is … univalent … emblematic meaning becomes apparent, or manifest, only in a single point of view” (The Emblem and Device in France, 179). 23

Introduction

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At some point, however, certainty becomes clouded. When is a snake a viper? Should modern scholars use early modern terms to identify the pictorial motifs provided by early modern artists, who were guided by the texts they illustrated, or by instructions provided by emblem writers, their translators, or publishers? Russell has written of the problems involved in naming such creatures as pelican, unicorn, and halcyon. It should be remembered that emblems derive from the pre-Linnean period, and consequently what we may today identify as an egret might have been named “pelican” in the early modern text.25 One may suspect that for many readers meaning is located, or also located, somewhere outside the printed emblem. But not all critics will agree. So what is univalence in a given emblem featuring a snake? As we have seen, one snake emblem might suggest a single meaning of sex as danger, and another might convey a totally different meaning. In each case univalence is given, but the two applications may appear to cancel each other out. Reader knowledge is paramount. Georg Philipp Harsdörffer knew that. For him, recognition of meaning depends on the reader’s understanding of the thing portrayed, and that such knowledge or understanding precedes the reader’s viewing of the printed emblem. Harsdörffer comments: “that one cannot judge an emblem without first having thoroughly studied the nature and qualities of the figures, which are often hidden and cannot be depicted; hence the meaning of the emblem becomes difficult and obscure.” (FzGs IV, 244)26 While still on the subject of the semantics of the emblem, perhaps one should ask which qualities or aspects of the central motif should be featured? Harsdörffer suggests that “The comparison … must not be drawn with accidental, but rather with essential qualities of a thing” (FzGs VII, 39).27 The modern reader, used to so-called organic relationships, may be confused when confronted with images of the same thing or creature, carrying different, at See Daniel S. Russell, “The Needs of the Literary Historian,” in The Index of Emblem Art Symposium, ed. Peter M. Daly. New York: AMS Press, 1990, 113. See also Daniel S. Russell, “Perceiving, Seeing and Meaning: Emblems and Some Approaches to Reading Early Modern Culture.” In Aspects of Renaissance and Baroque Symbol Theory, ed. Peter M. Daly and John Manning. New York: AMS Press, 1999, 89. 26 “daß man von keinem Sinnbilde urtheilen kan / man habe dann zuvor der Figuren Natur und Eigenschaften gründlich erlernet / welche vielmals verborgen ist / und nicht ausgemahlet werden kan / daher dann des Sinnbildes Verstand schwer und tunkel wird” (FzGs IV, 244). 27 Georg Philipp Harsdörffer, Frauenzimmer Gesprächspiele. Facsimile reprint of the Nuremberg 1644–1649 printing, ed. Irmgard Böttcher. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1968–1969, subsequently referred to as FzGs. “Diese Gleichniß … muß nicht von zufälligen / sondern wesentlichen Eigenschaften eines Dings hergenommen seyn” (FzGs VII, 39). 25

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times even contradictory, meanings. But these meanings derive from the good or evil qualities of the thing depicted or named, even though modern readers may have trouble with that concept. So how should one understand univalence? The concept would have to be understood in connection with qualities that were considered at the time essential or true, i.e., what was deemed to be true at the time. Lagerwall uses Russell and Riffaterre to explicate text segments of Butor’s twentieth-century novel La Modification. For her “an emblematic unit is only grasped on [the semiotic] level” (Lagerwall, “On the Act of Reading,” 178). But is it correct to assert that the emblem’s “composition is full of semantic indetermination already on the selection level.” (179)? It is perhaps no coincidence that Lagerwall quotes no emblems to buttress her assertions. It might also have strengthened her argument had Lagerwall been able to show that Butor possessed or borrowed or used emblem books. Some readers may entertain doubts about emblematic procedures, however defined, being applied to the interpretation of novels whether of the early modern period or the twentieth century. Novels are normally composed of hundreds of pages of prose whereas the subscriptiones of emblems comprise but a few lines of text. Furthermore, notions of “defamiliarisation” (Lagerwall, 183) may not characterize most emblems at all. This leads her to speculate that this “may well be the reason why Michel Butor chooses what looks like an emblematic mode of composition” (183). One notes the hedging phrases. This supposed emblematic mode of composition is allegedly found in scenes that reflect and comment on others. We are told that Butor’s novel, like the emblem, presents a static and condensed narrative. A relatively recent concern involves the pictura and some of the insights of “Bildtheorie.” There may well be a form of visual rhetoric in some emblem pictures. This is the topic of Chapter 7 of this book. Some critics insist that a picture possesses no “cognitive primacy.”28 I have expressed doubts about that

28 See Wolfgang Neuber, “Locus, Lemma, Motto. Entwurf zu einer mnemonischen Emblematiktheorie.” In Ars memorativa: Zur kulturgeschichtlichen Bedeutung der Gedächtniskunst 1400–1750, ed. Jörg Jochen Berns and Wolfgang Neuber. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1993, 353, 354. Stefan Manns quotes the Neuber passage (353) in his own essay entitled “Nucleus emblematum: Überlegungen zu einer Semiotik des Emblems.” In Topik und Tradition: Prozesse der Neuordnung von Wissensüberlieferungen des 13. bis 17. Jahrhunderts, ed. Thomas Frank, Ursula Kocher, and Ulrike Tarnow. Göttingen: V&R Unipress, 2007, 47–65.

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already.29 At issue here is an apparent misunderstanding of the semantics of an emblem picture and the relationship of a motif, whether depicted in a pictura or discussed in a subscriptio, or both, to a body of assumed knowledge that may not be expressed directly anywhere in the emblem. There is also the question whether a lemma is always a motto, as Wolfgang Neuber asserts.30 This is also the subject of Chapter 5 of this book.

See Peter M. Daly, “Bildtheorie, Bildrhetorik and Emblems,” Emblematica 19 (2012): 207–27. See also Peter M. Daly, “Emblems through the Magnifying Glass or Telescope.” Emblematica 18 (2010): 315–37. 30 See note 27. 29

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Chapter 1

Recent Emblem Theory

Theory remains a difficult issue. The fact is that each time someone writes about anything “emblematic” in the print or material culture, the writer will have to decide if the combination of picture and word is emblematic, and that implies a decision whether the thing in question belongs to the genre of emblem or not. Not every picture is emblematic nor are all words. Most scholars and students working on any aspect of emblem studies will have read the earlier authorities on the subject. Not that all readers are likely to agree on a list of authorities. Most of us know an emblem when we see one. But this does not mean that it is easy to discuss what might be called the genre of the emblem. At least one modern scholar1 who does know emblems considers the question “What is an emblem?” to be a non-question, although certain early modern Jesuits appear to have less difficulty with the question. However, it is true that looking back today over the centuries in which emblems have enriched both the print and material cultures, there are far more examples than were present in the early modern period. If I offer some proposals in this book, they are based on something approaching a modern theory of the emblem, and it seems reasonable to try to at least indicate what I take to be the major attempts made in recent times to describe the phenomenon. The writers that I want to consider are Mario Praz, Rosemary Freeman, William S. Heckscher, and Albrecht Schöne. Although the typical emblem is made up of visual image and words, and is therefore a hybrid phenomenon, most modern theoreticians take a literary approach rather than an art-historical approach. Earlier scholars faced challenges virtually unknown to us. Perhaps one of the first things we should remember is that when most of the authorities wrote, neither they nor their then-contemporaries had access to copying machines or computers. Many bibliographical achievements resulted from years of collecting information, personal travel to libraries, public and private around the world, in order to assemble information that was not readily available in one place at the time. See John Manning, The Emblem, London: Reaktion, 2002.

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Mario Praz (1897–1982) was an Italian literary historian and culture critic. He is known as a scholar of mannerism and romanticism, but emblem scholars know him as probably the first person to attempt to describe emblems, and see them in their wider cultural context.2 We must first recognize that Mario Praz’s important Studies were likely written in the 1930s, reflecting pre-World War II attitudes and state of knowledge. In later editions of his work, Praz refers to most of the secondary literature published between 1939 and 1964. But much has also been published since 1964. The 1975 printing also contains the 1939 and 1963 forewords. The foreword to the first edition notes that Praz’s work was the first “comprehensive study which has sought to see them [emblems] in the light of the taste of the centuries in which they flourished.” Scholars today will also recognize Praz’s historical perspective, his incredible reading, and his perhaps now dated references to “taste” and Jesuit “propaganda.” In fact the adjectives “quaint” and “odd” as well as the nouns “taste,” “plagiarism,” and “propaganda” represent value judgments that many will not share. As for his conception of the emblem, Praz wrote in his Studies that emblems are “simple allegorical designs accompanied by an explanatory motto and destined to teach in an intuitive form a moral truth” (Studies in SeventeenthCentury Imagery, 14–15). In many respects this is a useful description. But perhaps Praz is using “motto” somewhat loosely, and meaning in fact that which is printed usually above the picture. However, we know that this piece of text is often a title and not a motto. Also, we know, as did Praz, that the truth taught by the emblem is not always moral, but also religious and even political. In any case, that truth was considered important for many members of society at the time. No mention is made of a third part, often called the epigram. Praz insisted that the visual motifs of emblems were hieroglyphic rather than belonging to representational art. For me it depends how narrowly or broadly one understands those terms. Today we would likely prefer to restrict the use of “hieroglyphic” or at least indicate how we use the term. Praz frequently stresses the element of wit (agudeza) and conceit, but again it depends how one understands those terms. What is the perspective that Praz brings to bear on emblems? It was historical, literary, cultural, and positivistic in the sense that he often traced an emblem back to an earlier literary source, or showed how one emblem writer was often See Mario Praz, Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1939; 2 edn London: Warburg Institute, 1964; offset reprint, 1975; Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Part II. Addenda et Corrigenda (1974). 2

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a partial source for a later one. Since there were over 6,500 printed books of emblems and imprese published since 1531 we can hardly expect one volume of Studies to fully discuss them all. His knowledge of the classics of Greece and Rome was impressive and profound; he tended to hear echoes in later emblems, where we would probably not. It is a truism, and not for that reason false, to observe that what one sees depends on what one is capable of seeing, and/or what one is looking for, consciously or not. Most will not have Praz’s familiarity with Greek and Latin texts, but that knowledge will not always unlock meaning in a given emblem or emblem book. Praz’s second chapter deals with imprese for which he uses the word “devices.” Perhaps today we no longer regard imprese as so foreign and remote (Studies, 55). The badges of schools and universities, brand names and some company logos, current today, could be said to have a similar purpose. He quite properly begins with Giovio and the military situation, the invasion by the French, which brought the impresa to the Italian states (55). Praz was aware of the pedantic Italian squabbling about the perfect impresa. He then offers his own frequently quoted definition that the impresa “is nothing else than a symbolical representation of a purpose, a wish, a line of conduct … by means of a motto and a picture which reciprocally interpret each other” (58). Since from his perspective the emblem developed north of the Alps free of Italian prescriptions, “it may be said that the device [= impresa] is to the emblem what classical is to romantic, or the closed form is to the open form, according to Wöfflin’s well known definition.” (81). The third chapter deals with emblems of love, both secular and religious. One should not expect all the love emblems to be treated exhaustively. Religious love emblems are a huge field. Praz recognizes the importance of Herman Hugo’s Pia desideria but still regards it as a “trifle” (Studies, 144). Some of Praz’s bibliographical information has been updated in the meantime. But how indebted are emblems to hieroglyphs and were emblem pictures really intended for the illiterate in the tradition of the biblia pauperum (Studies, 169)? Behind these assumptions or assertions lurks a view of the nature of emblems, or perhaps it would be more accurate to suggest views of the nature of some emblems. With so many emblem books it will be difficult if not impossible to find one definition or description that will satisfy everyone. Clearly Praz was convinced of the importance of “hieroglyphics” (169) and “esoteric language” (169). But he also recognized that other traditions were often in play. There is the question in how far early modern forewords account for the actual practice of making emblems.

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Assertions and value judgments come easily to Praz. I prefer not to get involved in aesthetic or value judgments. Times and tastes change, as do the paradigms of scholarship. One may wonder how true it is that the “fashion for emblems disappeared in the nineteenth century” (Studies, 201)? It is not as simple as it might appear. One only need think of the taste in Victorian and Edwardian times for the engraved fobs, used on the chains of men’s pocket watches, for example, to find relatively modern uses for combinations of symbolic visual images and words. It will always be a matter of definition and evidence as well as assertion. The place in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries of logos, printed announcements (government and otherwise), fire marks, illustrated advertisements, and other things in the material culture would also need to be considered. After all is said and done emblems will be encountered everywhere in the book and material culture, even today. Praz traced some emblem mottoes back to imprese (Studies, 25). But he does not ask the primitive sounding question: when is an inscriptio a motto and when a mere title? Does it matter? Such apparent nit-picking is only possible when we embrace a certain generic view of the emblem that many of the authorities either could not know or did not accept. Some will question today the appropriateness of the word “motto.” Praz’s critical perspective could perhaps be characterized as historically cultural and literary. He is wide-ranging in his citation of ancient Greek, Roman, medieval, and baroque writers; and the quotations are impressive and humbling in their scope. There is also no doubt that Praz had read many more emblem books that most of us will ever read. Praz’s Studies are so rich in information and detail that it would be impossible to do justice to his knowledge in a few pages. Suffice it to say, that no one working on any of the many emblems or emblem writers that Praz discusses can afford to ignore what he had to say. He remains one of the most important authorities in the field, even if we may disagree with some of his aesthetic or value judgments. William S. Heckscher (1904–1999) was a German art historian whose career was interrupted and redirected by World War II. He remained a somewhat unconventional art historian, if the first president of the Society for Emblem Studies.3 See William S. Heckscher and Karl-August Wirth: “Emblem, Emblembuch.” In Reallexikon zur Deutschen Kunstgeschichte, vol. 5. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1959, cols. 85–228; Emblem Books in the Princeton University Library: A Short-Title Catalogue. Compiled by William S. Heckscher and Agnes B. Sherman with the assistance of Stephen Ferguson. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Library, 1984. William S. Heckscher, The Princeton Alciati Companion. A glossary of neo-Latin words and phrases used by Andrea Alciati and 3

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Heckscher’s view of the emblem is most succinctly expressed in the important article in the Reallexikon.4 He conceives of the emblem as a sort of riddle comprised of three parts. “In an emblem one is dealing with the combination of word of the lemma with picture of the icon which produces a riddle, the resolution of which is made possible by the epigram” (vol. 5, col. 95).5 It is notoriously difficult to hit upon any description that will account for the various manifestations of the emblem even in emblem books. Heckscher’s attempt will not accord with all of the emblems of Alciato. The assumption of riddle is also repeated in the long Reallexikon article (220, 221) and his Emblematic Variants (10). Heckscher used a combination of terms to designate the parts of the emblem, which he assumed to have three parts: the Latin words lemma and icon and the German word Epigramm. As far as I can see, the Latin are clear enough, although one could disagree whether the third part (where there are only three parts) is appropriately labeled in any language an epigram. These terminological quibbles aside the long and richly illustrated article in the Reallexikon was and still is perhaps the most important view of the whole field of emblem studies in both the print and material cultures. It is enriched with a wealth of secondary literature, although much has also been published in the meantime. The material culture is not overlooked (Reallexikon, 114, 197–205, 218–219). Heckscher knew that the sources of emblems were manifold, both for texts and images (116–129). It can be argued that castra doloris, catafalques, obsequies, and funeral devices in general are underrepresented in this important article. The Jesuits alone seem to have produced at least 43 examples, not all of which are illustrated, and many are Polish. Many works also deal more generally with death as distinct from the funeral of a named personage. Just staying with the Jesuits there are by Stanyhurst Regio mortis and Veteris hominis with its many editions, the latter dealing with the four last things. the emblem book writers of his time, including a bibliography of secondary sources relevant to the study of Alciati’s emblems. New York: Garland, 1989. A selection of his many essays accompanied by many of his self-caricatures, appeared in Egon Verheyen, William S. Heckscher: Art and Literature. Studies in Relationship, 2nd edn, revised and enlarged. Baden-Baden: Verlag Valentin Koerner, 1994 as volume 17 of Saecvla Spiritalia; Emblematic Variants. Literary Echoes of Alciati’s term Emblema. A vocabulary drawn from the title pages of emblem books. Compiled by William S. Heckscher and Agnes B. Sherman. New York: AMS Press, 1995. 4 See note 3. 5 The German reads: “Man hat es beim Emblem demnach mit einer Vereinigung vom Wort des Lemma mit dem Bild der Icon zu einem Rätsel zu tun, dessen Auflösung durch das Epigramm ermöglicht wird.”

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This very long, indeed book-length article, written by a noted art historian and literary historian, dealing with virtually every aspect of emblem studies, in both the print and material culture, is written in German. Unfortunately that makes it for many a book with seven seals. As far as I know, it has never been translated. The English literary historian Rosemary Freeman (1913–1972) is known for her work on English emblem writers.6 Her richly illustrated study was first published in 1948, a second impression in 1967 and a third impression in 1970. The 1948 text remains unaltered in 1967 and 1970. Tillyard supplied a foreword to the 1967 printing; he was one of her original research supervisors. The book itself emerged from her doctoral research. Tillyard stresses the remoteness and strangeness of emblems. Freeman’s own original preface of 1946 stresses the “almost forgotten” (ix) genre. The book is now nearly 70 years old, and until relatively recently was virtually the only word on English emblems. At the time it was the latest sympathetic, if also critical, word on the subject. Probably no student of emblems now considers emblems particularly strange or remote, although they do indeed emerge from a quite different world-view from our own. In fact the very words “emblem” and “emblematic” have become part of today’s critical and journalistic parlance. And likely no one using those terms thinks of emblem books. Freeman’s purpose was to introduce the reader to emblems, to the methods used by English emblem writers and show how literature of the period was influenced by emblems. The first half of the book is devoted to historical background and the second half is more critical and deals with certain better known figures such as Quarles and Bunyan and the role of emblematics in literature. The introduction makes it clear that Freeman will deal with the emergence of the genre in English in 1586 and the time (unspecified) “when it ceased to be regarded as a serious branch of literature” (English Emblem Books, 1). She suggests that the last proponent of the emblematic form in serious English literature was John Bunyan. She rightly stresses the role of allegory and what she terms the dual meaning of things, whereas today we might rather think of the multifarious meanings of things. Whether the “old mentality” (English Emblem Books, 2) did actually cease to exist could be doubted. But Freeman is both positive and in a sense optimistic in regarding science, which became a new way forward in the second See Rosemary Freeman, English Emblem Books. London: Chatto & Windus, 1948; reprinted 1967and 1970. The study also has a brief bibliography of English emblem books down to 1700. I quote from the 1967 printing. 6

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half of the seventeenth century, as a sort of intellectual liberator (3). Some of us may no longer be so sure about that. In Freeman’s view allegory moved in the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods from the public to the private sphere (English Emblem Books, 7), but she notes that no single reason can be given for the “taste for allegory” (4) and the “taste for emblems” (4) The period, as she observes, did also produce Shakespeare. Of course, Freeman is right that most emblems never attained the status of great literature or great art. Freeman begins her study by comparing an emblem picture by Wither (from Rollenhagen) on the choice of Hercules with a picture on the same subject engraved for Lord Shaftesbury (English Emblem Books, 9). They are chosen to demonstrate the differences between an emblem and a nonemblem. Among the many differences Freeman insists rightly that Shaftesbury concentrates on the visual, not the symbolical (13), but also the enigmatic (17). However, the same terms can mean different things to different people. For Shaftesbury “enigmatic” virtually equals “emblematic” as a term of rejection. For Heckscher it describes neutrally the emblem genre. For Freeman the claims of verisimilitude are ignored in emblems in favor of the allegorical (13). She is concerned in her book with “enigmatical emblems” (18), reproducing and discussing such figures as Occasio in Whitney (18) and noting such details as the razor, hair blown forward, and winged feet. It is in this first chapter that the reader will learn how Freeman regards what might be called the genre of the emblem. She observes that this lies in a “detailed pictorial and allegorical presentation of ideas … correlating them [ideas] with the moral doctrines taught in the accompanying poem” (English Emblem Books, 19). But “moral” is a grab bag and will include personal and social morality and totally ignores religious applications, which as time went on took on increasing importance. In many ways Freeman’s study is based on the large generalizations current at the time regarding the world-view of the Middle Ages and the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods, views widely known through the published works of Tillyard and Basil Willey, among others. If one is to assess critically, then one will likely be suspicious of large generalizations. How do we really know? After all, Medieval Man and Renaissance Man are at best a kind of shorthand, unless one takes the lowest common denominator of essentially medieval or renaissance views, or names and investigates a chosen representative. How can we responsibly assess large notions about a world-view? One way is to read widely the primary religious, philosophical, and literary texts that are agreed to have represented aspects of

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the world-view in question. Another way is to rely on the current understanding and that means at least reading closely the secondary literature on the subject. One would like to believe that the Tillyards and Willeys have read the primary texts closely. Most of us know the famous lines of Alan of Lille “Omnis mundi creatura …” but probably from secondary literature and not from having read them in the original. I, too, have quoted them, but never read the original. Freeman’s generalizations about the unified world-view of the Middle Ages and the fragmentation of that unity in the English sixteenth and seventeenth centuries seem valid. (English Emblem Books, 20–21) That also means, among other things, that inherited allegory also served different purposes, such as is found in emblems. To what extent “allegorical detail for its own sake” (21) is always or even usually found in emblem pictures could be a subject for disagreement. Freeman’s second chapter deals with “The Beginnings of Emblem Writing in England.” It touches briefly on aspects of emblem theory, to which I shall return later, and concentrates on Alciato. She asserts wrongly that few English titles reached a second edition (English Emblem Books, 43) although her own bibliography contains several and we now know of more. The chapter contains a useful overview of the development on the continent, although her phrase “emblem-mania” (43) for the Italian interest strikes me as something of an exaggeration, although the Italians did squabble about the definition of the impresa. She rightly notes the relative paucity of extant English emblem books (English Emblem Books, 53) for which she offers several reasons, having already alluded to the comparatively underdeveloped state of engraving in England (45f.). Freeman insists that there was no lack of invention or wit (54). Freeman’s third chapter is devoted to Elizabethan and Jacobean emblem books. Her judgment that Whitney was completely without “originality” (English Emblem Books, 56) is harsh and not altogether true. Unlike Freeman, I rather doubt that we attach much significance to the brief introductions or forewords that were often printed before the actual emblems. They seldom adequately explain what the emblems contain and how they came about. In a footnote (English Emblem Books, 65 no. 2 on Willet) she notes the 1934 study by Irma Tramer on Studien zu den Anfängen der Puritanischen Emblemliteratur, calling it a “full account of the emblems” and nowhere questioning Tramer’s application of Puritan to Willet and Wither. Tramer’s use of terms is questionable. Also not all readers will find Wither a Puritan, a view often repeated by Freeman (142f.) The fifth chapter takes up “Quarles and his Followers.” Freeman finds this group more literary (English Emblem Books,114) using a “new set of conventions

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Figure 1.1 Herman Hugo, Pia desideria, Antwerp 1624, first edition. Illustrated title page. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections and using them in a new way” (114). How “new” this was can be doubted. After all, Quarles had his sources in Herman Hugo (Figures1.1–3) and the Typus mundi (Figures 1.4–5). But that is to take a European perspective and what Quarles produced was new to England. How new in comparison with his sources is the point, and much has been published since. Indeed, how “new” this “literary factor” (115) was may be doubted when the various continental emblems books are also considered. What some readers will note is that Freeman moves from describing the provenance of motifs to the “psychological” (119), which we may take to refer to the inner state of mind of the believer who reads Quarles. I would not be so bold as to suggest that Freeman is wrong, but she does invoke a category (psychology), which may not be completely appropriate, or if appropriate can also be discovered in continental emblems. Again, continental emblems were not part of her project. Today those who study Quarles and his

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Figure 1.2 Herman Hugo, Pia desideria, Antwerp 1624. Frontispiece. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections times, or the reception of Quarles’s emblems, will need to review closely what Freeman has written and beware of simply accepting her judgments. It is in her bibliography and some of her judgments that Freeman’s work could do lasting damage. But we must always recognize that that she had a right to determine the cut-off point for her bibliography. She chose the date 1700, which among other things deprives the reader of access to many religious emblems and to the Victorians, and to such American writers as Holmes and Barber. In my view her bibliography contains fewer items in English than were actually printed between 1531 and last year. Huston Diehl made the mistake of taking Freeman’s bibliography for her own handbook that was published in 1986, about 40 years after Freeman presumably finished her study and bibliography. There are issues that arise in reading Freeman that she seldom addresses. She does refer to something that we might call emblem theory (English Emblem Books, 38ff., 85ff.) and the precursors of emblems. In her general discussion

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Figure 1.3 Herman Hugo, Pia desideria, Antwerp 1627, colophon dated 1624. The engraved title page is the same as in the 1624 edition. Emblem 14, 107. Reproduced from a private collection Freeman usefully refers to Praz and also to the seventeenth-century Jesuit Maximilian van der Sandt. She notes that general discussions in English tend to concentrate on decoration (we might now prefer to speak of the material culture) or rhetoric (85). Generally she seems to use “motto” for the emblem’s brief introductory text and the word “device” where we might prefer impresa since the English word has several meanings and uses. Are the three or less or more parts of an emblem discussed? Freeman rightly notes the word “emblem” was also used in English of the early modern period to designate the pictura (English Emblem Books, 37–38). Is there any awareness of the problematics of the illustration, who made it and how? Freeman certainly states that with the possible exception of John Hall none “invented their pictures” (140). The implication seems to be that she expected the emblem

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writer to invent his or her own pictures. But we know most did not. That was left to the publisher. Perhaps even more important, what does Freeman imply about the relationship of picture to word? She seems to imply that a Quarles wrote interpretative verses to explain the picture (see 120). In this case we probably know too little to be sure what really came first. But Quarles must have read closely his sources and it is likely that he knew how certain continental prints illustrated the game of bowls (reproduction from Quarles facing 120). Is there any awareness of the problematics of readership? How were and how are emblems actually read? Are issues of intention (whose?) and reception (whose?) considered? Terms will often be a problem. Freeman is conscious of the problem with some terms such as symbol, which has been used honorifically for certain more modern images. But then that modern usage is frequently associated with the naturalistic and emotional. She is more concerned with what she calls “method.” One of the staples of the emblem writer is the kind of symbol that Freeman calls the “abstract symbol” (English Emblem Books, 22) something that she does not adequately describe, but which we may take to be symbolic details such as a flower, a skull or thing often associated with or carried by a figure or personification in an illustration. Although Freeman writes with confidence, I am not persuaded that the “imposition of meaning upon predetermined image” (28) even usually describes what the emblem writer does. Freeman never asks who predetermines the illustration. In other words, in the 1940s no one seems to have asked where the illustration might have come from, or how. I am even less persuaded that this is the “essential weakness of the emblem writer’s method” (28). Again, “weakness” is another judgment that not all will share. So what is the perspective that Freeman brings to bear on emblems? It was literary and cultural and sets out to be restricted to English emblems. Her literary judgments are largely based on ideas of what characterizes for her good literature, notions of originality, even compatibility of imagery, where she often finds “little or no connection” (English Emblem Books, 78) between the images. Freeman dislikes images in literature that she finds “incompatible” such as Rosalind’s eyes described as “sapphires set in snow” (78). But this is the procedure of the emblematist. Unlike perhaps most scholars today Freeman is always prepared to judge the “poetic qualities” (125) of emblem books. She considers the popularity of Quarles’s two emblem books to be “greatly in excess of their merits” (125). Freeman insists that emblems are characterized by the “persistent literary nature of the symbolisation” (English Emblem Books, 33) with which one might agree if one has doubts about the “arbitrary way in which the significance is imposed …”

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Figure 1.4

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The Antwerp Jesuit College, Typus mundi, Antwerp 1627. Engraved title page. Reproduced from a private collection

(33). She asserts but does show how the significance is “arbitrary.“ Here we have another judgment that may not sit well with all scholars. In the unwritten and long history of emblematic books, it may be too facile to note a development from the objective to the psychological (33). Freeman ends her first chapter describing the end of the emblem development in England: “Symbols had become frivolous, and emblem books became frivolous too; the only alternative to frivolity was childishness, and so the fashion ends …” (36). We read no word about political or religious emblems. Even the year 1700 saw an English translation by Sir James Astray of an important Spanish mirror of the prince book by Diego Saavedra Fajardo, briefly mentioned (45), and listed in her bibliography (229). Judgments like “arbitrary” (English Emblem Books, 33, 60) abound and will likely be accepted by the reader, unless he or she is allergic to them. Readers today must always remember that Freeman was an English literary historian. There is also no way she could have known how important in some ways the English translations of the eighteenth-century German Gossner would become in the missionary work done in Africa and India.

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Figure 1.5

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The Antwerp Jesuit College, Typus mundi, Antwerp 1627. Adam, tree and serpent. Reproduced from a private collection

It is perhaps a sign of her times and of our times that like Praz she never translates Latin quotations, whereas we today would tend to attempt to provide translations from any other language. Albrecht Schöne (born 1925) as a German literary historian is known among other things for his work on emblem theory, German emblem writers and drama.7

7 Schöne’s theory of the emblem was first published in article form in 1963, in the journal Deutsche Vierteljahrsschrift für Literaturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte 37 (1963): 197–321. It informed his book Emblematik und Drama im Zeitalter des Barock. Munich: Beck’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1964; 2nd edn 1968, and 3rd edn 1993, and was incorporated into the introduction of the Emblemata: Handbuch, which quickly established itself as the standard reference work on emblems. Invaluable though it may be, religious emblems are under-represented, which may appear odd given the importance that Praz and Heckscher had accorded the religious emblem. Perhaps needless to say, Schöne is a scholar with many strings to his bow, and many publications to his credit in article and book form that do not deal with things emblematic.

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He rejects Heckscher’s conception of the riddling character of the emblem in favor of his view of a “dual function of representation and interpretation,” although he incorporates a reference to enigma and its resolution through the subscriptio that accords with Heckscher’s view. Schöne introduced the notion that the emblem is characterized by a dual function of representation and interpretation (Darstellung und Deutung), which itself represents both the “Idealtypus” (ideal type) and its “ideelle Priorität” (priority of idea). In English translation the passage in the second edition (1968) of his Emblematik und Drama reads: In as much as the inscriptio appears only as an object-related title, it can contribute to the representational function of the pictura as can the subscriptio—if part of the epigram merely describes the picture or depicts more exhaustively what is presented by the pictura. On the other hand, the inscriptio can also participate in the interpretative function of the subscriptio, or that part of the subscriptio directed towards interpretation; through its sententious abbreviation the inscriptio can, in relation to the pictura, take on the character of an enigma that requires a solution in the subscriptio. Finally, in isolated instances the pictura itself can contribute to the epigram’s interpretation of that which is depicted, when, for example, an action in the background of the picture with the same meaning helps to explain the sense of the action in the foreground. (p. 21) … The dual function of representation and interpretation, description and explanation, which the tripartite construction of the emblem assumes, is based upon the fact that that which is depicted means more than it portrays. The res picta of the emblem is endowed with the power to refer beyond itself, it is a res signifans. (22)8

As far as I know there has been no translation into English of this theory.9 It should always be remembered that Schöne’s theory of the emblem was intended to encompass all printed emblems, no matter in which language(s) or where they were printed. He discusses the three parts of the emblem under the rubrics inscriptio, picture, and subscriptio. Over a half a century later Schöne’s theory still appears to me to offer the best generic overview, embracing formal, ontological, semantic, functional, and intentional elements. The one thing that I now do not find is an adequate Quoted from Peter M. Daly, Emblem Theory: Recent German Contributions to the Characterization of the Emblem Genre. Nendeln: KTO, 1979, 22–4. 9 I had earlier published a juxtapostion of the views of Schöne and Jöns in my Emblem Theory. See note 9. 8

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account of the role of publisher/printer and illustrator. Perhaps it is natural that Schöne is more concerned with the printed emblem, and proceeds from his reading of emblems, rather than from the question how the printed emblem came into being. His comments on the textual parts and their relation to the picture occasionally seem to assume that they interpret the picture (putting the cart before the horse in terms of creation), whereas we now tend to believe that the publisher received the written texts from the emblem writer. The publisher then provided the illustrations; the illustrator usually working for the publisher. In one sense it hardly matters since readers will respond to a printed book comprising both texts and pictures. Clearly, Schöne had a literary conception of the emblem, and he tended to view the emblem from the point of view of a reader and not an emblem writer or printer. It should be noted that it took over a decade for someone to challenge Schöne’s notion of “ideelle Priorität” and “potenzielle Faktizität” and perhaps more than three decades for a serious objection to be lodged against the idea that the emblem is a tripartite structure, also something that Heckscher and Wirth seem to believe. As we now recognize, many emblems are and others are not tripartite. And one must take into account the material culture. Of course, Schöne was primarily interested in printed emblems. It was perhaps inevitable that a later generation of scholars will exercise criticism of an earlier generation. Errors can and should be corrected, hopefully with some grace. Differences of opinion and interpretation will remain. For me the main question is whether a new theoretical view enables one to understand better the concrete particulars of an emblem. Rather than list all of Schöne’s critics, one could concentrate on a recent critical view of Schöne’s emblem theory such as the one from Rüdiger Campe in a thought-provoking and wide-ranging essay.10 Campe’s immediate intellectual models are provided by Pierre Legendre, a French historian of Roman legal thought, and Lacan, although Campe’s spring-board is Kantorowicz’s reading of Shakespeare’s Richard II. Campe uses terms such as allegory and symbol without definition and without indicating the perspective implied. This makes it difficult to follow his argument. Campe is correct in observing that notions of secularization (“Questions of Emblematic Evidence,” 13) underpin much of Schöne’s thinking, and I would add that religious emblems play an unrepresentatively small role in the invaluable Henkel and Schöne Handbuch, which contains no Jesuit See his “Questions of Emblematic Evidence: Phaeton’s Disaster, with Reference to Pierre Legendre’s Theory of Emblems.” In New Directions in Emblem Studies, ed. Amy Wygand. Glasgow: Glasgow Emblem Studies, 1999, 1–24. 10

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emblem book, although the Jesuits probably produced over a quarter of all printed emblematic books. For Campe the humanist contexts of sixteenthcentury emblem books “in Schöne’s conception become marginal” (15), and he argues that with the appearance of the form of Alciato’s emblem book, the “deterioration of `emblematic thinking’” (15) already seems to have started for Schöne. That requires some demonstration in addition to assertion. Campe suggests that emblem books for Schöne stand between “the order of things in medieval allegory, which was an order of thinking that did not need a systematic representation, and the modern scientific order of things, whose evidence is given by the systemacity of its representational technique” (15). It boils down to “emblematic evidence” (15), and the relationship between evidence in the sense of credibility and scientific demonstration (16–17). But Campe does not seem to have read Praz closely who often demonstrates how important were much earlier Greek or Latin texts in renaissance emblems. Campe recognizes that his attempt to connect Legendre’s use of the term emblematics, which for the French historian means an image represented through words, with emblem books, is a “dangerous undertaking” (“Questions of Emblematic Evidence,” 18). It is when Campe moves on to discuss “the great Other” (19–20) and its possible relevance to emblem studies that one may entertain doubts about the usefulness of such abstractions for the interpretation of actual emblems. The value of any theory or abstraction ultimately lies in its applicability. We should also never forget the implications of notions of intention and reception. Schöne, today probably more maligned than read, introduced the notion that the emblem is characterized by a dual function of representation and interpretation. It is not difficult to find emblems that fit that description and emblems that do not. But as a general principle it seems to work. There has been something of a backlash against Schöne’s views, especially his conception of the emblem’s “Idealtypus,” “ideelle Priorität,” and “potenzielle Faktizität.” The Henkel and Schöne Handbuch seeks to reduce an emblem to a “Bedeutung” (meaning or signification). The attempt is almost unavoidable. But those concepts, i.e. “Bedeutungen,” are rarely identical with words in an emblem or with visual motifs. We may say that the Brutus who falls on his sword in an emblem means suicide, or fickle fortune, or something else, depending on the texts of the emblem, i.e. how the emblem writer decided to apply this historical figure and fact. But what is pictured is Brutus, not a concept. These seem to me the most influential writers who have tackled the problem of emblem theory.

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Chapter 2

The Importance of Emblems1

Doubtless emblem scholars already know that emblems were important, at least within their societies, also often later as well. But historians of literature and art may need to be reminded. Even a glance should suffice into the bibliographies of Mario Praz,2 John Landwehr,3 Alison Adams et al.,4 Pedro Campa,5 Rosemary Freeman,6 the Jesuit Series, by Daly and Dimler7 and the database bibliography known as the Union Catalogue of Emblem Books8 with its about 6,500 printings of books of emblems and imprese. How important were emblems may sound like a not too difficult question. But it is still none too easy to answer. Emblem scholars and those familiar with the printing practices of the early modern period will know. They will know that 1 Much of this material derives from the lecture that I should have given at the SES conference of Emblem Studies that was held in 2011 in Glasgow. 2 See Mario Praz, Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1939; 2nd edn London: Warburg Institute, 1964; offset reprint, 1975; Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Part II. Addenda et Corrigenda (1974). 3 See John Landwehr, Dutch Emblem Books. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l962; Emblem Books of the Low Countries. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l970; German Emblem Books. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l972; French, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese Books of Devices and Emblems l534–l827. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l976. Landwehr’s most recent bibliography is entitled Emblem and Fable Books Printed in the Low Countries 1542–1813: A Bibliography. Utrecht: Hes, 1988, and supersedes his earlier bibliography. All of Landwehr’s bibliographies need to be used with prudence; see review by Karel Porteman in Emblematica 4 (1989): 211–15, and B. van Selm in Dokumentaal 17 (1988): 152–7. 4 See Alison Adams, Stephen Rawles, and Alison Saunders. A Bibliography of French Emblem Books of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Volume 1: A–K. Geneva: Droz, 1999, and Volume 2: L–Z. Geneva: Droz, 2002. 5 See Pedro F. Campa, Emblematica Hispanica: An Annotated Bibliography of Spanish Emblem Literature to the Year 1700. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1990. 6 See Rosemary Freeman, English Emblem Books. London: Chatto & Windus, 1948, reprinted 1967 and 1970. 7 See note 15. 8 An early description of the database will be found in Peter M. Daly, “The Union Catalogue of Emblem Books Project and the Corpus Librorum Emblematum.” Emblematica 3 (1988): 121–33.

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modern cellulose paper will likely last about 60 or so years. That means that most of the books in our libraries will be virtually unusable in about 100 years. Cellulose paper was cheap but quickly became brittle. Mass production of books meant ultimately the mass deterioration of books. Sixteenth- and seventeenthpaper was rag paper, and will last for hundreds of years, whereas the cheaper modern paper, forgetting for the moment the current use of acid-free paper, will last for decades rather than centuries. The printing type was moveable type, which could wear down and become damaged. Individual letters could become broken or damaged; they could take ink differently. In short, the first and last impressions from one and the same edition could look somewhat different. This does not yet take into account the corrections made on the way. Illustrations could be woodcuts with lighter lines than metal engravings. To whom were these books important? How do we calibrate importance? There is, of course, a question of what is meant by “emblem.” I do not use the word loosely or metaphorically, as is not uncommon today in literary studies or journalism. By “emblem” I mean that combination of visual image and text(s) that is usually associated first with the name of Andrea Alciato, who in 1531 started it all with his Emblematum liber, which was published in Augsburg by Heinrich Steyner. Alciato’s emblems that soon numbered 212 appeared in approaching 200 editions and translations, not counting the various modern facsimiles and Internet or CD-ROM editions now available. I have tried to deal with the equally difficult question of how many printed emblems there probably were.9 There were likely over 100 million. And that number completely overlooks the presence of emblems in the material culture, which may have been more significant in terms of reception and influence, when one considers the tens of thousands of people who will have sat in churches and chapels, and the hundreds or perhaps thousands who will have visited town halls. Many of those buildings were decorated with emblems. So how are we to approach the question of importance? Important to whom is part of the problem. Were these emblems important to the author, his or her publisher, or the readership? Presumably, they were important to some of the above; perhaps to all of them. Times as well as seasons change, as do the paradigms of scholarship. Perhaps 50 years ago the question of importance would never have arisen, because critics and teachers tended to assume that they knew what was important, and which See “How Many Printed Emblem Books Were There? And How Many Printed Emblems Does That Represent?” In In nocte consilium: Studies in Emblematics in Honor of Pedro F. Campa, ed. John T. Cull and Peter M. Daly. Baden-Baden: Verlag Valentin Koerner, Saecvla Spiritalia 46. 9

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writers or artists were important. More often than not they were guided by some inherited or unquestioned notion of greatness. The syllabus of many a school, college, and university was based on “great books,” or at least on “great” writers. Since the early nineteenth century at least emblems never quite fitted that bill. Emblems were neither considered great literature, nor great art. None the less, most countries could boast one or two emblem writers who were good, if not great. England had Francis Quarles. The bibliography of Quarles’s editions10 is impressive, and suggests that people in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries continued to read Quarles in spite of his critical rejection. However, the fact remains that no emblem scholar in his or her right mind would claim that the pictures or texts of most emblems are of the highest order. But then that may also be a largely aesthetic judgment. Certainly, Alciato’s Latin texts are superb examples of sophisticated humanist Latin. But not all of the illustrations satisfied him, although there is no evidence that he actually disapproved of the addition of illustrations to his texts. Gabriel Rollenhagen’s illustrations11 are among the best, but who really knows how they came about? Did the author offer some advice to the illustrator? Did the publisher give some written or oral instructions to the illustrator? Or did the illustrator simply take his cue from Rollenhagen’s brief Latin epigrams, which would seem to suggest that the artist had a good command of Latin, but which will hardly account for the frequent addition of fatti, those little side or background scenes in Rollenhagen’s illustrations (Figure 2.1). It is true that none of the fatti was ever mentioned in Rollenhagen’s subscriptiones.12 Did the author perhaps receive them from the illustrator after he had already written his brief subscriptiones? Everyone knows that emblems were never regarded as belonging to high art or high literature. But perhaps we should pause even here. If there were over 6,500 books of emblems and imprese actually published,13 and we are not even considering here the material culture, one assumes that someone read them. I have great if grudging respect for publishers who will not knowingly publish a See A Bibliography of Francis Quarles to the Year 1800, Oxford Bibliographical Society Publications N.S. 2, 1948 (Oxford, 1953). 11 See the reproductions in Carsten-Peter Warncke’s edition Gabriel Rollenhagen. SinnBilder. Ein Tugendspiegel. Dortmund: Harenberg, 1983. 12 See Peter M. Daly and Alan R. Young, “George Wither’s Emblems: The Role of Picture Background and Reader/Viewer.” Emblematica 14 (2005): 223–50. 13 The figure derives from a computerized database known as The Union Catalogue of Emblem Books. An early description of the database will be found in Peter M. Daly, “The Union Catalogue of Emblem Books Project and the Corpus Librorum Emblematum.” Emblematica 3 (1988): 121–33. 10

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Figure 2.1

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Gabriel Rollenhagen, Selectorum emblematum centuria secunda, 1613, no. 20. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

book, even with a publication subvention, that no one wants to buy, or read. At least, that is my belief. A total of 6,500 odd emblematic books, most illustrated but some not, is a lot of books, and they contained anywhere from a handful to over 800 printed emblems, dealing with every conceivable topic. Clearly, for the authors of these 6,500 or so books, emblems were important. After all, the author chose to create emblems when he or she could have chosen another genre. Many individual emblems and emblematic books carry dedications. Again one assumes that for the writer and the dedicatees an emblem or such a book was important. Dedications could simply name the person. In the case of those little bishop’s books, written by Jesuit students or their teachers at Jesuit colleges to celebrate the inauguration of a new bishop, who was an ecclesiastically significant person, the bishop’s coat of arms could receive a moral and/or

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religious interpretation. Even if dedicated to a bishop, this was a form of flattery. Research into such dedications is a recent development.14 Perhaps I may ask which of us has read, for example Shakespeare, Moliere, or Goethe (and the list of great writers, great according to the received canon, could easily be extended). I mean chose to read, not read what was on the reading list of a school, college or university. The percentage of college and university students is in itself small, and might already suggest an elitist assumption. Perhaps some of us do read our Thomas Mann or T.S. Eliot, but how many of us and when and why? Importance may have something to do with education and elitism, or trends in popular culture. It is probably no mystery why pulp fiction sells so well today. But was it not always so? Is importance a quality associated with an elite or an electorate? What do people read, if anything, and why? One might wonder whether the e-book will replace print. But it is also those popular novels, whether of mystery, murder or romance, printed in the millions of copies in many languages that are being read, and, of course, made into films, both in Europe and in Hollywood. One need only think of Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code or Angels and Demons, or Stieg Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo or The Girl who played with Fire. Envy is alive and well among the electorate that often seems to disapprove of the huge salaries paid to sports stars, but also among academics who often seem to disapprove of the financial success of best-selling authors. I, too, have read Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code, but it did not tell me anything that I had not read earlier. I can only surmise that the Vatican was upset because so many

14 See, for instance, Arnoud Visser: Joannes Sambucus and the Learned Image: The Use of the Emblem in Late-Renaissance Humanism. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2005 (originally Leiden Ph.D. dissertation, “Joannes Sambucus (1531–1584) and the Learned Image: Forms and Functions of a Humanist Emblem Book,” Leiden, 2003); “Name-Dropping and Networking: Dedications as a Social Instrument in the Emblems of Joannes Sambucus.” In Polyvalenz und Multifunktionalität der Emblematik: Multivalence and Multi-functionality of the Emblem. Akten des 5. Internationalen Kongresses der Society for Emblem Studies. Proceedings of the 5th International Conference of the Society for Emblem Studies, ed. Wolfgang Harms and Dietmar Peil with Michael Waltenberger, Mikrokosmos vol. 65, 2 vols, Frankfurt a. M. [etc.]: Lang, 2002, 355–68; “‘Do Not Think It Was out of Ambition.’ The Social Functions of Dedications in the Emblems of Joannes Sambucus.” In Republic of Letters, Humanism, Humanities, ed. Marcell Sebök. Budapest: Collegium Budapest, 2005, 125–40. See also Averill Lukic: “‘The Offices of Dewtie and Frendship are alwayes to bee Favourd’: Amity and Patronage in Geffrey Whitney’s A Choice of Emblemes.” Ph.D. dissertation, University of Strathclyde, Glasgow, 2006; “Scripta manent”: Geffrey Whitney’s Emblem Strategies (1586).” Forthcoming in The English Emblem in the Early Modern Period, ed. Peter M. Daly, New York: AMS Press.

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people were reading what the Vatican did not want people to read or know, or think that they know. But back to what may appear to be a relatively innocuous question about the importance of emblems. In one sense, the printing history of emblematic books may say something about the relative importance of printed emblems at a given time, at least to the publisher and his assumptions about a reading public, and therefore a purchasing public. The first two editions of the emblems of Francis Quarles were printed in four or five thousand copies, which is a very large number for the seventeenth century. Plantin seems to have printed about a thousand copies of each emblem book that he issued. Then we have the information from a seventeenth-century Munich publisher, Cornelius Leysser, that in Munich alone about 1.5 million copies of the emblematically illustrated works of Jeremias Drexel were printed. What do we really know about reading habits? Not that people in all places and at all times were necessarily interested in the same things. Of course, there were fashions, or if that word sounds loaded perhaps one could simply say that people were often interested in different things and publishers tend to serve their perception of current interests. Conspiracy theory seems to be big at present, as well as novels of romance, mystery, and murder. For some readers in the early modern period emblems were clearly important. Many sixteenth-century readers seem to have been attracted to what we might today call humanist-moral or encyclopaedic emblem books. But it did not take long for someone to realize that this combination of visual image and brief text(s) could serve other purposes, such as love (worldly or spiritual), politics, and religion. Catholic writers were not the first on the religious scene, but soon Jesuits would print at least 1,500 titles in Latin and many vernacular languages.15 The history of emblematics has not yet been written, but it will doubtless note that there were political emblems, love emblems, moral emblems and, of course, religious emblems. As time passed, general collections were followed by collections on more specific topics. But Alciato, whose book of emblems was something of a grab bag, was also frequently republished. This started already in the sixteenth century. Were the canonically great writers, say Shakespeare and Goethe, in any way indebted to emblems? Did they read emblem books, or have any of them in their libraries? Will emblems, or perhaps more cautiously phrased, an emblematic imagination, be detected in some of their works? As so often it is a matter of See Peter M. Daly and G. Richard Dimler S.J., The Jesuit Series, Parts One to Five, 1997

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to 2007.

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definition and evidence. The fact that Goethe possessed copies of certain editions of the emblems of Alciato and Sambucus does not mean that he recalled all or any of them, when he was actually writing himself. He was a voracious reader, and he lived a long time. I wonder how many of us can really recall what is printed between the covers of a given book in our personal libraries. I know that I am sometimes surprised, even pleasantly, by what I have published, when I come to re-read it. If I do not truly recall some of the things that I have written, how likely is it that I shall recall what is in a book that I did not write in my personal library? Reader response and a reader’s knowledge are difficult to establish. I will be the first to admit that we have remarkably little firm information on reader response in the early modern period. Needless to say, translators can always also be regarded as documenting reception. We also have relatively little knowledge of the size of the print-runs of the majority of emblematic publications. We tend to assume that if a book was published more than once, the publisher assumed that sufficient readers were prepared to buy it. But some publishers issued the unaltered sheets of a first edition as a second edition! That looks like sleight of hand, or at least speculation. Also the financing of books is often difficult to establish. Of course, there were patrons and there were some wealthy writers, all of whom may have provided the publisher with financial assistance. But there were no governmental or university publication subventions. In the early modern period banks tended not to underwrite publication costs. Today some enterprises have allocated funds to activities that bring them no direct financial gain. They may even fund the publication of non-financial works. There is finally another way to approach the question of importance. Are emblems being discussed in colleges and universities, at conferences,16 and in scholarly publications? In 1985 a new journal was launched: Emblematica (New York: AMS Press). It has had a continuous publication existence to the present day. In 2009 a new journal appeared in Spanish: Imago. Basing myself largely on western European languages, I estimate that well over 1,400 publications on emblematic subjects have appeared in print since 1990. It would be foolish to assume that all emblem scholars have read them all, but at least 1,000 individuals Probably the most recent collection of essays from an international conference on emblem studies is: The International Emblem: From Inconubila to the Internet. Selected Proceedings of the Eighth International Conference of the Society for Emblem Studies, 28th July–1st August, 2008, Winchester College, ed. Simon McKeown. Newcastle-upon-Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010. A goodly number of papers from the 2011 international emblem conference held in Glasgow have appeared in revised forms in Emblematica 19 (2012). 16

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have written these books and articles.17 The number of over 1,400 publications cannot compare, however, with the World Bibliography of Shakespeare Studies, as published by the Shakespeare Quarterly annually. Each year thousands of items are listed there. But then Shakespeare has long been recognized as one of the world’s greatest writers. Emblems are only now being appreciated and emblems are not unimportant.

17 See Peter M. Daly, Annotated Bibliography of Emblem Studies, 1990–2009. Forthcoming from New York: AMS Press.

Chapter 3

Truth in Emblems

Should emblems be regarded as embodying truth? The question contains many unstated sub-questions as well as assumptions. There were thousands of emblems printed between 1531, when Alciato started it all, and last year. We think that we know of at least 6,500 books of emblems and imprese, and the copies of these books may well have contained around 100 million emblems. When speaking of emblems, do we mean the combination of image and text(s); the pictorial motif, which usually at least reappeared in the text(s) of the emblem; perhaps the application of the motif in an inscriptio, a subscriptio or perhaps in a commentary? Or by emblem we may perhaps think of the meaning of the motif in a stated or unstated application. What is truth? One does not have to be a relativist to wonder about truth, how to define it, even when to use it. Should we try to differentiate and think of truth in such contexts as religion, philosophy, psychology, science, medicine or just how people conduct themselves in their lives? Will truth set one free? The question may be freedom from what or freedom to what. At some point the question of truth may be psychological and social. Perhaps truth in one’s life can be uncomfortable, even dangerous. For a European gentile living in a country under Nazi control during World War II, the very question whether one likes the invader, whether one is hiding Jews, frequently could not be answered truthfully. That is without inviting some kind of retribution. The truth might well have been too dangerous. But if I in error give two 100-dollar bills, stuck together, and the cashier or shopkeeper knowingly takes them and gives me change from 100 dollars, pocketing the other bill, this is theft. This is the opposite of acting honestly and truthfully. But this is not the kind of truth that perhaps could be expected of emblems. Most moderns and most scholars, no matter whatever discipline they may come from or currently work in, will seek to evaluate claims to truth in their discipline by reference to their inherited models. The word “truth” may seldom be used, but it lurks behind almost all research. It is usually the case that research into texts written in a human language will usually rely on demonstrations of adequacy, word usage and relation to earlier texts of a similar kind. Hence

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the reliance on a kind of Forschungsbericht (research report). But a weak demonstration of truth or even adequacy will remain weak. An accumulation of weak demonstrations will still be weak. Assertion without proof or demonstration will, hopefully, not convince. Although political history has demonstrated that the big lie, when told often enough, especially by those with power, will be believed by many. Increasingly moderns like to apply the standards of mathematics, logic, observation, and empiricism, in short, the standards used in science in the attempt to arrive at truth. But today’s truth in science and medicine is often overtaken by tomorrow’s knowledge and technology. Were it otherwise there would have been no progress in any field. The authorities1 were and still are important. Where would the Middle Ages and the Renaissance be with some understanding of Aristotle and Plato? Where would Roman Catholicism be without the Vulgate and the pope, or Islam without the prophet and the Koran? Where would Communism be without Marx and Lenin? Faith will become a problem, in any attempt to define Truth. Belief in God does not prove that God exists. The proofs of God’s existence may not convince all readers. Arguments that God does not exist may not convince all hearers, either. Faith tends to posit an unchanging God who does not evolve, but faith may be involved in many other matters. Leaving the language of mathematics, one ultimately has to decide how to regard written documents, and that eventually means deciding how to come to terms with religion and faith. We are not yet even considering issues of translation. Put perhaps too simply, are the Bible and Koran to be taken literally as God’s words, i.e., as literal truth, or as human documents that claim to record what God and the prophets did and said? If one treats sacred writings such as the Bible as human records, written at a specific time for specific communities, then they will have to be subjected to the same standards and methodologies as other human documents. It is likely that there will continue to be disagreements with literal readings, where the text may strike one as symbolic. Language will be a problem. I do not only mean translation. Individual words may not mean in the original text what they mean to us today. When we read in the Old Testament the word “death” (Isaiah 25:8) it may not originally have had its modern more abstract meaning. We have come to realize that words only have Perhaps needless to say some authorities may disagree on an important issue. In Judaism the Sadducees did not always agree with the Pharisees. For many Jews the liturgy may be more important than rabbinic traditions. 1

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a meaning when contextualized. It may be wrong to read our understanding of word meaning back onto earlier texts. Our modern more abstract understanding of “death” may just not be appropriate to Old Testament usage. When is a word a metaphor? For instance, when is the word “sleep” the usual denotation for sleep and when is “sleep” a metaphor for death? When are “days” simply the plural of the 24-hour day and when perhaps a metaphor for “age”? Human beings have long expressed their direct experience of God as “seeing” and “hearing,” but some mystics will also describe the experience as “tasting.” As well as word meaning and use, I am also thinking of questions of dating older texts; matters of influence; deciding which formulations are metaphoric or poetic. Finally, there may also be the question when, where, and how some issues, implied or signaled by certain abstract terms, become important, or are even introduced. Is truth static, perhaps permanent? Medical and natural scientists and skeptics generally, would likely reply in the negative, otherwise there would have been little progress or change. Is something true once and for all time? Some theologians, some Christians and adherents of Islam may believe so. It may ultimately be a question of faith. God is the ultimate basis of most religions. But what is written down, whether in interpretation of sacred books, or the sacred books themselves, is a human account. The Bible may narrate God coming down to Sinai and speaking to man, but the account itself was written by a human being.2 This is not to say that God does not exist, but what is written about God is written by humans. Belief in God is a matter of faith. Its truth cannot be demonstrated by the usual human methods. Is everything in the Bible to be believed literally? Some Evangelical Christians do believe this. Moslems believe everything in the Koran is true and is to be believed and should be the basis of human laws. How is truth established? There are obviously some simple examples. Do one plus two make five? Simple math will convince us that this is not true. Does the sun rise in the west and set in the east? Simple observation will tell us that this is not true. Is a diamond is a very hard form of carbon? Scientific experimentation will tell us that this is true. Can a diamond only be softened by the application of a goat’s blood? Today we would likely say “not true.” But for some people in the early modern period it was regarded as true. Does the salamander live in fire? Science will tell us that this is not true. Does the phoenix rise from its own ashes? No observation will confirm this. Was Jesus born of a virgin, whose conception was immaculate? Many Christians choose to believe this is true, although this truth cannot be verified by science, logic or observation. See Neil Gillman, The Death of Death. Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights, 1997, 31–4.

2

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Of course, the formulation of some questions has little to do with truth. I am thinking of such questions as: Have you stopped beating your wife? Any direct yes or no answer still implies “beating.” Is truth only established by science, by mathematics, by logic, by observation, perhaps by religious faith, or by some authority, whether or not named? And what of the secret wisdom of the Ancient Mysteries? The permanence or widespread acceptance of an idea does not necessarily demonstrate its truth. Who, apart from Mormons, accept as true the idea that the Book of Mormon is a translation of some gold tablets that Joseph Smith discovered in upstate New York? As far as emblems are concerned does it even matter? It probably does matter. No emblem writer, or his or her illustrator or publisher is likely knowingly to print a falsehood. Prejudice and propaganda may be another matter. Reason will play a major role in the philosophical pursuit of truth. There has often been a tension between faith and religion in the history of both Judaism and Christianity. No reader, then or now, will be persuaded by what the reader recognizes as an error, or falsehood, or an unproven claim. Perhaps truth as well as beauty lies in the eyes and mind of the beholder. That would make “truth” relative, or perhaps sometimes hidden. But most of the emblems that I have read could not be regarded as expressing symbolically some hidden and lost wisdom. Faith is a different matter. Alchemical emblems may be the exception, and then they can usually be interpreted according to well-known alchemical formulas. Are the claims or postulations in alchemy to be taken literally as truths or as symbols? The supposed conversion of lead to gold still informs some modern thrillers, where some of the characters argue for a literal sense of the process.3 In any case, there were very few alchemical emblems. One should put one’s cards on the table at the outset. I admit to being something of a skeptic, a relativist, a renegade Methodist with Catholic leanings. Do I believe that a snake will swallow its tail, or take its tail in its mouth and create thereby a perfect circle? I do not believe that. This motif is, of course, common and known as the ouroboros.4 But it seems to me unlikely that anyone at any time was able to verify this alleged activity of the snake through direct observation. Yet this ouroboros has been with humankind at least since the ancient Egyptians. Creators There is the modern novel by Eric van Lustbader, The Bourne Objective, originally published by the Hachette Book Group in 2010. Quotations are from the first United States oversize mass market edition of 2011. See the discussion of King Solomon’s gold 167–8, 271–4, and the alchemistic conversion of lead into gold represented to a skeptical listener as a fact and not a fiction. 4 Henkel and Schöne in their handbook (Emblemata: Handbuch zur Sinnbildkunst des XVI. und XVII. Jahrhunderts. Stuttgart: Metzler, l967, l976, 1996) provide many instances in cols. 632–57. 3

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of hieroglyphics and early modern emblem writers have used it repeatedly. I am not aware of early modern readers complaining. This snake-circle is often depicted as a perfect circle, which has neither beginning nor ending. A circle is a single perfectly circular line, a circumference, perhaps with no middle point shown. When that middle point is shown the motif is known as a circumpunct. European mystics could use this mathematical image as an analogy for the transcendence and immanence of God. Some mystics would suggest that God is such a circle, whose circumference is nowhere and whose middle point is everywhere.5 But the ouroboros was also used by ancient Greek alchemists. There are many emblematic images of the snake swallowing its tail, the bear licking its unshaped cubs into form (Figure 3.1),6 the pelican sprinkling its own blood on its chicks.7 Are these and similar nature motifs to be believed? Do we assume that renaissance readers actually believed in the truth of these stories, or just used the stories? Do these creatures do such things and were these things ever observed? Perhaps it is the application of the motif that can be said to be true. Obviously, many nature motifs are true in the scientific sense that they can be verified empirically by observation and experiment. But the salamander in the fire (Figure 3.2),8 and the all too frequent phoenix (Figure 3.3) will no longer be believed. Skepticism about such impossible motifs has not stopped modern insurance companies from using them as logos and earlier fire brigades from using them on leaden or copper fire marks9 that may still be seen today in some English towns and villages. They may also appear in some modern advertisements.10 In July 2008, I saw two fire marks in situ in the village of Stockbridge, England. See Angelus Silesius. Aus dem Cherubinischen Wandersmann und anderen geistlichen Dichtungen. Auswahl und Einleitung von Erich Haring. Stuttgart: Reclam, 1960, UniversalBibliothek Nr. 7623, p. 37. There are several English translations but probably the best is: Sacred Epigrams from the Cherubinic Pilgrim by Angelus Silesius. Translated, with an Introduction and Notes by Anthony Mortimer. New York: AMS Press, 2013. AMS Studies in the Seventeenth Century, No. 6. 6 Doubtless the best source for bibliographical information on La Perrière’s Theatre, the dated and undated editions, and their various states is Alison Adams, Stephen Rawles, and Alison Saunders, A Bibliography of French Emblem Books, vol. 2, Geneva: Droz, 2002, 20–36. 7 Henkel and Schöne in their handbook provide many instances in cols. 811–13. 8 Henkel and Schöne have further examples in their handbook in cols. 739–41. 9 Many examples of leaden or copper fire marks will be found, including the phoenix, in the richly illustrated work by Alwin E. Bulau, Footprints of Assurance. New York: Macmillan, 1953. Henkel and Schöne have further emblematic examples in their handbook in cols. 794–7. 10 Some examples are reproduced and discussed in Peter M. Daly, “Modern Illustrated Advertising and the Renaissance Emblem.” In Word and Visual Imagination: Studies in the Interaction of English Literature and the Visual Arts, ed. Karl Josef Höltgen, Peter M. Daly, and 5

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Figure 3.1

The Emblem in Early Modern Europe

Guillaume de la Perrière, Le Theatre des bons engins, Paris [1540], no. 98. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press

Stockbridge is on the A272 and I was being driven to Winchester. The fire marks were: the phoenix in flames, with one word PHEONIX, printed in upper case beneath, and the second was a female figure, with one word GUARDIAN, printed in upper case beneath. Both fire marks had been painted over. I also doubt that anyone believes that a dolphin will wind itself about an anchor, but I chose that motif for the hard cover of the five volumes of the illustrated bibliographic series The Jesuit Series,11 not because I believed that the dolphin actually does this, nor because of Alciato, but because I recalled its meaning that might be rendered as “hurrying slowly,” which is something any would-be-bibliographer should never forget. I recall advising my students to “panic slowly.” Not that I ever presented them with an illustration for that idea. But let us return to the initial question: do we believe as true what we see in emblematic pictorial motifs, which may inform either or both picture and Wolfgang Lottes, Erlan­ger Forschungen, Reihe A, Geisteswissenschaften, vol. 43. Erlangen: Universitäts­bund Erlangen-Nürnberg e. V., 1988, 349–71. 11 The illustration will be found on the hard cover of each of the parts of The Jesuit Series.

Truth in Emblems

Figure 3.2

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Gabriel Rollenhagen, Nucleus emblematum selectissimorum, [1611], no. 30. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

text(s)? Do we believe in the truth of the snake swallowing its tail, the bear licking its unshaped cubs into form, the pelican sprinkling its own blood on its chicks, the salamander flourishing in fire, the phoenix being reborn from its own ashes? Readers can extend the list almost indefinitely. Truth is not necessarily only validated by science, logic, mathematics, observation, experimentation or so-called objectivity. Truth or knowledge, something that in our information age we often prefer to call information, such truth ultimately derives its validity from the world-view of the people at the time, and for many that will also include faith. As twenty-first-century readers will know, we used to think, and many still

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Figure 3.3

The Emblem in Early Modern Europe

Joachim Camerarius, Symbolorum et Emblematum ex volatilibus et insectis, Nuremberg 1596, no. 100. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

do, that colonoscopy is the gold standard for detecting colon cancer in men. Colonoscopy has recently been discovered to be less predictive of colon cancer than was once thought, probably 60–70 percent instead of perhaps 99 percent accurate. There is, of course, another question. How necessary is the colonoscopy test? So how true must “truth” be? And for how long? In earlier times it was believed that the diamond could only be softened by the blood of a goat. In German we might recall the term Sündenbock for scapegoat. The German word means literally, the goat of sins. The notion of softening the hard diamond with blood could be applied to Christ and his redeeming blood. The goat, which has long had a bad moral press, is thus in Christian tradition replaced by a lamb, that

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is, in images of blood softening the hard heart of God. Is this information about the diamond and goat’s blood true or false? I tried to deal with this same issue many years ago.12 I have read a lot more emblem books and studies of the emblem since 1979, and I have found that my basic view has not changed much. That may say more about me than the issue itself. I still hold that truth or knowledge is ultimately based on a world-view, that is, often predicated on a large set of notional assumptions that indirectly articulate the beliefs and ideas of people at a certain time. A world-view is not simply an aggregate of so-called facts and information, much of which will change over time, but rather it is a way of looking at the world. Back in 1979 I suggested that notions of Providence, Natural Law, Time, and History13 provided the contexts of reference and validation in the early modern period. Our emblem books were written by men and women whose world-view was largely determined by the traditions of Neoplatonism and Christianity, and their synthesis. Truth in emblems was then established by reference to that world-view. For many of us today the touchstone for truth is the methodology of science, mathematics, logic, and empirical observation. Medical science reports new developments almost every week. That means that something new has been discovered that may call into question what was earlier regarded as true. But it was not always like this. The authority of tradition in the early modern period was still massive. It may be difficult for us to grasp the power that the auctoritas exerted from Classical times down to the eighteenth century. Aeneas carrying his ancient father out of burning Troy could be used in all seriousness by sixteenth- and seventeenth-century emblem writers. Why should it be so difficult for moderns to grasp the power of the authorities? Those authorities may be religious, political, or anything else for that matter. Many Catholics have little difficulty accepting the authority of the pope. Religious cults could not exist without the charismatic leader. Do Muslims reject the authority of Prophet Mohammed? Have Communists rejected Marx and Lenin? Why is Cuba or rather its regime still something of a bogeyman to many Americans? So what happens when one frame of reference for truth collides with another? As I noted earlier Estienne confronts this issue head-on,14 envisaging a situation where something is said to be true according to religious or humanist 12 See Peter M. Daly, Emblem Theory: Recent German Contributions to the Characterization of the Emblem Genre. Nendeln: KTO, 1979, 41–4. 13 See Daly, Emblem Theory, 42. 14 See Daly, Emblem Theory, 43.

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tradition, but false when questioned empirically. The quotation, in Thomas Blount’s English translation, deserves to be repeated: Here we must observe, that it is lawfull to use the property of a naturall subject, be it animal, plant, fruit, or other thing, according to the generall approbation or received opinion of ancient Authors, though the Modernes have lately discovered it to be false, because the comparison is grounded upon a quality, reputed true by the generality, though indeed it be false, shall be more universally received, and better understood, then if it were founded upon a true property, which nevertheless were held false, and which were altogether unknowne to the greater part of the learned. (46)

As I noted in the second edition of my Literature in the Light of the Emblem (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998): “What decides the contest is not ‘truth’ but rather considerations of communication and reception” (61). Estienne and his English translator Blount already knew that the phoenix does not thrive in flames, and that bears do not lick their unformed young into shape. However, some modern insurance companies have advertised themselves with the salamander,15 and phoenix,16 and the Boston Amateur Athletic Association, which organizes the world’s oldest and most famous marathon race, still uses a fierce-looking unicorn17 in its logo. There are still proverbs in many languages about “licking someone into shape.” “Truth” in the sense of science, mathematics, logic or even observation does not decide the issue for Estienne or his English translator, and presumably for their readers, but rather considerations of communication and reception. I still Insurance in pre-Communist Russia knew of the salamander. Looking like a ferocious snake, it sits in the flames of a fire mark of the company appropriately called the Salamander Fire Insurance Company of St. Petersburg. The company and its salamander served St. Petersburg from 1846 to 1921. See Bulau, Footprints of Assurance, nos. 1650 and 1652. 16 In 1779 the General Insurance Company of Ireland was formed. Its fire mark was a leaden square 7 inches by 7 inches showing a phoenix rising from the fire. See Bulau, Footprints of Assurance, nos. 663–5. A few years later in 1782 a company was established in London that actually called itself The Phoenix Assurance Company and its fire mark displays a phoenix with outspread wings rising from the flames. See Bulau, Footprints of Assurance, nos. 674–87. The Fidelity-Phoenix Fire Insurance Company in New York was founded in 1910 with the obligatory phoenix, which now resembles the American eagle. See Bulau, Footprints of Assurance, nos. 488 and 489. 17 Boston Amateur Athletic Association has the equally mythical unicorn for its logo. Boston’s unicorn is a particularly fierce-looking beast, and as such differs from the typical representations in the early modern period where it is often shown with its head in the lap of the Virgin Mary. However, it is possible that the notion of strength and freedom, with which the mythical unicorn was often associated, lies behind the choice of the Boston Amateur Athletic Association. 15

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believe that this is the context in which discussions of truth, reality, and the socalled facticity of emblems must be set.18 If the motif—say, a snake swallowing its tail, a bear licking its cubs into shape, a salamander in the fire, a phoenix arising from its own ashes, a pelican-in-herpiety—if the motif itself is not necessarily to be believed, does the truth of the emblem then lie in the application of such motifs? The reader could accept as true the application of such motifs to ideas such as God, or eternity, or regard the English Queen Elizabeth I as unique, or consider Christ’s passion and the Eucharist as essential for Christian salvation. Perhaps without realizing it, we have entered into the problematic area of intention and reception. Whose intention, and whose reception? Who is assumed to be the reader of these emblems? Do we assume a reader contemporary with the emblem writer? Such a reader may or may not have been a national contemporary, which anyway is probably an ahistorical category. The notion of a national contemporary may not even be relevant, since many of the Christian, biblical, and Classical traditions crossed national boundaries, as well as the boundaries of centuries. Nation states are a relatively recent creation. Some traditions have lasted for hundreds, indeed, thousands of years, and in different countries. Printed emblems are to be found today in many different libraries throughout the world. It seems likely that some emblematic books were available very early on in countries far from those countries, the towns of which housed the printing presses that produced them. What sort of knowledge or information did the assumed early modern reader possess? The assumed early modern readership will not be the same for all emblematic books produced in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. But all readers will have had some knowledge of the Bible and Christian traditions, and the learned will have known Latin, perhaps some Greek, as well as something the culture associated with the Romans and Greeks. Or do we assume a modern reader today; again, possessing what knowledge or information? Many of our students in the 1980s and today lack a basic knowledge of the Bible (unless they have attended Sunday school or are regular church-goers) and the Classical tradition. By Classical tradition I mean Greek and Roman mythology, literature, and history. I am not necessarily criticizing that lack of knowledge, but I would note that much of our Western culture, probably until the end of Word War

See Peter M. Daly, Emblem Theory, 44. Of course there can be a logical argument about facticity and potential facticity, when the words are taken at face value. Most observable things are facts or they are not. 18

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II used, or assumed, such knowledge. The poems of T.S. Eliot are unthinkable without those traditions. But who chooses today to read T.S. Eliot? Emblems will present some information, but the emblem writer or the illustrator may assume something not presented at all in the printed emblem. A close observer of things emblematic, the German Georg Philipp Harsdörffer, knew that some of the apparent difficulty with emblems can derive from the fact that the writer assumed knowledge about aspects of the motif that could not always be depicted. Recognition of meaning depends in such cases on an understanding of the thing portrayed. In a different context Harsdörffer has Vespasian comment “… that one cannot judge an emblem without first having thoroughly studied the nature and qualities of the figures, which are often hidden and cannot be depicted; hence the meaning of the emblem becomes difficult and obscure.”19 In stressing the active participation of the reader, whose knowledge of the properties of things portrayed in the emblem is assumed by the emblem writer, Harsdörffer is in agreement with established opinion. Of the snake Harsdörffer observes: “The interpretation is frequently doubtful, and, as was said earlier of lions, it can be good or evil. The snake is an image of cleverness, poisonous slander, and when it has its tail in its mouth, it is a representation of eternity.”20 Again in speaking of the eagle, Harsdörffer insists that “Gutes und Böses” (good and evil) (FzGs VII, 106) can be invented in accordance with what naturalists have written of the bird. Of course, the Bible knows of the snake, or serpent. The New Testament urges Christians to be as wise as serpents and as harmless as doves (Matthew 10:26). How should one today, however, deal with the assumption of previous prior knowledge? Should one simply ignore it, if we even know of it? Neither the emblem nor its reader—then or now—exists in a vacuum. One may doubt whether there ever was an innocent reader. By “innocent” I mean a reader who tries to suppress or rid him- or herself of acquired knowledge.21 Each reader comes 19 The German reads: “… daß man von keinem Sinnbilde urtheilen kan / man habe dann zuvor der Figuren Natur und Eigenschaften gründlich erlernet / welche vielmals verborgen ist / und nicht ausgemahlet werden kan / daher dann des Sinnbildes Verstand schwer und tunkel wird” (FzGs IV, 244). 20 The German reads: “Die Deutung ist auch mehrmals als zweiffelhafftig / und kan / wie vor von den Löwen gesagt worden / gut und böß seyn. Die Schlange ist ein Bild der Klugheit / der gifftigen Verleumdung / und wann sie den Schwantz in dem Mund hat / eine Abbildung der Ewigkeit” (FzGs VII, 98). 21 It will be evident that I do not agree with Stefan Manns, where he seems to postulate analyzing emblematic picturae and inscriptiones separately, without relating them to each other. See

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to the text with a world-view. Every reader is the sum total of all that he or she has read, has heard, has seen in whatever medium, today that will include newspapers, magazines, billboards, films, videos, and television. Not that all of that information is necessarily conscious or even relevant. To the information provided or assumed by the emblem or its author, the reader will bring his or her own information or knowledge, which may or may not be consonant with the piece that he or she is reading. Is ignorance really bliss? Intertextuality is, or was, often named as the understanding of a piece of literature that is read against the background of stated or unstated knowledge and traditions in earlier printed works. What Harsdörffer does not say when discussing what we might call the semantics of the emblem motif is that the emblem writer may be indebted to a Classical author such as Aristotle or Pliny, or the Bible without necessarily referring to the source tradition. Georgette de Montenay has an emblem (Figure 3.4)22 in which eagles peck at a carcass. De Montenay doubtless knew her Bible better than most of us do. She would have known the biblical passages that relate eagle to carrion, carcass, body, and prey (e.g., Job 9:26, Matthew 24:28, and Luke 17:37). How that relationship is illustrated raises different questions. The Henkel and Schöne Handbuch23 wrongly identifies the birds in de Montenay’s emblem as vultures (Geier) although the emblem writer herself names them eagles (aigles)24 in her subscriptio. Whether eagles actually feed on carcasses, as do vultures, may not be relevant. One should not necessarily expect accurate nature information from all emblems. Does “accurate” only mean according to the most modern knowledge available at the time? The information underlying many a nature motif in an emblem may not have been based on the then most modern scientific information available. In fact often some other tradition such as the Bible may have been the emblem writer’s source or authority, if unstated, rather than scientific observation. This would also apply to the eagle emblem by de Montenay. Truth is never a simple matter. In emblems the authorities are not always named. People in the early modern period evidently regarded the leader of bees as a king, whereas we now speak of the queen bee. Science, mathematics, and Stefan Manns, “Nucleus emblematum. Überlegungen zu einer Semiotik des Emblems.” In Topik und Tradition: Prozesse der Neuordnung von Wissensüberlieferungen des 13. bis 17. Jahrhunderts, ed. Thomas Frank, Ursula Kocher, and Ulrike Tarnow. Göttingen: V&R Unipress, 2007, 47–65. I discuss the matter in greater detail in “Emblems through the Magnifying Glass or Telescope.” Emblematica 18 (2010): 315–37. 22 See Georgette de Montenay, Emblemes ou devises chrestiennes. Lyons, 1571, no. 44. 23 Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 769. 24 See Georgette de Montenay, Emblemes ou devises chrestiennes. Lyons 1571, no. 44.

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Figure 3.4

The Emblem in Early Modern Europe

Georgette de Montenay, Emblemes ou devises chrestiennes, Lyons 1571, no. 44. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press

logic do not necessarily always decide the matter of truth, or for ever. Christian readers of emblematic books doubtless accepted as true what accorded with their religious beliefs. There were, of course, Catholic and Jesuit emblem books as well as Protestant emblem books. Non-religious emblems would probably have been accepted as true if and when the emblems accorded with generally accepted views of morality or politics, or with the authorities (not always named) and with the traditions (not always named) that were believed by the emblem writer and the reader. These would, of course, include the Classics, i.e., the writers of ancient Greece and Rome. Modern readers of emblem books will not necessarily always agree with the emblem writer and the early modern reader about what is true. But unless I am wrong, it is safe to assume that no emblem

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writer would write or publisher would print what they knew was a falsehood, unless the inaccurate information could point to, or be interpreted as referring to, a greater truth (as in the case of hunting elephants sleeping by leaning on a tree, which had been weakened)25. On the other hand, there is no arguing with faith. The objects of faith can seldom be proved or disproved. It seems to me that the final justification of emblem studies is not to establish once and for all what is the truth or non-truth of emblems, but to understand what the original writer and reader intended and understood. That does not preclude applying other criteria or questions to emblems.

See Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, cols. 416–17.

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Chapter 4

Emblems as Transmitters of Knowledge and Traditions

There appears to be a growing interest in books of many different genres in the creation and transmission of knowledge and traditions, whether in general terms or more specific contexts such as the contribution of Jesuits to the development of early modern science.1 Some of the following reflections were originally presented to a research conference in Berlin2 that I, among others, was invited to address. In particular, I attempted to assess the manner in which emblems might be considered as transmitters of knowledge and traditions, which is a concern of the Berlin research group. In the age of the Internet I grow increasingly concerned about certain developments and terms that appear to overlap uncomfortably (at least for me). These include “knowledge” and “information,” and the very use of computing technology. Let me say at the outset that I do not consider myself a Luddite. I have proclaimed more than once that in spite of doubts I regard the digitization of emblems to be the very future of emblem studies. As far as emblems are concerned, the Berlin research group was primarily interested in the extent to which emblems (and I assume also imprese) may have contributed to the creation and transmission of knowledge and traditions in the early modern period. It seems to me that in research we should always define our terms, and not simply assume that everyone will know exactly what is meant by such terms as knowledge and tradition. Emblems may certainly be regarded as transmitting ideas, but I find it difficult to speak generally of emblems as transmitters of knowledge and traditions. Not The University of Wisconsin at Madison put on recently a splendid exhibition of books that demonstrates some of the Jesuit contributions to early modern science. A research conference, organized by Sabine Mödersheim, was also held on May 7, 2013 to discuss many of the issues that arise. 2 The conference was entitled “The Exigencies of Tradition: The Transformation and Ossification of Topics in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period.” It was held in Berlin from June 10 to June 12, 2009. 1

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that individual emblem books do not transmit knowledge and traditions. But the sheer numbers of emblematic books published in all European vernacular languages as well as in Latin are daunting. We know of perhaps 6,500 books printed between last year and 1531, when Heinrich Steyner in Augsburg first printed Andrea Alciato’s little book of epigrams with “emblem” in its title, the Emblematum liber.3 Those 6,500 books represent perhaps 100 million printed emblems.4 No one really knows for sure. If I think that I know, then it is thanks to a computer database, of at least 6,500 printings of emblematic books.5 That number includes all the printings of subsequent editions and translations. But impressive as the number may appear, it says nothing about the material culture, which may well have been more influential in terms of reception. Over the years tens of thousands of people will have sat in churches and chapels, and looked at the stained glass windows, or the emblematic decorations painted on stone or wood. Untold numbers of people will have pondered the emblematic decorations on the façades of buildings, whether private or public, or visited emblematically decorated town halls, such as those in Antwerp, Augsburg or Nuremberg. Scores will have drunk from emblematically decorated drinking vessels, or eaten cheese or fruit from emblematically decorated trenchers. How many readers, do we suppose, actually read the books that came off the presses? Publishers and printers, I believe, have always been guided by their bottom line. Someone has to pay for the books. In the early modern period, prior to the creation of granting agencies, prior to the availability of corporate, governmental or university publication subventions, the publisher often shared costs with the author or a patron. In the case of Jesuit publications costs were presumably often

See the facsimile edition in the Olms series “Emblematisches Cabinet,” vol. 10, Hildesheim and New York: Georg Olms, 1977. 4 See Peter M. Daly, “How Many Printed Emblem Books Were There? And How Many Printed Emblems Does That Represent?” In In Nocte Consilium: Studies in Emblematics in Honor of Pedro F. Campa, ed. John T. Cull and Peter M. Daly. Baden-Baden: Verlag Valentin Koerner, 2011. Saecvla Spiritalia 46. Herausgegeben von Dieter Wuttke, 217–23. 5 For an early description of the project, see Peter M. Daly, “The Union Catalogue of Emblem Books Project and the Corpus Librorum Emblematum,” Emblematica 3 (1988): 121–33. In March, 2012, there were a total of 6,514 emblematic books listed in the database, which contains a few doubles. “Emblematic” is a sort of escape clause. It will embrace emblem books proper, illustrated or not, emblematically illustrated texts, and impresa books. But should the many editions of Abraham a Santa Clara, Arndt, and Francisi be included, some of which, but not all, contained emblematic illustrations? 3

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shared by a college, a province or the Order itself. Then as now a purchaser also pays. Illustrated books were expensive.6 A total of 6,500 emblematic books contained probably at least 650,000 individual emblems, if we assume that the average emblematic book contained 100 emblems, usually illustrated. Some books contained a mere handful,7 but others, such as the scores of full editions of Alciato contain over 200, and Meisner’s frequently reissued Thesaurus philopolitici Oder Politisches Schatzkästlein contained 830. No one really knows for sure just how many emblems were published. Nor do we usually know the size of the editions, that is, just how many copies were printed of each edition. Each emblem picture contains one or more motifs often in a central motif cluster, and sometimes fatti, background or side scenes as well.8 An individual motif, say an eagle or the suicide of Brutus, may have been chosen for a particular meaning assumed to be inherent in that motif, in other words, sanctioned by one or more traditions. But which traditions and how should one name them? Is “eagle,” for instance, classical science, nature or perhaps natural history (“Naturkunde”)? It may depend on how the eagle is used, i.e., what concepts the bird is associated with. Is Brutus’s suicide Classical history or perhaps warfare? Such meanings or applications may also vary from emblem to emblem, so that the eagle or Brutus’s suicide is unlikely to convey to emblem writers or readers the same meaning over time. The devil is not in the details, but in the selection and omission of examples. With so many emblematic picturae one can demonstrate almost anything. A given single motif may be associated with a plurality of concepts, depending on which aspects, stories or traditions are either named or assumed by the emblem writer. There is also the question concerning which tradition(s) may be assumed to have included these motifs? Then there is the discussion of emblems and emblematic forms. In 1976 a Supplement to the Henkel and Schöne Handbuch was published with 2,338

6 This is not to suggest that no publisher was ever overcommitted, or went bankrupt. Illustrated books were, and still are, expensive to produce. 7 Such as those little books written by Jesuit students or their teachers welcoming a newly appointed bishop, archbishop or abbot. A number are described in the illustrated bibliography The Jesuit Series by Peter M. Daly and G. Richard Dimler S.J. Those deriving from Antwerp will be found in Part One, Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1997, J.4A to J.14. One such book is discussed by Anna E.C. Simoni in “Laurels for the Bishop: A School Celebration in Words and Images, Antwerp, 1711.” Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten Antwerpen, Jaarboek 1985, 289–308. 8 Such fatti will be discovered in the engravings to Rollenhagen’s emblems. See Carsten-Peter Warncke’s Gabriel Rollenhagen. Sinn-Bilder. Ein Tugendspiegel. Dortmund: Harenberg, 1983.

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bibliographic entries.9 I estimate that since 1990 over 1,400 books, articles, and essays have been published. Some deal with an individual emblem, others with an emblem maker, a printer or some more general issue. These publications are not all equally important. But without at least reading them how is one to know? I have admitted that I find it difficult to make generalizations about what emblematic motifs mean in terms of concepts, and especially of traditions. In the handouts that I received with the invitation to attend the Berlin conference, tradition was admitted to be a “complex issue.” Tradition is discussed, but nowhere defined. But terms, such as tradition and topos, need to be defined, because critics may use these terms with a different sense, or a different application. The printed Berlin handout suggests that tradition “claims to provide reliable systems of cultural order …” In fairness to the Berlin colleagues, I should perhaps quote the passage in full: Since tradition claims to provide reliable systems of cultural order it attracts particular attention as soon as those systems of order cease to be accepted as unproblematically given. At such a point, the web of topoi which support a given tradition threatens to disintegrate: Does tradition itself become a source of anxiety when the topoi begin to drift apart and become isolated? What exactly is `tradition’? What kinds of tradition are identifiable? When and under what conditions does tradition itself become a subject for discussion during the Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period?

This quoted passage moves from an assumption of agreement about tradition to what is for me a very real question: “What is tradition; how is it named, and who names it?” Topoi are evidently understood as lending support to a given tradition. This presumably includes allocating a given topos to one tradition or perhaps more than one. Of course, the idea that tradition may be challenged is well known to historians. I was recently re-reading a book entitled Early Modern Europe: An Oxford History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), edited by Euan Cameron. In his “Editor’s Introduction” Cameron writes of “the breakdown of old certainties, and the appearance of new, rival, and opposed bodies of ideas which replaced them” (xxii). He goes on to say that the “critical change, as it appears in retrospect, occurred when the evidence of observation came

See Hans Ulrich Kolb and Dieter Sulzer, “Bibliographie zur Emblemforschung.” In Arthur Henkel and Albrecht Schöne, Emblemata: Handbuch zur Sinnbildkunst des XVI. und XVII. Jahrhunderts. Supplement to the first edition. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1976, 33–176. 9

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to be accepted as more compelling and credible than inherited wisdom and authority …” (xxii). I might note that tradition is nowhere described or defined in the Berlin handouts. However, presumably the research being undertaken in Berlin with financial support provided by the DFG (= Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft) does come to terms with “tradition.” Elsewhere in a similar handout, one reads that the main thesis is: that the unravelling of traditions [still not identified] and the fragmentation and rearrangement of knowledge between c. 1200 and c. 1700 was patterned on topics and that topics were, therefore, at the basis of knowledge generation and transmission during the late Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period—a time during which knowledge transfer was becoming increasingly rapid and academic, legal, iconic and cultural topoi were swept along in a swirl of constant change.10

So where are we? Or more modestly, where am I? The narrower the focus the more likely one is to make safe statements. Were there not emblematic books published with English texts that contain anti-Catholic and anti-Jesuit sentiments during the reign of Elizabeth I? Of course there were. We would be surprised if it were otherwise. Were there not moral collections, and Protestant books also published? There certainly were. But biblical echoes (from which traditions?) will be discovered in both Protestant and Catholic publications in the same few decades, and in many different languages and places. But time or period may be the thing; 1531 to last week covers a lot of water front, nearly five centuries. It does not begin in the Middle Ages, but certainly in the Early Modern Period.11 There is little reason to think that Dutch, or English, or French, or German, or Italian, or Spanish communities in the same historical period necessarily subscribed to the same set of traditions. Even one central book such as the Bible was available in different translations, and was used for different religious or political purposes. So what can emblems tell us about “topics,” “knowledge,” and “traditions”? The definitions of these terms are unlikely to be accidental or easy. The Berlin research group defines, or at least describes, its theoretical concepts in the following summary: Quoted from the Berlin Research Group’s Topics and Tradition (FOG 606, p. 1). My bibliographic database currently contains 3,884 records for emblematic books

10 11

published between 1531 and 1700, which represents nearly 60% of the total. The numbers change almost weekly. Not that I would expect all historians of whatever ilk to agree on dates for the early modern period. For me it can usefully end in 1700.

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1. Topics are intentional in the philosophical sense, i.e. in the sense that “something is known as something.” 2. Topics create reliable knowledge as lexis determines formal concepts of experience and knowledge which then have the potential to become the elements and structures of a new order of knowledge. 3. The new order itself constitutes a complex structure: smaller components combine to form a new whole, but this whole, too, is arranged according to topical principles since the new whole itself represents an entity that is intentional in the philosophical sense. 4. The generation of knowledge as it is defined above is not limited to academic disciplines. 5. The changes in the structure of the topics show the generation of knowledge to be subject to historical development and presuppose, therefore, a concept of tradition. (FOG 606, 2–3) We also read that “Tradition has to be managed and regulated in order to guarantee both the accessibility of traditional knowledge and one’s own knowledge of that traditional knowledge. This is the function of topics” (FOG 606, 3). That sounds fine, although the text does not say who is to “manage and regulate” tradition. We are also informed that keywords will make such traditional knowledge accessible. Again, I quote the passage in full: 1. Each keyword must be capable of providing immediate systematization and structure for a given field of knowledge. This is the specific function of lexis. 2. A keyword functions as the label or nameplate of a topos. It is through keywords that topoi can be identified and further differentiated. (FOG 606, 3) Topics and tradition are thus “inseparably connected” (FOG 606, 3). Keywords are likely to be central to the investigation. I, for one, am not sure how this will work. Will there be keywords to each pictorial motif ? Will such keywords be pictorial or abstract or both? Let me take a hypothetical example, the anchor. Will the emblematic picture of an anchor be rendered with the pictorial keyword “anchor,” or with the abstract “hope,” which will be an interpretation and possibly correct. Will the textual term “anchor” be rendered with the pictorial keyword “anchor,” or with the abstract “hope.” Does it matter?

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Scholars have given such terms as topos different meanings. If I am correctly informed, for the Berlin research group topos tends to mean something like the complex entity, stated or not, that may be thought of as combining pictures and concepts. However, the notion of picture is already too sweeping for me, since an emblem picture may contain a plurality of motifs and fatti, and only one or two aspects of a motif may have been relevant to the emblem writer and his or her emblem. It also appears that at least in Rollenhagen the fatti are never mentioned in the emblem writer’s subscritiones. The German baroque theoretician Georg Philipp Harsdörffer knew that one given motif could convey different concepts, even if they may have proved impossible to depict.12 Harsdörffer knew that emblem writers frequently assumed understanding of an undepicted attribute of the motif. So the concept may not even have been originally named anywhere in the emblem, and to attach some such unnamed concept to a “tradition” may be difficult. Keywords may not have been named by the emblem writer in the texts. If a modern scholar specifies a keyword not named in an emblem text how will that keyword be differentiated from keywords named by the emblem writer? Keywords that denote pictorial motifs are usually provided by a scholar, not by the emblem writer. Does that matter? Will such keywords named by present scholars be called perhaps “meta-keywords”? Should we suppose that all modern observers of picturae will use the same keywords? Related to this is also the issue of a controlled vocabulary for such keywords. Perhaps Iconclass could help, although Iconclass was developed to name briefly in words visual motifs in pictures. It is not coincidental that Harsdörffer often uses the term “Sinnbild” rather than “Emblem.” In many of his discussions it is the meaning or “Sinn” (meaning) of an emblematic motif that concerns him. That meaning may not always be constant. In one emblem Alciato can praise the fidelity of crows and in another he can call them wicked13 or garrulous,14 or a trustworthy bird of augury in Emblem 44 of the 1621 edition. Again a lioness can be depicted in order to suggest a female patriot, and in another emblem a whore.15 The not Recognition of meaning depends on an understanding of the thing portrayed. In Part IV of the Frauenzimmer Gesprächsspiele Vespasian comments “… daß man von keinem Sinnbilde urtheilen kan / man habe dann zuvor der Figuren Natur und Eigenschaften gründlich erlernet / welche vielmals verborgen ist / und nicht ausgemahlet werden kan / daher dann des Sinnbildes Verstand schwer und tunkel wird.” (FzGs IV, 244) In stressing the active participation of the reader, whose knowledge of the properties of things portrayed in the emblem is assumed by the emblem writer, Harsdörffer is in agreement with established opinion. See my chapter on Truth, p. 7. 13 The emblems are numbered 38 and 73 in the 1621 edition. 14 See no. 19 in the 1621 edition. 15 In the 1627 edition of Alciato’s emblems these are numbered 13 and 75. 12

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infrequently heard modern complaint that emblematic images are contrived or arbitrary or enigmatic may result at times from the modern reader’s confusion when confronted with one image carrying different, at times even contradictory, meanings. But these meanings, for which presumably keywords could be substituted, derive from the good or evil qualities of the thing depicted or named. We moderns are not used to thinking of things in terms of the good and evil qualities of things. Of the snake Harsdörffer observes: “the interpretation is frequently doubtful, and, as was said earlier of lions, it can be good or evil. The snake is an image of cleverness, poisonous slander, and when it has its tail in its mouth, it is a representation of eternity.”16 But in a given emblem only one meaning is usually intended. Again of the eagle, Harsdörffer insists that “good and evil” (Gutes und Böses) (FzGs VII, 106) can be posited in accordance with what naturalists have written about the bird. In other words, a tradition from science or natural history underpins meaning in this case. But would we place Pliny under some modern scientific tradition? Wolfgang Harms knows a great deal about the relationship of scientific tradition to emblems.17 16 The German reads: “Die Deutung ist auch mehrmals als zweiffelhafftig / und kan / wie vor von den Löwen gesagt worden / gut und böß seyn. Die Schlange ist ein Bild der Klugheit / der gifftigen Verleumdung / und wann sie den Schwantz in dem Mund hat / eine Abbildung der Ewigkeit” (FzGs VII, 98). 17 Harms has been studying the relationship of science or perhaps better known as natural history (“Naturkunde”) to the emblem and the illustrated “Flugschrift” for decades, in addition to his studies of medieval literature. His Camerarius edition, Joachim Camerarius, Symbole et emblemata (1590–1604), together with Ulla-Britta Kuechen, appeared in Graz in two parts in 1986–1988. His most recent Joachim Camerarius, d.J: Die handschriftlichen Embleme, commented by Wolfgang Harms and Gilbert Hess (Tübingen) has recently appeared. His essays on this subject include: “Wörter, Sachen und emblematische res im Orbis sensualium pictus des Comenius.” In Gedenkschrift für William Foerster. Cologne and Vienna, 1970, 531–42; “Diskrepanzen zwischen Titel und Inhalt der Explicatio oder Außlegung über die Wohrte Salomonis … (1663) des Chemikers Johann Rudolf Glauber.” In Rezeption und Produktion in Renaissance und Barock. Festschrift für Günther Weydt. Bern and Munich, 1972; “Der Eisvogel und die halkyonischen Tage. Zum Verhältnis von naturkundlicher Beschreibung und allegorischer Naturdeutung.” In Verbum et Signum. Beiträge zur mediävistischen Bedeutungsforschung. Festschrift für Friedrich Ohly. 2 vols., ed. Wolfgang Harms, Hans From, and Uwe Ruberg. Munich, 1975; “Allegorie und Empirie bei Konrad Gesner. Naturkundliche Werke unter literaturwissenschaftlichen Aspekten.” In Akten des V. Internationalen Germanisten-Kongresses Cambridge 1975. Bern, 1976, 119–23; “Programmatisches auf Titelblättern naturkundlicher Werke der Barockzeit.” Frühmittelalterlichen Studien 12 (1978): 326–55; “Zwischen Werk und Leser. Naturkundliche illustrierte Titelblätter des 16. Jahrhunderts als Ort der Vermittlung von Autor- und Lesererwartungen.” In Literatur und Laienbildung im Spätmittelalter und in der Reformationszeit. Symposion Wolfenbüttel 1981, ed. Ludger Grenzmann and Karl Stackmann. Stuttgart, 1984, 427–61; “On natural history and emblematics in the 16th century.” In The Natural Sciences and the Arts. ed. Allan Ellenius.

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We need to be aware that emblem writers may have used one and the same motif, but assumed or applied a different concept to it. We might stay with the eagle, or go to Classical mythology and history, to the suicide of Marcus Brutus. What comes to mind today if we think of eagle. Let us forget the game of golf, and even the heraldic use of the bird, whether as a national symbol in Poland,18 in Germany, or in the U.S. If we are religious, if we know our Bible, or if we have read religious emblem books, we may think of the phrase “on the wings of eagles.” Otherwise, I would guess that many of us will think of the high flight, or the proverbially sharp sight of the bird, but unless we deal with literature of the early modern period, we are not likely to think of its supposed ability to look into the sun without blinking or going blind, nor its supposed rejuvenation by flying into the sun, nor the testing of its offspring by forcing them look into the sun. These and many other aspects of the eagle, for which doubtless keywords exist, or can be invented, find their way into the emblem books and prints of the early modern period. Linking one picture, here that of an eagle, to one concept, may prove difficult, and more than one tradition may have been involved. Let me remind us of some of the many emblematic uses of this one bird. Eagles could call up notions of individual virtue. Thus in the first edition of Andrea Alciato’s Emblematum liber (Augsburg, 1531) we find a pictura showing the image of a large eagle with outspread wings standing on a tombstone inscribed “D M ARISTOMENIS” beneath the motto “Signa fortium” (The ensign of brave men) (E2r)19 (Figure 4.1). The eagle could also call up notions Stockholm, 1985, 67–83; “Der kundige Laie und das naturkundliche illustrierte Flugblatt der frühen Neuzeit.” Berichte zur Wissenschaftsgeschichte 9 (1986): 227–46; “Bedeutung als Teil der Sache in zoologischen Standardwerken der frühen Neuzeit (Konrad Gesner, Ulisse Aldrovandi).” In Lebenslehren und Weltenentwürfen im Übergang vom Mittelalter zur Neuzeit, ed. Hartmut Boockmann, Bernd Moeller, and Karl Stackmann. Göttingen, 1989, 310–27. “Von den Vorzügen uneigentlicher Formulierung und unscharfer Assoziation in der Bildpublistik. Tiere als Akteure auf illustrierten Flugblättern der Frühen Neuzeit.” In Tierepik und Tierallegorese. Studien zur Poetologie und historischen Anthropologie vormoderner Literatur. Festschrift für Dietmar Peil, ed. Bernhard Jahn and Otto Neudeck. Franfurt am Main, 2004, 299–311. 18 It is perhaps hardly necessary to stress that an eagle was the national emblem of Germany, Poland, and the US. Polish eagle emblems will be discovered everywhere in earlier books and prints. Many are reproduced in the well-illustrated study of Polish seventeenth-century panegyrical works by Jadwiga Bednarska entitled Z Dziejòw Polskiej Ilustracji Panegiryczej Pierwszej Po_owy XVII Wieku. Katowiche, 1994. They will be found on plates (“Ryc”) 19, 26, 33, 36, 38, 40, and 42. 19 See the facsimile edition in the Olms series “Emblematisches Cabinet,” vol. X (Hildesheim and New York: Georg Olms, 1977). The emblem is also reproduced in Arthur Henkel and Albrecht Schöne, Handbuch, col. 757. Indispensable though it may be, this Handbuch provides only part of the answer to those seeking information. Not all the emblems from the 47 books represented are included, and neither the mottoes nor the epigrams are indexed. I refer to it

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Figure 4.1 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, E2r. Reproduced by permission of Olms of aristocracy and royalty, and eagles were often used in heraldry. Wolfgang Harms has studied the use of emblems in the interior decoration of Schloß Weißenstein in Pommersfelden and concluded that they represent a program of self-identification and self-glorification.20 Eagles could function heraldically to denote emperors. Albrecht Dürer’s woodcut portrait of Maximilian I comes wherever possible, because literary historians are used to consulting it, and it is presumably available in most university libraries. However, whether the presence or absence of a motif or its meaning allows one to make statements about the emblematic tradition is another matter. 20 See Wolfgang Harms and Hartmut Freytag, Außerliterarische Wirkungen barocker Emblembücher. Emblematik in Ludwigsburg, Gaarz und Pommersfelden. Munich: Fink, 1975, 135–54.

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to mind.21 The eagle was the heraldic badge of the Habsburgs, and could be used ironically, or at least read against the grain, by the Austrian and Lutheran baroque poetess Catharina Regina von Greiffenberg who referred to Emperor Leopold in Vienna as a half-blind eagle, thereby criticizing his Catholicism. That reference only makes sense when we combine two concepts: the sharp sight of the bird with its use as heraldic creature (Wappentier). That would be to invoke at least two traditions. Again Greiffenberg’s combining of eagle and mole in a manuscript poem only makes sense if we know of the high flight of the eagle and relate that to notions of the mole as an earth-bound creature.22 Eagles were often shown on, or flying towards, a crag or mountain top.23 The eagle was often associated with the sun: as in Jacobus à Bruck, Emblemata politica (1618), no. 41.24 Paolo Giovio also mentions this aspect.25 The eagle was assumed to test its young by forcing them to look directly into the sun, as in Nicolaus Reusner’s Emblemata (Frankfurt 1581), no. 8.26 Eagles were often shown in combat with other creatures, such as stags, as in Joachim Camerarius’s Symbolorum et Emblematum ex volatibus et insectis (1596).27 Eagles are also shown in combat with snakes, as in Joachim Camerarius’s Symbolorum et Emblematum ex volatibus et insectis (1596), no. 15.28 In another Camerarius emblem the battle brings death to both creatures.29 The eagle was also associated with Jove and Ganymede. Thus in the first edition of Andrea Alciato’s Emblematum liber (Augsburg 1531) we find a pictura showing a young male on the back of a large eagle beneath the motto “In deo laetandum” (One must delight in God) (B6r)30 (Figure 4.2). The eagle could also carry thunderbolts, presumably deriving from Jove, as in Juan de

It is reproduced in Peter M. Daly, Literature in the Light of the Emblem, 2nd edn. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998, on the cover, and on p. 25. It is discussed on p. 24. 22 See Catharina Regina von Greiffenberg, “An die Deogoria” reproduced and discussed in Ingrid Black and Peter M. Daly, Gelegenheit und Geständnis. Bern: Lang, 1971, 46–53. 23 Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 769. 24 Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 769. 25 See Daly, Literature in the Light of the Emblem, 2nd edn, 27. 26 Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 773. 27 Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 767. 28 Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 768. Henkel and Schöne give the meaning as “tödliche Liebe” (deadly love). 29 Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 768. Henkel and Schöne give the meaning as “tödlicher Sieg” (deadly victory). 30 See the facsimile edition, B6r, in the Olms series Emblematisches Cabinet, Hildesheim and New York: Georg Olms, 1977. 21

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Figure 4.2 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, B6r. Reproduced by permission of Olms Borja’s Emblemas morales (1581), no. 48,31 and in Camerarius’s Symbolorum et emblematum ex volatibus et insectis (1591).32 There were, of course, many biblical associations, including the eagle’s high flight (Prov. 23:5; Prov. 30:19; Jer. 48:40; Jer. 49:22; Obad. 1:4; Hab. 1:8), wings (Exod. 19:4; Isa. 40:31; Rev. 12:14), swiftness (2 Sa. 1:23; Jer. 4:13; Lam. 4:19), nesting on high ( Jer. 49:16; Obad. 1:4), renewal ( Job 9:26; Psa. 23:5), and with carrion (Matt. 24:28; Luke 17:37). Robert Young’s Analytical Concordance to the Holy Bible, first published in 1879, contains 32 references to eagles. I used the “eighth edition thoroughly revised” of 1977. Some of these King James Bible references to “eagle” become references to Geier (vulture) in the revised Luther translation, particularly Matthew 24:28 and Luke 17:37. Proverbial lore also informs some biblical associations and doubtless vice versa. At some point, the Berlin research group will have to decide how to encode these eagle references, and to which traditions they may be regarded as belonging.

Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 758. Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 759.

31

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Eagle wings were common in such religious emblem books as those of Daniel Cramer, Societas Iesu et Roseae Crucis vera: Hoc est, Decades quatuor emblematum sacrorum (1617), nos. 3, 9, 11, 37; Saavedra no. 92;33 Godyere no. 6.34 Eagle and carrion can have a biblical source. This is the basis for an emblem by Andrew Willet in his unillustrated Sacrorum emblematum centuria una ([1592?]), no. 91, although this is not noted by Huston Diehl, probably because she never adds an English translation to the Latin motto, which she quotes.35 The biblical association of eagle and carrion is depicted in Georgette de Montenay’s Emblemes ou devises chrestiennes (1571), no. 44.36 In Daniel Cramer’s Societas Iesu et Roseae Crucis vera: Hoc est, Decades quatuor emblematum sacrorum (1617), no. 40 the same motif occurs. But that is not say that no emblem writer wrote of vultures, even if they look like eagles in the pictures. In his Atalanta fugiens Michael Maier certainly identified as vultures the birds in his emblem XLIII, although he had identified as eagles such predatory birds nesting high on the tops of rocks in emblem VII,37 and as two birds of Jupiter in emblem XLVI. But the Berlin research group would have to decide if Maier’s eagle should be encoded as alchemy. More than one emblematist has pictured an eagle shot with an arrow feathered with an eagle feather, as in Guillaume de la Perrière’s Theatre des bons engins (1539), no. 5238 and translated into English by Thomas Combe in his Theater of Fine Devices ([1593], 1614) no. 52. But an eagle may be only one of several motifs in an emblem picture, even where it represents “virtue.” George Wither’s emblem 39 in Book 2 (Figure 4.3) shows an eagle with outspread wings surmounting a winged sphere set on a square altar and flanked on each side by a snake poised to strike. The source, Gabriel Rollenhagen, equates snake with “invidia” (envy) as does George Wither (“envy”). I should like to think that this complex picture will be classified with keywords such as “virtue” (= eagle), “envy” (= snake), “fortune” (= winged ball), and “religion” (= altar). But as is well known snakes could also denote wisdom, Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne Handbuch, col. 772. Reproduced in Daly et al. (eds), The English Emblem Tradition. Toronto: University of

33 34

Toronto Press, 1998, vol. 4, p. 61. 35 See her Index of Icons in English Emblem Books 1500–1700. Norman, OK, and London: University of Oklahoma Press, 1986, 82. 36 See also my chapter on Truth, p. 8. 37 See the 1964 facsimile edition published by Bärenreuter in Kassel and Basel and recently in Spanish translation with an introduction by Joscelyn Godwin published by Ediciones Atalanta in Girona in 2007, accompanied by a musical CD. 38 See also Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, cols. 779–80.

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Figure 4.3

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George Wither, A Collection of Emblemes, London 1635, Book 2 emblem 39. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press

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Figure 4.4

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George Wither, A Collection of Emblemes, London 1635, Book 3, emblem 8. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press

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as is found in both Gabriel Rollenhagen and George Wither (Wither Book 3, emblem 8 [Figure 4.4], and Rollenhagen’s Centuria Secunda, 8).39 Perhaps we may turn our attention to the suicide of Marcus Brutus, which belongs to Classical history, rather than the book of nature, and which was featured in a number of emblems, such as Andrea Alciato’s Emblematum liber (Augsburg, 1531), C1r40 (Figure 4.5). The 1531 woodcut shows a soldier plunging a dagger into his chest. Above the figure are printed “M. BR.” presumably as an aid to the reader to identify the figure. Alciato’s inscriptio “Fortuna virtutem superans” (Fortune overcomes virtue) makes it clear that Brutus’s suicide is not associated with the killing of a ruler but with fortune overcoming virtue.41 That is how the first German translator, Wolfgang Hunger, understood it: “Gluck herschend vber frumbkeyt” [Fortune overcoming virtue] no. XL.42 That is also how the second German translator, Jeremias Held, viewed it: “Das Glück das die Tugend vberwindt” [Fortune that conquers virtue].43 Geffrey Whitney also took over Alciato’s emblem in A Choice of Emblemes (Leiden: Plantin, 1586), 70.44 He retained Alciato’s Latin motto and his English subscriptio ends with the statement that “fortunes force, maie valiant hartes subdue.” Alciato and his translators may have ignored regicide, a hot button issue at the time, but others took a different view. In his Picta poesis (Lyons: Bonhomme, 1552) Aneau interpreted the suicide of Brutus as a demonstration of bad conscience. Aneau’s motto reads “Mens sibi bene conscia nescit timere.”45 Eagles were not uncommon on shop signs in eighteenth-century London,46 and doubtless earlier, and also doubtless elsewhere. From the examples of eagle and Brutus’s suicide it will probably be clear that the association of one concept with one emblematic motif can be problematic, and to assign one such motif and its implied or stated concept to one tradition will also not always be easy. Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 647. See the facsimile edition in the Olms series Emblematisches Cabinet, Hildesheim

39

40

and New York: Georg Olms, 1977. The emblem is also reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 1181. 41 Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 1181. 42 See facsimile edition published by the Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft Darmstadt: 1967, 96. 43 Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 1181. 44 Mentioned but not reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 1181. 45 Mentioned but not reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 1181. 46 Some are named and illustrated in Ambrose Healy, The Signboards of Old London Shops. London: Portman Books, 1957; reprinted 1988.

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Figure 4.5 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, C1r. Reproduced by permission of Olms There is also the issue of interpretation. How much of our knowledge should we bring to bear on the emblem or text. Should we view one emblem against the aggregate of all knowledge displayed in emblems and perhaps also in all written texts? At least those published up to date of the emblem. Or should we consider only the one or two pieces of knowledge activated, or perhaps assumed, in the one emblem? I tend towards this last possibility, although assumed understanding of something neither depicted nor discussed in the emblem texts, remains an issue.

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We moderns live in a brave new digital world. In fact, I happen to believe that the future of emblem studies lies in digitization.47 Not that digitization is without its dangers and seductions.48 At the risk of stating the obvious, one would need to delimit both historically and socially the community, or communities, to which emblems were addressed. But determining which communities were addressed by emblems is not always easy. Prefaces and forewords are seldom helpful in this regard. Can we determine which social groups were addressed by particular emblems, or emblem books at a particular time, and in a particular place? How should we do that? And there are later readers to be considered. Are they to be ignored? There is also the question wherein the meaning of any emblem lies. Is it to be sought in the inscriptio, in the pictura, in the subscriptio, or in some combination of the three, or more or less, parts, depending on the number of textual parts?49 Can we reduce an emblem to one meaning? I find that doubtful. Topics, keywords, knowledge, and traditions are not always easy to determine, and a given emblem, by which I always mean the combination of visual image and text(s), may well provide different keywords and topics in its textual parts. I find it doubtful that any emblematic picture can be read in isolation from its scriptura. It is hardly surprising that the relationship of image and text (Berlin FOG 606, 15) often comes up in discussions of the Berlin research group. The same issue arises among emblem scholars. Knowledge is a term that occurs frequently in the summaries of the Berlin research group. But what is knowledge? Is information just another word for the same thing? I find it difficult to imagine writers wanting the Age of the Enlightenment to be known as the Age of Information. In an emblem is knowledge the central motif, or the meaning attached to, or read out of that motif ? Put simply, is knowledge the basis of the emblem, or the sense intended by the emblem and its creator? That sense is not always the same, even when the

47 Perhaps the most recent book publication concerned with emblem digitiziation projects is Learned Love: Proceedings of the Emblem Project Utrecht Conference on Dutch Love Emblems and the Internet (November 2006), ed. Els Stronks and Peter Boot. The Hague: DANS, 2007. 48 I have given several lectures on the topic in Canada, Holland, Italy, and Spain, and published a book on the subject: Digitizing the European Emblem: Issues and Prospects. New York: AMS Press, 2002. 49 The Canadian scholar David Graham and the German scholar Sabine Mödersheim came independently to the same conclusion that the perhaps canonical tripartite structure of the emblem does not necessarily describe all emblems. See Emblem Scholarship: Directions and Developments, ed. Peter M. Daly. Turnhout: Brepols, 2005, 131–58, 159–75.

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motif is the same. A snake shedding its skin is for Georgette de Montenay (no. 41)50 a sign of renewal through penance, but for Covarrubias (no. 93)51 it signifies that there is no renewal for the aging woman. Pace the pharmaceutical companies. Of course there were scientific and alchemical collections of emblems. Camerarius and Maier quickly come to mind. But in Camerarius there is a balance between scientific information and the moral application of that information. The moral application is of itself not scientific. There were also religious emblem books, in which the emblems may have been based on Scripture, but could also use nonBiblical imagery. Johannes Gossner’s immensely popular Das Herz des Menschen or The Heart of Man, reprinted into the twenty-first century for evangelizing in Africa and India, uses baroque images of the heart of man, attacked by Satan and various creatures, which we know from proverbs or illustrated versions of the seven deadly sins (Figure 4.6). But Gossner’s Das Herz des Menschen dates from the eighteenth century, and is indebted to Jesuit sources.52 The political truths espoused by emblematic books that have become known as “mirrors of the prince” are based on expectations that authors had of the good, Christian prince. But the individual emblems may have picturae showing such things as crowns, Death, trees, flowers, pillars, and mirrors. I shall take an English example, George Wither’s Emblemes published in London in 1635, more than a hundred years after Alciato had started it all. The book used the engraved picturae of Georg Rollenhagen’s emblem books, published more than two decades earlier. Wither’s emblem book was dedicated to aristocrats and royalty.53 But many of Wither’s emblems preach Puritan-sounding values that would have been more acceptable to London’s citizens than to the Court.54 So which community does Wither address in his Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 634. Reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 635. 52 See Sabine Mödersheim and Wim van Dongen, “Pure and Impure Hearts: Johannes 50 51

Gossner’s The Heart of Man in Africa.” This was a paper presented to the Eighth International Conference of the Society for Emblem Studies, held in Winchester, England, August 1, 2008. 53 Wither’s book is a large folio volume with 200 emblems divided into four books. Each book is prefaced by one or two long verse dedications: Book I to King Charles I and Henrietta Maria, and Book II to Charles, Prince of Wales and his brother, James, Duke of York. In 1635 James was only an infant, and so the dedication is actually addressed to his governess, Mary, Countess of Dorset. Book III is dedicated to Princess Francis, Duchess Dowager of Richmond and Lennox, and to her nephew, James, Duke of Lennox. Book IV is dedicated to Philip, Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, and to Henry, Earl of Holland. 54 See Court and City: Wither’s A Collection of Emblemes (1635) in Seventeenth-Century England, ed. Jane Farnsworth and Mary V. Silcox. It will appear in the series Imago Figurata. Turnhout: Brepols.

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Figure 4.6

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Johannes Gossner, Das Herz des Menschen, Harrisburg, PA, 1881, first illustration. Reproduced from a private collection

emblems, and what evidence will we adduce for assigning a given emblem to a given community? George Wither and his emblems might prove an interesting case of emblems transmitting the concepts of an emblem writer who actually questions some of the emblematic motifs that he uses. We must remember that Wither was working with the engraved plates that Rollenhagen had used earlier. Could it be that some of Rollenhagen’s motifs were no longer current in the community that Wither was addressing? Are such motifs—and how many were there?—examples of traditions no longer binding? The question would have to be asked concerning the number of Wither’s 200 emblems that would require such reconsideration.

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Then there is Wither’s apparent impatience with some of the motifs that he inherited from Rollenhagen, when he appropriated those illustrations?55 There is something of a convention in English studies that Wither was impatient with some of the emblems that he took over from Rollenhagen. From Rosemary Freeman in 194856 to Richard Cavell in 199057 critics have tended to believe Wither’s critical comments about Rollenhagen’s emblems, and seen them as indicating the arbitrary nature of the emblems. Freeman put it succinctly when she observed that Wither’s “impatience” (English Emblem Books, 145) is largely due to his consciousness that “his material belongs to a tradition [not named] now obsolete” (144). But does Wither really treat his sources in a “cavalier fashion,” as Freeman (144) has argued? Wither always correctly names the motif that he takes over. In my earlier article on Wither I was largely concerned with the argument of arbitrariness. I have thought until now that Wither’s apparent impatience was better understood as a rhetorical ploy. But what if some motifs were no longer current with his assumed target audience? That is to make two judgments: one concerning the target audience, and the other relates to the “tradition” that may encompass the motif. How many motifs or emblems does this apply to? Some of the motifs that Wither criticizes were imprese. If Wither’s target audience was in fact the London citizenry or middle class readers in general, then it is likely that they would not have known some of these imprese. That would seem to hold true of the three interlocking crescent moons (Figure 4.7) that probably derived originally from Paradin’s Devises heroiques, which first appeared in 1551 in Lyons. It was the device of the French king Henri II in his role of defender of the Church. We know that Rollenhagen knew this as he refers to the fame of the French king in his brief subscriptio (see Rollenhagen, no. 99). Wither writes: 55 See Peter M. Daly, “The Arbitrariness of George Wither’s Emblems: Reconsidered.” In The Art of the Emblem: Studies in Honour of Karl Josef Höltgen, ed. Michael Bath, John Manning, and Alan R. Young. New York: AMS Press, 1993, 201–34. It will be reprinted in Court and City: Wither’s A Collection of Emblems (1535) in Seventeenth-Century England, ed. Jane Farnsworth and Mary V. Silcox, to appear in Imago Figurata. Turnhout: Brepols. See also Peter M. Daly, “George Wither’s Use of Emblem Terminology.” In Aspects of Renaissance and Baroque Symbol Theory 1500–1700, ed. Peter M. Daly and John Manning. New York: AMS Press, 1999, 27–38. 56 See Rosemary Freeman, English Emblem Books. 1948; London: Chatto & Windus, reprinted 1967 and 1970. 57 See Richard Cavell, “Representative Writing: The Emblem as (Hiero)-Glyph.” In The European Emblem: Selected Papers from the Glasgow Conference, 11–14 August, 1987, ed. Bernhard F. Scholz, Michael Bath, and David Weston. Leiden: Brill, 1990, 167–85.

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What in this Emblem, that mans meanings were, Who made it first, I neither know nor care; For, whatsoere, he purposed, or thought, To serve my purpose, now it shall be taught; (2: 49)

But Wither picks up a tradition (biblical or Christian: does it matter which?), known to Paradin, that associated the moon with the Church. Wither also asserts: This knot of Moones (or Crescents) crowned thus, lllustrate may a Mystery to us, Of pious use (and, peradventure, such As from old Hieroglyphicks, erres not much)

We notice that Wither writes positively of hieroglyphics, and never mentions imprese. Does that mean that he assumes his readers were acquainted with the tradition of the hieroglyph? Wither uses the term “hieroglyph” on several occasions, and usually positively. One engraving shows four birds grouped around a vertical scepter, itself encircled by a crown (2: 05). When Wither notes that he takes “little care” when it comes to “unfold our Authors mind” he is writing of the “difrring … natures” of the birds, which in Rollenhagen, no. 5558 are different species, whereas Rollenhagen’s probable source, Alciato (1531, A4r; 1542, no. 6; 1551, no. 458) had made a point of writing of one species, crows, and their unity. Wither, therefore, interprets Rollenhagen’s picture of four different kinds of birds, as signifying “men of all Degrees,” rich and poor, “the Swaine, the Gentleman” who support their king (Figure 4.8). Wither also criticizes certain figures from Greek mythology that he regards as monsters.59 Geryon, the three-bodied giant with six arms, is viewed by Wither as a monster rather than a hieroglyph (Figure 4.9). He complains that he took over: The Figures (as you see them) ready made By others: and, I mean to morallize Their fancies; not to mende what they devise (3: 45) Henkel and Schöne regard the four birds as crows, probably because they were crows in Alciato. The Rollenhagen emblem is not reproduced in Henkel and Schöne’s Handbuch, col. 884. 59 It may seem odd that Wither does not criticize the griffin (Book 3 no. 5) as a monster, although he knows it will not be found in the Book of Nature. 58

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Figure 4.7

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George Wither, A Collection of Emblemes, London 1635, Book 2 emblem 49. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press

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In his Centuria Secunda (1613), no. 4560 Rollenhagen had used Geryon as had before him Alciato and Reusner.61 The figure was incorporated into Valeriano’s Hieroglyphica, of which Wither was evidently unaware. So we should perhaps not attach too much importance to the Englishman’s references to hieroglyphics. Wither also has doubts about the factual basis of an image of hunting elephants. Do men really hunt elephants by weakening the tree against which the elephant was supposed to lean while sleeping? This is depicted in Wither’s emblem 3: 49, which was Rollenhagen’s Centuria Secunda (1613), no. 49.62 The “tradition” presumably will be considered classical science or natural history (Naturkunde). But either way, Wither does not accept it. Although he believes it to be a fable, he nonetheless uses it. He writes: Now, though the part Historicall, may erre, The Morall, which this Emblem doth inferre, Is overtrue: and seemeth to imply, The World to bee so full of Treacherie,

Wither applied this notion to city, Court, and even the Church. There is also the huge question: what did the emblem writer want to accomplish? Was he or she primarily motivated by a desire to transmit certain ideas or kinds of knowledge? Or was he or she attempting to convey to the reader a certain kind of truth, societal, political, scientific, moral, or religious? I believe that the emblem writer was intent on conveying what he or she regarded as truth, the truth of a moral or religious position, rather than a fragment of knowledge. The emblem writer uses knowledge to transmit that larger truth. The pictorial motif becomes the basis for a truth that may be of a different kind. In the vast majority of cases the emblem writer based this truth on a piece of knowledge that enjoyed the accreditation of tradition. But the emblem writer may also use faulty information on occasion if that information, for instance Rollenhagen’s motif of hunting elephants, can be put to good moral use. It is not the factual basis of hunting elephants but the moral that can be read out of that piece of false information that Wither uses. We should also perhaps remember that elephants are not native either to Holland or England. So knowledge about them will derive from earlier authorities. Mentioned but not reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 1649. Mentioned but not reproduced or named in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 1649. 62 Mentioned but not reproduced in Henkel and Schöne, Handbuch, col. 417. 60 61

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Figure 4.8

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George Wither, A Collection of Emblemes, London 1635, Book 3 emblem 45. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press

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Figure 4.9

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George Wither, A Collection of Emblemes, London 1635, Book 2 emblem 5. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press

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An emblem writer will likely be more interested in the application of a piece of knowledge located in the pictura, which may or may not be explicated in the texts, rather than in the piece of knowledge itself. This notion applies to emblems and imprese, and not only to those heraldic, or hieroglyphically stylized motifs such as cornucopia and caduceus,63 the dolphin and anchor,64 the griffin,65 or the three interlocking crescent moons, already discussed. If 63 In Wither it is Book 2 no. 26. As usual Wither accurately names and describes the pictura, and in his motto he insists: Good-fortune, will by those abide, In whom, True-vertue doth reside. Wither calls this emblem a “Hieroglyphick,” noting that “Sages old” interpreted it as: Art, Wisdome, Vertue, and what else we find, Reputed for endowments of the Minde. The Cornucopias, well-knowne Emblems, are By which, great wealth, and plenties, figur’d were; Rollenhagen had taken over Alciato’s motto “Virtuti fortuna comes” (in the 1531 edition B1r), although the pictura there is poor. Wither does not change Rollenhagen’s engraved motto. 64 Wither shows no impatience with the motif of a dolphin encircling an anchor (2: 10). He describes and interprets it, appealing to an unspecified tradition which he invokes through the word “Elders”: OVr Elders, when their meaning was to shew A native-speedinesse (in Emblem wise) The picture of a Dolphin-Fish they drew; Which, through the waters, with great swiftnesse, flies. An Anchor, they did figure, to declare Hope, stayedness, or a grave-deliberation: The Englishman penned a new English couplet motto, while retaining Rollenhagen’s Latin motto engraved around the pictura (reproduced in Henkel and Schöne’s Handbuch, cols. 713–14); Henkel and Schöne identify the dolphin as a Hemmfisch). Wither wrote: If Safely, thou desire to goe, Bee nor too swift, nor overslow. Wither doubtless knew the anchor as a symbol of hope from Christian tradition. But “hope” is not mentioned by Rollenhagen in his short subscriptio, which seems dependent on Alciato who had used the motif in the printing of his 1531 edition (B2r). Alciato had used the motif to suggest that the prince cares for his people just as the dolphin assists by fixing the anchor more firmly in the seabed. None of these emblem writers refers to the dolphin and anchor either as a device of Roman emperors, or Colonna’s Hypnerotomachia, where it also appears, or to the printer’s device of the Venetian printer Aldus Manutius, although we may assume that Alciato knew of them. Many of the courtiers at Court in London would also have known them, but there is no reason to suppose that London citizens or Wither’s other English middle-class readers would have known them. 65 In Book 3, emblem 5 Wither takes over from Rollenhagen the engraved pictura of a griffin (a mythical creature, comprised of bird and beast, according to Greek legend the guardian of gold; it reappears in one modern logo of a bank, (England’s Midland Bank). In the complicated emblem

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and when there appears to be a conflict between the truth or factuality of the motif and the truth read out of the motif, the contest is often decided by the truth read out of the motif. But that is already something of a simplification. So-called scientific truth is not always permanent. Yesterday’s scientific truth is often negated, or at least called into question, by developments in today’s technology. Perhaps it is better to say that truth is what is believed to be true. That is admittedly a relativist view. In the twenty-first century, physicians have to, or should, adjust their notions of what is true and they may have to adjust their advice to patients, their procedures and treatments. Colonoscopy has recently been discovered to be less predictive of colon cancer in men, than was thought.66 In October 201167 the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force, a panel of independent experts, found that the once vaunted PSA blood test does not save lives when used as a routine test. The PSA blood test was and probably still is regularly used to detect prostate cancer in men. However, it is known that a high level does not necessarily prove malignancy, nor a low count prove that cancer is not present. In other words, the result of the PSA blood test for prostate cancer is not conclusive. Nor for that matter is the pathology report on a biopsy carried out on the prostate. One knows that pathologists can come to different conclusions from one and the same biopsy. In 2009 the same American task force had recommended against women in their 40s having mammograms routinely. We all know that cancer is a big killer, but what should a person do? Most patients are not cancer specialists. Patients will consult cancer specialists who tend to be either surgeons or radiation experts. The advice given may well differ. This is all modern medical science. What is true, and for how long? picture the griffin with outspread wings stands on a flat block, which Wither calls a “stone” that is chained to a winged sphere. The background scene depicts Saul falling from his horse as he is struck by a ray of light issuing from the heavens. This is one of the many background scenes that Wither does not comment on, nor did Rollenhagen for that matter. It is reproduced in Henkel and Schöne’s Handbuch, cols. 626–7). Wither knows that this creature will not be found in the “Catalogues of Nature.” The combination of bird and beast signifies for him “The Vertues, both of Body, and of minde,” echoing his English couplet motto: Good Fortune will with him abide, That hath true Vertue, for his guide. But Wither knows that material fortune does not always follow virtue, concluding: But if we abide content, our worth is more; And rich we are, though others think us poore. 66 See my chapter on Truth,p. 4. 67 Reported in the St. Petersburg Times of October 9, 2011 1B and 7B.

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It was once believed that the diamond could only be softened by the blood of a goat,68 and this notion was often applied to Christ and his redeeming blood. Is this true or false? Perhaps without realizing it, we have slipped into the realm of intention and reception.69 Henri Estienne confronted the issue of truth head-on in a treatise, translated by Thomas Blount as Treatise on the Making of Devises in 1646.70 As I noted in the second edition of my Literature in the Light of the Emblem (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998): “What decides the contest is not ‘truth’ but rather considerations of communication and reception” (61). Estienne and his English translator Blount already knew that the phoenix does not thrive in flames, and that bears do not lick their unformed young into shape. However, some modern insurance companies have advertised themselves with the salamander,71 and phoenix,72 and the Boston Amateur Athletic Association, which organizes the oldest and most famous marathon race in the world, still uses a fierce-looking unicorn73 in its logo. There are still proverbs in many languages about “licking someone into shape.” To get back to Wither. For whom was he writing? What kinds of knowledge and traditions did he employ? He evidently understood the emblematic picturae that he appropriated from Rollenhagen. He often explained them, which seems to suggest that he did not assume his readers would necessarily know them all. But Wither does not parade his knowledge of emblematic and Classical traditions. He seems to expect learned but not erudite readers. As we have 70 71 68

See my chapter on Truth, p. 4. See my chapter on Truth, p. 6. See my chapter on Truth, p. 5. Insurance in pre-communist Russia knew of the salamander. Looking like a ferocious snake, it sits in the flames of a fire mark of the company appropriately called the Salamander Fire Insurance Company of St. Petersburg. The company and its salamander served St. Petersburg from 1846 to 1921. See Alwin E. Bulau, Footprints of Assurance. New York: Macmillan, 1953, nos. 1650 and 1652. 72 In 1779 the General Insurance Company of Ireland was formed. Its fire mark was a leaden square 7 inches by 7 inches showing a phoenix rising from the fire. See Bulau, Footprints of Assurance, nos. 663–5. A few years later in 1782 a company was established in London that actually called itself The Phoenix Assurance Company and its fire mark displays a phoenix with outspread wings rising from the flames. See Bulau, Footprints of Assurance, nos. 674–87. The Fidelity-Phoenix Fire Insurance Company in New York was founded in 1910 with the obligatory phoenix, which now resembles the American eagle. See Bulau, Footprints of Assurance, nos. 488 and 489. 73 Boston Amateur Athletic Association has the equally mythical unicorn for its logo. Boston’s unicorn is a particularly fierce-looking beast, and as such differs from the typical representations in the early modern period where it is often shown with its head in the lap of the Virgin Mary. However, it is possible that the notion of strength and freedom, with which the mythical unicorn was often associated, lies behind the choice of the Boston Amateur Athletic Association. 69

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seen the dedications to royalty and aristocracy suggest that Wither was also courting influence, probably seeking patronage. There is also another and purely economic consideration. Wither’s book itself was costly. With its folio format, its 200 copperplate engravings on finely ruled pages, and with its lottery with volvelles, the book was the most expensive emblem book produced in England up to that date. It must have been or became something of a collector’s item, which is perhaps indicated already by the fact that we know of over 70 surviving copies of the original imprint. It must have been a prized possession. For any research project there is also the question of the selection of emblem books from the early modern period. The answer to the question how many emblem books there were will depend on the dates accorded to the early modern period (and here we are dealing with different vernacular cultures), and on one’s definition of an emblematic book. Which books will be selected will ultimately depend on the criteria chosen. There were, depending on one’s definition of emblem between 3,000 and 4,000 books actually published in the early modern period. Presumably, Berlin scholars will select representative examples, hopefully of vernacular traditions, as well as Latin. These will probably include representative examples of Latin editions of Alciato, Camerarius, and Sambucus, among others. But will published vernacular translations of those Latin works also be included? This is not unimportant if keywords for topics will also be those of actual early modern writers. Or will they also be translated by modern scholars into German or English? As one knows, the selection of titles for the Henkel and Schöne Handbuch is not a subject on which all agree. We are not yet even considering the Handbuch’s various Register, or the naming of pictorial motifs and the naming of one sense for the whole emblem, about which on occasion there may also be disagreement. Titles can be tricky. Daniel Cramer published in 1617 his first emblem book under the title Societas Iesu et Roseae Crucis vera: Hoc est, Decades quatuor emblematum sacrorum (Frankfurt: Lucas Jennis). The book contains 40 engraved emblems. They are neither Jesuit nor Rosicrucian. Cramer was a Protestant, a strictly Lutheran pastor, historian, and theologian. The title of that book is in fact polemical, directed against Catholics and especially Jesuits, but also against Rosicrucians. The mention of the true rosy cross may also be taken as a reference to Luther’s arms.74 Although the title may be polemical, the emblems are not dogmatic. In 1622 Cramer published with the same Lucas Jennis in Frankfurt an expanded version of his Societas with 50 emblems under the more neutral 74 See Klaus Conermann, “Luther’s Rose: Observations on a Device in the Context of Reformation Art and Theology,” Emblematica 2 (1987): 1–60.

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title Emblemata Sacra. In 1624 the Emblemata Sacra was reissued with a new second part containing another 50 emblems.75 The Emblemata Sacra is polyglot, with subscriptiones in French, German, Italian, and Latin. Will keywords be taken from these various subscriptiones? Which edition should be chosen for the Berlin investigation is also a question. The first edition of 1617, or the largest edition of 1624? The very selection of emblematic books may confront one with questions about “knowledge.” Take, for example, the Latin editions of Alciato and his translators. The Latin emblem texts of Alciato frequently assume that the reader knew who so-and-so was. Alciato’s translators did not always make such assumptions. They often provided information that Alciato himself never mentioned, but simply assumed.76 Alciato’s vernacular translators had different target audiences in mind. Such translations, whether into French, German, Italian, or Spanish often made explicit what Alciato had simply assumed. So what does all this mean for the Berlin research group? From my limited perspective, it means that emblems and imprese, probably cannot be evaluated solely in terms of their transmission of knowledge and traditions, although emblems could be used for such an investigation. Keywords, or meta-keywords, may not exhaust the communication offered by emblems and imprese. There is always the danger that the application of keywords and traditions (however defined) may short-change emblems and imprese. It will not always be easy to determine the tradition validating an emblem. Many animal emblems derive from domestic situations, or from relatively ordinary, even mundane contexts such as farms, or from commonplace observations. This is in addition to fables, proverbs, and Classical or biblical usages. The emblem writer rarely reliably indicates the background or source for his animal image. Whereas emblems and imprese do convey knowledge and may be related to a dominant tradition, naming both that knowledge and tradition may not always be easy and may cause new disagreements. A facsimile edition of the 1624 printing appeared in 1994 in the Olms series “Emblematisches Cabinet” with a German Nachwort by Sabine Mödersheim. 76 I have discussed some of these issues in “The Intertextuality of Word and Image in Wolfgang Hunger’s German Translation of Alciato’s Emblematum liber.” In Intertextuality: German Literature and the Visual Arts, ed. Ingeborg Hoesterey and Ulrich Weisstein. Columbia SC: Camden House, 1993, 30–46; “Alciato’s Emblem ‘Concordiae symbolum’: A Medusa’s Mirror for Rulers?” German Life and Letters 411 (1988): 349–62; and “Alciato’s ‘Spes proxima’ Emblem: General Allegory or Local Specificity?” Emblematica 9 (1995): 257–67. 75

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Chapter 5

Mnemonics and Emblems

Everyone knows how important memory was and still is.1 Many have read about the so-called arts of memory, but few of us have read any of the Classical, medieval, or Renaissance texts that in their different ways actually seek to explain these arts. Can these artificial arts of memory be made in some way responsible for emblems? Put differently, do emblems embody perhaps something of these arts of memory? Can the arts of memory be usefully invoked to explain the success and value of emblems? Mnemonic as an adjective may be defined as anything intended to aid memory. As a noun mnemonics is the science or art of improving memory, a system devised for training memory, that is, artificial memory. There is, then, perhaps a useful difference to be made between the adjective and the noun. The relation of mnemonics to emblems is a large topic and I lay no claim to having read all of even the most important treatises on the arts of memory. I have, however, read a lot of emblems. The relation of mnemonics to emblems is not well treated in most earlier books and articles about the relation of emblems to other and earlier traditions. This observation would apply to the respected2 studies of Praz,3 Freeman,4 Schöne,5 Jöns,6 Heckscher and Wirth,7 and more 1 See Mary Caruthers and Jan M. Ziolkowski (eds.), The Medieval Craft of Memory. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002. The Introduction is particularly suggestive. 2 Not all critics and readers will find the works listed “respected.” Any discussion of a theory of emblems will rest on certain assumptions that not all will share. 3 See Mario Praz, Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1939; 2nd edn London: Warburg Institute, 1964; offset reprint, 1975; Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Part II. Addenda et Corrigenda (1974). 4 See Rosemary Freeman, English Emblem Books. London: Chatto & Windus, 1948; reprinted 1967 and 1970. Her treatment of mnemonics is interesting but slight (see 200–203). 5 See Albrecht Schöne, Emblematik und Drama im Zeitalter des Barock. Munich: Beck, 1964; 2nd edn 1968; 3rd edn 1993. 6 See Dietrich Walter Jöns, Das “Sinnen-Bild”: Studien zur allegorischen Bildlichkeit bei Andreas Gryphius. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1966. 7 See William S. Heckscher and Karl-August Wirth, “Emblem, Emblembuch.” In Reallexikon zur Deutschen Kunstgeschichte, vol. 5. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1959, cols. 85–228.

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recently to Bath8 and Manning,9 and include my own Literature in the Light of the Emblem.10 Any serious discussion of the relationship of emblems and the artificial arts of memory will likely involve some review of theories of the emblem, the genesis of the emblem, but also a critical or at least interpretive position on what may be considered primary in the emblem: the visual picture or the verbal texts. In my view this should also include some consideration of intention or creation and reception. With perhaps over 6,500 printed books of emblems and imprese, published since 1531, it will not be easy to establish one theory or even description that covers them all. No normative account is likely to suffice. The role of the publisher also needs to be considered, as well as that of the writer of the texts and the illustrators. It is too simple to assume that in most cases either emblem writers or their readers were acquainted—perhaps well acquainted—with Classical, medieval or Renaissance treatises on the arts of memory. One can also be forgiven, hopefully, for doubting that some modern scholars who argue for an overlap of the artificial arts of memory and emblems have actually read all, perhaps even any of these treatises, as distinct from reading about them. As far as emblems are concerned, emblem scholars are probably still divided as to the primacy of picture or texts. This very question appears to gloss over the important issue of creation or intention versus reception. After all, a reader of an illustrated emblem book will not necessarily know if the pictures were designed or even approved by the author of the texts. There is also an unresolved matter of historical evidence. Many German scholars and those who use the Henkel and Schöne Handbuch11 believe or have come to believe in the primacy of picture, and that certainly seems to obtain when one considers the reader’s reception of an illustrated emblem book. But we know in many cases that the emblem writer wrote texts that were later illustrated. In a very few cases we know that the emblem writer also drew his own illustrations. Some critics insist that a 8 See Michael Bath, Speaking Pictures: English Emblem Books and Renaissance Culture. London and New York: Longman, 1994. See also Michael Bath, Renaissance Decorative Painting in Scotland. Edinburgh: National Museums of Scotland, 2003. 9 See John Manning, The Emblem. London: Reaktion Books, 2002. 10 Originally published in 1979, 2nd revised and expanded edn. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998. 11 Not that the Henkel and Schöne Handbuch has not received its due of criticism. See, for example, Wolfgang Neuber, “Locus, Lemma, Motto. Entwurf zu einer mnemonischen Emblematiktheorie.” In Ars memorativa. Zur kulturgeschichtlichen Bedeutung der Gedächtniskunst 1400–1750, ed. Jörg Jochen Berns and Wolfgang Neuber. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1993, 351–72 (see especially Neuber’s footnote 10).

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Figure 5.1 Sebastián de Covarrubias y Horozco (Orozoco), Emblemas Morales, Madrid 1610, emblem I, 12. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press

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picture possesses no “cognitive primacy.”12 I have expressed certain doubts about that already.13 The fact that in some editions of emblem books the same picture may appear more than once, does not allow of the conclusion that pictures lack cognitive primacy. The publisher or printer rather than the emblem writer may well have made the decision which illustrations to include. The fact that different emblem writers may use the same motif, say a chameleon or a salamander, in a different sense also does not allow of the conclusion that pictures bear no meaning. Attributes such as snake hair, or the eating of a human heart, will define a female personification as Envy. Whoever designed the illustration to Covarrubias’s emblem I, 12 (Figure 5.1) in Emblemas Morales of 161014 took his or her cue from the second word in the subscriptio “embidia” (envy), which also mentions that she eats her heart. The inscriptio does not mention envy at all, but the pictura depicts Invidia as a kneeling hag holding up her heart in her right hand and holding a snake in her left. It can be argued that such attributes as heart and snake are primary or at least well established. We do not really need to argue that “primacy” means something that is universal; it may be historically or culturally determined, but none the less perdures. Were it otherwise, no reader would be able to identify or accept a female figure with snake hair or eating her heart as the personification of Invidia. Questions of text are central to any consideration of emblems. But not all will agree with Wolfgang Neuber15 that the lemma, which he understands exclusively as a motto, is primary. Neuber’s main argument with regard to emblems has to do with the primacy of text, i.e., of lemma. Neuber argues that the intelligibility of images “in the normal case requires the semanticisation by the lemma.”16 Stefan Manns appears to agree with Neuber about the lemma and pictura.17 Neuber rejects the notion of the cognitive primacy of visual images (Neuber, 353). Most 12 See Neuber, “Locus, Lemma, Motto,” 353, 354. Stefan Manns quotes the Neuber passage (353) in his own essay entitled “Nucleus emblematum. Überlegungen zu einer Semiotik des Emblems.” It was published in Topik und Tradition: Prozesse der Neuordnung von Wissensüberlieferungen des 13. bis 17. Jahrhunderts, ed. Thomas Frank, Ursula Kocher, and Ulrike Tarnow. Göttingen: V&R Unipress, 2007, 47–65. 13 See Peter M. Daly, “Bildtheorie and Emblems,” Emblematica 19 (2012): 207–117. See also Peter M. Daly, “Emblems through the Magnifying Glass or Telescope,” Emblematica 18 (2010): 315–37. 14 The emblem was reproduced in 1973 in the Scolar Press series Continental Emblem Books as vol. 7. 15 See note 11. 16 The German reads: “Zur Sicherung der intersubjektiven Verständlichkeit der Bilder bedarf es im Normalfall ihrer Semantisierung durch das Lemma” (Neuber, 365). 17 See note 12.

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visual images in emblems are also named in the subscriptiones or epigrams, that is, a text. But when is the emblematic inscriptio a motto and when is it not? No fewer than 14 of Alciato’s inscriptiones in the 1531 editions are clearly not mottoes and read more like titles, some abstract and some merely naming the figure that may be depicted or named or the figure may appear in Alciato’s subscriptiones. Of Alciato’s final 212 emblems at least 29 are not mottoes, and the 17 tree emblems have no mottoes. That would make at least 36, and perhaps more, depending how one counts. One might wonder what is the historical evidence as distinct from assertions or modern interpretations for the assumption that only a motto provides primacy in reception, when many of Alciato’s emblems have no mottoes at all. It is difficult to accept that the illustrations in Steyner’s 1531 editions are accidental (Azzidens is Neuber’s word, 356). There is a sense in which Neuber leads his reader by Neuber’s own choice of words. For him a pictura or subscriptio “amplifies” (amplifiziert, 353) the lemma, implying that the lemma is primary and either receives or requires amplification, both in the picture and epigram, which is also a text. It is also, as I have observed, a matter of historical evidence. With so many books of emblems printed, the choice will likely be disputed. But even taking the first Latin and French books of emblems that were printed will suggest that not all emblem writers chose to write mottoes to introduce their emblems, although in time the motto does come to dominate. This is probably why many modern scholars either use the undifferentiated inscriptio or the English title/motto, recognizing that some early writers did not write mottoes at all, and some wrote titles that are clearly not mottoes. The most recent illustrated bibliography of French emblem books18 lists no fewer than 16 editions of La Perrière’s Theatre des bons engins (Figure 5.2), only four of which appear to have any inscriptiones at all. I have not had all 16 editions in my hand, but I have no reason to doubt the work of the three bibliographers. The two editions of La Perrière’s Morosophie (Figure 5.3) likewise have no inscriptiones. The 1566 “edition altera” of Sambucus’s emblems contains 216 emblems, if one omits the introductory piece. Of these 216 at least 20 are not mottoes (Figure 5.4); many are general abstract nouns and some merely name the dedicatee. So is the text in an emblem primary, and which text? There may be more than one. And in which sense is it primary? For some observers it is the pictures, for others a text. For me it does matter whether we are talking of the creative work See Alison Adams, Stephen Rawles, and Alison Saunders, A Bibliography of French Emblem Books of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Volume 1: A–K. Geneva: Droz, 1999, and Volume 2: L–Z. Geneva: Droz, 2002. 18

Figure 5.2

Guillaume de la Perrière, Le Theatre des bons engins, Paris n.d., emblem 54. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press

Figure 5.3

Guillaume de la Perrière, Morosophie, Lyons 1553, emblem 99. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press

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Figure 5.4

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Johannes Sambucus, Emblemata, Antwerp 1566, “altera editio,” 75. Reproduced by permission of Olms

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of the emblem writer or the reception by the reader of a printed book. There is also the collaborative work of publisher/printer and illustrator. Again there is the distinction to be made between intention (of the writer or the emblem itself ) and reception (usually by a reader). Neuber is clear on the matter. For him the lemma as motto is primary. Manns is not so clear on the subject, although he, too, rejects the notion of the primacy of the picture. Manns seems to suggest that it is impossible to determine which part of the emblem is responsible for introducing the semiosis. It seems to me that in many emblems the inscriptio suggests a direction of interpretation for the emblem as a whole. The subscriptio will normally indicate the aspects of the main motif either or both in the pictura and subscriptio, which may be stated or implied, and this part of the emblem will elucidate interpretation and application. The standard works on mnemonics19 tend not to deal with emblems, nor should they, just as the standard works on emblems tend not to treat mnemonics, although perhaps they should. Frances Yates correctly observes that emblems and imprese, also characteristic Renaissance imagery, “have never been looked at from the point of view of memory …”20 This appears to have been true in 1964, when she first published her study of the arts of memory. However, already in the 1940s Rosemary Freeman in her study of English Emblem Books had noted a certain overlap between emblems and mnemonics in the case of Ashrea (198–203). Freeman argues generally that “emblem books and the science of mnemonics were … in some ways akin” (203). The author of Ashrea, perhaps the Jesuit Edward Mico, does relate the eight beatitudes to eight trees and perhaps more importantly to the crucifixion of Christ. Freeman refers to a work published in 1621 by John Willis, The Art of Memory, in which the author refers to emblems by Alciato and Peacham. She suggests that Ashrea is the only book to make the connection of emblem and mnemonics “openly expressed” (Freeman, 203). One should not overlook the fact that Freeman was writing English emblem books. Freeman is skeptical about the ultimate value of the arts of memory: “learning by heart would appear to make far lighter demands upon memory than the ingenuity of the system which was designed to relieve it” (Freeman, 202). Freeman’s treatment of mnemonics is cursory. Whether See Frances Yates, The Art of Memory. London: Routledge and Kegan, 1966; Mary Carruthers, The Book of Memory: A Study of Memory in Medieval Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. See also Carruthers and Ziolkowski, The Medieval Craft of Memory. 20 In Yates, The Art of Memory, 124. All quotations, including the last one, are cited from Frances Yates, Selected Works, vol. 3, The Art of Memory. London and New York: Routledge, 1999. 19

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emblems and imprese “clearly belong” (Yates, 124) to the arts of memory, as Yates insists, is a different matter. The arts of memory is a complex topic involving different accounts over many centuries. Not every modern scholar dealing with the arts of memory pays sufficient attention to the differences in the various treatises, or to the fact that not everyone was enamored of these arts. In my view anyone studying today or yesterday the arts of memory will consult Frances Yates’s seminal work on the subject. It may seem odd to some that neither Wolfgang Neuber,21 nor Joachim Knape,22 nor Stefan Manns23 refers to Yates, although Knape and Manns do quote several of the works that Yates discusses. Manns does seem to assume that what he writes of the Ad Herennium24 applies generally to mnemonic treatises (Yates, 56), which is unlikely to be completely true. I have recently re-read Yates’s study in preparing this account, and I can hardly do better than try to summarize some of her main arguments. One is humbled by the research that went into that book. I shall also intersperse my account of Yates’s study with my own observations on how these may or may not apply to emblems. In her study The Art of Memory Yates25 provides an invaluable insight into much of the most important theorizing of the past, from ancient Greece and Rome through the Middle Ages to Renaissance Europe. She does not consider emblems. In her Introduction Yates herself observes that before the advent of printing a “trained memory was vitally important” (Yates, xi). This would seem to suggest that after printed books became accessible a trained memory, i.e., one employing the artificial arts of memory, was less important. If that is correct then it could be expected that the advent of the Internet will have made that even more true. Today some libraries seem to think that printed bibliographies are no longer necessary since some believe that a reader can find virtually anything on the Internet. But the Internet is only as useful and reliable as the information that the Internet makes available. What some users of the Internet also forget—especially those who seem to downplay the See note 11. See Joachim Knape, “Mnemomonik, Bildbuch und Emblematik im Zeitalter Sebastian Brants (Brant, Schwarzenberg, Alciati).” In Mnemosyne. Festschrift für Manfred Lurker zum 60. Geburtstag, ed. Werner Bies and Hermann Jung. Baden-Baden: Koerner, 1988, 133–78. 23 See note 12. 24 An English translation exists by Harry Caplan. New York: Loeb Classical Library, 1968. The work was influential, all the more so as it was believed to have been written by Cicero. 25 See note 19. 21 22

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importance of bibliography—is that when one Googles for a person, a title or a general topic, one is actually searching for information, in other words doing a bibliographic search. Instead of using a printed book one is accessing information on a computer, which will doubtless be faster, but essentially the same intellectual activity. Emblem books were important in the print culture of early modern Europe and afterwards partly because printing made the emblem books accessible. Publishers printed tens of thousands of copies. There is also the material culture to be considered. Emblems painted as decorations in churches, chapels, and town halls, for instance, were seen by tens of thousands of people—these being public buildings—and people viewed these emblematic decorations without the immediate aid of printing. Mnemotechnics sought to train memory by “impressing ‘places’ and ‘images’ on memory” (Yates, xi), Yates reviews earlier developments before zeroing in on Bruno,26 Camillo,27 and Fludd, who are most likely to interest emblem scholars. The arts of memory created an artificial memory in which the “places” were, for instance, a house and its rooms, a theatre or stage, a monastery, an abbey, a palace or almost anything else. The “images” could be of things or words. An image could be, for instance, a picture of a lion, about which one needs to remember something such as its species. Yates acknowledges that treatises on the arts of memory rarely provide concrete examples (Yates, 10). The arts of training memory required hard work, we are told, and daily effort. It is difficult to imagine a reader of emblems being required to work hard at reading the emblems. Probably few publishers would have printed emblem books if they had required hard work in the reading. Many earlier emblem writers, including Alciato, insist that their emblems were the result of a leisure activity. Even the concept of leisure requires some historical differentiation. We also often forget that mnemotechnics were taught as a branch of rhetoric, which in the early modern period was still subsumed under poetics. Memory systems seem also to rely on visualizing something written on the places of memory (Yates, 25). Sight seems to have been central to memory systems (Yates, 26), which would also appear to overlap with the illustrated emblem that requires the reader to see what is depicted in the picture. However, the modern term Perhaps needless to say, Frances Yates also published a book on Bruno in Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, which was first published in London in 1964 by Routledge & Kegan Paul. 27 The Camillo that Yates discusses is not Camillo Camilli, author of the Imprese illustri first published in Venice in 1586, but Guilio Camillo. 26

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mnemotechnics hardly does justice to the medieval manifestations of the arts of memory. Monks and students doubtless shared Christian visions of heaven and hell, as well as the virtues and vices that lead to heaven and hell (Yates, 55). Hence Yates’s chapters on those visual instances. But medieval knowledge of the Classical treatises dealing with memory was largely based on manuscripts. At some point, one would have to enquire roughly how many persons were likely to have had access to these medieval manuscripts, could understand and actually use them. How literate were people in the Middle Ages? What education was available and to whom? Probably it was a handful of monks who made and read the manuscripts. The advent of printing was yet to come. It seems likely that the arts of memory were important to some clerics and students, to some orators and lawyers. Yates admits that the evidence, manuscripts, for the artificial arts of memory in the Classical and medieval periods is “scanty” (Yates, 105), although there is more more evidence in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In this early modern period, the earlier manuscript evidence is replaced or augmented with printed materials. But the matter is “very involved” (Yates, 106) because of the influence of humanism and because of Renaissance developments. At that time some Classical texts were available in print. Yates names several works with sections on memory that were printed at the end of the fifteenth century (Yates, 111–13), which made the arts of memory more accessible. One would need to know about the print-runs of such printed texts. Who can be assumed to have read them? Peter of Ravenna’s Phoenix, sive artificioso memoria was first published in 1491 in Venice. Books printed in Latin could have been read by intellectuals anywhere. Sixteenth-century Dominicans were influential (Yates, 114), emphasizing what Yates calls “the most important strand in the history of the subject.” (Yates, 114) Yates demonstrates that personifications (Yates, 119–20) were also used and recommended as memory images, as in the case of the personification of Grammar. The inscriptions on these personifications helped in the memorization of material on the subject of the personification (see Yates 120). Would this apply to emblem personifications? Presumably, one should limit oneself to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. But the selection of emblem books is still very large. Emblematic pictures of personifications often included attributes, i.e., smaller pictures of things that aid the reader in the identification of the personification, but probably seldom represent things that would identify the personification itself as a mnemotechnic device.

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Not included here as personifications are the gods, goddesses, and heroes of mythology, nor the stories from Classical history and literature. I shall try to identify which emblems include personifications and emblem scholars can decide for themselves if these personifications can be regarded as embodying the arts of artificial memory. Perhaps needless to say there are too many emblem books to consider here, and I shall limit myself to some central books of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. In Alciato’s28 first editions of 1531 there is only one obvious personification29 and that is of Occasio (Figure 5.5) (fol. A8).30 There only seems to be one personification in Sambucus, which is the

I shall try to refer only to emblematic books that have been published in facsimile, rather than the original editions, and these facsimiles are probably available at most university libraries, or through inter-library loan. Alciato’s 1531 edition was reproduced by Olms in 1977; a Wechel edition of Wolfgang Hunger’s German translation of Alciato (1542) was printed by the Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft Darmstadt in 1967; a 1551 Latin edition was issued by Kliencksieck in Paris in 1997; the Padua 1621 edition was made available by the University of Toronto Press in 1985. Readers seeking certain Alciato emblems in what Mason Tung considers the principal 15 editions will find a list of Alciato’s emblems, arranged alphabetically by their inscriptiones, in Mason Tung, “A Concordance to the Fifteen Principal Editions of Alciati,” Emblematica 1 (1986): 319–39. 29 Alciato’s “Invidia” appeared first in the 1546 Venice edition. 30 This nude Occasio stands on a small sphere or ball on water; the back of her head is bald while long strands of hair blow to the front of her. She carries a long knife in her left hand. In Wechel’s cut, which is emblem XVI, Occasio does not stand on a sphere (although it is named both in Alciato’s Latin subscriptio and in the German translation), but now she has winged feet and holds what is clearly a sort of open razor, now in her right hand, as the subscriptio indicates. The 1551 Latin edition by Bonhomme depicts Occasio (133) with winged feet and standing on a wheel on the sea, where one small sailing ship may be seen. The razor is held in her right hand. This is also how Whitney has her depicted (181), using blocks from Plantin’s stock. In the editions of Alciato by the Paduan publisher Tozzi the Occasio emblem is number CXXII. Probably the most striking difference is that the sphere on which she stands appears winged, while the text speaks of winged sandals, which are not shown. Also that sphere is on the ground and not on water. The razor is again held in the left hand, while the text speaks of the right hand. Otherwise the attributes (sphere, razor, bald head and locks blown forwards) make the figure immediately recognizable as Occasio. But Occasio may not be a good example since Alciato had been translating the Greek Anthology into Latin for some time before the Augsburg edition of 1531 appeared, and it is not surprising that Alciato was using more figures from Classical myth and history than personifications in the 1531 editions. 28

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Figure 5.5 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, A8. Reproduced by permission of Olms figure of Fortuna who stands on a shell in the sea (in the 1566 “altera editio”)31. There are more in Rollenhagen32 (Figure 5.6) and van Veen (Figure 5.7).33 It is well known that Whitney used blocks that Plantin already had in stock and had used for earlier publications. Whitney tends to describe the plate that he uses, often naming the figure depicted, which was not always named in the inscriptiones. Thus Whitney’s plate for the emblem on p. 19 (Figure 5.8) shows a clothed woman holding a bridle and bit. Alciato’s subscriptio names her Nemesis. In his English subscriptio Whitney also names her “Nemesis” adding that she See the Olms reprint edition of 2002. Rollenhagen’s Nucleus emblematum selectissimorum (Arnheim, 1611) contains a personification of Occasio (4) and Fortuna turning her wheel (6). Rollenhagen’s Selectorum emblematum. Centuria secunda (Utrecht and Arnheim) 1613 contains the personification of Spes with spade and anchor (16), temperantia with bridle and square (35) and an Occasio figure standing on a winged sphere (40). 33 Van Veen’s Amorum emblemata (Antwerp, 1608) contains a personification of fortuna (13), invidia with snake hair (107) and occasio (157). Van Veen’s Quinti Horati Flacci emblemata (Antwerp, 1607) contains a personification of invidia with snake hair and eating her heart as one of the many “companions” of virtue (17), avaritia (19 and 21), nature with multiple breasts (43), invidia in the background (51 and 53), occasio (67), invidia (97), fortuna (155), invidia killed by death (173), death (83, 173, 197, 203, 205, and [213]), father time as a bearded old man (169, 171, 177, 189, 191, and [213]). 31 32

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Figure 5.6

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Gabriel Rollenhagen, Nucleus emblematum, [Arnheim 1611], emblem 4. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

holds a “raine” (= rein) and “bitte” (= bit), not identifying it as a bridle. On page 94 Whitney uses a cut of Invidia (Figure 5.9), who is also named in the inscriptio. She is snake-haired and has snakes emerging from her mouth. She

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Figure 5.7 Otto van Veen, Emblemata amorum, Antwerp 1608, 107. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press also plucks her heart from her breast. Whitney identifies this “hideous hagge” as “Envie … eating vipers broode … snakes vpon her head … her heart she rentes within her breast.” On page 139 Whitney displays a cut of young woman holding a bridle who is not named in Whitney’s inscriptio. Alciato names her as Nemesis in his Latin subscriptio, whereas Whitney wrote as an inscriptio “Illicitum non sperandum” [The unlawful should not be hoped for]. On page 215 Whitney

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Geffrey Whitney, A Choice of Emblemes, Leyden 1586, 19. Reproduced from a private collection

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(Figure 5.10) reproduces a male figure toiling to push a circular stone up a hill. The figure is not identified in the inscriptio, but Whitney immediately names him Sisyphus in his English subscriptio, which also speaks of “stone” and “hill.” There appear to be no personifications in Paradin and the English translation by P.S. In his unillustrated emblems Willet tends to use biblical figures and stories. There seems to be a Nemesis personification in number 33, which simply indicates a woman holding a “bridle.” Nemesis is nowhere named, but Willet does tell the reader that horses are ruled by the bit. So if Willet knew, as he likely did, that Nemesis is usually depicted with a bridle, he did not say so. There are a few personifications in La Perrière and in his English translator, Thomas Combe. The Mirrour of Majestie was published in 1618, containing heraldic images and emblems and one personification. “Embleme 12” (Figure 5.11) depicts a bare-footed but clothed female figure, identified in the subscriptio as “snow-vested Pietie … Al-pure … chaste as aire …” She holds a goblet in her right hand and supports a long cross, which has a snake draped over the shorter horizontal crossbar. She holds on to a vertical column. There are several personifications in Peacham’s printed and manuscript emblems.34 They are with one exception all female figures with attributes representing Faith, Repentance, Inconsistency, Poverty, Fortune, Truth, and Self-love. Francis Quarles also has a few personfications in his Emblemes and Hierogphyikes. Book 1, emblem 5 of the Emblemes (Figure 5.11) depicts an old woman with snake hair, holding in her left hand more snakes. Quarles’s accompanying poem does not name her, but the quotation from Augustine does. She is Envy. Book 1, emblem 10 of the same volume depicts a game of bowls. At the far end stands a female figure holding behind her head a cloth, blown out like a sail. She holds in her right hand a fool’s cap and stands on a wheel. Quarles’s poem names her “Fortune” as does his quatrain subscriptio. Book 1, emblem 15 of the same volume depicts the devil enthroned over a globe, which shows a woman with a whip (three spiked lengths are shown) raised above another female figure. Quarles writes in his poem how “fraud does scourge and teare / Astraeas wounded sides … and rent / with knotted cords …” There are no personifications in the Hierglyphikes. But emblem scholars must decide if these and other emblematic personifications do or do not require something of the artificial arts of memory in their reception.

See Minerva Britanna or a Garden of Heroical Devises. London (1612), 7, 46, 134, 146, 147, and 194. See also Alan R. Young, Henry Peacham’s Manuscript Emblem Books in the series The English Emblem Tradition, vol. 5 of the Index Emblematicus series. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998, 7, 17, 64, 72, and 132. 34

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Geffrey Whitney, A Choice of Emblemes, Leyden 1586, 94. Reproduced from a private collection

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Figure 5.10 Geffrey Whitney, A Choice of Emblemes, Leyden 1586, 215. Reproduced from a private collection

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Figure 5.11 Francis Quarles, Emblemes, London 1635, Book 1 emblem 5. Reproduced by permission of Olms Yates observes that printing may have dealt a death blow to the old arts of memory (Yates, 125), but she argues that a new lay demand arose during the Renaissance for the arts of memory (Yates, 126). There was also some opposition to inherited techniques especially from those who followed Quintilian. If Erasmus was skeptical then Melancthon actually forbad their use (Yates, 127). But as the arts of memory were absorbed by Hermeticism they found new support in the writings of Ficino, Pico della Mirandola, and some Neoplatonists. Guilio Camillo (c.1480–1544) evidently absorbed certain Hermetic and occult influences, spending most of his life working on a large wooden Theater of

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Memory, which he neither finished nor published. Camillo and his unfinished work, although famous in his time, were forgotten in the centuries following his death. Since there is a sense in which his Theater was also based on occultism and magic, it is perhaps understandable that it was never finished (Yates, 132). But Camillo did write an outline of the Theater that was published in 1550 in Venice as L’idea del Theatro dell’eccellen. M. Guilio Camillo (Yates, 136). Camillo’s work was evidently based on Vitruvius’s account of the Roman theatre (Yates, 136). Yates’s conclusion is that Camillo’s memory theatre “represents the universe expanding from First Causes through the stages of creation” (Yates, 141). This theatre is then “a vision of the world … cast within the framework of the Classical art of memory, using traditional mnemonic terminology” (Yates, 144). Camillo may still use “places and images according to the rules” (Yates, 145) but a “radical change had come over the philosophy and psychology behind it” (Yates, 145). Camillo’s memory theatre embodies much of the thinking of the Renaissance, including “Ficino and Pico, Magia and Cabala, the Hermetism and Cabalism implicit in Renaissance so-called Neo-Platonism” (Yates, 151). Giordano Bruno was an ex-friar, trained at a Naples convent, and came out of the Dominican tradition, ignoring the then-recent humanist critical scholarship (Yates, 125). He joined the Dominican Order in 1563 and much of the Dominican arts of memory “crowd into Bruno’s books on memory” (Yates, 199). Upon leaving the convent Bruno spent much time in England and Germany. Bruno’s first published book on memory, De umbris idearum (1582), promises a Hermetic secret. The work is a “successor to Camillo’s Theater” and Bruno is “bringing a memory secret to another King of France” (Yates, 200). There was also magic in this first book on memory. It is well known that that Bruno died at the stake in Venice, condemned as a heretic by the Inquisition. It was Bruno’s Hermeticism that ultimately caused his burning. Whereas Aquinas had excluded magic (Yates,204), Bruno embraced magic, Agrippa’s De philosophia occulta (1533) was one of Bruno’s main sources (Yates, 206). Bruno was more daring than Camillo had been by using the occult (Yates, 208). The number 30 was obsessively used by Bruno and the magical significance of 30 is not lost on Yates (Yates, 210–11) where she comments on John Dee among others. Readers interested in Bruno’s use of magic and hermeticism in the artificial arts of memory should consult Yates (Yates, 199–230). The Dominican Fra Agostino del Riccio did employ the traditional Dominican system of the arts of memory, using “little symbolic pictures

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[and] titles” (Yates, 246), something that Bruno adopted and adapted in his Ars reminiscendi but “magicised, complicated with Lullism and Cabalism” (Yates, 246). Again at some point we might wonder who knew of Bruno’s views, apart from the Parisians that Yates assumed were in the know. In other words, how broad was the dissemination of Bruno’s ideas on artificial memory? Bruno’s works are named in English by Yates. Bruno’s works on memory include De umbris idearum (Paris, 1582), Cantus Circaeus (Paris, 1582), Ars reminiscendi (London, 1583) and Lampas triginta statuarum only published in 1891 from manuscripts. Yates assumes that Parisian scholars would have known them. Some scholars then and now may know some of them. But I would assume that most emblem writers, their publishers, and readers are less likely to have known and employed them. In fact Yates leaves no doubt in the modern reader’s mind that Bruno’s published descriptions are not easily understood (Yates, 248). She also wonders which Elizabethan readers “could tackle” (Yates, 254) Bruno’s writings since his philosophy was Hermetic. Bruno’s arts of memory have become a “magico-religious technique, a way of becoming joined to the soul of the world as part of a Hermetic mystery cult” (Yates, 259). If this is so—and one might wish to replace “magic” or “magico” with “occult”—then I fail to see how any Brunoesque art of memory could have informed emblems. Bruno’s last works on memory include his De audito physico, which “purports” (Yates, 288) to be Bruno’s use of artificial memory to recall Aristotelian physics. But Bruno was a convinced anti-Aristotelian thinker. Perhaps as Yates suggests (Yates, 288), the various mythological figures encourage readers to “draw into memory the living powers of the divine universe through magically animated images” (Yates, 288). His Lampas triginta statuarum was likely written about 1588 in Wittenberg and contains Bruno’s philosophy, which includes in his depiction of the statues of the mythological figures “magical and talismanic touches” (Yates, 292). While Bruno, the heretical magus of memory, “could (and did) develop out of pious mediaeval use of the images of the art of memory, the Protestant inner and outer iconoclasm arrested any such development” (Yates, 293). If Yates is correct here, then it would seem virtually impossible for any Protestant emblem writer to use Brunian arts of memory, especially if tinged with the occult. Bruno’s last book on memory was De imaginum signorum et idearum compositione (Frankfurt, 1591). Published in Germany this work is said to be important for any discussion of Bruno’s influence in Germany, just as

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his Ars reminiscendi, published in England, is held to be important for any consideration of Bruno’s influence in England (Yates, 294). Bruno embraces in this last work what Yates calls an “encyclopaedic memory system” (Yates, 296) or “the most painfully complex of all his systems” (Yates, 298). If Bruno truly believed that thinking was speculating with images (Yates, 298) then perhaps without his complex encyclopaedic memory system there could be an overlap with emblems, which are based on images or at least on visualizable motifs named in emblem subscriptiones and often depicted in picturae. But in this last book on memory Yates finds that Bruno uses “talismanic images, effigies of the stars as magical ‘statues’ …” (Yates, 299). Perhaps Bruno did try to “organise the psyche through imagination” (Yates, 299) and Yates speculates that Bruno may have been a “common source for both Rosicrucianism and Freemasonry” (Yates, 303), all the more, since Bruno’s magic (Yates, 306) is not lazy magic and there is for Yates method in his madness (Yates, 306). But in England Bruno wrote and published some emblematic poetry. In a dedication to Philip Sidney of Bruno’s De gli eroici furori (1585) the author states that this work of love poetry is not addressed to a woman, but rather to a “religion of natural contemplation” (Yates, 313). The emblems are described in poems and in commentaries to the poems. There are Petrarchistic conceits of eyes, stars, and arrows. It is somewhat unlikely that readers, then in Elizabethan London and now anywhere, would read these Italian poems against the backdrop of Bruno’s Latin arts of memory. Yates notes these poems are not a memory system (Yates, 314) but a literary work. Would any reader read them asking what the author might have meant? Or would a reader not take the images at face value, perhaps recognizing where they originally came from? It is here that Yates asks whether the Petrarchistic conceits were viewed (by the author or reader?) as “memory images” (Yates 314). “The book shows the Philosopher as Poet, pouring out the images of his memory as poetic form” (Yates, 314). We note the absence of the word “artificial” before “memory,” and assume that Yates means normal memory. Robert Fludd was “saturated” (Yates, 320) with hermeticism and he was a cabalist, although “Renaissance modes of Hermetic and magical thinking were under attack from the rising generation of seventeenth-century philosophers” (Yates, 320–21). Fludd announced himself as a Rosicrucian (Yates, 321). He was also interested in the arts of memory, erecting “the last great monument of Renaissance memory” (Yates, 322), a theatre. His Utriusque Cosmi, Maioris scilicet et Minoris was printed together with illustrations by De Bry

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in Oppenheim, Germany. Yates speculates that Michael Maier could have been Fludd’s emissary, since Maier had also had his own alchemical emblem book Atalanta fugiens printed by De Bry in Oppenheim. Fludd’s memory theatre, complex and mysterious (Yates, 325), may have been based on the Elizabethan Globe Theatre. The great wooden theatres of Elizabethan London were known as public theatres. But Fludd evidently meant by the word theatre a stage, not the complete building (Yates, 329). His art of memory has five loci with images on them (Yates, 326). Yates insists that an “occult memory system always has many unexplained lacunae …” (Yates, 330). Fludd’s system of memory is occult memory “and it is not so easy to follow how these theatres [western and eastern] in the heavens were supposed to work” (Yates, 331). But Fludd was “deeply involved in the complexities of the old memory treatises which survive in the midst of the magic and add to its obscurity.” (Yates, 334) Yates summarizes that Fludd’s memory system appears “very like one of Bruno’s systems” (Yates, 335). Both Bruno and Fludd employed Hermetic philosophies, but Fludd’s “outlook is that of the earlier Renaissance” (Yates, 339). Yates devotes a chapter to “Fludd’s Memory Theatre and The Globe Theatre.” The Globe theatre burned down in 1613 and was immediately rebuilt on the old foundations. Yates reviews the attempts to construct and explain the Globe (Yates, 343). She notes that the De Witt sketch, which only exists in a copy, was of the Swann theatre, not the Globe (Yates, 343). Yates spends much time discussing the extent to which Fludd’s engraving may be regarded as representing the actual Globe theatre (see Yates 343–69), rebuilt in 1613. In his Theatrum orbi Fludd used a “real public theatre for stages in his world memory system” (Yates, 346). He used real places for his five memory loci (Yates, 347). Generally, the heavens were painted on the underside of the cover over the inner stage. “The engraving represents that part of the stage of the Globe which would be covered by the stage ‘heavens’” (Yates, 347). There were five entrances, which are the cinque portae used as memory loci. But some features of Fludd’s Theatrum orbi could not represent the Globe stage and were “introduced for purposes of mnemonics” such as the five columns. Fludd, the “Hermetic philosopher” (Yates, 352), included other theatres, which he insists are also real. (Yates, 353) We recall that Matteo Ricci had insisted that the memory buildings could be fictive as well as actual. John Dee brought “enthusiastic references to Vitruvius” (Yates, 361). Yates believes that “Camillo’s Theatre is in many ways analogous to Fludd’s Theatre system” (Yates, 367).

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There are, of course, more recent studies of the arts of memory.35 The book by Mary Carruthers and Jan Ziolkowski also contains valuable renderings into English of some of the most important medieval treatises, which were often available only in manuscript form. The footnotes frequently help explain some of the problems, and provide useful references to secondary literature. There is little doubt that the arts of memory were important to some in the Middle Ages. But the question remains: important to whom and why? Could these arts have been important to the later emblem writer and his or her readers? It should be clear, if only from the Latin titles of the manuscripts and printed books dealing with the arts of memory, that a good knowledge of Latin is required, as well as an understanding of many of the philosophical and religious dimensions of Renaissance thought, not the least of which is magic. Of course, it can be argued that Latin was the lingua franca of all intellectuals, everywhere in Europe. What are we to make of this frequent mention of magic? Today we may draw a firm line between magic and religion, and laugh or smile at superstitions such as magic and a use of talismans, but things were not so clear cut in the early modern Europe.36 Even a committed Jesuit such as Matteo Ricci used talismans, whether made of wax from paschal candles in Rome, a crucifix supposedly made of Christ’s cross, or grains of soil from the Holy Land, and we would not want to doubt his Catholic faith. But they lived in divided and distinguished worlds where rationality, empiricism, religious faith, magic and superstition often rubbed shoulders. Many people then and now live comfortably compartmentalized, although the compartments may today carry different names. The dualisms to which we are heir today are not always that comfortable. These two issues of memory and emblems appear to meet in any discussion of the mnemotechnics of emblems. Both memory and emblems require some definition, but I will not tax emblem scholars with an analysis of emblem theory. There are also more recent studies on emblems and mnemonics, which include: Gerhard F. Strasser, Emblematik und Mnemonik der Frühen Neuzeit

See Carruthers and Ziolkowski, The Medieaval Craft of Memory, which contains valuable translations into English of some of the most important medieval texts. Unlike Yates’s earlier study this is an anthology of texts and pictures in medieval texts. See also Carruthers, The Book of Memory. 36 See Jonathon D. Spence, The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1985, 18f. 35

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im Zusammenspiel: Johannes Bruno und Justus Winckelmann.37 Bruno is a good fit for a discussion of mnemotechnics. He had already been discussed at length by Frances Yates in her The Art of Memory and in other books, but Winckelmann is hardly famous for emblems. Strasser seems to be following more or less current trends among certain German critics. There is also the Italian critic, Lina Bolzoni. Her The Gallery of Memory: Literary and Iconographic Models in the Age of the Printing Press was translated into English by Jeremy Parzen and published in Toronto by the University of Toronto Press in 2001.38 Like Yates she, too, observes that “techniques of memory reach their greatest development in a world in which their meaning and importance are gradually being stripped away by … the printing press” (Bolzoni, xviii). Nonetheless, Bolzoni finds that the printing press could help to expand “that sense of the mirroring relationship between the mind and writing …” (Bolzoni, xviii), although these are rather large categories. Memory is also a category that may or may not be the artificial arts of memory described in the treatises on the arts of memory. Yates has acknowledged that there was some opposition to received traditions of the arts of memory (Yates, 126). Not that all modern scholars seem to have realized this or admitted this. There was some controversy. Cornelius Agrippa inveighed against the ars memorativa, as did Erasmus, Rabelais, Melancthon, and Bacon.39 But Aquinas had earlier placed the ars memorativa in ethics rather than rhetoric, which presumably sufficed for Catholic theologians of Ricci’s times, even though Aquinas had wrongly quoted from memory a key word (Spence, 13). The argument for the overlap of the arts of memory with emblems rests on a number of assumptions—not always articulated—about the emblem writer and the emblem reader. Among these assumptions is included the presupposition that some emblem writers knew and used mnemotechnics in their emblems and possibly elsewhere. Some may have. Brant certainly did (see Knape). At least, it would strengthen the argument if it could be shown that at least in the education or reading of some emblem writers treatises on memory actually played a role, that is beyond the critic’s assumptions and assertions. This has solely to do with the procedures and intentions of the original emblem writer. Then there is the individual emblem itself. Here it needs to 37 The book was published in Wiesbaden by Harrassowitz in 2000 as Wolfenbütteler Arbeiten zur Barockforschung, vol. 36. 38 It was positively reviewed, and at some length, in Emblematica 14 (2005): 378–84. 39 See Spence, 12.

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be shown, in my view, that the emblem itself—and there were thousands of them in print—invites or presumes techniques that derive from the arts of artificial memory. Finally, there is the reader, then and now, who may have used emblems as mnemotechnic devices, whether they were so intended or not. But one looks for the evidence. It is possible that some emblem books, printed with additional blank pages, and used as albums may shed a little more light on reader reception. There is also a question of the language of the emblem texts. This is a matter of reader reception, and again one wonders about the historical evidence of reader reception. Of course, each and every printed interpretation is a form of reception. But there are not many printed interpretations, and they tend to be modern. Any reuse of an emblem, its pictura or some part of the textual components, is also a form of reception. But we only know of a very few instances such as the translations of Alciato, Sambucus, and La Perrière, Wither’s use of Rollenhagen, and Ammon’s imitation of Cramer,40 and Praz’s often erudite tracing of Renaissance emblems back to earlier roots. Some critics, such as Wolfgang Neuber and Gerhard Strasser do, however, assume a link between mnemotechnics and emblems. Since about the late 1980s it seems that almost only German scholars have been reconsidering the relationship of mnemonics to emblems.41 I shall attempt to review the main arguments here, although I dealt with some of these issues earlier.42 Both ars memorativa and emblems are obviously large topics. There were numerous original manuscripts and publications, as distinct from critical 40 See Sabine Mödersheim: Hieronymous Ammon, Imitatio Crameriana (Nuremberg 1649). A facsimile edition with introduction. Imago Figurata editions, vol. 3. Turnhout: Brepols, 1999; “Imitatio Crameriana. Polyvalenz in der Übernahme von Motiven aus Daniel Cramers Emblemata Sacra.” In Polyvalenz und Multifunktionalität der Emblematik. Multivalence and Multi-functionality of the Emblem. Akten des 5. Internationalen Kongresses der Society for Emblem Studies. Proceedings of the 5th International Conference of the Society for Emblem Studies, ed. Wolfgang Harms and Dietmar Peil with Michael Waltenberger. Mikrokosmos, vol. 65, 2 vols. Frankfurt am Main [etc.]: Lang, 2002, 597–613. 41 There are some isolated exceptions, such as William Engel’s “Mnemonic Emblems and the Humanist Discourse of Knowledge.” In Aspects of Renaissance and Baroque Symbol Theory 1500–1700, ed. Peter M. Daly and John Manning. New York: AMS Press, 1999, 125–42. See also Lina Bolzoni, “Emblemi e arte della memoria: alcune note su invenzione e ricezione.” In Florilegio de estudios de Emblemática: A Florilegium of Studies on Emblematics. Actas del VI Congresso Internacionale de Emblemática de The Society for Emblem Studies. Proceedings of the 6th International Conference of the Society for Emblem Studies, A Coruña, 2002, ed. Sagrario López Poza in collaboration with José Julio Garciá Arranz, Jesús Ureña Bracero, Sandra M.a Fernández Vales, and Reyes Abad Castelos. A Coruña: Sociedad de Cultura Valle Inclán, 2004, 15–31. 42 See Daly, “Emblems through the Magnifying Glass or Telescope,” 315–37.

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and scholarly discussions. By “original” I only mean earlier manuscripts or printed editions. In an earlier essay, rich in factual detail and published in 1988, Joachim Knape discussed the relation of mnemonics and emblems,43 although his main interest was in the relation of early modern picture books to mnemomotechnics, and to a lesser extent emblems. The information given in parenthesis to the title makes it clear that his focus is on Brant, Schwarzenberg, and Alciato. What he has to say about Brant and the arts of memory is convincing, especially as Brant taught law at Basel, and lawyers have a lot to remember, then and now. But to what extent may Brant be considered a precursor of the emblem tradition? For Knape the answer lies partly in the picture book, which in the fifteenth century was growing in importance. Emblems are also normally supplied with pictures. For me the question is whether emblem pictures resemble those that Knape discusses and reproduces, chosen because they illustrate arts of artificial memory. Knape devotes two pages of his 22-page essay to Alciato. There can be little doubt that pictures had become increasingly important to some publishers. In 1531 the Augsburg publisher Steyner issued the richly illustrated Teütsch Cicero and a year later the Glücksbuch. Knape speculates with good reason that Steyner (who published the first illustrated Alciato in 1531) likely received Alciato’s epigrams during the preparation phase that led up to the printing of the Teütsch Cicero and the Glücksbuch (Knape, 150). The question remains, pace Johannes Köhler, to what extent the Augsburg illustrations correspond to the motifs named or described in Alciato’s subscriptiones, which were originally unillustrated epigrams, and which Knape insists belonged to the tradition of the “literary Bildgedicht” (literally, literary picture poem) (Knape, 151). “Bildtheorie” (the theory of image or visual picture) already seems to have influenced some discussions of the way in which some emblems communicate. Wolfgang Neuber’s 1993 essay, “Locus, Lemma, Motto. Entwurf zu einer mnemonischen Emblematiktheorie” has doubtless been influential and important, even if the title suggests that it is only a draft (Entwurf). I shall perhaps spend more time reviewing the Neuber essay because it does seem to have influenced44 the thinking of the Berlin research group.45 What I miss are actual See note 22. One might note the frequent appearances of forms of the words topisch, and Topos, which also inform the Berlin research group’s work. Also Wilhelm Schmidt-Biggemann’s work is described as fundamental (grundlegend) in note 17 and quoted on page 358. Wilhelm Schmidt-Biggemann leads the Berlin Research Group. 45 A conference was held in Berlin at the Freie Universität on the topic “The Exigencies of Tradition: The Transformation and Ossification of Topics in the Middle Ages and the 43 44

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quotations of emblems from the period 1531 to 1684, rather than what earlier critics like Francis Bacon, Georg Philipp Harsdörffer, and Justus Georg Schottel may have written. None the less, with over 6,500 books of emblems and imprese to choose between, it would hardly be difficult to find some books that appear to support any critic’s assertions. The large total of over 6,500 includes reprintings, books that appeared under different cover titles, and as often as different languages were used in the texts. There are a very few doubles in the database and some few doubtful items. I calculate that at least 3,347 books of emblems and imprese, mostly illustrated, were printed between 1531 and 1684. That total represents just over 50 percent of all the books that seem to have been published. I chose the date 1684 because the following year, 1685, saw the publication of the earliest book of emblems that Neuber cites. Neuber’s reference to Johann Saubert is to a 1646 sermon of his, not to his collection of emblems. However, I fail to see how Saubert’s attempt to differentiate Sinnbilder from Spruchbilder, which Neuber quotes (364) “binds … emblems to the conception of imagination of the ars memorativa.”46 There was more than one version of the ars memorativa, as Neuber well knows, just as there were many manifestations of the emblem. As

Early Modern Period.” It was held from June 10 to June 12, 2009. It was hosted by a Berlin research group that is among other things interested in the extent to which emblems may have contributed to the creation and transmission of knowledge and traditions in the early modern period. The Berlin Research Group describes its theoretical concepts as follows: Topics are intentional in the philosophical sense, i.e., in the sense that something is known as something. Topics create reliable knowledge as lexis determines formal concepts of experience and knowledge which then have the potential to become the elements and structures of a new order of knowledge. The new order itself constitutes a complex structure: smaller components combine to form a new whole, but this whole, too, is arranged according to topical principles since the new whole itself represents an entity that is intentional in the philosophical sense. The generation of knowledge as it is defined above is not limited to academic disciplines. The changes in the structure of the topics show the generation of knowledge to be subject to historical development and presuppose, therefore, a concept of tradition. (FOG 606, 2–3) The Berlin text also suggests that “Tradition has to be managed and regulated in order to guarantee both the accessibility of traditional knowledge and one’s own knowledge of that traditional knowledge. This is the function of topics’” (FOG 606, 3). 46 The German reads: “Er bindet … die Emblematik an die Imaginationskonzeption der ars memorativa an.” (Neuber, 364).

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far as I can see, Neuber does not refer to Alciato, La Perrière,47 Junius, Sambucus or any of the many emblem writers who published between 1531 and 1684. Neuber refers mostly to existing modern or recent secondary literature on emblems and to some early modern critics, among them Johann Heinrich Altsted and Georg Morhof. There seems little if any awareness of the problematic relationship of intention or creation and reader reception or of the role of publishers or printers and illustrators in the actual production of printed emblem books. We seldom, if ever, know how emblem writers actually constructed emblems. Looking back at an already long line of emblem publications Harsdörffer suggests several ways of constructing emblems. In Volume 1 of the Frauenzimmer Gesprächspiele, the older courtier Vespasian suggests six different ways of organizing a “conversation game of emblems” (FzGs, I, 50–51). These are: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Naming a thing as the basis of an emblem. Choosing a picture and inventing a motto. Choosing a motto and inventing a picture. Illustrating chapters of the Bible. Going through nature and making emblems as did Camerarius and Aldrovandi of animals. 6. Choosing suitable sayings from the poets as mottoes. In effect these are different ways to make an emblem, but converted here into a social and educational game. What Vespasian describes are different ways of creating emblems, different starting points and not all of them textual, let alone mottoes. Alciato had been translating the Greek Anthology into Latin in the 1520s and many of those texts were incorporated into his emblems, mostly with mottoes but not always, as we shall see. Neuber also frequently seems to ignore the role of the printer or publisher in creating the books that brought emblems to the attention of buyers and readers. It is also doubtful that many of the hundreds of forewords or prefaces (see Neuber, 360) to printed emblem books say much about actual ars memorativa, as distinct from perhaps notions of memory. For me, at least, Neuber moves too easily from memory (“Erinnerung,” “Gedächtnis,” and “mnemonisch”) to ars memorativa. Many will not find that Johann Fischart’s Some printings of the Theatre appeared with no inscriptiones at all. For the most recent bibliography of French emblem books, see Adams, Rawles, and Saunders, A Bibliography of French Emblem Books of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Volume 2: L–Z. 47

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preface or foreword to Holtzwart’s emblems refers to mnemotechnics. Fischart refers to a “Gedächtnuß der Weltflut …” (literally, a memory of the flooding of the world … ). Neuber finds this demonstrates his notion that emblem theory is historically linked to mnemonic images (“mnemonischen imagines”, 369). To some readers it will appear perhaps odd that Neuber does not refer to the most seminal work published in the twentieth century on the arts of memory, the study by Frances Yates. Neuber also seldom quotes from some of the manuscript or printed treatises of the ars memorativa that inform the pages of Yates’s study and the more recent studies of Carruthers and Ziolkowski. I shall continue to comment at some length on Neuber’s influential essay, which raises important questions and makes a number of assertions with which one may not agree. It may seem odd that many of Neuber’s arguments appear to have been taken over by the Berlin research group.48 Neuber can make strong statements about large topics, such as emblems, ekphrasis, and the arts of memory, often providing no examples (see Neuber, 357). He also uses some of the terms that had been used in earlier manuscripts and printed treatises of ars memorativa such as locus, and imago, which, of course, also had other uses. Neuber asserts (Neuber, 357) that the emblem has a mnemonic basis that is responsible for two developments that started at the end of the sixteenth century: the pedagogicizing (Pädagogisierung) and encylopaedicizing (Enzyklopädisierung) of the genre. But emblem scholars have long been aware that emblems published at the end of the sixteenth and in the early seventeenth centuries tended to be encyclopaedic or pedagogical. Aneau was after all a school master. Neuber names Camerarius, Taurellus, and Rollenhagen. One might disagree whether the last two named writers quite fit Neuber’s bill. It has also long been assumed, not always correctly in the case of emblem books, that Protestant works will demonstrate the primacy of language (see Neuber, 358). But for me, most critical is the assumption that a mnemonic quality in emblems demonstrates a commitment to or use of the arts of artificial memory, when the word “mnemonic” may simply refer to something remembered by the writer or assumed to be remembered by the reader. In emblems one will look for some evidence in the printed text of the activation of the techniques of artificial memory, otherwise anything remembered (which is likely anything at all) can be called the arts of memory.

See note 39. Neuber’s use of various forms of topisch and Topos, would seem to overlap with the Berlin use of these terms, not to mention his positive appreciation of SchmidtBiggeman’s work. 48

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It is, therefore, perhaps unsurprising that Neuber can wonder if the crisis in the arts of memory, i.e., in the reception of those arts, does not coincide with the crisis in the emblem (Neuber, 366, 370). “Crisis” is another of those words that comes to easily to many people. Its frequent usage in everyday German (Krise) may give one pause. Neuber suggests that both crises, in emblems and the ars memorativa occurred at the end of the seventeenth century. Neuber’s crown witness is the Jesuit Jakob Bosch whose Symbolographia appeared in 1701.49 This is, indeed, an encyclopaedic work, but it also needs to be viewed in the tradition of Jesuit emblems and Jesuit emblem theory. Bosch’s book is, as Neuber notes, divided into sections and printed with pages of text juxtaposed with plates that contain an inscriptio, pictura, and a number, in that order and with no subscriptio, which Neuber insists on calling an “Ekphrasis” (Neuber, 368) as though some pictures came first. Some will find Neuber’s use of “Ekphrasis” (Neuber, 368) off-putting, if not misleading. Perhaps Neuber can prove that Bosch’s picturae were the basis. The Symbolographia contains 2052 illustrations on the plates (Figure 5.12) and I have not checked them all to determine if all the inscriptiones are in fact mottoes. It is likely that some of Bosch’s printed subscriptiones both name the motifs illustrated in the plates and indicate what meaning they carry, at least for Bosch. Neuber insists that the lemma, by which he means only motto, “alone brings the picture to speak”50 although many of Alciato’s inscriptiones are not mottoes, and most editions of La Perrière’s Theatre have no inscriptiones at all.51 Emblem scholars need to know which inscriptiones were, in fact, mottoes and which were not. It is clear that much work, not all of it particularly interesting, needs to be done. Whether as Neuber insists (Neuber, 372) “Locus, lemma and motto” are to be considered equal concepts52 is another matter. Bacon is quoted by Neuber, as is Harsdörffer who wrote at some length about emblems or Sinnbilder, as he often called them. I shall return to Harsdörffer later. Neuber has much of value to say about the Jesuit Bosch and his encyclopaedic work. In my view, Bosch was indeed guided by the attempt to utilize a notion of the salvation (Heilsgeschichte, Neuber, 366) but whether Bosch wanted to reconcile that with notions of ars memorativa is a different issue. Modern readers A facsimile edition was issued in 1972 as Instrumentaria artis, vol. 6 in Graz by the Akademische Druck- und Verlagsanstalt. The work is also to be found in the bibliography by P. Daly and G.R. Dimler, The Jesuit Series. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1977 as J.53 and J.54. 50 The German reads: “Das Lemma bringt erst das Bild zum Sprechen …” (Neuber, 368). 51 See p. 7 of this chapter. 52 The German reads: “Locus, Lemma und Motto sind gleichzuhaltende Begriffe …” (Neuber, 372). 49

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Figure 5.12 Jakob Bosch Symbolographia, Augsburg and Dillingen 1701. The book contains 2052 illustrations on the plates. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

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can be forgiven for thinking that when Neuber uses memoria (Neuber, 366 and 367) the German critic is thinking of some of the ars memorativa. There is little doubt that the ars memorativa played a role in some educational systems during the early modern period, including the education of Jesuits. To what extent these artificial arts impacted the Jesuit creation of emblems is unclear. Having read many Jesuit emblems, I find little evidence. It is true that the famous Jesuit of the Chinese mission of the early modern period, Matteo Ricci, created in 1596 a memory palace for the influential Chinese governor of Jiangxi province, Lu Wangai, of the Ming dynasty bureaucracy.53 Ricci had become fluent in Chinese and had discussed his view of artificial memory with local Chinese scholars and was also “seeking to instruct in mnemonic skills” (Spence, 4) the Governor’s family. Lu had three sons who were about to take the all-important advanced government examinations, the “surest route to fame and fortune” (Spence, 4). Ricci was using a tried and true Jesuit technique of influencing the powerful in order to further a Catholic cause. As Spence puts it: “Thus we can be almost certain that Ricci was offering to teach the governor’s sons advanced memory techniques so that they would have a better chance to pass the exams, and would then in gratitude use their newly won prestige to advance the cause of the Catholic church” (Spence, 4). If it had worked so well in Bavaria, when not in China? The governor’s sons did well in their exams but probably not because of Ricci’s artificial arts of memory. Their success was likely due to traditional Chinese methods of training memory by repetition and recitation. In fact the eldest son was cited by Ricci himself as noting that these artificial arts of memory demanded a fine memory in the first place (see Spence, 4) The ars memorativa had featured in Ricci’s education at the Jesuit College in Rome in the classes on rhetoric and ethics, where among others Pliny and Quintilian were read. The idea of order or sequence seems important. In the arts of artificial memory the order in which words and things are presented or remembered was also important to Ricci. But vivid illustrations were likewise important to Ricci, who took with him to China a copy of the illustrated Nadal. But the extent to which Nadal’s work, vividly visual though the printed version is, may be considered in the context of artificial memory seems to be doubtful. Nadal is surely more indebted to Ignatian notions of the importance of sight, of the visual On Ricci and his palace of memory, see Spence, The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci. My quotations are of this printing. Spence frequently refers to Yates, and often with great approval. 53

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experience, which should be pressed into the service of religious meditation. Especially modern readers of emblems often seek in vain for an order in which the individual emblems are presented. These emblems may have visual motifs, but each emblem tends to be complete in itself, perhaps a miniature form of allegory and often with no or little relationship to what goes before or comes after. That strikes me as a central difference between emblems and the arts of artificial memory. Stefan Manns,54 who worked with the Berlin research group,55 asserts that emblematics and mnemonics represent two related techniques of the application of knowledge, presumably already known to the emblem writer and his or her intended readers. Whether “it is therefore accepted that in the early modern period emblematics and mnemonics represent two related techniques in the application of knowledge” (Manns, 53) is open to some doubt.56 This is also one of the assumptions of the Berlin research project.57 There is also a recent essay by Ursula Kocher of the Berlin research group in the 2007 volume Topik und Tradition. Kocher seeks to relate Schöne’s idea of the “priority of picture” (Priorität des Bildes) to the importance of images in modern society (Kocher, 32). That is doubtful, at least as an explanation of early modern intention. She then proceeds immediately to mnemonics (Kocher, 33), presumably because the Berlin research group,58 and some few emblem scholars, see a close relationship between emblems and the techniques of mnemonics. Some, perhaps most, emblem scholars would not regard the two as so closely interrelated. Emblem scholars would probably ask which signs, textual or visual, activate or draw upon the techniques of the arts of memory in a given emblem. Kocher then proceeds to Winckelmann who may well have combined emblem with mnemonics. But one notices that Winckelmann is the first German writer interested in emblems that she names. He is hardly the first German or writer using German that one would think of as being concerned about emblems. Winckelmann is presumably named partly because of his commitment to mnemonics. His interest in emblems seems secondary at best. We read that he did translate the emblems of John Barclay, although Barclay is not named See note 12. See note 45. 56 See Manns (note 12). The German reads: “Es ist mithin akzeptiert, dass die Emblematik und Mnemonik zwei in der Frühen Neuzeit verwandte Techniken der Wissensapplikation darstellten” (53). Interestingly Manns refers in a footnote only to Knape, Neuber, and Strasser. 57 See note 45. 58 See note 45. 54 55

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in Praz’s bibliography of emblem books, nor in any other bibliography of emblematic books that I am aware of, and Barclay59 is hardly the first English writer of emblems that one would think of either. In the section of Kocher’s essay entitled “Imagines vs. picturae—Qualitäten der Unterscheidung” (Kocher, 40–42) she again insists that the emblem picture was essential from the beginning, perhaps confusing reader reception with emblem writer intention or creation, while noting the similarity of emblem and mnemonics. She quickly moves on to memorizing and quotes Cicero on the importance of sight. Perhaps the Berlin research group’s association of mnemonics and emblematics really derives from the high value attached to sight in both, to the use of visual images to help fix more abstract notions. But something similar could be said about the primacy of sight for Ignatius Loyola and for many Jesuits. The centrality of “places” and “images” in the arts of memory was discussed by Frances Yates, and others. But in a concrete case, in a given emblem, presumably the mnemonic procedures would be noted or somehow activated. This is not to say that aids to memory have not been used before Alciato and since Alciato and also in emblems. There are also important recent books, published in English,60 that deal with the arts of memory and some of them may refer to emblems. It will be for emblem scholars to decide if these books go beyond the seminal work of Frances Yates, or simply apply it, perhaps uncritically to emblems. These studies may also lean on recent German studies, which of course hardly invalidates them. But it might give one pause. Again, emblem scholars must decide for themselves. The arts of artificial memory of the ars memorativa were not the only ways of remembering things. There were other, easier, and perhaps more often used ways to remember things, such as numbering or otherwise flagging items and explaining the items numbered or flagged. This may have influenced some emblem writers. The history of education, for example, is replete with attempts to harness memory for the educative purposes for teaching children the alphabet and Latin, among other things. Johann Amos Comenius (1592–1670) was doubtless the most influential pedagogue in the seventeenth century and beyond. His Orbis sensualium pictus of 165861 is well known as an illustrated Probably the reference is to his novel Argenis, first published in 1621, and reissued in 50 Latin editions and numerous translations. See SinnBilderWelten. Emblematische Medien in der Frühen Neuzeit, ed. Wolfgang Harms, Gilbert Heß, and Dietmar Peil, in collaboration with Jürgen Donien. Neustadt an der Aisch: Verlagsdruckerei Schmidt, 1999, 121–2. 60 See Carruthers and Ziolkowski, The Medieval Craft of Memory. 61 A facsimile edition appeared in Dortmund: Harenberg Kommunikation, 1978. 59

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work, frequently republished and imitated, which sets out both to illustrate and name the most important items in the visible world (Die sichtbare Welt as the title-page of a German version notes). The illustrations (Figure 5.13) contain numbered items that are thereafter named in Latin and German. I have used a German version. The illustrations themselves are numbered in Latin numerals, beneath which appear titles, always Latin first, followed by German on the same line or beneath the picture. Beneath the Latin or Latin and German title there follows a picture. In most cases individual motifs are supplied with an Arabic number, and that number is used on a facing page to name the item so numbered. In some cases, where there is much to identify, the textual identification begins directly beneath the picture. Some educators have used playing cards to help pupils to remember things and to help them learn their alphabets and Latin, as was already observed. One card suggests that “Cards may be used but not abused and they used well All Games Exell.”62 But not only serious educators have sought to use the power of memory. Perhaps less seriously, even playing cards have at times been roped in to provide information that is not required by card games. Playing cards have a much richer history than the modern devotee of whist or poker likely realizes. Of course, there are many packs that over the years could only have been used in card games, whether or not accompanied by some form of gambling. But there were also specialized decks that provide information about historical kings and queens, geography, linguistics, heraldry, astrology, and many other matters, even thencurrent events. There are cards that relate to proverbs, others that have music as their theme. Not infrequently, the pictures on the cards were accompanied by brief textual elucidations, which can resemble emblem subscriptiones. We are probably not surprised to find that some of the famous worthies of history and the Bible reappear on certain decks of cards and these figures are usually associated with an equally famous event.63 Thus Judith carries a sword and the bearded head of Holofernes; a seated Cleopatra puts a snake into her bosom. In each case the figure’s name is helpfully printed in upper case letters in a top corner of the card. One is reminded of Alciato’s emblem printed in 1531 by Heinrich Steyner of the suicide of Marcus Brutus, which includes the initials M. Br., presumably to assist the reader to correctly identify the figure, in other words as an aid to memory. 62 Quoted from H.T. Morley, Old and Curious Playing Cards, 144, first published in 1931 and reissued in 1989. 63 See Morley, 118–19.

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Figure 5.13 Johann Amos Comenius, Orbis sensualium pictus … die sichtbare Welt, Nuremberg 1658, 12–13. Reproduced from a private collection

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Certain Jesuit emblem books also used numbers or letters in illustrated frontispieces or in emblem pictures to identify motifs and the books often provided a sort of printed glossary to help readers with the correct, i.e., the intended identification. To the more obvious belong Jan David’s Duodecim specula (Antwerp, 1610) (Figure 5.14);64 his Occasio arrepta, neglecta (Antwerp, 1605);65 Paradisus sponsi et sponsae (Antwerp, 1607),66 and Veridicus christianus (Antwerp, 1606).67 Also there is Antoine Sucquet’s Via vitae aeternae (Antwerp, 1620) and its translations.68 Some educators, as was noted above, have also used such numbering systems to help pupils remember. Since we know that emblems often played a role in education, there may well be something of the chicken and egg dilemma in the attempt to decide whether arts of memory or emblems were primarily responsible. But what of other emblems? Will mnemonics, as a system to train memory, help explain the nature, purpose, and also success of emblem books? Perhaps the inclusion of the word “books” limits the discussion, since the presence of things emblematic in the material culture may well have been more important than printing in terms of reception and influence. In which sense may some emblems be regarded as mnemonic? To some extent it will depend whether we use the adjective in a general sense or the noun and understand by the noun a system to train memory, rather than simply as something to aid memory. It could be argued that any emblem that is based on a story known from the classics, such as Alciato’s Prometheus emblem or the Bible in some of Georgette de Montenay’s and Willet’s emblems and briefly tells that story, or even allusively refers to it, is mnemonic in the general sense that the emblem helps the reader to recall what he or she already knows, or perhaps now knows for the first time. Brevity may be the soul of wit, as the English proverb goes, but each story, say from the classics, the Bible, or natural history, is usually longer than any textual part of an emblem, and the emblem writer decides what he or she wants to highlight, or how to interpret or apply it. So even here, where an emblem writer uses a well-known story such as Arion on the dolphin, the use or interpretation of that story may well be different in different writers. Things and creatures in emblems could be and often were interpreted in accordance with their good or evil properties. That is a moral judgment, 66 67 68 64

65

See Daly and Dimler, The Jesuit Series, Part One, J.141–J.143. See Daly and Dimler, The Jesuit Series, Part One, J.144–J.145A. See Daly and Dimler, The Jesuit Series, Part One, J.146–J.149. See Daly and Dimler, The Jesuit Series, Part One, J.153–J.155. See Daly and Dimler, The Jesuit Series, Part Five, J.1409–J.1435.

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Figure 5.14 Jan David, Duodecim specula, Antwerp, 1610, plate 9. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

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which we moderns are unlikely to want to make. Of the snake Georg Philipp Harsdörffer observes: “the interpretation is frequently doubtful, and, as was said earlier of lions, it can be good or evil. The snake is an image of cleverness, poisonous slander, and when it has its tail in its mouth, it is a representation of eternity.”69 But in a given emblem only one meaning is usually intended. Again of the eagle, Harsdörffer insists that “good and evil”70 can be posited in accordance with what naturalists have written of the bird. But the emblem writer and his or her contemporary or near contemporary readers were quite prepared to regard things or creatures in this manner. One German writer of emblems among other things, Harsdörffer,71 has commented at length on the knowledge that an emblem reader must bring with him or her when reading emblems. There is a sense in which Hardörffer assumes, in fact requires, prior knowledge of the qualities of things and creatures, perhaps also well-known stories about them. Recognition of meaning depends for Harsdörffer on an understanding of the thing portrayed. In the Frauenzimmer Gesprächspiele Vespasian comments “… that one cannot judge an emblem, unless one has earlier thoroughly learned the nature and qualities of the figure, which are often hidden and cannot be depicted, hence the meaning of the emblem is difficult and dark”72 (FzGs IV, 244). In stressing the active participation of the reader, whose knowledge of the properties of things portrayed in the emblem is assumed by the emblem writer, Harsdörffer is in agreement with established opinion. The critically minded reader of emblems is likely to ask several questions about the alleged relationship of mnemotechnics to emblems. What is the evidence The German reads: “Die Deutung ist auch mehrmals als zweiffelhafftig / und kan / wie vor von den Löwen gesagt worden / gut und böß seyn. Die Schlange ist ein Bild der Klugheit / der gifftigen Verleumdung / und wann sie den Schwantz in dem Mund hat / eine Abbildung der Ewigkeit” (FzGs VII, 98). 70 Gutes und Böses (FzGs VII, 106). 71 Harsdörffer’s are the most thorough discussions of emblems in German literature of the Baroque. They will largely be found scattered in the eight volumes of his popular Frauenzimmer Gesprechspiele (Nuremberg, 1644–1649), subsequently referred to as FzGs, and in his Bericht von den Sinnbildern, which was published as an appendix to his Der Große Schauplatz jämerlicher Mordgeschichten (Hamburg, 1650). Also scattered throughout his oeuvres are emblematic frontispieces, individual emblems, and small collections of emblems. See perhaps most recently, Peter M. Daly, “The Contribution of Georg Philipp Harsdörffer to the German Tradition of the Emblem in the Seventeenth Century,” forthcoming. 72 The German reads: “… daß man von keinem Sinnbilde urtheilen kan / man habe dann zuvor der Figuren Natur und Eigenschaften gründlich erlernet / welche vielmals verborgen ist / und nicht ausgemahlet werden kan / daher dann des Sinnbildes Verstand schwer und tunkel wird.” 69

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to support an assumption that a given emblem writer knew or used anywhere one of the arts of memory? Given the fact that there were hundreds of emblem writers, the selection of a few will not be easy. The criteria will be important. Publishers and booksellers sold tens of thousands of copies of emblem books. The assumption of author intention may not sit well with some modern readers, so perhaps one could ask simply what in a given emblem requires a reader (who?) to understand, apply or assume the techniques of an artificial art of memory? Is there any evidence of reader reception? Can we assume that readers (which?) recognized the arts of memory in the emblems that they read? There is little doubt that the arts of memory may have played a role in the making of some emblems. But for me the question is which? It is certain that ars memorativa have not received adequate attention in earlier theoretical discussions of emblems. But at some point the role of mnemonics, as a system for training artificial memory needs to be addressed in actual emblems. What I so far miss is the demonstration that some emblems are better understood as mnemonic structures in the sense of ars memorativa. At the very least, some emblem pictures should show some of the complexities of the artificial arts of memory, perhaps including additional motifs such as those reproduced by Joachim Knape.73 It seems to me that the argument for regarding emblems as essentially related to mnemonics, as a system for training memory, has not been advanced satisfactorily. Assertions will not do. Demonstrations and quotations might help. The mere use of words like memoria does not prove the case. Memoria can be a shorthand term for ars memorativa, but it can also simply refer to normal human memory. It is true that emblems will usually rely on a reader’s prior knowledge and that requires memory. And if the reader does not already know what the emblem writer alludes to, what may appear new to some modern readers will seldom be something that the emblem writer has simply dreamed up. The emblem writer’s application or interpretation of a motif or event may be new, but not the motif or event itself. Not each and every Arion figure in an emblem will have the same meaning as Alciato gave it. Emblems may well assume knowledge of other traditions that may include biblical information and Classical history, not to mention natural history (the perhaps unnamed aspects or stories associated with things and creatures). But this information does not satisfy the condition of mnemonics as a system for training artificial memory. As I am suggesting, as far as emblems are concerned, the Berlin research group is primarily interested in the extent to which emblems (and I assume also imprese) may have contributed to the creation and transmission of knowledge. See note 22.

73

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Their assumption, rightly or wrongly, is that the principles of mnemonics overlap in essential ways with emblematics. This accentuation of mnemonics is perhaps now characteristic of the Berlin research project and of some German critics. It is possible that I may have underestimated the role of the arts of artificial memory in the creation of some emblems. But misgivings should not simply be ignored or discounted. It will not always be clear when normal human memory and the actifical arts of memory lead one into the other; when something of the ars memorativa carries over into the creation and reception of emblems. Both writers and readers in the early modern period seem to have been able to hold mutually exclusive views about such things as religion, magic and what we might term as superstition without recognizing them as mutually exclusive, living more compartmentalized lives than we do, or at least experiencing the compartments differently. Perhaps their middle way was more golden than ours. However, as I have frequently observed, emblem scholars must decide for themselves if I have been fair in my expression of doubts. That requires that they at least read, or re-read, everything that I have referred to and written about.

Chapter 6

Are Emblem Inscriptiones always Mottoes? Some readers may wonder whether the question about emblem inscriptiones in relation to emblem theory even matters. It may matter if a modern theory of the emblem is based on the assumption that only a motto can indicate emblematic semiosis.1 It is also possible that one of the authorities may have used such a term as “motto” loosely meaning only the inscriptio, i.e., the short text often printed above a picture in an emblem. Praz uses the term “motto” both in his designation of the emblem (Praz, 14) and impresa (Praz, 58). There is also the question whether some unnamed but assumed knowledge about a depicted or named motif is also not at work in the pictura or in the emblem as a whole. But this is not the immediate reason for this exploration. Wolfgang Neuber seems to deny this latter possibility and to equate motto with lemma, which is usually the first textual part of an emblem, often also-called in modern studies inscriptio. See the title of Neuber’s influential essay,2 and pages 358, 368, and 372 of that essay. Perhaps more importantly, Neuber suggests that the role of the artificial arts of memory in emblems has been underestimated. It is also this desideratum that he seeks to address. It is likely true, although no one really knows, that over time inscriptiones became predominately mottoes. But what is a motto? Neuber does not provide a definition, probably assuming that we all know. But mottoes may well differ in different languages. The mottoes that Neuber quotes (Neuber, 359) are sentences or phrases with a verb. Webster’s Dictionary suggests that a motto is short pithy sentence or phrase inscribed on a coat of arms, or a maxim, or a guiding principle or a passage prefixed to a chapter heading of a book. The dictionary does not suggest that mottoes must have verbs. Latin mottoes often lack a verb, which we usually assume, especially forms of the verb “to be” or passive forms. Latin mottoes also tend to lack definite and indefinite articles. Even the subjects of certain Latin verbs, if it is an “it,” “she,” “he” or “they” are See Wolfgang Neuber, “Locus, Lemma, Motto. Entwurf zu einer mnemonischen Emblematiktheorie.” In Ars memorativa. Zur kulturgeschichtlichen Bedeutung der Gedächtniskunst 1400–1750, ed. Jörg Jochen Berns and Wolfgang Neuber. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1993, 351–72. 2 See note 1. 1

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imprecise, and often only elucidated by the pictura or subscriptio. Mottoes have also served, for example, in the badges of the armed services, schools, colleges, and universities. The motto of the British Royal Air Force during World War II was “Per ardua ad astra” (Through hardship to the stars); the U.S. Marine Corps’s motto of “Semper fi” or “Semper fides” (Always loyal) will be seen to this day decorating the backs of some cars in America. No verbal forms are contained in these mottoes, but they can be assumed. However, occasionally university mottoes will include a verb, as in McGill’s “In Domino confido” (I trust in the Lord), which was the personal motto of James McGill who founded what became McGill University, and the other McGill motto “Grandescunt aucta labore” ([All things] grow by work). The motto of Bristol University in England also has a verbal form “promovet” (promotes). “Vim promovet insitam” is the University’s motto, which is a contraction of a line from Horace.3 Both the German and English languages have the same word for motto. Neuber insists that the lemma normally provides the emblem with its semanticization (Neuber, 365) and that the lemma alone, which he equates with motto, has a cognitive function (Neuber, 369). But are emblem lemmata, these inscriptiones, only mottoes? And if early modern emblem writers used none at all, or used other forms in inscriptiones, are these emblems to be considered in some way deficient, because they have no mottoes? I would presume that Neuber would consider such forms as in some way deficient, and their acceptance into a modern theory of emblem as perhaps ahistorical. Neuber may, however, be right in suggesting that the lemma, which will not always be a motto, does in fact indicate the meaning of the whole emblem. Such single word inscriptiones as “Foedera” (Alciato, 1621, # 10), or “Silentium” (Alciato, 1621, # 11) may serve as examples. I would not consider them mottoes, but I do agree that they assist in understanding the emblem as a whole. Disagreement on a definition of emblem will likely continue for some time. There are several dimensions to the issue. Perhaps the first has to do with the historical basis for any theory. Emblem books themselves rather than their prefaces or forewords could and should provide some basis. But even here one might also consider the question of intention (whose?) and reception (by whom?). How important and representative are earlier statements in poetological works, by Justus Georg Schottel, for example, or by Georg Philipp Harsdörffer who did create emblems as well as discuss them? At some point the question of a normative definition needs to be raised. Which combinations of text(s) and 3 For a fuller discussion, see Peter M. Daly, “The European Impresa: From FifteenthCentury Aristocratic Device to Twenty-First-Century Logo.” Emblematica 13 (2003): 303–32.

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visual image that may have been considered or labeled emblems by their creator or publisher but do not perhaps fulfill generic expectations (especially of modern scholars) should be excluded, or perhaps retained as anomalies of some kind? Then at some point the issue of primacy will arise. What is primary in an emblem and primary to whom? The question will focus on visual image or the texts. Also what becomes primary when and for whom? Perhaps one needs to consider the emblem creator and the reader. Again Neuber4 is clear on the matter, although he may not distinguish emblem writer, publisher or reader. For him the lemma is primary, which he equates with motto. There were after all thousands of printed emblem books.5 But if one looks closely at some of the printings of Alciato’s emblems it becomes apparent that some of his 212 emblems are not introduced by a motto, but rather by a title, which is not a motto. I have looked again at well over 1,000 emblems of the early modern period. Many of the editions of La Perrière’s Theatre des bons engins and his Morosophie have no inscriptiones at all, let alone mottoes. I will also consider some vernacular emblems as well as Latin emblems. The question about mottoes ultimately boils down to the stupid-sounding question: when is an inscriptio in an emblem not a motto? Does it even matter? It may matter, as I have already suggested, if a modern definition of a genre is at stake. Any inscriptio, whether a motto or not, is likely to suggest the general direction of meaning of a given emblem, and by emblem I mean visual image and text(s), which any reader will have before him or her. But one should never underestimate the role of the publisher. The inscriptio may be simply a title, which may name a pictured motif and its meaning, as in the case of Ocnus (Alciato, 1621, # 92 [Figure 6.1]), or the inscriptio may simply name the topic of the emblem, such as Invidia (Alciato, 1621, # 71), which is also pictured, as well as mentioned in the subscriptio. I will take the 1621 Padua edition of Alciato’s emblems as my first example, because it contains the full 212 emblems, and is available in various facsimile editions. In addition, I shall consider the emblem works of Camerarius, Holtzwart, Junius, Whitney, Covarrubias, and Wither, all of which do have inscriptiones. I shall proceed chronologically after looking again at Alciato. In

See note 1. See Peter M. Daly, “The Union Catalogue of Emblem Books Project and the Corpus

4 5

Librorum Emblematum.” Emblematica 3 (1988): 121–33. In April 2012 there were 6,514 records in the database.

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Figure 6.1 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, no. 92. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections this way I hope to stay with representative works of the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Looking closely at the inscriptiones in the 1621 edition of Alciato’s emblems, it soon becomes clear that many can hardly be described as mottoes, even if we assume definite and indefinite articles and some verbal form not actually present in the Latin. It seems to me that a noun, whether abstract or the name of a figure or motif, is hardly a motto, but as a title it may assist in conveying the sense of the complete emblem. Such abstract nouns would include “Pudicitia” (Chastity) (# 47 [Figure 6.2]), “Maledicentia” (Slander) (# 51), “Temeritas” (Rashness) (# 55), “Fatuitas” (Stupidity) (# 65), “Luxuria” (Wantonness (# 72) and others. Words that name something or someone depicted in a pictura include “Cuculi”

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(Cuckoos) (# 60), “Vespertilio” (Bat) (# 61), “Invidia” (Envy) (# 71), and “Sirenes” (Sirens) (# 116). This is not to imply that no motto ever includes a word that identifies something visualizable. Then there are those final emblems of Alciato’s on trees that only have lemmata or inscriptiones that name the tree in question, but not its meaning. There are 14 of them. Many of the trees could mean different things. In some editions of Alciato some of the emblem pictures of trees contain visual motifs that derive from the epigrams, but the lemmata or inscriptiones remain names of the trees. They offer no interpretation of the given tree whatsoever. The tree subscriptiones also contain four instances of “Aliud” (Another) as a lemma, perhaps left as a sort of shorthand reminder to the writer, but the word is hardly a motto. One could also include nos. 62 and 113. Phrases that begin with “In” do not always function well as mottoes. Often they merely name a classical god or personification, as in “In statuam Bacchi” (On a statue of Bacchus) (# 25), “In statuam Amoris” (On a statue of Eros) (# 114), “In Occasionem” (On Occasio) (# 122), “In Simulcarum Spei” (On a representation of Hope) (# 44), and “In Pudoris statuam” (On a statue of Modesty) (# 197 [Figure 6.3]). Dedicatory emblems and emblems that in their lemmata merely name a person or a geographical location are also not mottoes. There are at least four in the 1621 edition of Alciato’s emblems (nos. 1, 2, 134, and 143). In my discussion of the inscriptiones of Camerarius, Holtzwart,6 Junius, Sambucus, Whitney, Sebastián de Covarrubias Horozco (or Orozco), and Wither I will usually indicate the emblem numbers or page references rather than quoting and translating all the inscriptiones themselves. There were two editions of Sambucus’s emblems, and I shall refer to the larger one of 1566, which has 222 emblems. Most of the inscriptiones are indeed mottoes. But some do name things depicted in the picturae, such as the laurel on page 12, the figures of Diomedes and Glaucus on page 24 (Figure 6.4), Mercury as the messenger of the gods on page 111, Paris (his judgment, not the French place name, page 131), and dog (157). Then there are several inscriptiones that seem to be titles rather than mottoes. I am thinking of pages 13, 30, 34, 35, 75, 102, 116, 154, 161, 190, and 191. In addition there are also dedications that cannot be read as mottoes, pages 68 and 197.

I discussed some of Holtzwart’s emblems in “The Emblem and Emblematic Forms in Early Modern Germany.” In Early Modern German Literature 1350–1700, vol. 4 of the Camden House History of German Literature, ed. Max Reinhart. Columbia, SC: Camden House, 2007, 509–45. 6

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Figure 6.2 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, no. 47. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections Some titles can also be read as mottoes. It is also true that some titles can be interpreted as indicating a direction of meaning of the whole emblem, as I have suggested. Junius’s emblems, 58 in number, were printed in 1565 by Plantin. Following the emblems are commentaries in Latin prose, which also indicate the sources. The inscriptiones do not seem incomplete, as in many an impresa, and rarely name figures or motifs depicted in the pictures. The single exception is the inscriptio to emblem 36 “Veneris potentia” (The power of Venus), which names the goddess Venus who together with Cupid is depicted in the pictura. The

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Figure 6.3 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, no. 197. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections reference to Invidia (envy) in emblem 9 may be understood as the abstract noun since there is no figure of the female personification of envy in the picture. Mathias Holtzwart’s Emblematum Tyrocinia … Eingeblümete Zierwerck / oder Gemälpoesy (Strassburg: Jobin, 1581) is a bilingual work with Latin and German texts to the 71 emblems. The German texts may have been an afterthought, or produced at the behest of the publisher, and they are usually longer than the Latin texts. Recent research suggests that “(a great deal) of the German versions” were probably not by Holtzwart himself, who is believed to have died in or about 1578. There is also room to question in how far the German texts were even intended to be a translation of the Latin. Holtzwart’s book appeared some 31 years after

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Figure 6.4

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Johannes Sambucus, Emblemata, Antwerp 1566, altera editio, 24. Reproduced by permission of Olms

Alciato’s death in 1550 and 51 years after the first edition of Alciato’s emblems was released. German translations of Alciato’s emblems had already appeared in 1542 (by Wolfgang Hunger) and in 1566–67 (by Jeremias Held). Presumably, the individuals who bought the Latin editions of Alciato, or who read them, could also read the Latin emblems in Holtzwart’s bilingual edition. In considering the inscriptiones I shall limit myself to the Latin versions. As one might perhaps expect, Holtzwart’s concerns were on the whole middle class, and moralizing.

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Figure 6.5 Mathias Holtzwart, Emblematum Tyrocinia … Eingeblümete Zierwerck / oder Gemälpoesy, Strasburg 1581, no. 61. Reproduced by permission of Reclam As might be anticipated the Latin subscriptiones contain more classical references than the German texts. For instance, “Tartarus” becomes “Hölle” (hell) in # 18; Epidaurus and Hippolytus are not named in # 46. Similarly, Heroditus and Democritus are not named in # 61 (Figure 6.5). It should perhaps be noted that the German texts were likely written with a different readership in mind. After the excellent edition produced for Reclam by Peter von Düffel and Klaus Schmidt7 there are relatively few studies of Holtzwart’s emblems. Those

7 See Matthias Holtzwart, Emblematum Tyrocinia … Eingeblümete Zierwerck / oder Gemälpoesy Strasburg: Jobin, 1581. The Reclam edition reproduces facsimiles of the images and

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that exist were published by Holger Homann,8 by Ken Fowler,9 and by Elisabeth Klecker and Sonja Schreiner.10 A number of Holtzwart’s Latin inscriptiones are not mottoes. See nos. 3, 20, 21, 30, 35, 50, 53, 54, 64, 66, 69, and 71 (Figure 6.6). It also seems to me that some of these may still indicate the general direction of meaning of the whole emblem, as in # 20 and # 21. On the whole, the Latin inscriptiones seem more motto-like than the German equivalents. We are fortunate in having modern facsimile editions of both the Camerarius printed emblems and their manuscript predecessors from a noted authority, Wolfgang Harms in conjunction with Ulla-Britta Kuechen and with Gilbert Heß in the volume dedicated to the manuscript emblems. Both facsimiles are accompanied by a valuable introduction.11 Camerarius published four centuries of Symbola and Emblemata;12 each volume with its 100 emblems deals with natural things. The first, published initially in 1590, treats of plants and trees. The second, which appeared first in 1595, deals with animals. The third, published initially in 1596 treats of birds and insects. The fourth that first appeared in 1604 deals with fish and reptiles. Most of the printed emblems are also reproduced with German translations of the Latin emblem texts in the Handbuch by Henkel and Schöne. Some differences may be found. Presumably some editions have slightly different inscriptiones. Camerarius originally prepared, as was stated, four volumes each with 100 emblems. According to the printed title pages they are dated 1590, 1595, 1596, and 1604. These volumes were often reprinted and also issued in a collected version. I shall refer to the four volumes with the Roman numerals I, II, III, newly set Latin and German texts. It is provided with a thorough introduction (Nachwort) and was published by Reclam as number 8555–57 in its series Universal-Bibliothek. 8 See Holger Homann, Studien zur Emblematik des 16. Jahrhunderts. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, 1971. It contains essays on Brant, Alciato, Sambucus, Holtzwart, and Taurellus. 9 See Ken Fowler, “Social Content in Mathias Holtzwart’s Emblematum Tyrocinia.” Emblematica 4 (1989): 15–38. 10 See Elisabeth Klecker and Sonja Schreiner, “How to Gild Emblems: From Mathias Holtzwart’s Emblematum Tyrocinia to Nicolaus Reusner’s Aureola Emblemata.” In Mundus Emblematicus, ed. Karl A.E. Enenkel and Arnoud S.Q. Visser. Turnhout: Brepols, 2003, 131–72. 11 See reviews in Emblematica 6 (1992) and in Emblematica 18 (2010). 12 These were Joachim Camerarius, Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Re Herbaria … Nuremberg 1590; Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Re Animalibus 1595; Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Volatibus quadrupedibus … Nuremberg et Insectis … Nuremberg 1596; and Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Aqualitus et Reptilibus … Nuremberg 1604.

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Figure 6.6 Mathias Holtzwart, Emblematum Tyrocinia … Eingeblümete Zierwerck / oder Gemälpoesy, Strassburg 1581, no. 71. Reproduced by permission of Reclam and IV. The two “Register” (indexes) produced by Harms and Kuechen deal firstly with “Sachen” (Things [of nature]) and secondly with “Bedeutungen” (Meanings, i.e., of the whole emblem). There is no list of inscriptiones. The layout of the emblems is somewhat different from that found in Alciato. The 400 Camerarius nature emblems have an inscriptio, an engraved pictura, and a two line subscriptio. On the page facing the emblem is printed a Latin prose commentary. Unlike Alciato’s emblems on trees that merely name the tree in the inscriptio, Camerarius’s tree emblems never merely name the tree in the inscriptio. There are, however, some differences in the inscriptiones in the different editions. Some are insignificant, some are slight, and some few are considerably different.

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I am mostly interested here in the inscriptiones, which in Camerarius are often incomplete statements, somewhat reminiscent of imprese. As such these seldom offer a complete interpretation of the picture. Neuber appears to insist that the inscriptio is a motto, which provides the emblem picture and subscriptio with semanticization. Again, in Camerarius the Latin inscriptio is often short and lacks verbs, which I prefer to assume. That is why I would accept as mottoes inscriptiones in Latin with no obvious verb forms.13 But Camerarius’s emblems were also published in a German translation as Vier Hundert Wahlsprüche Und Sinnen=Bilder … (Mainz: Bourgeat, 1671). The inscriptiones in German are often longer, and have the verb forms that one might expect of a motto in a vernacular language. The incomplete Latin inscriptiones in Camerarius I, which I doubt can be accepted as mottoes, are the following: I, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 12, 23, and 87. Readers can, of course, disagree on what constitutes an incomplete inscriptio. I tend, if anything, to err on the side of accepting a Latin motto as complete even where one may disagree on the assumed verb. Many Latin inscriptiones will lack a verb, which, as I have suggested, I have often assumed. Many of these incomplete inscriptiones that are reminiscent of imprese do indeed suggest a direction of meaning for the whole emblem as in the case of I, 5. Some very few inscriptiones name something shown in the pictura, e.g., I, 29 (Figure 6.7). There are also other alterations. Discrepancies between the facsimile editions and the Henkel and Schöne Handbuch can be attributed to care to remove words that name figures in the picturae as in the case of II, 61). In Camerarius II only four inscriptiones seem to be incomplete. They are 8, 17, 24, and 97. The differences are greater in the different reference works, but many are only slightly different (e.g., II, 4). The emblems showing divergences are II, 1, 4, 9, 15, 26, 28, 29, 32–34, 43, 45, 47, 49, 51, 58, 61 (where the word Canes is removed), 74–77, 79–81, 83, 89, 93, 94, 96, and 97. In Camerarius III at least nine inscriptiones seem incomplete. They are III, 3, 4, 8 (where no reader can tell from the inscriptio what “denotat” refers to [Figure 6.8]), 22, 29, 62, 72, 87, and 89. Readers who take the trouble to compare the Camerarius emblems published in the modern facsimile editions with those published in the Henkel and Schöne Handbuch will discover some discrepancies. Many are minor, some less so. Of course, typographical errors will never be fully eradicated in print. But it seems that the inscriptiones printed in the facsimile editions do correspond with the catch words printed at the bottom of the previous page. In vol. 1 they are numbers 2, 20, 21, 43, 44, 50, 51, 55, 58, 64, 72, 79, 84–6. But in my view they do not impact the basic thrust of my contention that not all inscriptiones can be considered mottoes. 13

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Figure 6.7

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Joachim Camerarius, Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Re Herbaria … Nuremberg 1590, no. 29. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

The inscriptiones in Camerarius III that reveal differences are usually slight or very slight. They are III, 3, 6, 8, 12, 29, 40, 43–46, 56, 58 (here the difference is greater), 63, 64, 70, 75, 84, 88, and 90 (here the difference is also greater), 95, 97, 100 (here the difference is considerable). In Camerarius IV a relatively small number of inscriptiones seem incomplete. They are IV, 2, 40, 46, 51, 75, and 88. There are also some divergences to be noted where the inscriptio names a thing or figure depicted, as in IV, 35 (which specifies ship [navis]), and 51 (which names the moon), and 75 (which names

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Figure 6.8

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Joachim Camerarius, Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Volatibus et Insectis … Nuremberg 1596 no. 8. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

Hercules). One can always argue whether Venus in IV, 90, refers to the goddess or simply to love. Sebastián de Covarrubias Horozco (or Orozco) published in 1610 in Madrid an important emblem book with the title Emblemas morales. The book contains 300 emblems in three centuries, which I shall refer to with the Roman numerals I, II, and III. Each emblem is provided with a Spanish prose commentary that also indicates the sources. The inscriptiones are largely in Latin (although there is the occasional French text [1, 23], the occasional Greek

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Figure 6.9 Sebastián de Covarrubias Horozco (or Orozco), Emblemas morales, Madrid 1610, emblem III, 83. Reproduced by permission of Scolar Press

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lemma [1, 29], and more Spanish lemmata [1, 39]) while the subscriptiones and commentaries are all in Spanish. The question is to what extent these 300 inscriptiones are in fact mottoes. Many may also be considered keys to the meaning of the emblem picture and subscriptiones. In one sense they do help the reader understand the emblem, but they do not always make sense when taken alone. In other words, they are either incomplete, even riddling as statements somewhat like some inscriptiones of imprese or their relation to the emblem is only clear after one has considered both pictura and subscriptio. The individual words of the inscriptiones may be seem clear enough but it is not always immediately apparent what is implied. I shall only consider the first 100 emblems in the first Centuria, the other 200 seem to be much of the same kind. The emblem III, 8314 (Figure 6.9) has an inscriptio the Latin words “In hoc signo vinces” (You conquer in this sign). The reader cannot know until he or she has looked at the pictura to see which sign is meant. What is depicted is a large centered sword with the hilt in the form of a cross. But is it a sword or a piece of symbolic embroidery decoration? In the background of the pictura are depicted a fleeing enemy cavalry, a dead man and a rider on a horse with a raised sword riding in pursuit. There is little doubt in my mind that the contemporary Spanish reader (of Covarrubias) who could read Latin as well as Spanish would have recognized the visual references to the Santiago knights and the Moors. The subscriptio refers to the James lily, the defense of the Christian faith and the Moors. Reading this emblem hundreds of years after it was published, I am doubtful that even most Spanish readers today would immediately understand the textual reference to “this sign.” There are in fact many inscriptiones that contain words that carry multiple meanings or may refer to quite different objects or situations, or can only be understood when read in conjunction with the pictura and/or subscriptio. I will identify them here: I 5, 6, 9, 12, 18–20, 24, 27, 28, 30, 33, 34,15 36, 39, 40, 44, 46, 49–54, 56, See the reproductions in Henkel and Schöne col. 308 and the Antonio Bernat Vistarini and John T. Cull, Enciclopdia de Emblemas españoles Ilustrados, item 495. 15 The inscriptio reads “Tertia regna peto” (I seek the third kingdom). But which is the third kingdom and what are the other two? The pictura depicts a crowned eagle flying up from a globe of the world towards the sun. This central cluster is flanked by the pillars of Hercules bearing the inscriptions “Plus” and “Oltra.” In my view the Handbuch of Henkel and Schöne wrongly regards the Plus Oltra as an inscriptio. Henkel and Schöne also explain the third kingdom as the kingdom of Spain, the kingdom of the two Indias and the heavenly realm (col. 1199). Certainly, the eagle and the Pillars of Hercules can refer to Spain. Bernat and Cull do not gloss the word “tertia” but seem to regard the third kingdom as the heavenly kingdom (item 41). 14

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57–59, 62, 63, 67–70, 72–80, 81, 82, 84–90, 92–100. Frequently, the subject of a verb (he, she or it) is only identified in the pictura or subscriptio. For instance, the inscriptio for I, 5 reads “Nulla reparabilis arte” [By no art is it repaired) a phrase that does not indicate what cannot be repaired. The pictura shows a lily with a damaged or drooping flower surrounded by a crown of thorns. Neither pictorial motif is mentioned in the subscriptio, which does, however, speak of the “flor virginal.” The lily, not named at all in the subscriptio, is a frequent symbol for virtue and the Virgin Mary. The topic of the subscriptio is according to the Henkel and Schöne Handbuch “defloration” (col. 307), while Bernat and Cull suggest “virginity” (item 209). Without being pedantic it seems to me that the topic is female virginity. One further example may illustrate the problem. The inscriptio to I, 16 reads “Lege et rege” (Read and rule). This motto does not indicate who is the subject of the two verbs, although given the fact that this is an early modern Spanish emblem we can assume that the person ruling is a prince or king. The motto also does not indicate what is the object of the verb read. The subscriptio names at the outset the wise king who is both loved and feared. While the subscriptio does not name the matter to be read, it does mention God and heaven. The pictura shows a crown surmounting a closed book, which can be interpreted as either a Bible or a book of laws. It is likely not coincidental that the crown itself is surmounted by a cross. Occasionally, a lemma will name an object or creature depicted in the pictura (I 21, 35, 41, 43, 45,16 47, 52, 55, 60 (using the same picture as 55, but with a different subscriptio), 61, 64, 65, 68, 83 (if pastores may be taken as referring to priests as well as shepherds, then the emblem perhaps refers to the Catholic inquisition). A small number of inscriptiones can hardly be called mottoes; titles would be more accurate. Emblem I, 29 is merely named alabaster in Greek. In terms of text we only know from the subscriptio that the object is an urn. The picture shows us the crown hovering above an urn. The inscriptiones in this early modern Spanish emblem book are on the whole mottoes, which, however, often only make sense when they are read in conjunction with the pictura and/or subscriptio. They do, however, suggest the direction of meaning of the whole emblem, although, as has been noted, the subjects of the verbs in many inscriptiones are not clear until one has either looked at the pictura or read the subscriptio. Whitney is perhaps a rather special case in so far as he was largely using blocks that Plantin had utilized earlier in printing editions of Alciato, Sambucus, and Here one could insist that the word “amor” refers to the depicted Cupid.

16

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Junius among others. Whitney retained the image and the Latin inscriptiones, writing new English subscriptiones that normally also name the things or figures depicted in the illustrations. The Latin inscriptiones in Whitney’s emblems are identical or are very close to the wording in the earlier source emblems. Most can be regarded as mottoes, but not all. Some are titles and some name things or figures that reappear in the pictures, such as sirens (Whitney, 10), snake and grass (Whitney, 14), an Ethiopian, i.e., a blackman (Whitney, 57), the hag Envy (Whitney, 94), Occasio (Whitney, 181), and Bacchus (Whitney, 187). Perhaps it is important to observe that Whitney removed the original dedications on the plates that he used from Plantin’s stock. See, for example, Sambucus page 210 and Whitney page 31. Whitney appears to have had Plantin newly set in italics the Latin inscriptiones that were not usually in italics in the source emblems. Wither is another interesting case. It is well known that he used Rollenhagen’s illustrations that had been printed earlier. But the texts are his own. Wither’s inscriptiones are English rhyming couplets that tend to offer an interpretation of the whole emblem. I shall only comment on the emblems in Book 1, to which I refer with “I” and which contains the first 50 of Rollenhagen’s emblem images. It seems to me that most of Wither’s inscriptiones are related to both the picture and the following subscriptio, offering a direction of interpretation for the whole emblem. This means that as couplets they are usually already too long to be mottoes. They often name a thing or figure depicted in the pictures, such as death (I, 1), sword (I, 3), occasion and wheel (I, 4), fortune (I, 6), death (I, 8), ship (I, 13), hammer (I, 17), sieve (I, 20), death (I, 21), shoot and archer (I, 25), rain (I, 26), fire (I, 30 and 34), flame (I, 40), altar and washing hands (I, 41), tongue (I, 42), eye (I, 43), sprout and tree (I, 46), cross and crown (I, 47), death, sceptre and spade (I, 48) and ears (of corn) (I, 50). Although I may doubt that all inscriptiones are mottoes, and I may have certain reservations about the generic implications of Neuber’s assertion, there is no reason to deny that some modern scholars do often use the term motto for the emblem’s inscriptio. My belief is, however, that they use the term motto rather loosely seldom thinking of the genre implications. It is also true that as time passed the inscriptio does tend to become a motto, and even where one may doubt that it is in fact a motto, that inscriptio does often, but not always, provide a clue as to the meaning of the whole emblem. It would be tedious to look at the inscriptiones of all published books of emblems. I see no reason to assume that Neuber has done that.

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I do not share Neuber’s view that the lemma as motto is primary. His view underestimates the role of the writer of the emblem texts as well as that of the publisher of the illustrated emblem. Neuber does not consider the origin of the illustration. I would not assume that the writer of the texts was responsible in most cases for the illustration. Of course, we shall likely never know exactly how a writer went about the writing of his or her emblem. Did he or she begin with an inscriptio and then write a subscriptio or perhaps the other way round, which seems to me more likely? It does, however, seem that as time went on, after Alciato, we do encounter more lemmata in the form of mottoes. If this is the case, then it needs to be reflected in any theory of the emblem, since it would seem to represent a development. Then there is the thorny issue of assumed knowledge, which will touch upon the motif depicted in the pictura and perhaps alluded to in the subscriptio. For the reader, then or now, it does not really matter. In fact we have little information on how early modern readers actually read emblems in the printed books that they looked at. Did these readers start with the picture that the emblem writer probably never designed and also likely never approved before publication? Did the readers go back and forth between picture and texts? And which texts? Again, I doubt if we will really ever know. It seems to me that any modern scholar who desires to suggest a newer description of the genre of the emblem needs at the very outset to distinguish between reception and creation. Reception may well take the form of statements by readers, then and now, to the extent that they exist. To a certain extent the work of translators may also be considered to reflect reception, but every translator has also a target audience in mind. In my view, emblem book forewords, prefaces, and introductions seldom provide much real information on these matters. Reception could also be documented by reference to other emblem writers who may have used earlier emblems for their own purposes. Creation may be something of a problem since the writer of the emblem texts may not have either been responsible for, or even have approved of, the illustrations The writers may perhaps never have been consulted. The role of publisher and illustrator(s) needs to be considered. The question of the primacy of text or graphic image must also be reviewed. Here again it may well be a question of creation or reception. Yet a printed emblem comprises a graphic image and two or more texts. Furthermore, the emblem did not come from nowhere. The relationship of emblem to earlier forms would need to be considered as well. There also remains the issue whether one is only concerned with printed emblems or also emblems in the material culture.

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Finally, I am far from sure than an incomplete inscriptio can really be regarded as a motto, even when we assume words. Some incomplete mottoes in imprese may appear riddling but their sense is usually completed by the picture. The same holds true of tripartite emblems. But by and large a motto, forgetting those in imprese, must communicate directly and on its own.

Chapter 7

Is There Visual Rhetoric in Some Emblem Pictures?

In a sense this is a continuation of a review1 of some recent publications in German on something that has been called “Bildwissenschaft” (literally, the science of pictures or images) and “Bildrhetorik” (rhetoric of pictures or images). I am trying to apply certain notions of visual rhetoric to emblem pictures. It should be acknowledged that emblem scholars have already learned much from art historians, and hopefully vice versa. The German word Bild can be ambiguous, both alone and in combinations. It can mean a visualizable image or visual picture, or a word in a literary work denoting a mental image or mental picture, which will be more private. My mental image of a salamander, let alone a biblical or classical story, may not be exactly the same as that of another reader. There has been in the last decade or so a flurry of publications about “Bildtheorie” (literally, theory of the picture or image) and this may have some relevance to the study of emblems. My purpose was to acquaint others who may not read German with some recent published German accounts of Bildtheorie and also Bildrhetorik.2 It may seem odd that no emblem scholar seems to have reviewed developments in picture theory. After all, a printed emblem—and there may have See Peter M. Daly, “Bildtheorie, Bildrhetorik and Emblems.” Emblematica 19 (2012): 207–27. 2 In addition to the books and articles discussed in the body of my essays in Emblematica, mention should also be made of: Hans Belting, Bild-Anthropologie. Entwürfe für eine Bildwissenschaft. Munich, 2001; Hans Belting, Die Bildwissenschaften im Aufbruch. Munich, 2007; Klaus Sachs-Hombach, Das Bild als kommunikatives Medium. Elemente einer allgemeinen Bildwissenschaft. Cologne, 2003; Klaus Sachs-Hombach, Wege zur Bildwissenschaft. Frankfurt am Main, 2005; Klaus Sachs-Hombach, Bild und Medium. Kunstgeschichtliche und philosophische Grundlagen der interdisziplinären Bildwissenschaft. Cologne, 2006; Hubert Burda and Christa Maar, Iconic Turn. Die neue Macht der Bilder. Cologne, 2005; Martin Warnke, Bildwirklichkeiten. Göttingen, 2005; Gustav Frank and Barbara Lange, Einführung in die Bildwissenschaft. Bilder in der visuellen Kultur. Darmstadt, 2010; Ingeborg Reichle, Steffen Siegel, and Achim Spelte (eds), Verwandte Bilder. Die Fragen der Bildwissenschaft. Berlin, 2008. In addition to Gottfried Boehm’s own publications, mention should also be made of the books published by the Eikones project 1

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been about one hundred million printed3—is almost invariably composed of a graphic image and texts. It matters little to the reader, now or earlier, whether the writer of the texts had any control over the visual images. It is true that today we are bombarded by pictures, on T.V., in films, in books, on billboards, in newspapers and magazines, even on the backs of some automobiles and trucks. One of the more recent publications is a website of a new institute in the Theological Faculty of the University of Rostock in Germany.4 Older scholars may prefer to avoid Internet publications—print is not the only way to make something accessible—there are, however, students and younger scholars who will often surf the web. As with all brief accounts of issues, covering centuries rather than weeks, the Rostock statements raise more questions than they answer. This web material likely sought to stimulate interest. It is likely true that the Rostock statements do not do full justice to the many printed or Internet accounts, although I prefer not to speculate on the intentions of the Rostock group.5 If I look at the picturae of emblems, then it is as a reader/viewer. I should not confuse my reading and viewing with some idea that the original emblem writer designed these pictures, or even approved them, although the pictures may often reproduce motifs from the original writer’s text(s). None the less, in some ways it all depends on what one understands as visual rhetoric. Literary scholars will know the term “rhetoric,” as verbal eloquence or verbal persuasion or both. A rhetorical dimension is in play in any picture that may be regarded as seeking to support a verbal account and influence readers and viewers in a certain manner. But visual rhetoric may also be involved in the attempt to make a reader see, for instance, a creature not as the creature usually appears in nature, but as a heraldic device. It is likely that readers immediately recognize, with no verbal prompting, that the eagle or lion in a given emblem picture is heraldic rather than “natural,” whatever that may mean. Even bird in Basel, the journal Bildkritik, and of at least the following websites: http.//www.iconicturn. de; http.//www.eikones.ch. 3 No such numbers will ever be absolutely accurate, but I am convinced of the large dimensions represented by 100 million. See Peter M. Daly, “How Many Printed Emblem Books Were There? And How Many Printed Emblems Does That Represent?” In In Nocte Consilium: Studies in Emblematics in Honor of Pedro F. Campa, ed. John T. Cull and Peter M. Daly. BadenBaden: Verlag Valentin Koerner 2011, 215–22. Saecvla Spiritalia 46. 4 See http: //www.ifi.uni-rostock.de/index.php?id=4661. 5 I do not pretend to be as current as I should like to be with regard to Internet sources, but I should not want to underrate them, either. See Peter M. Daly, “Emblems and Research. To Google or Not to Google May Not Be the Question.” In Society for Emblem Studies Newsletter no. 49 (Summer, 2011): 12–15. Surfing the web may be common, but surfers can still drown.

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watchers may never have seen an eagle standing with outspread wings, as in Alciato’s emblem 33.6 Even walkers may have seen birds drying their outspread wings in the air or sun, but not an eagle. Such an eagle does appear both in heraldic devices and in some emblems. Myths and personifications are often not much different. It could be countered that convention requires certain attributes such as a bridle to be placed on or with an often female figure to ensure that the reader recognizes her as Nemesis, as in Alciato’s emblem 27. Here the pictorial use of statues in emblem pictures can also help. How are these mythological figures and these personifications pictorially identified? Do we as readers recognize rhetorical dimensions in their depiction? Some emblem pictures depict things that simply do not exist in anyone’s real world, such as a hand with an eye inset into the palm, as in Alciato’s emblem 16. These could, of course, be simply called allegorical. I am tempted to call these “hieroglyphic” groupings because they do not exist in reality and are also shown in unreal settings. The very unreality of a hand with inset eye hovering over a landscape suggests a rhetorical purpose. In other words, I think that I see dimensions to the rhetorical structure of emblem pictures that may not have occurred to proponents of visual rhetoric, or to emblem scholars for that matter. But we are used to seeing such combinations. We also realize that pictorial conventions are at work. It matters little whether we believe that a snake can swallow its tail and thereby produce a perfect circle. This ouroboros has been around for centuries. It reappears in Alciato’s emblem 133 encircling the god Triton who is blowing his conch-trumpet. This is for me an hieroglyphical combination. There are many such: an arrow around which is entwined a remora (Alciato no. 20), an eagle with outstretched wings standing on a tomb (Alciato no. 33), four crows looking at or supporting a vertical scepter set upon a cylindrical pedestal (Alciato no. 38), the pillars of Hercules and a pig (Alciato no. 45), two vertical cornucopia combined with a vertical caduceus surmounted with Mercury’s winged hat (Alciato no. 119), a vertical anchor entwined by a dolphin (Alciato no. 144), the freeman’s cap (pilleus) flanked by vertical daggers (Alciato no. 151), a tomb surmounted by one skull (Alciato no. 157), a vertical pedestal with the partial figure of Terminus (Alciato no. 158), two disembodied hands, around which flies buzz, hover over a landscape, one hand holds a fan (Alciato no. 164), a rider is shown surrounded by scales, a mirror, a plant (pennyroyal?), coriander, an effigy of Terminus, and a bird cage, which represent the sayings of the seven wise men (Alciato no. 187), a cypress tree with scales and a mask, flanked by two 6 Unless otherwise indicated, all references to Alciato’s emblems will be to the 1621 Padua edition.

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funeral pyres (Alciato no. 199), an oak tree flanked by an inscription and the figure of the head of Jupiter wearing a wreath of oak leaves (Alciato no. 200), a willow tree with a supine female figure and behind her a bearded man appears to have a hand between the legs of another female figure (Alciato no. 201), a pitch-pine tree against which a pack ass leans and six bees are arranged beneath the lowest branches (Alciato no. 203), a quince tree with the god Hymen and Eros (Alciato no. 204), a double ivy plant flanked by a lyre and scroll (Alciato no. 205), a holm-oak flanked by two groups of soldiers (Alciato no. 206), a citron tree flanked by Venus and Eros (Alciato no. 207), a box tree with a suspended shepherd’s pipe flanked by a tray with three boxes and a flute (Alciato no. 208), an almond tree flanked by a man and on the other side by a swaddled infant, a skull and an open book (Alciato no. 209), a mulberry tree flanked by Winter? and Summer with a cornucopia (Alciato no. 210), a laurel tree, at whose base may be seen a garlanded head of Charles V, while the tree itself is flanked by an altar and a tripod surmounted by a dolphin (Alciato no. 211), and a silver poplar tree flanked by a medallion with a sun and crescent moon and on the other side by a medallion with the head of Hercules (Alciato no. 212). The additional motifs in the tree emblems of the 1621 Padua edition derive from Alciato’s epigrams. In many editions, however, there are no additional pictorial motifs. It remains true that many motifs in emblem pictures can only be identified with the help of the epigram. The shield, depicted in emblem 28 of Alciato’s emblems, can only be known to have belonged to Achilles from Alciato’s epigram. The whole story cannot be known from the picture alone. I shall limit myself to the emblems of Andrea Alciato. Before reviewing the pictures of Alciato’s emblems, I should perhaps ask the question about the relationship of the emblem picture to reality. By “reality” I mean the “reality” available to the author, artist, publisher, and the then-contemporary readerviewer. In other words, what the contemporary interpretative community, for whom the emblem was likely originally intended, experienced directly or through reading. Most motifs will appear as more or less neutral illustrations. Put differently, the motifs depicted will correspond to expectations. But even here, one should pause. Many creatures will be shown in unnatural poses, especially heraldic poses. Individual motifs may be gathered into an unnatural assemblage, i.e., a grouping that we do not know in nature, which may be heraldic or hieroglyphic. As I have suggested, the depiction of a church, a burial procession or a grave may not include any rhetorical attempt to persuade a reader-viewer to embrace a certain attitude.

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The relation of “visual rhetoric” to emblems is, as I have suggested, a large subject. Emblem scholars have learned much from certain art historians, but I suspect that we have paid too little attention to the rhetorical dimension of emblem pictures. If beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, then perhaps the discovery of visual rhetoric is also somewhat personal. Not everyone will be convinced by my demonstrations. I shall also look at the pictures that accompanied Alciato’s texts. Alciato ultimately produced 212 emblems that were published in nearly the same number of editions and translations, including facsimile editions. The decision which edition to take as a base is none too easy.7 However, I have chosen a complete, and completely illustrated later edition: the Padua edition of 1621. I shall also often attempt to relate the 1621 printed emblems to an earlier appearance of the same emblem, in a 1531 edition, the Wechel Latin-German edition of 1542, a Latin edition by Bonhomme and Rouillè of 1551, and the Latin-German edition of 1566–67 by Feyerabend. In each case I shall refer to a facsimile8 edition rather than a rare original. Also I shall refrain from any aesthetic judgment of the quality of the pictures, which might well be ahistorical. It is well known that the illustrations for Alciato’s emblems often differ considerably in the different editions. In fact, it seems to me that the 1531 printings reveal much less visual rhetoric than the 1621 edition that I have chosen. Some emblems, also in later editions, lack an illustration. All of this will affect any visual rhetoric that one may discover. I will also occasionally refer to the Henkel and Schöne Handbuch. I want to look closely at one set of Alciato illustrations. As far as we know, Alciato did not actually design the illustrations that accompanied his texts, and some of us are none too sure how far his approval went. To put my cards on the table at the outset, I shall work from the Tozzi edition of 1621. Not everyone will agree that this is the best edition to choose but it is readily available. Looking back to 1531, there is no evidence that Alciato had any hand in the illustrations that Steyner added to the Italian’s epigrams. We do know that Alciato was not 7 Those seeking certain Alciato emblems in what Mason Tung considers the principal 15 editions will find a useful list of Alciato’s emblems, arranged alphabetically by their inscriptiones in Mason Tung, “A Concordance to the Fifteen Principal editions of Alciati,“Emblematica 1 (1986): 319–39. 8 The facsimile reprint of the Wechel edition of Wolfgang Hunger’s translation of Alciato will demonstrate that on occasion an early modern printer also had difficulty with Latin numbers. In his concordance article of 15 editions (see note 7) Tung had helpfully corrected errors in the printing of the 1542 Wechel edition of Hunger’s translation. Wechel’s printer had, for example, numbered emblem 60 wrongly as XL, instead of as LX.

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completely satisfied. Alciato died in 1550, and so he could not have directly and personally intervened in publications after that date. This only has to do with his personal intentions, and not with the reception of emblems by later readers. Anyone who bought or looked at an illustrated edition of Alciato’s emblems would probably not ask if the book that he or she was looking at included pictures that Alciato had either made or personally approved. The pictures in Alciato’s emblems are of various kinds: heraldic, mythological, historical or pseudo-historical, classical (i.e., of classical Greek or Roman literature) and natural (both fauna and flora). But in a sense they are all dependent on Alciato’s inscriptiones and subscriptiones. So which pictures, if any, may be said to contain rhetorical dimensions? There is also the perhaps first question about what constitutes an early modern neutral depiction. Here I may want to compare an emblem picture in an emblem by Alciato with one in an edition of the emblems of Joachim Camerarius in order to stay in the early modern period and with nature subjects. Modern readers may well be surprised on occasion by the depiction in emblem pictures of creatures that they know from personal observation, from visits to a zoo, from leafing through illustrated encyclopaedias or just surfing the web. But an early modern depiction of, say, a chameleon, although it may appear strange to moderns may not have been often, if ever, seen by most early modern readers. Should a modern reader therefore first consult an early modern illustrated dictionary, or an early modern illustrated edition of Pliny before making a judgment? Perhaps one should just consult any other early modern illustrated source, such as the emblems of Camerarius. As Daniel Russell reminds us “emblems belong to a pre-Linnean period … 9 We should perhaps not expect their early modern depiction always to correspond with our own image. Some creatures, such as birds alone or in flocks, may simply indicate the air. At times the edge of water may be indicated by bull rushes or sedge. These will seem to be artistic conventions with no semantic value in the sense that a particular bird could mean this or that. Some creatures, however, are used not because of their assumed qualities, but in order to help readers identify a building or a town. The owl depicted on a tower in Alciato’s emblem 13 identifies the tower and therefore the town as Athens (Fig. 7.1). This is not the bird of Minerva (as it is in Alciato’s emblems 19 and 22) or the bird of solitude or the bird of wisdom; rather it indicates Athens. To this day a German proverb associates the owl with Athens: “Eulen nach Athen bringen” (to bring owls to Athens) which 9 See Daniel S. Russell, “The Needs of the Literary Historian.” In The Index of Emblem Art Symposium, ed. Peter M. Daly. New York: AMS, 1990, 113.

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Figure 7.1 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, emblem 13. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections. Enlarged

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Figure 7.2 Andrea Alciato. Emblemata, Padua 1621, emblem 4. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections. Enlarged

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in British English has an equivalent in “carrying coals to Newcastle” with no reference to owls. Creatures of myth and most monsters are different, in the sense that they do not actually exist and will not be found today in zoos. For this argument I would ignore the Kunstkammer. Any depiction of a non-existing creature would do, but I will start with the boy Ganymede on the back of the eagle of Zeus or Jupiter. In Alciato’s emblem 4 we not only have the picture of Ganymede on the back of the eagle, but also a couple of inscriptions which assist the reader in understanding what Alciato intended (Figure 7.2). Modern readers are not used to considering inscriptions in emblem pictures as a form of visual rhetoric, but they do assist in understanding the picture. Alciato’s emblem 45 has several inscriptions that do not seem to be required by Alciato’s subscriptio. There is also the careful use of left and right, and also the often pictorial rendering of hands and arms that point to something. Again, we may not think of this as rhetoric, but it does visually direct our understanding. It can be as simple as a gesture of the fingers to the lips, which still today may be taken as requiring silence, as in Alciato’s emblem 11. Or the pointing of a figure may suggest a teaching gesture, as in Alciato’s emblem 41 where Diomedes, notably dressed in a cap, gestures to Ulysses who wears a helmet. Both are otherwise dressed for combat. The picture of Cecrops, a snake-man said to have been king of Athens, was important to Alciato. But how does Alciato want us to understand Cecrops? Put another way, what does this figure mean in Alciato’s emblem 5? For Alciato, Cecrops signifies a cunning man, lacking in religion and only interested in earthly things. That is why in the picture Cecrops points to a jug (presumably of wine rather than water), a bag of money, a goblet, and a crown (Figure 7.3). Examples could be multiplied, but many gestures and also inscriptions in picturae are not found in the writer’s subscriptiones, as for example in Alciato’s emblem 45. I will begin the discussion of heraldry with heraldic emblems. It is perhaps not surprising that pictures that may be said to be primarily heraldic show few signs of additional visual rhetoric. Heraldic images tend to be neutral, reproducing key elements of a heraldic device. The creatures depicted in heraldic devices are often, however, stylized and shown in heraldic postures, e.g., guardant, passant, rampant, and so on. But there are also instances where an emblem is addressed to an historical personage in his political situation. Alciato’s emblem 10 on the lute (Figure 7.4) is a case in point. The lute itself seems depicted neutrally, but the political interpretation in the epigram, already made clear in the inscriptio, makes it more than just another emblem of music, or musical harmony. The

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Figure 7.3 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, emblem 5. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections. Enlarged

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Figure 7.4 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Padua 1621, emblem 10. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections. Enlarged

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Figure 7.5 Andrea Alciato. Emblemata, Padua 1621, emblem 3. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections. Enlarged emblem is addressed to Maximilian, Duke of Milan, at a time when he was making new political alliances in Italy. That is the burden of Alciato’s epigram. However, heraldic emblems are not only emblems with inherited heraldic devices. On many occasions an animal will be shown in a posture that is heraldic rather than natural-looking. This may be said of the elk with a scroll over its right leg (Figure 7.5), and of many depictions of lions (Figure 7.6).

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Figure 7.6 The Schönborn lions, heraldic and natural-looking, a wall decoration at Schloß Weißenstein, Germany. Reproduced by permission of the Wilhelm Fink Verlag Mythological figures and personifications can also be treated with visual rhetoric in emblems. We should never forget that in the 1520s Alciato was translating from Greek into Latin various epigrams of the Greek Anthology and many of those translations found their way into Alciato’s emblems. We are probably not surprised that many illustrations are of mythological and classical themes. Inscriptions will include both the pig as “ulterius” and the phrase “plus oltra” on a pair of columns not required by Alciato’s subscriptio to emblem 45.

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There is also a form of visual rhetoric in those pictures that depict two separate scenes of one and the same event. The temporal difference is rendered visually. Alciato’s Arion emblem (Alciato no. 90) may be regarded as typical. The one picture in the 1621 edition depicts both a ship from which sailors throw a man overboard, and also Arion holding his harp and sitting on the back of a dolphin. Not all editions of Alciato’s emblems are the same in this regard. The 1531 printings show only one scene, that of a naked putto or boy holding a harp and sitting on the back of a ferocious-looking dolphin (A6r). There are other instances in the 1621 edition. Emblem 117 has as its inscriptio “Senex puellem amans” (An old man in love with a girl). The old man is Sophocles and the young girl Archippe who has been lured away from prostitution with money. The picture has two motif clusters, which represent stages in the love and death of the old man. The main one shows an older man fondling the breast of a girl; the other cluster shows a corpse on the ground and an owl. Is visual rhetoric perhaps involved in the placing of motifs in a picture where we would not expect to find them? For instance, I doubt that we would we anticipate seeing a wash basin and a water jug placed next to a large marble tomb. These are not decorations, but shown as separate objects, as in Alciato’s emblem 31. The subscriptio names both the hand-basin and the water jug, and is intended to indicate that the law was administered without baseness and that the deceased had clean hands. Perhaps needless to say, modern critical categories do not always adequately account for emblem pictures. Alciato’s emblem 12 may be an instance. It depicts a Roman standard, used in battle, showing the usual eagle, but also a minotaur, half man and half bull. It is clear from Alciato’s subscriptio that the minotaur is primary; its discussion takes up the first three lines. Modern readers of emblems are used to seeing pictures that have little relationship to the reality that we take for granted. We are used to taking a certain leap. I do not simply mean that we may not already know that crows were famous for their supposed fidelity among themselves, but that notion is already depicted in an Alciato emblem, no. 38. The picture illustrates the idea expressed in Alciato’s inscriptio of “Concordiae Symbolum” (The symbol of concord), which receives different pictorial treatments in different editions.10 It was not my purpose to suggest what is needed for the further exploration of Alciato’s emblems but even my limited comparative excursion into several editions has convinced me that we need, and rather urgently, a historical critical 10 See Peter M. Daly, “Alciato’s Emblem ‘Concordiae symbolum’: A Medusa’s Mirror for Rulers?” German Life and Letters 411 (1988): 349–62.

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edition of Alciato’s emblems that will include both textual variants as well as pictorial variants. Ideally, one would wish for a collaboration between literary and art historians. It will be no small undertaking. Among the older scholars who could do it in the English-speaking world are Mason Tung and Denis Drysdall.

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Chapter 8

How Were and How Are Emblems Read?

I am told that a speaker at the 2011 Glasgow emblem conference—not an emblem scholar by profession—observed that he was surprised at what he termed the positivism of many of the presentations that he heard. I do not wish to take up his term positivism, although I do have views on that matter. But his criticism did provoke other thoughts. It started me thinking again about how one reads emblems.1 Reading emblems is a problem. I am not asking whether we start with the picture and return to the texts, or vice versa. Even here we have little if any information from early modern readers. What do we really know? What evidence do we have of ways of reading emblems? Each of us knows what we do as individuals when reading emblems. But for me, at least, the question has something to do with notions of intention and reception. A great deal has been written about intention and reception both in general terms and also with regard to specific examples, even some emblems. But that is also not my immediate topic. It can be argued that each and every reader is an instance of reception, in the sense that he or she receives a printed emblem to read. It can also be argued that each printed interpretation or discussion is also a record of one person’s actual reading. But there is also the question of what the reader/viewer brings to bear on his or her reading. Christian emblems will naturally presuppose a reader who will know something about Christianity and the Bible. How much other prior reading or experience may be considered relevant to understanding and interpreting a given emblem? That is the issue that I want to consider in what follows. Prior experience, which colors reception, may be critical, if difficult to assess. Some theoreticians and practicing emblem writers such as the German baroque writer Georg Philipp Harsdörffer knew that one given motif, either in a picture or text, could convey different concepts, even if they may have

I began to explore some of the dimensions of this matter in a recent issue of the journal Emblematica. See Peter M. Daly, “Emblems through the Magnifying Glass or Telescope.” Emblematica 18 (2010): 315–37. 1

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proved impossible to depict, or were never named.2 As I have noted elsewhere,3 Harsdörffer knew that emblem writers frequently assumed understanding of the undepicted meaning or attribute of the motif. Harsdörffer has written that the emblem writer may presuppose a knowledge of some basic “facts” that cannot be drawn and I would add that they may not even be named in the textual parts of an emblem.4 It is not coincidental that Harsdörffer often uses the term “Sinnbild” rather than “Emblem.” In many of his discussions it is the meaning or “Sinn” of an emblematic motif that concerns him. And that meaning may not always be constant. The not infrequently heard modern complaint that emblematic images are contrived or arbitrary or enigmatic may result at times from the modern reader’s confusion when confronted with one image carrying different, at times even contradictory, meanings. But these meanings may derive from the good or evil qualities of the thing depicted or named. We moderns are not used to thinking of things in terms of their good and evil qualities. But that may well have been the mindset of the contemporaries for whom the emblem was likely intended. It seems to me that we moderns should at least try to embrace that idea as one of the unstated prerequisites for something approaching a correct understanding of an emblem. Of the snake Harsdörffer observes: “the interpretation is frequently doubtful, and, as was said earlier of lions, it can be good or evil. The snake is an image of cleverness, poisonous slander, and when it has its tail in its mouth, it is a representation of eternity.”5 But in a given emblem only one meaning is usually intended. Again of the eagle, Harsdörffer insists that “good and evil” (FzGs VII, 106) can be posited in accordance with what naturalists have written of the bird. As I have noted, recognition of meaning may depend on an understanding of the thing portrayed. In Part IV of Harsdörffer’s Frauenzimmer Gesprächsspiele Vespasian comments “… daß man von keinem Sinnbilde urtheilen kan / man habe dann zuvor der Figuren Natur und Eigenschaften gründlich erlernet / welche vielmals verborgen ist / und nicht ausgemahlet werden kan / daher dann des Sinnbildes Verstand schwer und tunkel wird” (FzGs IV, 244). In stressing the active participation of the reader, whose knowledge of the properties of things portrayed in the emblem is assumed by the emblem writer, Harsdörffer is in agreement with established opinion and practice. 3 See Chapter 4 on “Emblems as Transmitters of Knowledge and Traditions.” 4 See Peter M. Daly, “‘The Eagles They Fly High in Mobile.’ Was Embleme über Adler wissen.” Zeitschrift für Ideengeschichte IV/1 (2010): 75. See also Peter M. Daly, “The Contribution of Georg Philipp Harsdörffer to the German Tradition of the Emblem in the Seventeenth Century.” Forthcoming. 5 The German reads: “Die Deutung ist auch mehrmals als zweiffelhafftig / und kan / wie vor von den Löwen gesagt worden / gut und böß seyn. Die Schlange ist ein Bild der Klugheit / der gifftigen Verleumdung / und wann sie den Schwantz in dem Mund hat / eine Abbildung der Ewigkeit” (FzGs VII, 98). 2

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An Elizabethan reader, educated and Protestant, will have had a knowledge of the Bible and Christianity, certainly Protestant Christianity but also Roman Catholicism, even if that knowledge of Catholic Christianity will likely have been largely negative and imbued with Protestant propaganda. This is not meant to imply there were no Catholics in Elizabethan England, which would be nonsense. This English Protestant reader will likely have read and approved of the emblems of Stephen Bateman,6 which tend to be either generally Christian or anti-Catholic. This educated English reader will have been able to read de Montenay’s emblems in Latin or French, and then from 1619 onwards even in English,7 although the English texts were poorly typeset. The bibliographers Adams, Rawles, and Saunders8 have examined well over 100 different copies of de Montenay’s emblems, which may suggest that her emblems circulated widely. Does anyone read with an empty mind? That seems to be the ideal expectation of some scholars. I have already discussed this matter elsewhere at some length,9 but the issue remains important. Stefan Manns10 argues that the decoding of emblems (Manns, 57) will facilitate the dissociation of elements of text and picture (Manns, 58). Manns evidently means first looking separately at pictura and scriptura, and with no prior knowledge of anything. There’s the rub. Manns offers an example of how this might happen by taking Alciato’s 1531 Arion emblem (A5v–A6r) with the motto “Avros, vel quibus melior conditio ab extremis offertur” (On misers, or those to whom a better situation is offered by strangers). In analyzing this or any other emblem, the modern scholar has to decide whether to try to approach it with little or no previous knowledge. That strikes me as difficult if not impossible to do. There is a sense in which each of us is the sum total of what we have heard, read, and seen. Furthermore, as teachers we often try to provide, especially to younger students, some sort of 6 See Stephen Bateman, A Christall Glasse of Christian Reformation. London: Day. 1569. See also Mary V. Silcox, “‘A Manifest Shew of Coloured Abuses’: Stephen Bateman’s, A Christall Glasse of Christian Reformation as an Emblem Book.” In Emblem Scholarship: Directions and Developments. A Tribute to Gabriel Hornstein, ed. Peter M. Daly. Turnhout: Brepols, 2005. 7 Probably the most recent and reliable account of the many editions of de Montenay’s emblems is contained in the illustrated bibliography by Alison Adams, Stephen Rawles, and Alison Saunders, A Bibliography of French Emblem Books, vol. 2. Geneva: Droz, 2002. See F437–439, 177–91. 8 See note 7. 9 See Daly, “Emblems through the Magnifying Glass or Telescope,” 315–37. 10 See Stefan Manns, “Nucleus emblematum. Überlegungen zu einer Semiotik des Emblems.” In Topik und Tradition. Prozesse der Neuordnung von Wissensüberlieferungen des 13. bis 17. Jahrhunderts, ed. Thomas Frank, Ursula Kocher, and Ulrike Tarnow. Göttingen: V&R Unipress, 2007, 47–65.

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historical introduction to the culture and literature that we are “teaching.” It is unlikely that a contemporary or near contemporary of Alciato approached Alciato’s Arion emblem in the manner advocated by Manns, i.e., with no prior knowledge. I think that educated readers of the early modern period would have regarded a picture of a man on the back of a fish or dolphin holding a lyre or harp as Arion (Figure 8.1). That would suffice to put the reader, then or now, on the right wave length. But I doubt that anyone necessarily thinks that Alciato was obliged to interpret the Arion story in one particular way. It seems to me that Manns’s analysis of the 1531 illustration and the grammar of the 1531 scriptura are accurate, but he seems to assume a sort of tabula rasa on the part of the reader. Does Manns and those who think like him, assume that the sixteenth-century reader, who knew enough Latin to understand Alciato’s text, suspended other knowledge that he or she might have brought from prior experience or reading? How would one of my students have analyzed these emblem parts? Often my students knew little of the Bible or classical traditions. How would they read these emblems, assuming they had enough knowledge to correctly describe the pictura and analyze the Latin of the scriptura? I find Manns’s observation untenable that the naming of Arion remains “astoundingly indefinite” (Erstaunlich unbestimmt) (Manns, 60). In footnote 51 Manns recounts the story of Arion, which I presume Alciato assumed his educated reader would know already.11 I do not believe that it is possible to empty one’s mind or memory of what one has read, seen, heard, or just plain experienced during the act of reading anything. One wonders where the evidence is that such emptying of the mind has taken place in any reader. Is it even a reasonable assumption in the first place? I see no reason to assume that Alciato, for instance, assumed such an “innocent” actually empty-minded reader. Alciato must have assumed a reader who knew something about classical mythology and history, when reading the Latin emblems. Even a quick look at how vernacular translators handled some of Alciato’s allusions12 will suffice to indicate that Alciato’s Latin emblems often suggested information that Alciato Probably the most recent discussion of Alciato, his methods, and sixteenth-century readership, comes from Denis Drysdall. See Denis Drysdall, “Andrea Alciato, Pater et Princeps.” In Companion to Emblem Studies, ed. Peter M. Daly. New York: AMS Press, 2008, 79–97. 12 See Peter M. Daly, “The Intertextuality of Word and Image in Wolfgang Hunger’s German Translation of Alciato’s Emblematum liber.” In Intertextuality: German Literature and the Visual Arts, ed. Ingeborg Hoesterey and Ulrich Weisstein. Columbia, SC: Camden House, 1993, 30–46. See also Peter M. Daly, “Alciato’s Emblem ‘Concordiae symbolum’: A Medusa’s Mirror for Rulers?” German Life and Letters 411 (1988): 349–62. 11

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Figure 8.1 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, A6v. Reproduced by permission of Olms in his original Latin texts seems to take for granted. At least Alciato does not bother to explain many of his own allusions. I happen to have been reading recently among other things many of the novels of Dan Brown, John Grisham, Dean Koontz, and Stieg Larsson. Like Dan Brown’s millions of readers, I now have some of the information in his novels. Not that much of it seemed new to me. Was Mary Magdalen really a whore? Did Jesus Christ perhaps marry? Many Roman Catholics will disagree with the Brown novel. I can begin to understand that the Vatican was concerned about The Da Vinci Code. In recent Florida politics, in the so-called Presidential 5 debates of Republican presidential candidates who were presenting themselves to a Republican audience, at least one American conservative also fulminated against The Da Vinci Code. But Brown’s book only claims to be a novel; it does not pretend to be a theological or historical work. But I am sure that the Vatican is correct in assuming something about the book’s reach. After all, the book has sold millions of copies. Scholars may find little new in the novel, but the millions who have read it, may well have been encouraged to question some of their inherited assumptions and beliefs. I am probably not a typical reader of Dan Brown’s novels, anyway. I write this now only because I think that all

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readers are the sum total of all that they have experienced, read and heard. Not that we can consciously recall everything, or choose to “forget” everything. So how are we to read emblematic books? What knowledge or information do we bring with us when we read? Scholars will naturally check the references in what they read. But there may not be any. Emblem writers tend not to provide references, and when they do these references are often rather general or derive from florilegia. Should we assume that we are the readers that the original emblem writer had in mind? Obviously not. We cannot possibly be the reader that an Alciato or a Whitney had in mind. Scholars doubtless pride themselves on checking references and sources. Most scholars also teach. So hopefully, students will also learn to respect sources. But how many people are we talking about? The percentage of students in higher education is probably small in most countries. Then again the almighty personal computer has placed in almost everyone’s grasp computer-based sources. At the risk of sounding like a Luddite—should I perhaps gloss that term?—I could perhaps note that computer sources are only as good as the information provided. Unfortunately, students tend to believe what the computer monitor gives them. The computer on a student’s desk is always closer than the library. Students are not the only people who seem to give greater credence to the computer screen than the printed page. But the computer screen does not necessarily contain the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. “To Google” is not a synonym for research,13 whether done by a scholar or a student, or anyone else for that matter. Is one reading as good as the next? In my view, that is not necessarily the case. There is, of course, a school of thought that seems to believe that one reading is as good as the next, which suggests what amounts to unlimited semiosis, at least on the part of readers. One does not have to be a late positivist to disagree. Any historicist worth his or her salt will wish to insist on certain limits, inconvenient as that may be at times. For those of us who still believe that words mean something—naturally the context will help to determine that meaning—the meaning of words may well be historically as well as contextually determined, and indeed limited. Word meaning and use can be checked in historical dictionaries, which are not always reliable. Our representatives in local or central government might be unhappy to learn that “politician” could earlier have a decidedly negative meaning, whereas today it supposedly designates neutrally a profession.

13 See Peter M. Daly, “Emblems and Research. To Google or Not to Google May Not Be the Question.” In Society for Emblem Studies Newsletter 49 (Summer, 2011): 12–15.

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The problems with assuming information not provided by an emblem, neither in its picture nor its textual parts, are not only a problem of evidence. And here we come full circle to the intention of the original author, or at least to the intention assumed to be inherent in the emblem (and our author may only have been responsible for the texts). Alciato14 has a famous emblem depicting a figure with arms outstretched up and down, with a stone in one hand that holds him back and a winged hand that points up to the heavens. There is nothing in the emblem that explicitly suggests either the influence of Tarot cards, or the hermetic sign that in English has been rendered “as above so below.” My reading of that emblem of Alciato’s suggests that either or perhaps both may be implied. But how does one prove it? Neither the picture nor the Alciato texts provide clear allusions. I am not an “innocent” reader, one who empties his memory banks of information. My information may have been provided by a modern novel, rather than scholarly tomes that seek to explain the Ancient Mysteries. In other words, Dan Brown rather than perhaps Manly P. Hall, who may not enjoy current scholarly approval, but who may have introduced untold numbers of readers to those mysteries. Of course, the modern reader of thrillers and murder mysteries may quickly forget the accounts in novels of Ancient Mysteries. At the risk of preaching (hopefully) to the choir, I would say that we mostly try to understand and interpret emblems in the light of what we know of the language, ideas, beliefs, and artistic conventions of the period, but also against the backdrop of the writer, illustrator, and publisher. In other words, historically. I suppose that I am an unrepentant historicist.

See Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber. Ausburg: Steyner, 1531, “Paupertatem summis ingeniis obesse ne provehantur” (Poverty is an obstacle to great talents, to stop them advancing), printed on folios A7v and A8r. The emblem appears in all subsequent editions and translations of Alciato’s emblems. The figure may change, but the stone and wings attached to the hands remain, as do the pointing of the arms, up and down. Alciato’s motif was borrowed by many other emblem writers. 14

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Chapter 9

On the Interpretation of Emblems

The title of this chapter sounds like an English translation of a Latin emblem title, and I do mean title and not motto. Not all emblem inscriptiones are mottoes. By emblem I also mean the combination of illustration and text(s), no matter how produced, or by whom. In other words, the emblem as it was received when the book was printed and read. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, not infrequently only the pictura is reproduced when an emblem is discussed as though the verbal parts were not important enough to reproduce. Who does the interpreting? We may sometimes read that the epigram or subscriptio interprets the picture, as though the emblem writer had worked from a picture that he or she then interpreted in words, but in reality seldom if ever even created. This puts the cart before the horse, in terms of intention or creation and reception. We know that in the beginning was the word, actually the words that a writer wrote usually before the illustration was ever created. Needless to say, there are exceptions to any rule. By whom was the illustration created and who was involved? What do we really know that as distinct from what we assume, often with good reason? There were well over 6,000 books of emblems and imprese actually published, between 1531 and last week. We think we know that the emblem writer was usually not directly involved in the making of the illustrations. Andrea Alciato was not consulted, as far as we know, when Heinrich Steyner published in 1531 the first editions of Alciato’s emblems that received pictures. If we are not mistaken Alciato simply delivered epigrams. Normally, illustrators worked for a publisher, who usually retained the wood blocks or metal plate engravings, and often reused them. In most cases we simply do not know what instructions the artist received or even from whom. Those instructions could have been spoken or written, from the publisher or the writer of the texts. We often assume that the writer had some say in the matter. It is a sensible assumption, but seldom supported by hard evidence. Or did the illustrator take his cues from the texts that he was illustrating? In many instances that would assume an ability to understand the often erudite Latin, or the provision of a vernacular version of the texts for the illustrator. But by whom would those have been made?

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At some point we are going to have to deal with notions of intention, creation, production, and finally reception. In the vast majority of instances, interpretation deals with an existing printed book, a painting, or the decoration of an existing building, whether secular or ecclesiastical. The material culture, including but not limited to such things as pictures, painted decorations of buildings, tapestries and wall hangings, stained glass windows, glass and silverware, trenchers, carvings in wood or stone, even battle flags, armor and weapons. In other words, interpretation is usually suggested by someone who is not the original writer, publisher, artist or artisan. Were it otherwise, most teachers and scholars would have much less to do. The scholar who suggests an interpretation of a printed emblem has in front of him or her both texts and illustrations. The original writer of the texts may have had no direct influence on the illustrations. There is perhaps a sense in which it is easier to discuss or interpret a painted decoration and suggest a book source. Providing both an image of the painted decoration and the book source will usually suffice to demonstrate a relationship. But what constitutes a source, as distinct from an analogue or a relationship? In how far are later analogies fair game? It may well be asked what may be regarded as constituting a source. The clearest case of a source relationship exists where a correspondence can be established between the motto or title and picture of the something or other and those of, say, a printed book. Let me put my cards, such as they are, on the table at the outset, although the reader should be wary of the appearance of humility. I still think that our primary objective in interpretation should be to try to understand the artifact as it was created or intended. That is an aspect of historicity. I am an unrepentant proponent of some form of historicity. That is my first confession. Not that historicity is easy. We do not always even know who was responsible for the artifact that we want to discuss. We know, or think that we know, that Shakespeare was not necessarily responsible for all the works and words that bear his name. We know, or think that we know, that some pictures or tapestries were at least partially created by a school and not necessarily by the master to whom we may attribute the work, or the school. The old slogan “Le style c’est l’homme même” will not apply everywhere, either in the early modern period or today, as both lawyers and art collectors could testify. I am also aware that there is a school of thought that suggests we all have the right to recreate or understand what we receive in any way. This strikes me as modern a-historicity gone rampant. Historicity is a tough task master. I may wish to argue for historicity, but have few illusions about its demands.

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Is an interpreter ever innocent, in the sense that the interpreter tries to ignore what he or she has learned, i.e., empty the mind of everything that may or may not be relevant to the understanding of the thing in question? We are all a product of what we have heard, been told, read and seen. Has anyone actually expected such an attempt at innocence or ignorance on the part of the interpreter? Can it even be done and is it even desirable? Do we assume that anyone wanted such ignorance? I know that I am in one sense a function of all that I have read, been told, seen and heard about, believed, or not believed. Let us think about that for a moment. If I want to empty my mind of everything that I have learned since my birth or even much earlier though my reading, where do I stop? Assuming that it is even possible or desirable. Can I even decide to close my mind (which means empty it) to things before the early modern period? I rather doubt it. But why end there? How will one interpret an emblem in an edition of the emblems of Alciato? Ideally, one would want to consult a sort of variorum edition that would at least note the various textual variants, and provide at least sample illustrations from the most important families of pictures. But as yet there is no such variorum edition of the emblems of Alciato. Perhaps, needless to say, one would also want to consult the most important commentaries. But one will also need a knowledge of the history implied by the motif depicted and/or elucidated in the text(s). Literary scholars are used to interpreting a passage by reference to something similar in the same writer or from the same period. Theologians can also do that. Denis Drysdall did something similar recently when he asked whether Alciato actually believed that the good have nothing to fear from the rich, with reference to emblem F2r in the 1531 edition (Figure 9.1).1 Drysdall looks at passages in Alciato’s juridical works and concludes that the emblem is really something of a protest against the power of the rich. So what is new? Pope Benedict XVI, Joseph Ratzinger, did something similar in his book on JESUS von Nazareth. Erster Teil (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2007) when elucidating through quotations from the Bible the admonition of Christ to his disciples, in what has become part of the Paternoster: “lead us not into temptation” (195–9). That phrase, in English and German official translations has always been a stumbling block as the Pontiff knew. So where are we? This is not about Christian theology but emblematics. However, for me to some extent, it is about the same issue, that of historicity. 1

Published in Emblematica 19 (2012): 115–31.

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Figure 9.1 Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber, Augsburg 1531, emblem F2r. Reproduced by permission of Olms It seems to me that emblem writers, who may not have been responsible for the illustrations or even have been consulted about them, are not necessarily the first persons to be asked about the illustrations. That is unless one gives precedence to the complete emblem as printed, which seems not unreasonable. After all that is all that most readers have. But perhaps one should attempt to make a clear distinction even here between intention (whose?) and reception (again whose?). I believe that interpretation should seek to contextualize.2 So what is the context for emblems? For an emblematic motif, that is a visual motif encountered in an emblem, it seems to me that we should take as a first context the emblem I have said this before, but it deserves being said again.

2

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itself, all three parts—perhaps more, perhaps less3—in which it appears. That would mean seeing the visual motif but also relating it to the emblem writer’s text or texts. The next context would be the book in which the emblem appears. Then the author, his or her known beliefs and attitudes. These contexts may be thought of as roughly concentric circles. Of course, it does not have to stop there. After perhaps considering, say, an author’s religion, Protestant or Catholic Christianity, it might be useful or even important to make certain regional distinctions. There is no reason to think that a Protestant in London in the early modern period was in all respects identical with a Protestant in Geneva or Zürich, or a Roman Catholic in England was identical with one in Italy or Spain. I am not yet assuming that all Christians necessarily had a sense of national identity. But at some point such an outer context can become fuzzy. But even before the context may become fuzzy, we may need help to fully grasp the significance of textual quotations, or simply the use in the textual parts of an emblem of quotations or citations from earlier texts. We should never forget that these emblem writers were frequently highly educated individuals, who knew their Classics and their Bibles in whatever versions. Concretely, I know that I am indebted to Dietrich Donat for his careful and historical Nachwort (Afterword) to the Olms 1977 facsimile of Johann Saubert’s Emblematum sacrorum. We may know more about emblem texts than the illustrations. It is well known that publishers often reused woodblocks or engraved plates. There is also no reason to think that publishers and graphic artists never consulted earlier editions, even copying some illustrations. But designers may also have just copied what they had earlier seen in real life. The motif of a closed book could on a battle flag have easily been copied from a real large book with clasps, or just from another battle flag. Swords must have been as common then as guns are today in the U.S. But some visual signs have a long life that not all users of those signs necessarily understand. Take the V for victory, which many an Afghan or Arab today may raise in a sort of sign of victory or in Taiwan or Canada is shown virtually each time a photograph is taken whether of adults or small children. There is no reason to think these people know where the V-sign comes from. It derives from the Second World War and Churchill’s famous victory sign.4 But The Canadian scholar David Graham and the German scholar Sabine Mödersheim came independently to the same conclusion that the perhaps canonical tripartite structure of the emblem does not necessarily describe all emblems. See Emblem Scholarship: Directions and Developments, ed. Peter M. Daly. Turnhout: Brepols, 2005, 131–58, 159–75. 4 The origins are quoted in the third volume of the biography of Churchill, The Last Lion, 275. 3

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some older British colleagues may recall that if the victory V was waved up and down it had a distinctly different and sexual meaning. Looking back to the English Civil Wars of the seventeenth century, it does occur to me that the designer of battle flags in England would likely have seen large Bibles every Sunday and on Holy Days at church since at that time attendance at church was more or less compulsory. Many of the other motifs were also commonplace, and would have been seen in the designer’s thencontemporary world, such as swords, armour, and crowns. Also commonplace were such iconographical motifs as skull and wreath. Finally, illustrations may occasionally be wrong, not in the sense that they do not correspond with our contemporary knowledge, but in the sense that they may fail to understand what the writer meant with his words. Did Rollenhagen really mean by “Linea” a line of writing? In his second collection of emblems, the Selectorum Emblematum. Centuria secunda of 1613 Rollenhagen has a circular engraving of a quill inscribing a line (Figure 9.2). In the background may be seen a fatto with a winged horse surmounting a mountain top, which is nowhere mentioned in the brief Latin subscriptio.5 The emblem is numbered 24. The Latin inscriptio reads: “Nulla dies sine linea” (No day without a line). There is nothing in Rollenhagen’s Latin subscriptio to indicate clearly whether the art in question is writing, drawing or another of the visual arts. There is also no external evidence that Rollenhagen was responsible for or even consulted about these engravings. Yet, the quill in the illustration does suggest writing, which could be creative or something else. The winged horse Pegasus, which in Greek mythology had stamped out the stream Hippocrene on Mount Helicon for the Muses, could also suggest creative writing. However, the Muses did not only inspire creative writing. The art historian, Carsten-Peter Warncke, in his interpretation believes that this Rollenhagen emblem can be said to embody “Kunstfertigkeit durch Fleiß” (artistic ability through effort).6 He reaches this conclusion by combining the background image of Pegasus with the foregrounded image of the quill, for which Rollenhagen may never have been responsible, or even consulted. It is true that the foregrounded motif is a quill, a writing implement and not a graver or burin used in engraving. This is not in itself unusual, since Rollenhagen never refers to these fatti in his subscriptiones and Wither seldom does in his much longer English final epigrams that he entitles illustrations. In fact, while Wither never mentioned Pegasus, he does write at some length about “Clarkes” and their “Workes”, whether human or divine. 6 See Warncke’s Warncke’s facsimile edition with commentary and translation: Gabriel Rollenhagen Sinnbilder. Ein Tugendspiegel. (Dortmund: Harenberg, 1985), 260. 5

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Figure 9.2

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Gabriel Rollenhagen, Selectorum Emblematum. Centuria secunda of 1613, emblem 24. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

I am in two minds as to what the quill is doing and on what. It would appear that the quill is inscribing a line, but on what may be the question. Warncke7 is convinced that the quill is writing on a stone plate (Steinplatte), whereas I see the plate (if plate it is) curving over the end of whatever it rests on. To me it looks more like an open book only partially illuminated by the sunlight. Warncke translates the Latin “linea” as Strich, which itself may be translated into English as stroke or line, overlooking figurative and specialized usages of the German word. So the question is: did the emblem illustrator light on a reasonable interpretation when he made the engraving? Or is it wrong? The quill certainly initiates a strong response in the reader/viewer of the emblem. See Warncke, Gabriel Rollenhagen Sinnbilder, 260, n.2.

7

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There is also the issue of interpretation. How much of our knowledge should we bring to bear on the emblem or a text? And how relevant is such previous knowledge, or assumptions? Should we view one emblem against the aggregate of all knowledge displayed in emblems and perhaps also in all written texts? Or should we consider only the one or two pieces of knowledge activated or assumed in the one emblem? I tend towards this last possibility. Some assumptions of modern viewers may be simply wrong, in the sense that that they are wrongly applied. It did happen that an illustrator occasionally failed to put wings in the correct place, or confused left with right, even when the texts were quite clear on the matter. There were artistic conventions, which some critics with strong political or gender commitments either do not know about, or explain away. Hair comes to mind and understandable concerns about male bias. Hair, underarm, on arms and legs, between the legs: is this an ahistorical complaint from feminists? Is this lack of hair a sign of a male chauvinist attitude? It can be a failure to recognize a simple art historical convention. No such hair will frequently be discovered on male figures either, whether sculptures or portraits. But then it will be argued that male notions of beauty will have mostly produced the very art historical conventions that I think to discover. Finally, not every pictorial detail necessarily connotes a conceptual meaning. Finding emblematic meaning in visual details can be unnecessary. Bull rushes and sedge, for instance, could simply signify the edge of a body of water, rather than a precise abstract meaning. Similarly a bird could simply signify air. But is the interpretation of emblems so very different from our understanding of some texts in songs? Many songs have texts that create through words vignettes or little scenes. Admittedly, we do not always know what led to the final wording of the song. But then we seldom know how a given emblem picture was created, and whether the writer of the texts had any part in it. The final wording of an image or picture in a song may have had something to do with rhyme or scansion, perhaps with an addition or subtraction by a third or tenth person rather than the original song writer. Ultimately, we have only the recording, just as in the case of the emblem we have only the final printing. Even a name may have been changed. If we may believe the German edition of The Beatles Songbook (Munich: DTV, 1st edn, 1971; 8th edn 1976) Paul was responsible for suggesting the change of name from Miss Daisy Hawkins to Eleanor Rigby (139). It is the recording or printing that we respond to. We can try to ask what the scene might have meant to the originator. In the case of the

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Beatles we might want to assume some working-class background to some of the little scenes. Memory is photographic, but also deceptive. There are several such scenes briefly sketched in the Beatles’s song about the lonely people. One might think of Eleanor Rigby and Father McKenzie. We hear that Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been (we assume her wedding) and lives in a dream. We also hear that she kept her face in a jar by the door. What does that mean? What do we see, if anything? The jar, we might assume, was a container of face cream. But the door? Which door and where? It was likely not a front door but perhaps a back door, perhaps near to a kitchen. The jar could be imagined on a shelf in a cupboard near the back door. Then there is Eleanor’s marriage about which we hear nothing direct and her funeral, where she was buried along with her name and no one came. Father McKenzie officiated at the grave-side. We hear of him writing a sermon, which no one will hear and no one was saved. There is a mention of the clergyman darning his socks in the night. In a throw-away society no one darns socks today, except the very poor. In my mind’s eye I can see the wooden tool that my mother used to darn holes in socks; depending on the shape it was likely either called a darning mushroom, if it had a handle, or a darning egg, either way it was often made of wood. So where are we? It matters little whether I am looking at a fifteenth-century emblem or listening to the Beatles or the Winnipeg Guess Who I receive an image and words, and I try to understand what it might have meant to them. I know what it means to me.

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Chapter 10

Jesuit Emblems: In the Service of God, Man, or the Society of Jesus?

The title is intentionally provocative. The answer or answers will depend on at least two different things: the affiliations and knowledge of the person answering and the choice of Jesuit emblem books.1 A Jesuit may perhaps be expected to have a different answer from that of a Protestant, an agnostic, or atheist. The choice of emblematic books will also be fundamental, since it would appear that at least 1,600 emblematic books can be considered Jesuit, or at least of Jesuit inspiration. How many and which of these may be regarded as pastoral, political, or simply propagandistic? The Imago primi saeculi (1640) (Figures 10.1–2) is not the same as the Typus mundi (1627). Whereas “man” is understood here as mankind, no Catholic peasant is the same as a Catholic ruler; a cardinal or pope is not the same as a scarcely literate priest in the early modern period. Some readers will already know that for decades G. Richard Dimler S.J. and I have traveled North America and Europe in search of Jesuit emblematic books. To date some five folio volumes of our illustrated bibliographical work, The Jesuit Series, have been published.2 We may well ask ourselves why anyone would devote so much time and effort to Jesuit emblematic books. Someone once addressed a similar question to a mountain climber. The answer came: because it is there. I suppose that is one answer, but Father Dimler and I know that these emblematic books have been important to their communities and to many Catholics. Not that I would 1 This is not the place to review the many treatments of Jesuit emblems. Suffice it to say that the most recent general discussions are those of G. Richard Dimler S.J. See G. Richard Dimler S.J., The Jesuit Emblem: A Bibliography of Secondary Literature with Select Commentary and Descriptions. New York: AMS Press, 2005. AMS Studies in the Emblem No. 18 and his Studies in the Jesuit Emblem. New York: AMS Press, 2006, AMS Studies in the Emblem No. 19. 2 See Peter M. Daly and G. Richard Dimler S.J., The Jesuit Series, Parts One to Five, Corpus Librorum Emblematum. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, and Toronto: the University of Toronto Press, 1997–2007. The J. numbers, e.g., J.1402, are the numbers for the records of Jesuit books printed in the above bibliographies.

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Figure 10.1 The Imago primi saeculi, Antwerp 1640, engraved title page. Reproduced by permission of the Ruusbroecgenootschap Library in Antwerp

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Figure 10.2 The Imago primi saeculi, Antwerp 1640, 44. Reproduced by permission of the Ruusbroecgenootschap Library in Antwerp

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want to exaggerate the importance of these books. But we know that Ignatius Loyola attached great significance to visualization, and one of the very first Jesuit emblematic books was produced at his instigation.3 It would appear that Jesuits produced at least some 1,600 printings of emblematic books. That is a large number. Some printings were small and local, while others became European best-sellers.4 The monumental bibliography of De Backer and Sommervogel5 must contain tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of titles. Only a few appear to be emblematic.6 This standard Jesuit bibliography by De Backer and Sommervogel is frequently silent7 or inaccurate8 when it comes to recording emblematic illustrations. De Backer and Sommervogel often give no indication of illustrations, emblematic or otherwise, although we may know emblems are present. It is likely that many titles listed are unillustrated accounts of emblematically enriched events, such as dramas, entries or funerals. Furthermore, our research shows that the Jesuits published many more emblematic works than are recorded even in the bibliography of De Backer and Sommervogel.9 I refer to Jeronimo Nadal’s Adnotationes et meditationes in Evangelia, Antwerp, 1594 and later. A translation into English has been published by Saint Joseph’s University Press. 4 Jeremias Drexel comes to mind. His books are not emblem books proper, but they are illustrated with emblematic plates. The seventeenth-century Munich publisher Cornelius Leysser reports the number of copies of Drexel’s works printed in Munich up to 1639 as some 1,589,000. Three years later he reports in the foreword to the second edition of Drexel’s Noe that during the previous three years a further 12,000 copies of Drexel titles had been produced. And this report covers a 22-year period in only one, if major, publication center, Munich. 5 See De Backer, Augustine and Aloys. Bibliothèque de la compagnie de Jésus. Nouvelle edition par Carlos Sommervogel. 9 vols. Brussels: Oscar Schepens, 1890–1900; Paris: A. Picard, 1890–1932; Supplément par Ernest M. Rivière, S.J. Louvain: Editions de la Bibliothèque S.J., 1960. 6 Most of the references do not mention emblems. 7 Thus De Backer and Sommervogel make no mention of emblems or engravings when they describe the Antwerp College publication celebrating the installation of Reginald Cools as tenth bishop of Antwerp (I.457,114), but it has 10 plates. See Daly and Dimler, The Jesuit Series. Part One, J.8. Examples could be multiplied. 8 Thus De Backer and Sommervogel mention only engravings when they describe the Antwerp College publication celebrating the installation of Vanden Eede as eighth bishop of Antwerp (I.454, 78), but it has eight engraved emblems. See Daly and Dimler, The Jesuit Series. Part One, J.9. Again examples could be multiplied. 9 Of the 238 works described in Daly and Dimler, The Jesuit Series, Part 1 54 titles will not be found in De Backer and Sommervogel. A further 121 titles do not appear in Praz, and 93 do not appear in any of Landwehr’s various bibliographies. De Backer and Sommervogel do not indicate illustrations in many books that Father Dimler and I have found actually contain emblematic illustrations. This observation is intended as a caution. 3

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One needs to take a larger view and ask what percentage of published emblematic books were written by Jesuits. To answer that question one needs to know how many emblematic books were published in total. We have a bibliographic database with over 6,500 titles.10 Jesuits would seem to have published about a quarter of these. But Jesuits did not make up a quarter of all authors publishing emblematic books since 1531 when Andrea Alciato started it all. Recently there has been something of a boom in emblem studies. From 1990 to 1999 over 680 articles, essays, and books were published.11 Again, I would not want to exaggerate the role of the emblem in the Society of Jesus, but emblematic procedures did also play a role in the many of the colleges of the Society in earlier times. Currently, Father Dimler and I are working on a book that sets out to answer some of the questions that may well occur to readers. Just what do these emblematic books contain? What purposes did they serve? Who wrote them and where? Just how important were emblematic books, and how many emblems did they contain? It is generally known that individual books might contain as few as five but often scores even hundreds of emblems. Alciato’s emblems finally numbered 212, appearing in scores of editions, and Daniel Meisner’s Thesaurus Philo-Politicus of 1623–26, exists today in several editions with different titles. Meisner’s books contain 830 emblems. If we estimate conservatively that 6,000 titles each appeared in 500 copies, and each book had 20 emblems, then that suggests a total of 60 million printed emblems. And the number is probably over 100 million. We know that Plantin tended to print 1,000 copies of each emblem book, and that the first two editions of Francis Quarles’s emblems were printed in 4,000 or 5,000 copies, which is an unusually high number for the time. This, of course, says nothing about the material culture, which may have been more significant in terms of reception. Some printed Jesuit emblems were used in the decoration of both Catholic and non-Catholic churches. I happen to believe that more people attended church than probably read emblem books, and when they became bored during the service, they likely looked at the visual decoration of walls, ceilings, and pews. See Peter M. Daly, “The Union Catalogue of Emblem Books project and the Corpus Librorum Emblematum,” Emblematica 3 (1988): 121–33, where the database project was briefly described. In March of 2012, there were 6,514 entries. 11 I have compiled An Annotated Bibliography of Emblem Studies for the decade 1990–1999, which has 682 entries, over half of which are in English (368 = 54%). I may well have missed a handful. The bibliography will likely appear with AMS Press in New York. I am currently working on follow-up bibliographies for the two decades 2000–2009, and 2010–2019, which are unlikely to be much smaller, if at all. 10

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There is a fairly well established view that Jesuit emblematic books were largely propagandistic.12 Father Dimler and I do not share that view. But it must also be recognized that words can be used loosely. It seems to us that Jesuit emblematic books did not on the whole set out to convert non-Catholics, nor to provide Counter-Reformation propaganda, which is not to deny that many Jesuits did espouse both causes. In fact we know of only one Jesuit emblematic book that has a clearly anti-Lutheran perspective, and that is Kaspar Mändl’s Haimb=Garten Zweyer Herren von Augsburg Eines Catholischen / und Eines Lutherischen, [Augsburg], 1709 (Figure 10.3), which appeared in more than one edition. There were, of course, also many instances where a Jesuit emblematic book provided praise for the Society of Jesus. However, properly speaking, propaganda was not a major purpose of Jesuits publishing emblematic books. Emblematic publications of the Society of Jesus fall into two main categories: • Works belonging to the print culture, which includes books, single sheets, and printed records of dramatic performances, although the performance of plays could also be said to belong to the material culture. • Printed records of activities in the material culture, which will include all fête books recording entries, exequies, college exhibitions, celebrations at churches, schools, and universities. We should not forget the important use of emblematic programs in the decoration of buildings many of which have never been recorded in print. Einblattdrucke (printed single sheets) or Thesenblätter (thesis leaves) are a special case, more numerous than is often believed, and in the seventeenth century they were often embellished with emblematic materials.13 They played a significant role in Jesuit colleges and universities, partly because of the function of the disputation in Jesuit education. These single sheets often have the function See Mario Praz, Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1939; 2 edn London: Warburg Institute, 1964; offset reprint, 1975, 120 and 127. All quotations are from this edition. Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Part II. Addenda et Corrigenda (1974). 13 See S. Appuhn-Radtke, Das Thesenblatt im Hochbarock, Weißenhorn, 1988; Anette Michels, Philosophie und Herrscherlob als Bild. Anfänge und Entwicklung des süddeutschen Thesenblattes im Werk des Augsburger Kupferstechers Wolfgang Kilian (1581–1663), Münster, 1987 (= Kunstgeschichte: Form und Interesse, vol. 10); Ingrid Eiden, “Thesenblätter und Gratulationseinblattdrucke als Spiegel jesuitischen Lebens an der Universität und im Kolleg Ingolstadt.” In Die Jesuiten in Ingolstadt 1549–1773, Ausstellung des Stadtarchivs, der Wissenschaftlichen Stadtbibliothek und des Stadtmuseums Ingolstadt, ed. Beatrix Ettelt. Ingolstadt, 1992, 182–203. 12

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Figure 10.3 Kaspar Mändl, Haimb=Garten Zweyer Herren von Augsburg Eines Catholischen / und Eines Lutherischen, [Augsburg] 1709, emblem 10. Reproduced by permission of the Library of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich (8 Theol. 1294[1])

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of an advertisement, and like modern advertising, they often used symbolic graphics. They announced the solemn defense of a thesis as the culminating act of a university education. The graduating student would defend his thesis before his college or faculty. Until about 1800 the supervisor, known as Praeses or Promotor, was regarded as the author of the work to be defended, especially when that work was published. “Emblematic” properly means the combination of symbolic image with one or more texts of varying length, and implies nothing about the purpose served by the emblematic work. The first emblematic books, written by laymen, were largely moral and or encyclopaedic, only later were religious books written and published. The number of 1,600 books printed by Jesuits and their translators may be impressive, but it says nothing about the production of manuscripts and affixiones14 (posters) that often remained on display for days. These affixiones will have been seen by hundreds of persons. The large number of books printed for Jesuits also says nothing about the use of emblematic decoration in ecclesiastical buildings of Catholic and non-Catholic denominations. These may have been permanent, painted on walls and ceilings, or ephemeral as in castra doloris (castles of sorrow). Over the years thousands and perhaps tens of thousands of believers will have seen these ecclesiastical decorations on the walls, ceilings, pews, pulpits, and altars of churches. The products of the printing press may have been less significant in terms of reception than were manuscripts, affixiones, and ecclesiastical decorations. The purposes served by Jesuits in these emblems and emblematic books were manifold. Our bibliographic classifications (codes for purposes served)15 may appear sophisticated, but they still represent something of a simplification. Clearly, a given book may serve one or more than one purpose, and scholars may find purposes not intended by the author. Not all readers will agree with our attempt to provide an overriding purpose for the book in question. At times, we found it difficult to make a decision, and in these cases we often provide two or more classifications. To take but one example: Jan David wrote Paradisus sponsi et sponsae (Antwerp: Jan Moretus, 1607), which went through a number of editions and translations.16 Is this book primarily concerned with Christ or with the Virgin Mary, or with both, perhaps equally? Kreihing is another For a valuable and well-illustrated publication see Karel Porteman, Emblematic Exhibitions (affixiones) at the Brussels Jesuit College (1630–1685). Turnhout: Brepols, and Brussels: Royal Library, 1996. 15 These codes are usually printed in the introduction to our bibliographies between pages xxiv and xxviii. 16 See The Jesuit Series, J.146–J.151. 14

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example. Many of the individual emblems of his Emblemata ethico-politica (Antwerp, 1661)17 could be regarded as belonging to the mirror of the prince tradition, but many others deal with questions of personal and social morality. An overview of the Society of Jesus in Europe, however, would take little account of differences in individual provinces and assistencies. There is no reason to think that all individual priests, colleges, and provinces, espoused the same purposes, to the same extent, all the time. This is especially the case for purposes beyond the spiritual. Some works are largely theoretical, and may be regarded as also fulfilling the purpose of Jesuit education. The Studio ratiorum and Jesuit symbol theory tell much of the story. Writers such as Jakob Masen, Claude-François Menestrier and Michael Pexenfelder attempted to explain renaissance and baroque symbology, and they also collected many examples. Some books are laudatory, written in praise of secular leaders or the ecclesiastically powerful such as bishops, archbishops, and cardinals. Perhaps we should not be surprised that publications by named priests or students at Jesuit colleges far outnumber the publications of institutions and they often reflect the personal pastoral obligations of priests. After all, a priest deals on a daily basis with his parishioners. Many of the more “political” items, both ecclesiastical and secular, seem to have been published by institutions, or named priests who were often also in the service of a court, as confessor or preacher. It seems clear that the prime purpose served by Jesuits in their emblematic publications was religious or spiritual. Most such publications are concerned with the religious life of Catholics. They are thus spiritual and devotional in nature. The scope is very broad. It appears that named priests18 published over nine hundred such books, which is many more such works than were issued by provinces, colleges or other See the facsimile edition and introduction by G. Richard Dimler S.J. in the series Imago figurate. Turnhout: Brepols, 1999. 18 Taking I.F.3 (our code for devotional books) as an example, there are 455 items: J.30, J.31, J.32, J.42, J.134, J.135, J.136, J.137, J.138, J.139, J.140, J.141, J.142, J.143, J.144, J.145, J.145A, J.152, J.153, J.154, J.155, J.159A, J.282, J.283, J.284, J.285, J.286, J.287, J.288, J.289, J.290, J.291, J.292, J.293, J.294, J.295, J.296, J.297, J.298, J.299, J.300, J.301, J.302, J.303, J.304, J.305, J.306, J.307, J.308, J.308, J.309, J.310, J.311, J.312, J.313, J.314, J.315, J.316, J.317, J.318, J.319, J.320, J.321, J.322, J.323, J.324, J.325, J.326, J.327, J.328, J.329, J.330, J.331, J.332, J.333, J.334, J.335, J.336, J.337, J.338, J.339, J.340, J.341, J.342, J.343, J.344, J.345, J.346, J.347, J.348, J.349, J.350, J.351, J.352, J.353, J.354, J.355, J.356, J.357, J.358, J.359, J.360, J.361, J.362, J.363, J.364, J.365, J.366, J.367, J.368, J.369, J.370, J.371, J.372, J.373, J.373A, J.481, J.482, J.483, J.484, J.485, J.486, J.487, J.488, J.489, J.490, J.491, J.492, J.493, J.494, J.495, J.496, J.497, J.498, J.499, J.500, J.606A, J.610, J.611, J.621, J.624, J.625, J.626, J.627, J.628, J.629, J.630, J.631, J.632, J.633, 17

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Jesuit institutions, which do not seem to have exceeded 10 titles. In the case of such Jesuit best-sellers as Herman Hugo and Jeremias Drexel, many translations and vernacular versions were printed. These include uses made of Jesuit texts and / or illustrations by non-Jesuit Catholics and Protestants. Drexel’s oeuvre includes collected works in Latin and in German,19 which contain many of the emblematic books that were originally issued as single works. All clergy have an obligation to assist people at certain rites of passage. Hatch, match, and snatch are English colloquialisms for baptism, marriage, and death. Hamlet is neither the first nor the last figure to experience grief at the loss of a loved one. Death often brings grief when the dead person was loved and respected. At the risk of sounding both lugubrious and obvious the death of the body is final. Loss often entails grief, guilt, even self-loathing and despair in those left behind to grieve. How are the living to be comforted? Many a Jesuit writer has dealt with these issues. The medieval and early modern ars moriendi (the art of dying) attempted to provide guidance within a Christian context. The belief is that the body dies, while the soul lives on. Drexel confronted these issues in Latin and vernacular texts on death and hell. Jesuit books on death have an J.634, J.635, J.636, J.637, J.638, J.639, J.640, J.641, J.642, J.643, J.644, J.645, J.646, J.647, J.648, J.649, J.650, J.651, J.652, J.653, J.654, J.655, J.656, J.657, J.658, J.659, J.660, J.661, J.662, J.663, J.664, J.665, J.666, J.667, J.668, J.669, J.670, J.671, J.672, J.673, J.674, J.675, J.676, J.677, J.678, J.679, J.680, J.681, J.682, J.683, J.684, J.685, J.686, J.687, J.688, J.689, J.690, J.691, J.692, J.693, J.694, J.695, J.696, J.697, J.698, J.699, J.700, J.701, J.702, J.703, J.704, J.705, J.706, J.707, J.708, J.709, J.710, J.711, J.712, J.713, J.714, J.715, J.716, J.717, J.718, J.719, J.720, J.721, J.722, J.723, J.724, J.725, J.726, J.727, J.728, J.729, J.730, J.731, J.732, J.734, J.735, J.736, J.737, J.738, J.739, J.740, J.741, J.742, J.743, J.744, J.745, J.746, J.747, J.748, J.749, J.750, J.751, J.752, J.753, J.754, J.755, J.756, J.757, J.758, J.759, J.760, J.761, J.762, J.763, J.764, J.765, J.766, J.767, J.768, J.769, J.770, J.779A, J.779B, J.898, J.899, J.900, J.901, J.902, J.903, J.904, J.905, J.906, J.907, J.908, J.909, J.910, J.911, J.912, J.913, J.914, J.915, J.916, J.917, J.918, J.919, J.920, J.921, J.922, J.923, J.924, J.925, J.926, J.927, J.928, J.929, J.930, J.931, J.932, J.933, J.934, J.935, J.950, J.954, J.955, J.956, J.957, J.958, J.1053, J.1054, J.1055, J.1056, J.1057, J.1058, J.1059, J.1060, J.1061, J.1062, J.1063, J.1064, J.1065, J.1066, J.1067, J.1068, J.1069, J.1070, J.1097, J.1099, J.1120, J.1131, J.1132, J.1133, J.1136, J.1137, J.1138, J.1139, J.1140, J.1141, J.1142, J.1143, J.1144, J.1145, J.1146, J.1147, J.1148, J.1149, J.1150, J.1151, J.1152, J.1153, J.1154, J.1155, J.1156, J.1157, J.1158, J.1159, J.1160, J.1161, J.1162, J.1163, J.1164, J.1165, J.1166, J.1269, J.1289, J.1290, J.1291, J.1292, J.1293, J.1294, J.1295, J.1296, J.1297, J.1298, J.1299, J.1300, J.1301, J.1302, J.1303, J.1304, J.1305, J.1306, J.1307, J.1308, J.1309, J.1310, J.1311, J.1312, J.1313, J.1314, J.1315, J.1347, J.1348, J.1349, J.1350, J.1351, J.1352, J.1353, J.1354, J.1402, J.1403, J.1404, J.1405, J.1406, J.1407, J.1408, J.1409, J.1410, J.1411, J.1412, J.1413, J.1414, J.1415, J.1416, J.1417, J.1418, J.1419, J.1420, J.1421, J.1422, J.1423, J.1424, J.1425, J.1426, J.1427, J.1428, J.1429, J.1430, J.1431, J.1432, J.1433, J.1434, and J.1435. 19 There were at least 20 of them. See The Jesuit Series J.481–J.500.

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overriding spiritual purpose. Stanyhurst would devote his Regio mortis20 to death and his Veteris hominis21 to the four last things: death, judgment, heaven, and hell (Figure 10.4). It was published at least 32 times. A lot of people must have read it. The Veteris hominis was somewhat freely translated into Dutch by the Jesuit Adrian Poirters as Niewe afbeldinghe van de vier uytersten,22 which went through at least five printings. Men and women, especially in the early modern period, experienced death, pain, and suffering—there was no anaesthesia. They knew death; they could invest notions of death and hell with some of the pain they knew or had witnessed. Christian tradition tended to be vivid, indeed often lurid, in its depiction of hell. It is perhaps not coincidental that Jesuits devoted nearly as many emblematic books to the exequies of secular leaders as they published in general praise of secular leaders and their dynasties. But they devoted fewer emblematic books to the marriages of secular leaders. In Drexel’s case, we know, if we believe one Munich publisher of the seventeenth century, that perhaps 2 million copies of his works were printed. Hugo’s Pia desideria23 exists today in at least 142 editions, translations, and other vernacular versions.24 With the initials of the Society of Jesus behind their names, it would perhaps appear a little odd that relatively few named priests,25 and no institutions devoted emblematic books to Christ. But some emblematic books have important sections on Christ and the Virgin Mary. Here Maximilian van der Sandt (Sandeus) stands out. We should recall that Marian Sodalities were established in many towns where the Jesuits maintained colleges or universities. In Antwerp today little statues of the Virgin will often be seen on the façades of what are now private residences. Closely related to the celebration of living princes of the church, as in bishops books, is the praise bestowed by the Society of Jesus on Jesuit saints. The Munich Jesuit College26 published Heilige Frewden-Wochen (Munich: Johann See The Jesuit Series, J.1360–J.1363. See The Jesuit Series, J.1364–J.1396 for Latin and vernacular editions. 22 See The Jesuit Series, J.1190–J.1195. 23 For full discussion of Hugo and the emblem, and the English translation by Edmund Arwaker, see G. Richard Dimler S.J., Studies in the Jesuit Emblem. New York: AMS Press, 2007, 168–216. 24 See The Jesuit Series, J.628–J.770. 25 See The Jesuit Series, J.39A, J.43, J.1149, J.1150, and J.1151. 26 For a list of studies of publications by the Munich Jesuit College, see G. Richard Dimler S.J., The Jesuit Emblem: Bibliography of Secondary Literature with Select Commentary and Discussions. New York: AMS Press, 2005, 197–200. 20

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Figure 10.4 Wilhelm Stanyhurst, Veteris hominis, Cologne 1682, engraved frontispiece. Reproduced by permission of the Ruusbroecgenootschap Library in Antwerp Hermann von Gelder, 1671 [ J.1050]), which describes the festivities celebrating the canonization of Franciscus Borgia, third general of the Society of Jesus. As would perhaps be expected the saints that are usually celebrated by Jesuits emblematically tend to be Jesuit saints, especially Ignatius, Xavier, Borgia, Gonzaga, and Kostka.27 For books by named priests, see classification I.B.4. The following list contains 77 items, more records than are printed in our bibliographies. They are: J.21, J.28A, J.28B, J.45, J.84, J.86, J.88, J.103, J.104A–J.104F, J.116A, J.128A, J.157, J.158, J.539, J.546, J.618A, J.618B, J 775, J.777, J 778, J.779, J.829, J.945, J.953, J.967–J.969, J.972, J 992, J.997, J.1023, J.1032, J.1042, J.1044, J.1057, J.1110, J.1229, J.1284–J.1286, J.1332–J.1334, J.1408A, 27

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Figure 10.5 Paul Zetl, Philosophia sacra sive vita St. Kostka, Dillingen 1715, emblem 1. Reproduced by permission of the Ruusbroecgenootschap Library in Antwerp Generally, the lives of the saints are seldom emblematically illustrated in Jesuit books. Minor exceptions are the publications associated with the name Paul Zetl (1679–1740), and often published by the Dillingen Jesuit College. The Philosophia sacra sive vita St. Kostka (Dillingen: Johann Mauritz Körner, 1715 [ J.1510]) contains an engraved frontispiece portrait of St. Stanislaus Kostka and 40 engraved emblematic medallions with scenes from the life of the saint J.1408B, J.1437, J.1456–J.156, J.1485–J.1496, J.1498, J.1504–J.1506, J.1509, J.1523, J.1524, J.1525, J.1531, and J.1532. Books were also issued by Jesuit institutions. Classification II.B.4 contains 16 items: J.49, J.595A, J.808, J.829A, J.848, J.849, J.894, J.1041, J.1049, J.1050, J.1221, J.1227, J.1250, J.1258, J.1479, and J.1481.

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(Figure 10.5). This work was reissued in 1715 ( J.1511), in 1727 ( J.1512), in 1728 ( J.1513), and in 1731 ( J.1514). One of the few other emblematic books of saints is the Peripateticus nostri temporis, which appeared under the auspices of Ignaz Schwarz in two editions in Ingolstadt in 1724 (J.1325) and in 1728 as an “editio altera” (J.1326). The 18 fullpage engravings depict incidents from the lives of saints together with an emblem. The founding of a church is a major undertaking, both architecturally and also financially. It may come as something of a surprise that not more Jesuit emblematic books deal with such things. We know of two.28 They both deal with the laying of the foundation stone of the Church of St. Ignatius in Rome. But this was not the only Jesuit church to be built in Europe. We are not aware of any Jesuit emblematic publication dealing with Antwerp’s Jesuit church, the Carolus Borromeus church, which may be the most costly and most beautiful Jesuit church ever built. The Munich Jesuit College published in 1597 a festive volume to celebrate the consecration of St Michael’s church in Munich: Trophaea Bavarica Sancto Michaeli Archangelo. In Templo et Gymnasio Societatis Jesu Dicata Monachij. Jacob Gretser and Matthaeus Rader are regarded as the authors of the three trophies containing Latin poems, which introduce chronologically the Bavarian dukes as they appear on the façade of the church. The text also provides a unique commentary on the iconography of St. Michael’s church.29 The consecration of the church was also celebrated in a monumental and spectacular theatrical performance in the open air, which is also recorded in print as Triumphus Divi Michaelis Archangeli. The scenes span the history of good and evil from the fall of Lucifer to the then-immediate present of 1597. The drama was written by the Jesuits and students of the Munich Jesuit College were involved.30 The extent to which the Society of Jesus was involved in politics, whether secular or religious, has long been a bone of contention among historians. There are several issues here, remembering that we are primarily concerned with emblematic publications. To what extent were Jesuits seeking to influence senior members of the Catholic hierarchy? To what extent were they seeking to influence secular leaders? We must also recall that many Jesuit priests, and there were thousands of them, had a primarily pastoral function. Many Jesuits See The Jesuit Series, J.1251 and J.1252. See the facsimile, translation, and commentary by Günter Hess in the series Jesuitica, vol. 1. Weißenhorn: Anton H. Konrad, 1997. 30 See the edition with commentary by Barbara Bauer, which appeared as vol. 2 of the series Jesuitica. 28 29

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were also teachers in Jesuit colleges, seminaries, and universities; they may have had little direct political influence. The schoolboys who attended Jesuit colleges did not all become Jesuits. But many would become future Catholic priests and earlier at least one became pope (Gregory XV [1621–23]). Many stayed in the laity; some did become future secular leaders. Good teachers have always had some influence on their charges. Jonathon Write suggests that by 1630 there were already about 40,000 students attending Jesuit colleges in France.31 By the time of the suppression of the Jesuit order, hundreds of thousands of young males across Europe must have attended Jesuit colleges, seminaries, and universities. It should also never be forgotten that Jesuits were often confessors of princes of the state, sat on royal councils, and provided advice on matters that transcended faith. Perhaps I may begin with those emblematic booklets devoted to princes of the Church, that is, bishops, archbishops, cardinals, and popes. What strikes one as particularly interesting is the fact that only in this category, something that we call for short “bishops books,” did Jesuit institutions32 publish many more books than named priests.33 Why should that be? For whom were such books or booklets intended? It is fairly obvious when one reads these works that the incoming bishop or archbishop was being both flattered and reminded of his religious obligations. Often particular motifs in the bishop’s coat-of-arms were interpreted morally and / or spiritually. I suggest that there was an element of flattery, of an attempt to ingratiate the Society with an important incoming senior member of the Catholic hierarchy. Churches and schools cost money. They require various kinds of support. One of the vows of Jesuit priests was and is poverty. So the financial support of all Jesuit activities has to come directly from individuals other than Jesuit priests themselves. To build a new church costs money, which is something the Antwerp Jesuits knew well. Bishop’s books often derived from events that were emblematically devised and are recorded 31 See Jonathon Wright, God’s Soldiers: Adventure, Politics, Intrigue and Power. A History of the Jesuits. New York: Doubleday, 2004, 53. 32 The following list contains 82 works published by institutions, i.e., by colleges, sodalities and provinces. See The Jesuit Series, J.7, J.10–J.14A, J.23, J.82, J.83, J.90–J.94A, J.94B, J.94C, J.101, J.123, J.126, J.126A, J.129–32, J.541, J.543, J.585–J.589, J.589A, J.619, J.807, J.812, J.813, J.815, J.888, J.891–J.893, J.943, J.974–J.976, J.1099A, J.1099B, J.1102, J.1103, J.1105, J.1110A, J.1113–J.1116, J.1206, J.1213–J.1218, J.1224–J.1226, J.1235, J.1245, J.1254, J.1344, J.1440, J.1463, J.1479, J.1511, J.1513–J.1517, and J.1519. 33 We only know of some 16 bishops books published by named priests. See The Jesuit Series, J.39, J.102, J.163, J.604A, J.620, J.783, J.785, J.823, J.883, J.1040, J.1098, J.1237, J.1256A, J.1330, J.1331, and J.1452.

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in modest publications, often but not always illustrated. These were celebratory books and were more numerous and significant than has been recognized. They should be regarded as virtual fête books comparable, if smaller, to those recording royal entries. Bavarian Jesuits appear to have engaged to a lesser extent in such activities. However, one such book was printed in Augsburg for the Augsburg Jesuit College under the title Divi episcopi (Augsburg: Maria Magdalena Uzschneider, 1691 [ J.23]) (Figure 10.6). The book celebrates the installation of Alexander Sigismund as sixty-sixth bishop of Augsburg, and features an engraved frontispiece portrait of Alexander Sigismund, surrounded by miniature medallion portraits of previous bishops. Unlike the Flanders-Belgian bishops books, the seven engravings are not based on the bishop’s arms, but identify saints. The only other similar volume that I am aware of is entitled Plausus gratulatorius, published in Fribourg, Switzerland ( J.543), which marks the consecration of Peter, Duke and Bishop of Lausanne. Like the previous volume, this book celebrates six earlier bishops, this time of Lausanne, as illustrious predecessors. The emblems are without pictures and each one has a tree, named in the title. Andrea Alciato appears to have been an influence. Each of its 18 unillustrated emblems (24–37) names a plant; this is followed by a caption, stating the meaning of the plant, inscriptio, verse subscriptio, Bible quotation and reference. The emblems of trees together with their symbolic meanings include: arbor cydonius, hedera, nux, morus, amygdalus, plantanus, rosmaris, pomus, salix, persicus, prunus, ficus, pampinus, buxus, cerasus, rosetum, paurus, populus. Not all Jesuit provinces or colleges participated equally in the publication of books celebrating bishops, archbishops, cardinals, and popes. It would appear that the provinces of Austria, Flanders-Belgium, France, Gallo-Belgium, Greater Poland, Lesser Poland, Lithuania, the Lower Rhine, Masovia, Upper Germany, and the Upper Rhine were the most active. It would also appear that this form of book was particularly important to Jesuits in present-day Belgium and Germany. But the presence of successful printing houses and good engravers should not be underestimated. It is certainly no coincidence that Jesuit priests were active in this form of publication in Antwerp. The Antwerp Jesuit College and the domus professa in Antwerp marked the inauguration of new bishops in at least 1677, 1679, 1700, 1711, 1743, and 1746; the Bruges Jesuit College did the same in at least 1630 and 1716, and the Brussels Jesuit College in 1654. The vast majority of such books was written in Latin. On occasion, two or more colleges collaborated in the production of such a book. There were in

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Figure 10.6 The Augsburg Jesuit College, Divi episcopi, Augsburg 1691, engraved frontispiece portrait. Reproduced by permission of the Library of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich (W 2 H.eccl. 933[4])

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all likelihood also economic considerations behind that cooperation. In the province of Lesser Poland the Jesuit Colleges in Cracow, Lublin and Sondomierz collaborated in 1700, 1700, 1701, and 1711 in the production of such books.34 It is difficult to know to what extent self-interest prompted the Jesuit emblematic celebration of Catholic superiors. But it did happen, if infrequently.35 At times, and in certain places, the Society found itself at loggerheads with the religious and / or secular authorities. This was particularly the situation in Elizabethan England. Officially, Jesuits were prohibited from dealing with affairs of state. But as Bernat and Cull observe the correspondence between high ranking Jesuits often tells another story.36 We should never forget that the Society of Jesus was certainly not an association of monks withdrawn from what is today often amusingly called the real world. The Counter-Reformation served God, the pope, the prince, and the Catholic laity, not always in that order. There were different and at time competing priorities. The motto of the Society, of course, says it all: “Ad maiorem Dei gloriam” (To the greater glory of God). That glory could include the glorification of the secular prince, in the case of Bavaria this was the Wittelsbach dynasty, which had been patrons of the German Jesuits. The greater glory of God assumed different forms of service, not all of which were necessarily selfless. There is, nonetheless, the large category of meditational and devotional literature intended to enrich the spiritual lives of believers. At some point, it becomes necessary to consider the Counter-Reformation and the Jesuit role in it. “Counter-Reformation” has become something of an issue both politically and religiously. It was long assumed that the Jesuits played an important role in the Counter-Reformation, but this is now questioned as it apparently played no role in Ignatius’s own thinking. Indeed, his sights were set on Jerusalem rather than Wittenberg. However, it would be naive to think that no Jesuit published books that sought to prove Roman Catholicism See The Jesuit Series, J.129–J.132. For the very few such works that we have discovered, see J.2003, J.1283, and J.1510. These books celebrated a General of the Society of Jesus, the consecration of the abbess of a Benedictine convent, and a canon in Bamberg. Colleges as distinct from named priests celebrated a General of the Capuchin Order, the abbot of a Benedictine monastery, as well as abbots of St. Salvator in Eename and of St. Martin near Trier. See J.89, J.887, J.1071, J.1101, and J.1443. 36 See Antonio Bernat Vistarini and John T. Cull, “Reason of State and Heresy in the Works of Francisco Garau.” In Emblematic Images and Religious Texts: Studies in Honor of G. Richard Dimler S.J., ed. Pedro F. Campa and Peter M. Daly. Philadelphia, PA: Saint Joseph’s University Press, 2011, 231. 34

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right and Lutheranism or other forms of Protestantism wrong. The issue of Counter-Reformation and Catholic reform would have to be addressed in specific regions such as Bavaria. However, it seems indubitable that the Society of Jesus was centrally concerned with revitalizing the Catholic faith anywhere and everywhere, and with combating the influence of Protestantism in whatever form. There were, however, very few emblematic books written by Jesuits that can be said to be polemical, and Counter-Reformation in intent. One such, as has already been suggested, is by Kaspar Mändl (1655–1728) with the title Haimb-Garten zweyer Herren von Augspurg, which was first printed in Augsburg in 1700 ( J.947). With its 24 engravings the work is an unabashedly antiLutheran polemic, which takes the form of a debate between two “gentlemen of Augsburg,” a Catholic and Lutheran gentleman, depicted on the illustrated frontispiece, on matters of faith.37 At least three editions were printed in the first decade of the eighteenth century. Jesuits certainly wrote many emblematically illustrated works, over 260, in praise of secular rulers, their predecessors; birth, marriage, and death in the families of secular leaders; celebrating victories; marking royal entries, and providing advice. Writing in praise of rulers or their dynasties named priests38 contributed at least 67 titles, but institutions39 also provided some 33 items. The role of Jesuit educators and confessors, advisers, and diplomats at the various European courts probably needs no rehearsing here. It is no coincidence that Jesuit colleges were often located close to secular courts, the seats of power in European cities. The Society of Jesus celebrated the political rulers of Bavaria, for example, marked their births, marriages, and deaths, their achievements and victories, alliances and generosity with various publications, some of them emblematic. I will take the example of Munich and Upper Bavaria, although certain other cities and provinces would do equally well. A relatively early work praising a local dynasty is Georg Spaiser’s richly illustrated Plausus symbolicus (Ingolstadt: See The Jesuit Series, J.947–J.949. See The Jesuit Series, J.2, J.51, J.52, J.95, J.96, J.99, J.100, J.101B, J.117, J.159, J.539, J.542, J.544, J.608, J.608A, J.614, J.615, J.622, J.786, J.787, J.822, J.850–J.854, J.857, J.861, J.862, J.870, J.871, J.872, J.875, J.877–J.879, J.885, J.1009–J.1015, J.1018–J.1020, J.1037, J.1042, J.1043, J.1045, J.1107–J.1109, J.1111, J.1219, J.1228, J.1244, J.1248, J.1249, J.1281, J.1282, J.1357, J.1498, and J.1507. 39 See The Jesuit Series, J.1A, J.46, J.100A, J.159B, J.161, J.162, J.582–J.584, J.596, J.598A, J.600, J.602, J.809, J.810, J.836, J.886, J.890, J.895, J.896, J.940, J.1091, J.1099A, J.1117, J.1118, J.1134, J.1212, J.1212A, J.1441, and J.1469–J.1472,. 37

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Gregor Hänlin, 1623 [ J.1352]) (Figure 10.7), in which the Ingolstadt Jesuit College offers its congratulations to Maximilian upon his nomination as Electoral Prince. The work contains an engraved title page, one engraved heraldic plate, and 29 copperplate engravings with engraved text and letterpress inscriptio: 12, 15, 17, 19, 21, 24, 26, 29, 31, 33, 39, 41, 44, 47, 50, 53, 55, 58, 63, 65, 73, 75, 77, 80, 82, 85, 87, 89, 92, and 95. There are 10 Trophae, 10 Symbola, and 10 Praemia.40 Some Bavarian Jesuits were centrally positioned to influence policy, and it is no surprise to find them praising the Wittelsbach dynasty who had taken a lead in re-catholicizing Bavaria. Already in 1637 Andreas Brunner41 published his Excubiae tutelares serenissimi Principis Ferdinandi Mariae (Munich: Cornelius Leysser, [ J.95]) (Figure 10.8) which is illustrated with 60 impresa portraits of Bavarian dukes from Theodo to Maximilian. It appears that Brunner issued a German version under the title Ain und sechtzig Königen und Hertzogen auß Bayern Bildnussen (Munich: Johann Wagner, 1655 [ J.96]) with a German letterpress title page and the same engraved impresa portraits of 60 dukes deriving from the 1637 edition of the Excubiae. In spite of the reference in the title to “Ain und sechtzig” there are only 60 portraits. A dynastic birth could also be an occasion for emblematic praise. The Munich College celebrated the birth of Maximilian Emmanuel, the son of Ferdinand Maria and Henrietta Adelaid in the College’s Fama prognostica (Munich: Lukas Straub, 1662 [ J.1048]) (Figure 10.9). Andreas Brunner updated his elaborate praise of Bavarian rulers in his Theatrum virtutis et gloriae Boicae Max. Emmanuelis honori erectum (Munich: Johann Wagner, Johann Hermann van Geldern, 1680 [ J.100]). The first 60 plates of impresa portraits had appeared earlier in Excubiae tutelares (1637). The last engraving is of Ferdinand Maria. The preface acknowledges that this is an expanded edition of Brunner’s Excubiae tutelares, which had been dedicated to Maximilian’s father, Ferdinand Maria, who died in 1679 and whose biography is now added (676–715). One year later an unattributed German version of Brunner’s Theatrum virtutis et gloriae Boicae (1680) appeared under the title Schau=Plaz Bayerischer Helden (Nuremberg: Peter Paul Bleul, 1681 [ J.99]). It likewise contains 61

See also Die Jesuiten in Ingolstadt, 319, no. 322. For a list of studies of Brunner, see G. Richard Dimler S.J., The Jesuit Emblem: Bibliography of Secondary Literature with Select Commentary and Discussions. New York: AMS Press, 2005, 104–105. 40 41

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Figure 10.7 Georg Spaiser, Plausus symbolicus, Ingolstadt 1623, 26. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

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Figure 10.8 Andreas Brunner, Excubiae tutelares serenissimi Principis Ferdinandi Mariae, Munich 1637. Reproduced by permission of the Library of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich (8 Hist. 1511) engraved impresa portraits of Bavarian dukes. The plates are copies of portraits in Theatrum virtutis (1680). The book has a new German preface. Dynastic praise became a regular publishing activity of Bavarian Jesuits. In 1715 the Province itself published a richly illustrated work in praise of the elector Maximilian Emmanuel of Bavaria on the occasion of his return from exile in 1714 after the treaty of Baden. Fortitudo Leonina in utraqve fortuna Maximiliani Emmanuelis (Munich: Sebastian Hauser, 1715 [ J.582]) contains

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brief biographies of the rulers of the house of Bavaria from Theodo I (d. 511) to Maximilian Emmanuel (b. 1673). A half a century later Ignaz Weitenauer published his Hundert berge (Freiburg: Anton Wagner, 1765 [ J.1489]). This is a collection of 100 unillustrated emblems of mountains representing the deeds of the Habsburg rulers. A statement of theme is followed by the description of the picture and inscriptio. A German translation of the inscriptio is provided. The inscriptiones are given in 26 different languages. If emblematic publications are any indication, death was even more of an occasion to celebrate political rulers than birth or marriage. Funeral exequies provide an opportunity to offer solace and bestow political praise. Most funeral sermons were neither illustrated in print nor did they record the emblematic decorations in churches. Typical examples are the sermon Jacob Schmid (1635–84) preached for Ferdinand Maria, Chur Bayrische Löwenhaut … Lob= und Leich=Predig (Munich, 1679), and Albert Weinperger’s sermon for Maximilian II, also entitled Lob= und Leich=Predig (Munich, 1726). However, some were emblematically embellished. Andreas Brunner and the Munich Jesuit College published the Mausoleum virtutis et honoris piis manibus Guilielmi V (Munich: Nikolaus Heinrich, 1626 [ J.98]) (Figure 10.10). The work records the funerary monuments for Wilhelm V of Bavaria. The four pyramids were decorated with emblem motifs. The illustrations consist of 16 designs for the four sides of the four pyramids that bear textual descriptions and inscriptions, which illustrate the prose texts: 39, 44, 48, 51, 56, 63, 66, 69, 72, 77, 80, 84, 87, 92, 97, and 101.42 Some five years later, in 1630, Johann Wazin published Christliche Leichpredig mit acht Ehrenkränzen (Munich: Cornelius Leysser, 1630, [ J.1487]) (Figure 10.11) which records the obsequies for Maria Renata (1616–30), a niece of Kurfürst Maximilian. Maria Renata died on 1.3.1630. The work contains an engraved vignette on the title page, an engraving of the catafalque (E3r), and 8 copperplate engravings: 4, 8, 11, 14, 18, 21, 24, and 28. Ernst Bidermann43 published his Ehren=Gebäu oesterreichischer Helden=Tugenden (Innsbruck: Hieronymus Paur, 1663 [ J.37]), which records the funeral obsequies for Ferdinand Karl, Archduke of Austria. The work contains an engraved, double folio fold-out frontispiece, and 10 copperplate De Backer and Sommervogel also record a similarly entitled work Mausoleum virtutis et honoris piis manibus Guilielmi V. (Munich: Nikolaus Heinrich), but dated 1625. This could not be confirmed. 43 For a list of studies of Bidermann, see Dimler, The Jesuit Emblem, 95–6. 42

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Figure 10.9 The Munich Jesuit College, Fama prognostica, Munich 1662, 39. Reproduced by permission of the Library of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich (W 2 H.aux. 820[2])

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engravings, tipped in. Bidermann was the court preacher. Just two years later the same Ernst Bidermann published Ehren=Krone Unsterblicher Helden=Tugenten (Innsbruck: Hieronymus Paur, 1665 [ J.38]), recording the funeral exequies for Sigismund Franciscus, Archduke of Austria. The title page records the date of the sermon. There is a triple folio fold-out engraving of the catafalque preceding 1, and eight numbered engravings, tipped in, facing 4, 8, 12, 14, 16, 20, 28, and 30. Nicholas Staudacher published his Unsterblicher Tugend-Schatz (Augsburg: Johann Michael Labhart, 1709 [ J.1393]), containing a sermon, a “Lob=Rede” that records the three-day funeral of Elizabeth Amalia Magdalena, widowed Pfalz-Gräfin of Maximilian. Nicolaus Staudacher was her confessor. The prose texts following the emblems praise Elizabeth Amalia and are filled with references to the Church fathers and the Bible. Whereas the text of the sermon is in German, the emblem texts are in Latin. There is an engraved fold-out frontispiece, 25 numbered copperplate engravings with engraved text, and emblems interspersed with allegorical plates. The title page indicates that the emblems were composed at Neuburg on the Danube. Nicholas Staudacher’s Verg’sellschafftung deß Löwen mit dem Lamb (Heidelberg: Johann Mayer 1716 [ J.1394]) is a funeral panegyric, a “Lob= und Trost=Rede” and “Ehren=Gerüst” for Johann Wilhelm on the occasion of his burial in the church of the Jesuits at Innsbruck on August 27, 28, and 29 of 1716. The book contains an engraved vignette; an engraved full sheet foldout with eight folds of the catafalque. In different copies these are either bound in as a frontispiece, or appear at the end of the German text. There is also a second title page or half title, an engraved frontispiece, and 16 numbered copperplate engravings. Nicolas Staudacher was confessor to Johann Wilhelm. The 16 engravings with Latin texts follow the German prose text. They are introduced by a title page Palatinae virtutis imago morti erepta, mundo reddita et symbolis inclusa … M.D.CC.XVI. Since the title to Palatinae virtutis imago lacks a publisher address it can be regarded as a half title, indicating that the plates belong integrally to the work entitled Verg’sellschafftung deß Löwen mit dem Lamb. The emblems set out the virtues of the prince with motifs of the lamb and lion from Isaiah I, mentioned on German title page “Lob / Nachfolg und Wunder=würdige Ver’gesellschafftung Deß Löwen mit dem Lamb.”44 There is a slight bibliographic problem relating to these two works. Palatinae virtutis imago … and its plates are sometimes catalogued separately, suggesting that the Imago is either an incomplete copy of the Verg’sellschafftung, or a separate issue with the 16 plates, since all four FRG MSB copies lack letterpress text, final colophon, privilege, permission, preface, and indication of printer. FRG MSB has two copies of the Verg’sellschafftung, both of which include the Palatinae virtutis imago and its plates, bound in at the end, as well as 44

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Figure 10.10 Andreas Brunner and the Munich Jesuit College, Mausoleum virtutis et honoris piis manibus Guilielmi V, Munich 1626, 48. Reproduced by permission of the Library of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich (4 WA 825) Mattheas Pecher published his funeral sermon on the death of Leopold in his Imago Caesaris ([Innsbruck]: Wagner, 1705, [J.1119]). The 17 full-page engraved two copies of the Palatinae virtutis imago alone. FRG MUB possesses a copy of the German text alone, lacking the plates. De Backer and Sommervogel provide two separate entries. The entry under Staudacher’s Ver’gsellschafftung (VII.511–2) states “Suit: Palatinae …” and also “Ce titre imprimé est suivi d’un autre gravé [an error since it is letterpress] et de seize emblémes …” (VII. 512). De Backer and Sommervogel also record this title under Innsbruck Jesuit College. Praz does not mention emblems.

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Figure 10.11 Johann Wazin, Christliche Leichpredig mit acht Ehrenkränzen, Munich 1630, 24, with the seventh wreath. Reproduced by permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

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emblems are preceded by a half title Aquilae virtutum Leopoldinarum symbolicae imagines.45 In addition to these celebrations many a Jesuit emblematic book was dedicated to the secular ruler. Thus Georg Stengel introduces his Ova paschalia of 1634 ( J.1398), 1635 ( J.1399) (see Figure 10.12), 1672 ( J.1400), and 1678 ( J.1401) with an engraved egg-shaped portrait of Ferdinand III. Finally, Bavarian printers and publishers also issued editions of Jesuits who were not members of the Upper German Province. Praz’s unfortunate application of the term “propaganda” to characterize Jesuit publications is clearly unjust to the vast majority of publications, which were spiritual rather than polemical or political. The reception of Drexel, especially in the various European vernacular languages, is as yet an untold story.46 However, pieces of the mosaic have been prepared. Paul Begheyn S.J. has reviewed the publishing history of Drexel in the Low Countries. Alan R. Young has reported on the reception of Drexel’s Zodiacus christianus in England,47 and other Drexel translations into English.48 Drexel remained popular in the original Latin in some Protestant areas. An example is The Bishop’s Library of St Mary the Virgin in Glasgow. Dr. John Jebb, Bishop of Limerick of the Established Church of Ireland, possessed 36 volumes of Drexel, almost his complete works. Colleges and provinces also published books in praise of secular leaders. The Province of Bohemia published in 1723 its Fons inexhaustus immortalis gloriae … Carolus Sextus ( J.46) commemorating the coronation of Charles VI in a series of emblems accompanied by prose commentaries. Colleges in Austria, Belgium, Germany, Lithuania, and Poland are also well represented. Vilnius celebrated Sigismund III in at least two books. Vilnius also praised Some bibliographies, including those of Praz and Landwehr, list the work under this half title, as do such libraries as FRG BSB and UKi GU. 46 See the recent publication by Nicholas J. Crowe, Jeremias Drexel’s ‘Christian Zodiac’: A Seventeenth-Century Publishing Sensation … Ashgate, 2013. This is a translation into English and a critical edition (the first of any Drexel work) of the Zodiacus Christianus of 1622. Particularly important are the Introduction and Bibliography. 47 See Alan R. Young, “Protestant Meditation and Two 1647 English Translations of Jeremias Drexel’s Zodiacus christianus.” In Emblematic Perceptions: Essays in Honor of William S. Heckscher, ed. Peter M. Daly and Daniel S. Russell. Baden-Baden: Valentin Koerner, 1997, 251–68. 48 See Alan R. Young, “English Translations of the Works of Jeremias Drexel, 1632–1700.” In Emblematic Images and Religious Texts: Studies in Honor of G. Richard Dimler, S.J., ed. Pedro F. Campa and Peter M. Daly. Philadelphia, PA: Saint Joseph’s University Press, 2011, 183–201. 45

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Figure 10.12 Georg Stengel, Ova paschalia, Munich 1635, 424. Reproduced by permission of the Ruusbroecgenootschap Library in Antwerp the virtues of the military leader Theodor Tiskiewicz in its Monumentum virtuti … of 1618 ( J.1474).

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Oddly, birth49 and baptism50 seem to have found little expression in Jesuit emblematic books. On the other hand, marriage attracted more attention, apparently equally by named priests51 and institutions.52 Death seems to have attracted much more attention. Temporary catafalques and castra doloris were erected in churches all over Europe to mark the death of the powerful. They were often, but not always, made more permanent through printed and often illustrated accounts, sometimes known as fête books. Books of exequies and books, many lavishly illustrated, describing those ephemeral castra doloris abound. Here one may find the combination of comfort for the survivors and celebration of the virtues of the deceased. Again, it is difficult to know to what extent self-interest of the named Jesuit or of the Society of Jesus played a role. Jesuits were often confessors to secular leaders, or they were court preachers. The iconography in these books of exequies frequently fuses the heraldic with the spiritual. Named priests53 published over 50 such books. Jesuit institutions54 published at least 32. These books of exequies celebrate dukes, princes, kings and queens, emperors and empresses, but also occasionally patricians, soldiers, and ministers of state. In each case it was a person deemed important by the author of the book. In one case we know that the person founded a Jesuit college. It is, therefore, hardly surprising that the Madrid Jesuit College would mark the funeral of its founder, Empress Maria of Austria, widow of Maximilian I and mother-in-law of Philip II of Spain. The Libro de las honras55 is richly illustrated and has been Father Dimler and I know of only six books published by named priests. See The Jesuit Series, J.40, J.126C, J.126D, J.612, J.1021, and J.1029. There seem to have been only two by institutions. See J.1224A and J.1048. 50 No named priest seems to have published such a book, and we only know of one college that celebrated a baptism. See J.122. 51 See The Jesuit Series, J.3, J.41, J.579, J.830, J.884, J.985, J.993, J.994, J.996, J.998, J.1008, J.1022, J.1276, and J.1287. 52 See The Jesuit Series, J.24E, J.501–J.503, J.597, J.599, J.952, J.1112, J.1233. J.1438, J.1458, J.1464, and J.1465. 53 See The Jesuit Series, J.4A, J.20, J.22A, J.33, J.34, J.36–J.38, J.92A, J.92B, J.97, J.98, J.104, J.114, J.118, J.548, J.578, J.580, J.581, J.590–J.593, J.771–J.774, J.824, J.832, J.869, J.989–J.991, J.1004, J.1016, J.1017, J.1082, J.1100, J.1119, J.1230, J.1232, J.1234, J.1256, J.1338, J.1345, J.1356, J.1358, J.1399, J.1400, J.1497, and J.1507. 54 See The Jesuit Series, J.1, J.101B, J.119, J.130A, J.598, J.601, J.776, J.782, J.814, J.889, J.936, J.944, J.1041A, J.1047, J.1081, J.1135, J.1212A, J.1220, J.1253, J.1444, J.1457, J.1462, J.1466, J.1467, J.1471, J.1472, J.1476–J.1478, J.1482, J.1483, and J.1484. 55 An edition of this rare but splendid work was issued by Saint Joseph’s University Press in Philadelphia. 49

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discussed recently by Pedro F. Campa.56 The fact that the funerals of the powerful were frequently marked with catafalques and castra doloris, often decorated with emblems, biblical and heraldic motifs, is also suggested by those books that deal more generally with death and emblems. The Jesuit Menestrier published three times his Des décorations funèbres.57 These books of exequies often contain the text of the funeral sermon. There were also many unillustrated and unemblematic funeral sermons preached by Jesuits to celebrate the funeral of a dead leader. As was suggested above, such a piece was printed for Jacob Schmid and is entitled Chur Bayrische Löwenhaut / bald trucken / bald naß. Vorgestellet In der Lob: und Leich=Predig Deß Weyland Durchleuchtigisten / und Großmächtigisten / Fürsten und Herrn / Herrn Ferdinand Maria / … Leichbegängnuß / den 12. Junij. The year was 1679. Printed in Munich and in German, it runs to 44 pages. It is an unillustrated funeral sermon for Ferdinand Maria, Prince Elector (1636–1679). More non-Jesuit than Jesuit mirrors of the prince were published, but many Jesuit emblematic books with philosophical or moral content contain advice for the secular leader. Johannes Kreihing’s Emblematica ethico-politica (1661) is a case in point, containing as it does both advice for leaders as well as dealing with questions of personal and social morality. The title page dedicates the work to Leopold Wilhelm, Archduke of Austria. It is interesting that no Jesuit institution seems to have published such a Fürstenspiegel, but then advice was frequently rendered by an individual Jesuit at court. Kircher and Mendo seem to have been the exception.58 There were very few emblematic books written by Jesuits that celebrate military victories.59 On the other hand, there were more books devoted to triumphal entries written both by individual Jesuits60 and institutions.61 In every case, the triumphal entry of the secular leader was important to the individual writer, his college or province. There were many emblematic books published by Jesuits on philosophical topics, but “philosophical” is something of a grab bag, containing as it does, See Pedro F. Campa, “Eschatology, Soteriology and Trickery of Death in Spanish Funeral Emblems.” In Emblems of Death in the Early Modern Period, ed. Monica Calabritto and Peter M. Daly. Geneva: Droz, 2014, forthcoming. 57 See J.989–J.991. 58 See The Jesuit Series, J.820, J.821, J.833, and J.977–J.983. 59 See The Jesuit Series, J.40A, J.504, and J.547; Jesuit institutions are represented by: J.159A, J.1439, and J.1460. 60 See J.35, J.835, J.858–J.860, J.999, J.1259, and J.1277. 61 See J.4, J.897, J.1204, J.1216, J.1469, and J.1475. 56

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emblematic books whose contents may range from such topics as the siege of Vienna to the moral life of students and morality in general.62 Jesuit writers devoted much space to discussions of morality. After all, they were concerned about the spiritual life of their charges and congregations, and at this time ethics and religion were hardly distinguished. The numbers of books, deriving from The Jesuit Series, are not necessarily accurate since, for instance, Drexel’s Orbis Phaëton, which we regard as primarily concerned with ethical questions, is also included in his collected works in Latin and German editions ( J.481–J.500). This would make the number of ethical or moral works at least 85. But this category is also something of a grab bag since moral or ethical can and must include personal, political, and social morality. As I have noted, Kreihing’s Emblemata (Antwerp 1661) contains many moral or ethical emblems concerned with personal and social morality.63 No institution seems to have devoted books to this topic. Jesuit writers contributed to the ongoing discussion in the early modern period of emblem and symbol. We know of at least 105 emblematic books by Jesuits on this subject alone.64 Several individual Jesuits such as Pierre le Moyne, Claude-François Menestrier, Sylvester Pietrasanta, and Michael Pexenfelder produced collections of emblems.65 Certain French Jesuits such as Gaspar Joseph Charonier, Pierre Labé, and Claude-François Menestrier printed collections devoted to specific persons.66 Such activities can often be related to the Jesuit discussion of the theory of emblem and symbol. Jesuits produced some emblematic books on educational matters, but they appear to have been few in number—I know of 10 only, five by named Jesuits—in spite of the great emphasis placed by the Society on education. Only one work, Adolescens academicus67 by Charles Musart (1582–1653), deals directly with the 62 See The Jesuit Series, J.36C, J.36D, J.36E, J.133, J.603, J.606, J.607, J.616, J.617, J.618, J.623, J.784, J.970, J.1128, J.1247, J.1338A–J.1342, J.1397, and J.1445–J.1502. 63 See The Jesuit Series, J.105, J.275–J.277, J.278–J.281, J.404–J.420, J.549–J.564, J.566–J.577, J.833, J.882, J.1080, J.1092, J.1093–J.1096, J.1127, J.1288, and J.1445–J.1450. 64 105 books are by named priests, see J.25–J.29, J.53, J.54, J.56–J.80, J.106–J.113, J.120, J.788–J.806, J.819, J.825–J.828, J.838–J.841, J.863–J.868, J.873, J.959–J.966, J.984, J.986, J.987, J.989, J.1025–J.1028, J.1036, J.1072, J.1076–J.1079, J.1209–J.1211, and J.1270–J.1273. One was published by a Jesuit institution: see J.939. 65 See classification I.A.1. (our code for collections of emblems), of which some 16 examples exist of emblem collections in general. See J.50, J.873, J.874, J.1000, J.1035–J.1039, and J.1121–J.1126. 66 See J.115, J.842, J.1002, J.1006, J.1007, and J.1034. 67 See J.1051 and J.1052.

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education of youth. Included under education are dissertations and the defenses of doctoral candidates, and the occasional celebration of graduands. In our classification system these are listed as I.G.13 for named priests68 and II.G.13 for colleges or institutions.69 There are also some surprises. It may at first glance seem odd that Drexel’s book on the heliotrope, first published in 1627, should have been often reprinted in English translation in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century.70 The New York 1912 edition was re-isssued at least six times. The dates are perhaps significant: 1917–24, the end of the First World War and the years immediately thereafter. The heliotrope or sunflower follows the sun and it becomes for Drexel and his translators a nature image for the conformity of the human and divine will. Many soldiers died during that war, leaving behind mourning wives, mothers and fathers, family members, and friends. Death always raises questions in the minds of the survivors, who always need comfort and solace, something that the priest can be expected to provide, even if he may not have all the answers all the time. Then there are the many English versions of Johannes Evangelist Gossner’s Das Herz des Menschen, ein Tempel Gottes oder eine Werkstätte des Satans with its 10 baroque Jesuit illustrations, which were retained, both in the original German and the English translation The Heart of Man. The images often include various creatures in the open heart, itself surmounted by a head. Gossner himself was not a Jesuit, but that did not prevent him from taking over Jesuit illustrations.71 Gossner first published his Das Herz des Menschen in 1812, as a Catholic priest in Munich. But its sources and models are much older. In his preface “An die Leser” Gossner gives as his source the French translation of the Geistlicher Sittenspiegel that was printed in Würzburg in 1732. However, the information is not quite accurate. It was Geistlicher Seelen-Spiegel not Geistlicher Sittenspiegel, and it was published in 1733 with its 12 Sinnreichen Figuren as the title informs us. The Geistlicher Seelen-Spiegel itself was based on a popular series of 12 illustrations, probably dating from the 1680s, or on the equally See The Jesuit Series, J.24H (unconfirmed, based on De Backer and Sommervogel), J.1051, J.1052, J.1337, and J.1454. 69 See J.1046, J.1090, J.1223, J.1461, and J.1513. 70 See J.335–J.349. 71 Father Dimler and I are deeply indebted to Sabine Mödersheim, who shared with us her preliminary research into Gossner, his sources, and models. Professor Mödersheim is well known for her work on heart emblems, among other things, and so it was a natural development for her to choose to study Gossner, and the subsequent missionizing use that is being made of The Heart of Man in various vernacular versions. 68

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popular book in France about 1730 with the title Miroir de l’Ame or Miroir de Pecheur with engravings by P. Gallays. Gossner’s book contains 10 illustrations, whereas the Geistlicher Seelen-Spiegel contains 12. Gossner left out the last image showing the pious soul in paradise, as well as plate 5 with Christ sitting in the middle of the heart. Gossner’s source situates the book in a Catholic, even Jesuit tradition. In 1812 when Gossner first published Das Herz des Menschen he was still a priest in Munich although he had fallen out with the church authorities and notably with the Jesuits. It is somewhat ironic that Gossner’s Das Herz des Menschen should have become such a successful tool of Protestant evangelization. To this day, it is being reprinted in English for missionary work, and in translation into local languages and dialects, based as it is on baroque images invented by a Jesuit. The story is complicated. While the Geistlicher Seelen-Spiegel may have been based on a series of emblematic French engravings, the Miroir de l’Ame was not the first printing of the illustrations, which date back to the 1680s and were first published anonymously in Les Images Morales et leur Explication (Paris 1675). This book saw several editions and adaptations. It was known to have been used in the Jesuit mission in Brittany since the late seventeenth century. While eighteenth- and nineteenth-century editions are attributed to Michel Le Nobletz and Julien Manoir, the inventor was the Jesuit Vincent Huby.72 Huby (1608–1693) was an important figure in the Jesuit mission to reevangelize Brittany. He tried unsuccessfully to open a Jesuit college. In 1633 he succeeded in opening a house of retreat. So which were Huby’s sources? There were various images of the open heart, and of the closed heart that were treated in various ways: the Wiericx cycle was used by Luzvic and many others. Huby was the successor to the Dominican Michel Le Nobletz (1577–1652), who had studied at the Jesuit colleges of Bordeaux and Agen, and at the Sorbonne under Cotton, the Jesuit confessor of Henri IV. He developed an emblematic teaching method using painted charts with symbolic images.73 He preached in Brittany using in public these symbolical painted charts. Le Nobletz’s disciple was the Jesuit Julien Manoir (1603–1683) who was also a popular preacher and also used the charts. Huby’s series was reprinted and adapted well into the twentieth century, showing again the popularity of heart emblems in spiritual education and in missionizing.

72 Both Henri Hoysten and Anne Sauvy identify Huby as the inventor of the emblems and their prose explanations. 73 See Saward, Perfect Fools, 158.

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Certain French scholars74 believe that Huby’s book and its images were used in the Protestant India mission, but it is much more likely to have been an English version of Gossner. The Nachleben of a book like Gossner’s can be fascinating. Many editions of the German text were reissued in Germany into the twentieth century. Translations exist in many central and eastern European languages. Versions of the English text, The Heart of Man, were often reprinted and translated into various African languages for missionizing purposes.75 Sabine Mödersheim and Wim Van Dongen estimate that the number of copies is easily in the millions. So did Jesuit emblems primarily serve God, the Prince, mankind or the Society of Jesus? How many and which were primarily pastoral, which political, and which propagandistic? It depends in part whether one takes a statistical approach. But what should one count? Should one count titles, pages, illustrations, some or all of these? We believe that Jesuits published well over a thousand emblematic books. Who read them, and how many people read how many of them? It is likely that such questions can never be answered. Most named priests seem to have published more books of meditation than anything else. Meditational works are spiritual and in this case intended to strengthen the religious lives of Catholic Christians. Such books can also be viewed as serving the Christian God. These books may also be regarded as pastoral. There is no denying the fact that some emblematic books by Jesuits bestowed praise on the Society of Jesus. But that in itself does not make them propagandistic. Pace Praz. A small number of books do praise secular and ecclesiastic leaders. This small number is, then, primarily political in some sense. For me at least most Jesuit emblematic books serve God and mankind (in the sense of strengthening the religious lives of believers). Only to a lesser extent can some of these publications be regarded as political.

See Henri Hostyen, Le P. Huby aux Indes, ou, le miroir de l’âme chez les Protestants. Enghein: Bibliothèques des exercises, 1911. 75 At the eighth international conference of the Society for Emblem Studies, held in Winchester College, England in 2008, Sabine Mödersheim and Wim van Dongen presented a paper entitled “Pure and Impure Hearts: Johannes Gossner’s The Heart of Man in Africa.” 74

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Select Bibliography

This select bibliography contains works cited, consulted or referred to only in the text, but not necessarily in the notes. Adams, Alison, Stephen Rawles, and Alison Saunders. A Bibliography of French Emblem Books of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Volume 1: A–K. Geneva: Droz, 1999, and Volume 2: L–Z. Geneva: Droz, 2002. Alciato, Andrea. Emblematum liber. Augsburg: Steyner, 1531. Reproduced in the 1997 Olms facsimile reprint. Alciato, Andrea. Emblematum Libellus. Paris: Wechel, 1542. German translation by Hunger. Reproduced in the Darmstadt Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft facsimile reprint 1967. Alciato, Andrea. Emblemata. Lyons: Bonhomme, 1549. Spanish translation by Daza. Reproduced in the Moffitt edition A Book of Emblems: The Emblematum Liber in Latin and English. Jefferson, NC, and London: McFarland, 2004. Alciato, Andrea. Emblemata. Lyons: Bonhomme, 1551. Reproduced in the Kliencksieck facsimile edition of 1997. Alciato, Andrea. Emblematum liber. Frankfurt am Main: Feyerabend, 1567. German translation by Held. Reproduced in the Brepols facsimile edition of 2007. Alciato, Andrea. Emblemata. Cum commentariis Claudii Minos … Padua: Petrus Paulus Tozzi, 1621. Facsimile reprint as Volume 25 in the series The Renaissance and the Gods, ed. Stephen Orgel. New York and London: Garland, 1976. See also the facsimile reprint in Andreas Alciatus. 1 The Latin Emblems, ed. Peter M. Daly with Virginia W. Callahan, assisted by Simon Cuttler. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1985. See also Held, Jeremias. In Peter M. Daly, Jeremias Held, Liber Emblematum (Frankfurt-am-Main 1566). Imago Figurata editions, vol. 4. Turnhout: Brepols, 2007. Bateman, Stephen. A Christall Glasse of Christian Reformation. London: Day, 1569. Bath, Michael. Speaking Pictures: English Emblem Books and Renaissance Culture. London and New York: Longman, 1994. Bath, Michael. Renaissance Decorative Painting in Scotland. Edinburgh: National Museums of Scotland, 2003.

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Bernat Vistarini, Antonio and John T. Cull. Enciclopedia de Emblemas Españoles Illustrados. Madrid: Akal, 1999. Boehm, Gottfried. Was ist ein Bild. Munich: Fink, 1994. Boehm, Gottfried. Wie Bilder Sinn erzeugen. Die Macht des Zeigens. Berlin: Berlin University Press, 2007. In addition to Gottfried Boehm’s own publications, mention should also be made of the books published by the Eikones project in Basel, the journal Bildkritik, and at least the following websites: http.//www.iconicturn.de and http.//www. eikones.ch Bolzoni, Lina. The Gallery of Memory: Literary and Iconographic Models in the Age of the Printing Press. Translated by Jeremy Parzen. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001. Camerarius, Joachim. Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Re Herbaria … Nuremberg 1590. Camerarius, Joachim. Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Re Animalibus quadrupedibus … Nuremberg 1595. Camerarius, Joachim. Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Votalibus et Insectis … Nuremberg 1596. Camerarius, Joachim. Symbolorum et Emblematum ex Aqualitus et Reptilibus … Nuremberg 1604. Campa, Pedro F. Emblematica Hispanica: An Annotated Bibliography of Spanish Emblem Literature to the Year 1700. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1990. Campa, Pedro F. “Sir James Astry, The Royal Politician. Saavedra Fajardo’s Empresas in English.” In The English Emblem in the Early Modern Period, ed. Peter M. Daly. New York: AMS Press, forthcoming. Carruthers, Mary. The Book of Memory: A Study of Memory in Medieval Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Carruthers, Mary and Jan Ziolkowski (eds.). The Medieval Craft of Memory: An Anthology of Texts and Pictures. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004. Clements, Robert J. Picta Poesis: Literary and Humanistic Theory in Renaissance Emblem Books. Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1960. Combe, Thomas. See also Silcox, Mary V. Comenius, Johann Amos, Orbis sensualium pictus. Nuremberg: Enter, 1658. Covarrubias Horozco (or Orozco), Sebastián de. Emblemas morales. Madrid: Luis Sanchez, 1610. Facsimile reprint: Scolar Press, 1973. Daly, Peter M. Emblem Theory: Recent German Contributions to the Characterization of the Emblem Genre. Nendeln: KTO, 1979.

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Daly, Peter M. “Alciato’s Emblem ‘Concordiae symbolum’: A Medusa’s Mirror for Rulers?” German Life and Letters 411 (1988): 349–62. Daly, Peter M. “The Union Catalogue of Emblem Books Project and the Corpus Librorum Emblematum,” Emblematica 3 (1988): 121–33. Daly, Peter M. The Modern Critical Reception of the English Emblem. Munich, London, New York, and Paris: Saur, 1991. Daly, Peter M. “The Intertextuality of Word and Image in Wolfgang Hunger’s German Translation of Alciato’s Emblematum liber.” In Intertextuality: German Literature and the Visual Arts, ed. Ingeborg Hoesterey and Ulrich Weisstein. Columbia, SC: Camden House, 1993, 30–46. Daly, Peter M. Literature in the Light of the Emblem: Structural Parallels between the Emblem and Literature in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries [1979]. 2nd revised and expanded edn Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998. Daly, Peter M. “The European Impresa: From Fifteenth-Century Aristocratic Device to Twenty-First-Century Logo.” Emblematica 13 (2003): 303–32. Daly, Peter M. “The Sheldon ‘Four Seasons’ Tapestries at Hatfield House: A Seventeenth-Century Instance of Significant Emblematic Decoration in the English Decorative Arts.” Emblematica 14 (2005): 251–96. Daly, Peter M. “The Emblem and Emblematic Forms in Early Modern Germany.” In Early Modern German Literature 1350–1700, vol. 4 of the Camden House History of German Literature, ed. Max Reinhart. Columbia, SC: Camden House, 2007, 509–45. Daly, Peter M. Jeremias Held, Liber Emblematum [Frankfurt-am-Main 1566]. Imago Figurata editions, vol. 4. Turnhout: Brepols, 2007. Daly, Peter M. (ed.). Companion to Emblem Studies. New York: AMS Press, 2008. Daly, Peter M. “Digitizing the European Emblem: An Update.” In Con parola brieva e con figura. Imprese e emblemi fra antico e moderno, ed. Lina Bolzoni. Pisa: Scuola Normale Superiore, 2008, 501–17. Daly, Peter M. “Estudios de Emblemática: logros y retos.” Relaciones. Estudios de Historia y Sociedad 30 (Summer, 2009): 21–79. Daly, Peter M. “Emblem Studies: Achievements and Challenges.” In The International Emblem: From Incunabula to the Internet. Selected Proceedings of the Eighth International Conference of the Society for Emblem Studies, 28th July–1st August, 2008, Winchester College, ed. Simon McKeown. Newcastleupon-Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010, 523–31. Daly, Peter M. “‘The Eagles They Fly High in Mobile.’ Was Embleme über Adler wissen.” Zeitschrift für Ideengeschichte 4/1 (2010): 75–90.

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Daly, Peter M. “Emblems through the Magnifying Glass or Telescope.” Emblematica 18 (2010): 315–37. Daly, Peter M. “Emblems and Research. To Google or Not to Google May Not Be the Question.” Society for Emblem Studies Newsletter 49 (Summer, 2011): 12–15. Daly, Peter M. “How Many Printed Emblem Books Were There? And How Many Printed Emblems Does That Represent?” In In Nocte Consilium: Studies in Emblematics in Honor of Pedro F. Campa, ed. John T. Cull and Peter M. Daly. Baden-Baden: Verlag Valentin Koerner, 2011, 215–22 (= Saecvla Spiritalia no. 46). Daly, Peter M. “Bildtheorie, Bildrhetorik and Emblems.” Emblematica 19 (2012): 207–27. Daly, Peter M. and G. Richard Dimler S.J. The Jesuit Series, Corpus Librorum Emblematum. Part One: Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1997; Parts Two to Five: Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000–2007. Daly, Peter M. and Mary V. Silcox. The English Emblem: Bibliography of Secondary Literature. Munich, London, New York, and Paris: Saur, 1990. Daly, Peter M. and Alan R. Young. “George Wither’s Emblems: The Role of Picture Background and Reader/Viewer,” Emblematica 14 (2005): 223–50. Daly, Peter M. et al. (eds.). Index Emblematicus: Andreas Alciatus. Volume 1: The Latin Emblems. Indexes and Lists. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1985. Daly, Peter M. et al. (eds.). Index Emblematicus: Andreas Alciatus. Volume 2: Emblems in Translation. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1985. Diehl, Huston. Index of Icons in English Emblem Books, 1500–1700. Norman, OK, and London: University of Oklahoma Press, 1986. Dimler, G. Richard S.J. The Jesuit Emblem: A Bibliography of Secondary Literature with Select Commentary and Descriptions. New York: AMS Press, 2005 (= AMS Studies in the Emblem No. 18). Dimler, G. Richard S.J. Studies in the Jesuit Emblem. New York: AMS Press, 2007 (= AMS Studies in the Emblem No. 19). Dimler, G. Richard S.J. “Edmund Arwaker, Pia desideria. Or Divine Addresses, in Three Books [1686]. A Translation of Hugo’s Pia desideria. In The English Emblem in the Early Modern Period, ed. Peter M. Daly. New York: AMS Press, forthcoming. Dimler, G. Richard S.J. See also Daly, Peter M. Drysdall, Denis. “Andrea Alciato, Pater et Princeps.” In Companion to Emblem Studies, ed. Peter M. Daly. New York: AMS Press, 2008, 79–97. Drysdall, Denis.“‘The Good Have Nothing to Fear from the Rich’: Did Alciato Really Believe That?” Emblematica 19 (2011): 119–35.

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Düffel, Peter von. See also Holtzwart, M. Freeman, Rosemary. English Emblem Books. London: Chatto & Windus, 1948; reprinted 1967 and 1970. Fowler, Ken. “Social Content in Mathias Holtzwart’s Emblematum Tyrocinia.” Emblematica 4 (1989): 15–38. Giovio, Poalo. Dialogo dell’ Imprese militari et amorose. Lyons: Rouille, 1559. Graham, David. “Emblema Multiplex: Towards a Typoology of Emblematic Forms, Structures and Functions.” In Emblem Scholarship: Directions and Developments, ed. Peter M. Daly. Turnhout: Brepols, 2005, 131–58. Green, Henry. Andrea Alciati and His Books of Emblems: A Biographical and Bibliographical Study. London: Trübner, 1872; reprinted New York: Burt Franklin, 1964. Grove, Laurence and Daniel Russell. The French Emblem: Bibliography of Secondary Sources. Geneva: Droz, 2000. Harsdörffer, Georg Philipp. Frauenzimmer Gesprächspiele. Facsimile reprint of the Nuremberg 1644–1649 printing, ed. Irmgard Böttcher. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1968–1969, subsequently referred to as FzGs. The title-pages of the first six volumes have in capital letters GESPRECHSPIELE, or GESPRAECHSPIELE whereas the title pages of the last two volumes have Gesprächspiele set in lower case and with “ä.” Henkel, Arthur and Albrecht Schöne. Emblemata: Handbuch zur Sinnbildkunst des XVI. und XVII. Jahrhunderts. Stuttgart: Metzler, l967, l976, 1996. Heckscher, William S. and Karl-August Wirth. “Emblem, Emblembuch.” In Reallexikon zur Deutschen Kunstgeschichte, vol. 5. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1959, cols. 85–228. Heckscher, William S. Emblem Books in the Princeton University Library: A ShortTitle Catalogue. Compiled by William S. Heckscher and Agnes B. Sherman with the assistance of Stephen Ferguson. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Library, 1984. Holtzwart, Mathias. Emblematum Tyrocinia … Eingeblümete Zierwerck / oder Gemälpoesy. Strasburg: Jobin, 1581. The Reclam edition, edited by Peter von Düffel and Klaus Schmidt, reproduces facsimiles of the images and newly set Latin and German texts. It is provided with a thorough introduction (Nachwort) and was published by Reclam as number 8555–57 in its series UniversalBibliothek. See also Düffel, Peter von and Schmidt, K. Homann, Holger. Studien zur Emblematik des 16. Jahrhunderts. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, 1971.

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Huisstede Peter van, and J.P.J. Brandhorst. Dutch Printers’ Devices: 15th—17th Century. A Catalogue. Nieuwkoop: De Graaf Publishers, 1999. This threevolume set is accompanied by a CD-ROM. Jöns, Dietrich Walter. Das “Sinnen-Bild”. Studien zur allegorischen Bildlichkeit bei Andreas Gryphius. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1966. Junius, Hadrianus. Emblemata. Antwerp: Plantin, 1565. Facsimile edition by Scolar Press, 1972. Klecker, Elisabeth and Sonja Schreiner. “How to Gild Emblems: From Mathias Holtzwart’s Emblematum Tyrocinia to Nicolaus Reusner’s Aureola Emblemata.” In Mundus Emblematicus, ed. Karl A.E. Enenkel and Arnoud S.Q. Visser. Turnhout: Brepols, 2003, 131–72. Knape, Joachim. “Mnemomonik, Bildbuch und Emblematik im Zeitalter Sebastian Brants (Brant, Schwarzenberg, Alciati).” In Mnemosyne. Festschrift für Manfred Lurker zum 60. Geburtstag, ed. Werner Bies and Hermann Jung. Baden-Baden: Verlag Valentin Koerner, 1988, 133–78. Knape, Joachim (ed.). Bildrhetorik. Baden-Baden: Verlag Valentin Koerner, 2007 (= Saecvla Spiritalia, no. 45). Kocher, Ursula. “‘Der Dämon der hermetischen Semiose’—Emblematik und Semiotik. In Bildersprache verstehen. Zur Hermeneutik der Metapher und anderer bildlicher Sprachformen, ed. Ruben Zimmermann. Munich: Fink, 2000, 151–67. Kocher, Ursula. “Imagines und picturae. Wissensorganisation durch Emblematik und Mnemonik.” In Topik und Tradition. Prozesse der Neuordnung von Wissensüberlieferungen des 13. bis 17. Jahrhunderts, ed. Thomas Frank, Ursula Kocher, and Ulrike Tarnow. Göttingen: V&R Unipress, 2007, 31–54. Köhler, Johannes. Der “Emblematum liber” von Andreas Alciatus (1492–1550). Eine Untersuchung zur Entstehung, Formung antiker Quellen und pädagogischen Wirkung im 16. Jahrhundert. Hildesheim: Verlag August Lax, 1986. Landwehr, John. Dutch Emblem Books. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l962. Landwehr, John. Emblem Books of the Low Countries. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l970. Landwehr, John. German Emblem Books. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l972. Landwehr, John. French, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese Books of Devices and Emblems l534–l827. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker and Gumbert, l976.

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Landwehr, John. Emblem and Fable Books Printed in the Low Countries 1542–1813: A Bibliography. Utrecht: Hes, 1988. This work supersedes the earlier bibliography. All of Landwehr’s bibliographies need to be used with prudence. McGeary, Thomas and N. Frederick Nash. Emblem Books at the University of Illinois. A Bibliographic Catalogue. Boston, MA: G.K. Hall & Co., 1993. Manning, John. The Emblem. London: Reaktion Books, 2002. Manns, Stefan. “Nucleus emblematum. Überlegungen zu einer Semiotik des Emblems.” In Topik und Tradition. Prozesse der Neuordnung von Wissensüberlieferungen des 13. bis 17. Jahrhunderts, ed. Thomas Frank, Ursula Kocher, and Ulrike Tarnow. Göttingen: V&R Unipress, 2007, 47–65. Mitchell, W.J.T. Iconology. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1986. Mitchell, W.J.T. Picture Theory: Essays on Verbal and Visual Representation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994. Morley, H.T. Old and Curious Playing Cards [1931]. Reprinted London: Bracken Books, 1989. Mödersheim, Sabine. “Biblische Metaphorik in Daniel Cramers ‘80 Emblemata Moralia Nova’.” In The European Emblem: Selected Papers from the Glasgow Conference 11–14 August 1987, ed. Bernhard F. Scholz, Michael Bath, and David Weston. Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1990, 107–16 Mödersheim, Sabine. Daniel Cramer, Emblemata Sacra. Frankfurt am Main, 1624. A facsimile edition with a German Nachwort by Sabine Mödersheim. Hildesheim: Olms, 1994. Mödersheim, Sabine. “Domini Doctrina Coronat”: Die geistliche Emblematik Daniel Cramers (1568–1637). Frankfurt am Main, Berlin, Bern, New York, Paris, and Vienna: Peter Lang, 1994 (= Mikrokosmos, vol. 38). Mödersheim, Sabine. “Die Emblematik am Hof der pommerschen Herzöge. Martin Marstaller und Daniel Cramer.” In Pommern in der frühen Neuzeit, ed. Wilhelm Kühlmann and Horst Langer. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1994, 267–79. Mödersheim, Sabine. “Christo et Rei publicae. Martin Marstaller’s Emblematum Liber Philippi II. (Stettin 1609). An Unknown Calligraphic Emblem Book Manuscript and its Context.” Emblematica 10 (1996): 41–73. Mödersheim, Sabine. “Skin Deep—Mind Deep. Emblematics and Modern Tattoos.” In Emblems from Alciato to the Tattoo. Selected Papers from the Leuven International Emblem Conference 18–23 August, 1996, ed. Peter M. Daly, John Manning, and Marc van Vaeck. Turnhout: Brepols, 2001, 309–33 (= Imago Figurata Studies, vol. 1c). Mödersheim, Sabine. “Duke Ferdinand Albrecht’s Self-Portrayal in the Emblematic Programme of Castle Bevern.” In The Emblem and Architecture: Studies in

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Applied Emblematics from the Sixteenth to Eighteenth Centuries, ed. Peter M. Daly and Hans J. Böker. Turnhout: Brepols, 1999, 125–47 (= Imago Figurata Studies, vol. 2). Mödersheim, Sabine. Hieronymous Ammon, Imitatio Crameriana (Nuremberg 1649). A facsimile edition with introduction. Turnhout: Brepols, 1999 (= Imago Figurata editions, vol. 3). Mödersheim, Sabine. “Imitatio Crameriana. Polyvalenz in der Übernahme von Motiven aus Daniel Cramers Emblemata Sacra.” In Polyvalenz und Multifunktionalität der Emblematik. Multivalence and Multi-functionality of the Emblem. Akten des 5. Internationalen Kongresses der Society for Emblem Studies. Proceedings of the 5th International Conference of the Society for Emblem Studies, ed. Wolfgang Harms and Dietmar Peil with Michael Waltenberger. Frankfurt am Main [etc.]: Lang, 2002, 597–613 (= Mikrokosmos, vol. 65, 2 vols.). Mödersheim, Sabine. “The Emblem in Architecture.” In Emblem Scholarship: Directions and Developments, ed. Peter M. Daly. Turnhout: Brepols, 2005, 159–75. Neuber, Wolfgang. “Imago und Pictura. Zur Topik des Sinn-Bilds im Spannungsfeld von Ars Memorative und Emblematik (am Paradigma des ‘Indianers’).” In Text und Bild, Bild und Text. DFG-Symposium 1988, ed. Wolfgang Harms. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1990, 245–61. Neuber, Wolfgang. “Locus, Lemma, Motto. Entwurf zu einer mnemonischen Emblematiktheorie.” In Ars memorative. Zur kulturgeschichtlichen Bedeutung der Gedächtniskunst 1400–1750, ed. Jörg Jochen Berns and Wolfgang Neuber. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1993, 351–72. Praz, Mario. Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1939; 2nd edn London: Warburg Institute, 1964; offset reprint, 1975; Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Part II. Addenda et Corrigenda (1974). Rollenhagen, Gabriel. Selectorum Emblematum Centuria Secunda (1613). See also Warncke, C.-P. Rostock website: http://www.ifi.uni-rostock.de/index.php?id=4661 Schmidt, Klaus. See also Holtzwart, M. Schöne, Albrecht. “Emblem Theory.” Deutsche Vierteljahrsschrift für Literaturwissenschaft und und Geistesgeschichte 37 (1963): 197–321. Schöne, Albrecht. Emblematik und Drama im Zeitalter des Barock. Munich: Beck’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1964; 2nd edn 1968; 3rd edn 1993.

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Schöne, Albrecht. Introduction: Emblemata. Handbuch zur Sinnbildkunst des XVI. und XVII. Jahrhunderts, ed. Arthur Henkel and Albrecht Schöne. Stuttgart: Metzler, l967, l976 and 1996. Schreiner, Sonja. See also Klecker, E. Schunk, Michael (ed.). Sinnbild—Bildsinn. Emblembücher der Stadtbibliothek Trier. Katalogbuch zur Ausstellung. Trier: Stadtbibliothek, 1991. Silcox, Mary V. (ed.). Theater of Fine Devices. Aldershot: Scolar Press, 1990. Silcox, Mary V. “Three(?) Editions of Combe’s Theater of Fine Devices.” Emblematica 9 (1995): 217–19. Silcox, Mary V. “‘A Manifest Shew of Coloured Abuses’: Stephen Bateman’s, A Christall Glasse of Christian Reformation as an Emblem Book.” In Emblem Scholarship: Directions and Developments. A Tribute to Gabriel Hornstein, ed. Peter M. Daly. Turnhout: Brepols, 2005, 211–27. Silcox, Mary V. “Thomas Combe, Translator of La Perrière.” In The English Emblem in the Early Modern Period, ed. Peter M. Daly. New York: AMS Press, forthcoming. Strasser, Gerhard F. Emblematik und Mnemonik der Frühen Neuzeit im Zusammenspiel: Johannes Bruno und Justus Winckelmann. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2000 (= Wolfenbütteler Arbeiten zur Barockforschung, vol. 36). Visser, A.S.Q., P.G. Hoftizer, and Bart Westerweel. Emblem Books in Leiden. Leiden: Primavera Pers, 1999. Warncke, Carsten-Peter. “Emblembücher in der Herzog August Bibliothek. Ein Bestandverzeichnis.” Wolfenbütteler BarockNachrichten 9.2 (1982): 346–70. Warncke, Carsten-Peter. Gabriel Rollenhagen. Sinn-Bilder. Ein Tugendspiegel. Dortmund: Harenberg, 1983. Weston, David. A Short Title Catalogue of the Emblem Books and Related Works in the Stirling Maxwell Collection of Glasgow University Library (1499–1917). Aldershot: Scolar Press, 1988. Whitney, Geoffrey. A Choice of Emblemes. Leyden: Plantin, 1586. Wirth, Karl-August. See Heckscher, William S. Wither, George. A Collection of Emblemes. London: Allot, 1635. Yates, Frances. The Art of Memory. London: Routledge and Kegan, 1966. Young, Alan R. Henry Peacham’s Manuscript Emblem Books in the series The English Emblem Tradition, vol. 5 of the Index Emblematicus series. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998.

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Index Indexed are only personal names and the names of books that are either anonymous or better known by their titles. Not included are names in footnotes, illustration captions, lists of illustrations or in the bibliography. Pages may contain more than one occurrence of the name. Adams, Alison 31, 169 Agrippa, Cornelius 113 Alan of Lille 20 Alciato (= Alciat, Alciati, Alciatus), Andrea 5, 7, 17, 29, 32, 33, 36, 37, 39, 44, 44, 56, 57, 63, 65, 65, 70, 76, 78, 84, 85, 91, 97, 99, 100, 102, 114, 115, 117, 123, 124, 126, 129, 132, 133, 134, 135, 138, 141, 149, 153, 154, 155, 156, 159, 162, 163, 164, 165, 169, 170, 171, 173, 175, 177, 189, 200 Aldrovandi, Ulysse 117 Altsted, Johann Heinrich 117 Amman, Jost 114 Aneau, Barthélemy 70, 118 Aquinas, Thomas 113 Archippe 164 Aristotle 8, 40, 51, 109 Astray, Sir James 25 Bacon, Francis 113, 116, 119 Barber, John W. 22 Barclay, John 122, 123 Bateman, Stephen 169 Bath, Michael 88 Beatles, The 182, 183 Begheyn, Paul, S.J. 212 Benedict XVI, Pope 177 Bernat Vistarini, Antonio 147, 202 Bidermann, Ernst 207, 209

Blount, Thomas 48, 83 Bolzoni, Lina 113 Bonhomme, Macé 70, 155 Borgia, Franciscus, St 196 Borja, Juan de 66 Bosch (Boschius), Jakob ( Jacobus) 119, 191 Brant, Sebastian 113, 115 Brown, Dan 35, 171, 173 Bruck, Jakob von (= Jacobus à Bruck) 65 Brunner, Andreas 204, 207 Bruno, Giordano 97, 108, 109, 110, 113 Bry, Theodore de 111 Bunyan, John 18 Butor, Michel 10 Camerarius, Joachim 65, 66, 73, 84, 118, 133, 135, 140, 141, 142, 143, 156 Camillo, Guilio 97, 107, 108, 111 Campa, Pedro F. 215 Campe, Rüdiger 28, 29 Carruthers, Mary 112, 118 Cavell, Richard 75 Charles V, Emperor 154 Charles VI, Emperor 212 Charonier, Gaspar Joseph 216 Churchill, Winston 179 Cicero 123 Clements, Robert 1 Combe, Thomas 67, 104. Comenius, Johann Amos 123 Cotton, Pierre 218

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Covarrubias Horozco (or Orozco), Sebastián 73, 90, 133, 135, 144, 146 Cramer, Daniel 67, 84, 85, 114 Cull, John T. 147, 202 Daly, Peter M. 31, David, Jan 126, 192 De Backer, Aloys 188 De Backer, Augustine 188 Dee, John 108, 111 De Soto, Hernando 8 Diehl, Huston 22, 67 Dimler, G. Richard, S.J. 31, 185, 189, 190 Donat, Dietrich 179 Dongen, Wim van 219 Drexel, Jeremias 36, 194, 195, 212, 216, 217 Drysdall, Denis 165, 177 Düffel, Peter von 139 Dürer, Albrecht 64 Eliot, T.S. 35, 50 Elizabeth Amalia Magdalena, widowed Pfalz-Gräfin 209 Elizabeth I, Queen of England 49, 59 Erasmus 107, 113 Estienne, Henri, Sieur de Fossez 47, 48, 83 Ferdinand III 212 Ferdinand Karl, Archduke of Austria 207 Ferdinand Maria 204, 207, 215 Feyerabend, Sigmund 155 Ficino, Marsilio 107, 108 Fischart, Johann 117, 118 Fludd, Robert 97, 110, 111 Fowler, Ken 140 Freeman, Rosemary xiii, 1, 2, 5, 13, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 31, 75, 87, 95 Freud, Sigmund 8 Giovio, Paulo 15, 65 Godyere, Sir Henry (= G., H.) 67 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 35, 36, 37 Gonzaga, St 196

Gossner, Johann Evangelist 25, 73, 217, 218, 219 Graham, David 6 Greek Anthology 7, 117, 163 Green, Henry 1 Gregory XV, Pope 199 Greiffenberg, Catharina Regina von 65 Gretser, Jacob 198 Grisham, John 171 Guess Who, The 183 H. G. (see Godyere, Sir Henry) Hall, John 23 Hall, Manly P. 173 Harms, Wolfgang 64, 140, 141 Harsdörffer, Georg Philipp 9, 50, 62, 116, 117, 119, 128, 132, 167, 168 Heckscher, William S. xiii, 1, 2, 13, 16, 17, 19, 27, 87 Held, Jeremias 70, 138 Henkel, Arthur 29, 51, 57, 84,88. 140, 142, 147, 155 Henri II, King of France 75 Henri IV, King of France 218 Heß, Gilbert 140 Holmes, William 22 Holtzwart, Mathias 118, 133, 135, 137, 138, 139, 140 Homann, Holger 140 Horace 132 Huby, Vincent 218, 219 Hugo, Herman 15, 21, 194, 195 Hunger, Wolfgang 70, 138 Ignatius, St of Loyola 4, 123, 188, 196, 202 Imago Primi Saeculi 185 Iser, Wolfgang 8 Jebb, John 212 Jennis, Lucas 85 Johann Wilhelm 209, 212 Jöns, Dietrich Walter 1, 2, 87 Junius, Hardianus 117, 133, 135, 136, 148

Index Kantorowicz, Ernst 28 Kircher, Athanasius 215 Klecker, Elisabeth 140 Knape, Joachim 96, 113, 115, 129 Kocher, Ursula 122, 123 Köhler, Johannes 115 Koontz, Dean 171 Kostka, St 196, 197 Kreihing, Johannes 192, 215, 216 Kuechen, Britta-Ulla 140, 141 L’Abbey (Labé), Pierre 216 Lacan 28 Lagerwall, Sonja 8, 10 Landwehr, John 5, 31 La Perrière, Guillaume de 67, 91, 104, 114, 117, 119, 133 Larsson, Stieg 35, 171 Legendre, Pierre 28, 29 Le Moyne, Pierre 216 Lenin 40, 47 Le Nobletz, Michel 218 Leopold Wilhelm, Archduke of Austria 210, 215 Leopold, Emperor 65 Leysser, Cornelius 36 Luther, Martin 66, 85 Luzvic, Etienne 218 Maier, Michael 67, 73, 111 Mann. Thomas 35 Manning, John 1, 13, 88 Manns, Stefan 90, 95, 96, 122, 169, 170 Mändl, Kaspar 190, 203 Manoir, Julien 218 Maria of Austria, Empress 214 Marx 40, 47 Masen, Jakob 193 Maximilian, Duke of Milan 162 Maximilian Emanuel, Electoral Prince of Bavaria 204, 206 Maximilian I, Holy Roman Emperor 64, 214 McGill, James 132 Meisner, Daniel 189.

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Melanchthon, Philip 107, 113 Mendo, Andrés 215 Menestrier, Claude-François 193, 215, 216 Mico, Edward 95 Mirandola, Pico della 107, 108 Mohammed, the Prophet 50 Montenay, Georgette de 51, 67, 73, 126, 169 Morhof, Georg 117 Mödersheim, Sabine 6, 219 Moliere, 35 Musart, Charles 216 Nadal, Jeronimo 121 Neuber, Wolfgang 11, 90, 91, 95, 96, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 121, 131, 133, 142, 148, 149 Paradin, Claude 75, 76, 104 Parzen, Jeremy 113 Pecher, Mattheas 210 Peacham, Henry 95, 104 Peter of Ravenna 98 Pexenfelder, Michael 193, 216 Philip II of Spain 214 Pietrasanta, Silvestro 216 Plantin (Plantijn), Christopher 36, 100, 136, 148, 148, 189 Plato 40 Pliny 8, 51, 62, 121, 156 Poirters, Adrian 195 Praz, Mario xiii, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 13, 14, 15, 16, 23, 26, 29, 31, 87, 114, 123, 131, 212, 219 Quarles, Francis 18, 20, 21, 24, 33, 36, 104, 189 Quintillian 107, 121 Rabelais, François 113 Rader, Matthaeus 198 Ratzinger, Joseph 177 Rawles, Stephen 169 Reusner, Nikolaus 65, 78 Ricci, Matteo 112, 113, 121

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Riccio, Agostino del 108 Riffaterre, Michael 8, 10 Rollenhagen, Gabriel 19, 33, 67, 70, 73, 74, 75, 76, 78, 83, 100, 114, 118, 148, 180 Rouille, Guillaume 155 Russell, Daniel S. 7, 8, 9, 10, 156 S., P. 104 Saavedra Fajardo, Diego de 25, 67 Sambucus, Joannes. 37, 84, 91, 99, 114, 117, 135, 148 Sandt (Sandaeus), Maximilian van der 23, 195 Saubert, Johann 116, 179 Saunders, Alson 169 Schmid, Jacob 207, 215 Schmidt, Klaus 139 Schottel, Justus Georg 116, 132 Schöne, Albrecht xiii, 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 13, 26, 27, 28, 29, 51, 57, 84, 87, 88, 122, 140, 142, 147, 155 Schreiner, Sonja 140 Schwarz, Ignaz 198 Schwarzenberg 115 Shaftesbury, Lord 19 Shakespeare, William 28, 35, 36, 38, 176 Sidney, Sir Philip 110 Sigismund Franciscus, Archduke of Austria 209 Sigismund III, King of Poland 212 Smith, Joseph 42 Sommervogel, Carlos 188 Sophocles 164 Spaiser, Georg 203 Spence, Jonathan D. 121 Stanyhurst, Wilhelm 17, 195 Staudacher, Nicolas 209 Stengel, Georg 212 Steyner (Steiner), Heinrich 32, 91, 115, 124, 155, 175

Strasser, Gerhard 112, 114. Sucquet, Antoine 126 Taurellus, Nicolaus 118 Tillyard. E.M.W. 18, 19, 20 Tiskiewicz, Theodor 213 Tozzi, Peter Paul 155 Tramer, Irma 20 Tung, Mason 165 Typus mundi 21, 85 Valeriano Bolzani, Giovanni Piero 78 Veen (Vaenius), Otto van 100 Vitruvius (Marcus Vitrivius Polio) 108, 111 Wangai, Lu 121 Warncke, Carsten-Peter 180, 181 Wazin, Johann 207 Wechel, Chrestian 155 Weitenauer, Ignaz 207 Whitney, Geoffrey 19, 20, 70, 100, 101, 102, 104, 133, 135, 148, 172 Wierix, Antoine 218 Wilhelm V, of Bavaria 207 Willet, Andrew 20, 67, 104, 126 Willey, Basil 19, 20 Willis, John 95 Winckelmann 113, 122 Wirth, Karl‑August 1, 28, Wither, George 19, 67, 70, 73, 74, 75, 76, 78, 83, 84, 114, 133, 135, 148 Wölfflin, Heinrich 15 Write, Jonathon 199 Xavier, Francis, St 196 Yates, Frances 95, 96, 97, 98, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 113, 118, 123 Young, Alan R. 212 Young, Robert 66 Zetl, Paul 197 Ziolkowski, Jan 112, 118