Emblematica : an interdisciplinary journal for emblem studies 2020 [3] 9782600060585

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EMBLEMATICA Essays in Word and Image Volume 3

Editor in Chief Mara R. Wade

Associate Editors Simon McKeown

Elizabeth Black

Review Editor Tamar Cholcman

Droz Geneva

Founding Editors Peter M. Daly Daniel Russell

Editores Emeriti David Graham, Managing Editor Emeritus Michael Bath, Review Editor Emeritus Peter Daly, Editor Emeritus

Andrea Alciato, "Virtuti fortuna comes" [Fortune attendant on virtue], from Emblematum libellus (Paris, 1534). Image courtesy of Emblematica Online, Glasgow University Library.

EMBLEMATICA

EMBLEMATICA ISSN 2571-5070 Manuscript submissions and other editorial correspondence should be addressed electronically, in a standard word-processing document format, to Mara R. Wade . All submissions will be submitted to blind external peer review; the editors’ decision on acceptance will be final. Books for review should be addressed to Tamar Cholcman; however, no obligation is recognized to review or return any books received. Articles and essays should conform to the house style sheet, which is available upon request. General guidance may be obtained from the MLA Handbook for Writers and the Chicago Manual of Style. Authors should be prepared to submit high-quality electronic images, also in a standard format such as JPEG or TIFF, and to provide evidence of permission to reproduce them. Subscriptions and remittances should be sent to the publisher, Droz, 11 rue Firmin-Massot, case postale 389, 1211 Geneva 12, Switzerland, subscriptions@ droz.org. Camera-ready copy of this volume of Emblematica was produced at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign by Zachary Hader. Volume 3 ISBN 978-2-600-06058-5

Essays in Word and Image

Emblematica publishes original articles, essays, and specialized bibliogr aphies in all areas of emblem studies. In addition, it regularly contains review articles, reviews, research reports (including work in progress, theses, conference reports, and complet ed theses), notes and queries, notices of forthcoming conferences and publications, and various types of documentation. Emblematica is published annually.

Editor in Chief Mara R. Wade Department of Germanic Languages and Literatures 2090 Foreign Languages Building 707 S. Mathews Avenue University of Illinois at

Urbana-Champaign

Urbana, IL 61801 USA

[email protected]

Associate Editors Elizabeth Black World Languages and Cultures

Old Dominion University

Norfolk, VA 23528, USA

Simon McKeown Department of History of Art

Marlborough College Marlborough SN8 1PA

Wiltshire, United Kingdom

Copyright © Droz & Emblematica, 2020 All rights reserved

Review Editor

All Droz books are printed on acid-free paper that meets the guidelines for performance and durability of the Committee on Production Guidelines for Book Longevity of the Council on Library Resources.

Department of Art History

Droz 11 rue Firmin-Massot

case postale 389

1211 Geneva 12, Switzerland www.droz.org

Tamar Choleman

Faculty of the Arts Tel Aviv University Ramat Aviv, Tel Aviv, 6997801, Israel

[email protected]

Advisory Board

Pedro Germano Leal Arkyves

Tatiana Artemyeva

Herzen State Pedagogical University of Russia, St. Petersburg Paulette Choné Université de Bourgogne (Dijon)

Donato Mansueto

Universita di Bari

Jean-Michel Massing

University of Cambridge Dietmar Peil Ludwig-Maximilians-Universitat, Munich Stephen Rawles University of Glasgow Library

John Cull

University of Virginias College at Wise Agnès Guiderdoni Université catholique de Louvain

Valérie Hayaert

Mary Silcox

Universität Bonn Hiroaki Ito

McMaster University

Arnoud 5. Ὁ. Visser

Senshu University, Japan

Universiteit Leiden

Emeritus Members

Pedro F. Campa University of Tennessee at Chattanooga

Denis L. Drysdall

University of Waikato, New Zealand Alan Young Acadia University

Lubomir Koneény Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic, Prague Sabine Médersheim

University of Wisconsin, Madison

Errata/ corrections:

We very much regret an error in the bibliographic details of the review of GREGORY EMS. L'Emblématique au ite du pouvoir: la symbolique du prince chrétien dans les expositions emblématiques du collège des Jésuites de Bruxelles sous le gouvernorat de Léopold-Guillaume (1647-1656). Vol

1 L'Atelier d’Érasme” Collection, published in Emblematica, Vol. 2. The

publisher's name is UCL Presses Universitaires de Louvain (not Leuven

University Press as stated previously). We apologize for this error.

We would also like to add that Tamar Choleman’s article “Three Parts Di-

vided: The Construction, Reconstruction, and Deconstruction of Festival

Emblems” published in Emblematica, Vol. 2, should have had the credit

line to The Israeli Science Foundation that supported this research (grant

no. 1561/15).

Guillaume de la Perrière, emblem LXXXIII, from Theatre des bons engins (Paris, 1544). Photo courtesy of Emblematica Online, Glasgow University Library.

EMBLEMATICA Essays in Word and Image Volume 3 τ

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Preface to Volume 3

xiii IN MEMORIAM

Memories of Barbara Bowen

xxiii ARTICLES

aulette Choné

Les Menus propos by Pierre Gringore (1521): The

“Perfect Book” before Alciato

1

Efibymia Priki Pride and Punishment: Echoes ofthe Executioner Cupid from the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili in Sixteenthand Seventeenth-Century Emblems

17

Walter S. Melion

An

Wi

Analogies Known and Unknown in Sylvestro Pietrasanta, S.J's De symbolis heroicis

Martina Dragonovd Emblematic Structures around 1700

in

Czech

Catholic

Sermons

Helmut Renders J. E. Gossners Emblem Book The Heart of Man in Brazil: A Protestant and Pentecostal Catholic Reform’s Worldview

Perpetuation

117

of the 14

EMBLEMATICA Denis L. Drysdall

193

Pythagoras and the Cranes, or Prudence for Students

Bernhard F. Scholz The Fate of an Early Modern Honorific Epithet: Andrea Alciato as “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” in 1666 and after 1964

Preface to Volume 3

211

NOTICES Lukasz Konopa Applied Emblematics in Lublin, Poland: Murals Based on Prints from the Emblemata Saecularia

277

REVIEWS

Karl A.E. Enenkel. The Invention of the Emblem Book and the Transmission of Knowledge, ca. 1510-1610, by Michael Bath Robert Wellington. Antiquarianism and the Visual Histories of

Louis XIV: Artifacts for a Future Past, by Simon McKeown Marie

Veillon.

Médailles

des

rois

de France

au

XVT°

siècle:

LXXXIII from Guillaume de la Perrières Theatre des bons engins (Paris,

313 324

représentation et imaginaire, by Stephen Rawles

328

Vincent Robert-Nicoud. The World Upside Down in 16th-Century French Literature and Visual Culture, by Bruce Hayes

354

Laurent Hablot. Manuel de héraldique emblématique médiévale, by Elizabeth Black

334

Gabriele Ball et. al., Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft (1617-1680).

Hundert Jahre nach der Reformation, by Mara R. Wade

Continuing our modern emblematic practice with Alciato’s “Virtuti comes fortuna” as our masthead and supplementing it with opening and closing emblems that signal a new trajectory in the journal, this issue features emblems chosen by the associate editors Simon McKeown and Elizabeth Black. The present volume was produced with their full expert participation. I want to thank them profusely for their scholarly acumen, eagle eyes in all editorial matters, and general good will in all it takes to get a scholarly journal to press. Associate Editor Elizabeth Black selected the opening emblem, Emblem

338

1544). Her reasons for the choice reflect her savvy and sophisticated approach to all things emblematic. She writes that this emblem depicts “an ouroboros (snake biting its own tale) which, for La Perrière, represents the Greek notion of knowing oneself. I see this as an essential skill needed to navigate an academic career. Yet it also harks back to other uses of the same image, including Alciato’s in which it represents immortality gained through scholarship. La Perriére’s image is composed beautifully, with the circular snake atop what appears to be an ionic column—the “feminine” order compared to the doric. The column and the snake marry my work on architectural treatises with my emblem scholarship, while I learn even more about myself while seeking to ensure our discipline’s immortality through the journal! The closing emblem, chosen by Associate Editor Simon McKeown, reflects his passionate engagement with Swedish emblematics and his astute grasp of emblematic practices in a region remote from the publication centers of emblem books and, owing to his research, increasingly central

to their reception. His choice underscores the intimate intellectual and

Ludwig Volkmann. Hieroglyph, Emblem, and Renaissance Pictography

physical relationship between numismatics and emblems, having selected

[Bilderschrifien der Renaissance. Hieroglyphik und Emblematik in

“Raimund Faltz’s 1690 medal reverse with the device of Count Nils Bielke

ihren Beziehungen und Fortwirkungen]. Trans. and ed. by Robin Raybould, by Anja Wolkenhauer

342

Volume Index

353

1.

Email correspondence 10 February 2020. xiii

Emblematica: Essays in Word and Image, vol. 3. Copyright © 2020 by Droz & Emblematica. All rights reserved.

EMBLEMATICA of Salsta. It shows an armoured forearm holding a taper with the motto “Aliis Inserviendo Consumor” [I am consumed in the service of others]. It was far from being Bielke’s invention, of course, having been a staple of , and emblem books in the seventeenth century (Rollenhagen, for example)

recorded by Typotius as the device of a Venetian Doge in the sixteenth century. It is apt, then, to re-appropriate it again for scholars of the emblem everywhere who expend their vital energy in the researching, writing, and teaching of this wonderful material—and perhaps in doing so bring light to dark corners of our shared cultural inheritance.”” Their individual choice of sophisticated images and words concisely and compactly express our communal endeavor in scholarship writ large, and emblems studies more generally. These choices reflect the emblem enterprise itself and their passion for our field of research. As Simon McKeown and Elizabeth Black convincingly demonstrate, Emblematica: Essays in Word and Image is on excellent footing. In consultation with one another and under the informed leadership of the book reviews’ editor Tamar Choleman, the journal has begun to expand the reviews section to include publications which make a significant contribution to the study of emblems, even if their subject

is not primarily about emblems. As readers of this journal know, we seek to publish the best research in emblem studies and immediately adjacent fields. Emblem scholars have long endeavored to integrate research of emblematic practices across the scholarly disciplines, and this dedicated effort has been rewarded by publications, particularly in art history and literary studies, which include significant chapters on emblematica of interest to our readers. Important research in related fields presented in catalogs from exhibitions or individual collections also further our study and will be included. The expanded practice for reviews is intended to align more closely with our overall editorial goals. The editors feel this approach reflects current emblem studies in an appropriate manner.

Together with the expert assistance from the refreshed editorial board, the work of the journal is flourishing. And we call upon our readers to become more active in shaping the journal. There are several ways that readers of the journal can support the work of our discipline: 2:

Email correspondence 29 January 2020.

Preface

xv

First, ask your institution to subscribe to Emblematica: Essays in Word

and Image. Subscription information can be found at the back of this volume. The journal offers excellent value for the wide-ranging breadth and depth of its articles which can justify the cost of subscription to libraries, colleges, museums, and institutions of cultural heritage. We speak to many audiences.

Second, bring new publications to the attention of our reviews’ editor Tamar Cholcman. We cover all fields of emblematica everywhere, and

sometimes it is not easy to stay on top of all the wonderful research

being published today. Together with this, be prepared to write reviews yourself. We all want serious reviews of our own work; become part of the community of expert reviewers.

Third and lastly, when you hear a good presentation that you think is suitable for publication in the journal, suggest it. We span the globe and cannot possibly hear all the good conference papers being presented at large annual conferences and smaller, more focused, national meetings. Help us and the author of that paper reach broader audiences. All submissions undergo an expert double-blind peer review and publication in Emblematica signals a scholarly achievement.

The editorial board also wants to welcome and thank our editorial assistant Zachary Hader, who started work with this issue of the journal. He has been an ideal assistant who excels at copy editing and has quickly got up to speed with our layout and design process. Like all good editorial assistants, he steps up in times of need and does what it takes to keep the work flowing smoothly. We also thank the previous editorial assistant, Jeffrey Castle, for his unfailing good will and expertise in training and mentoring Zachary in his new role. The University of Illinois has generously financed his position, and we want to express our thanks for its continuing support. The Department of Germanic Languages and Literatures has unfailingly supported both Zachary Hader and Mara Wade in ways both great and small. For this we would like to express our gratitude to our home department. In memoriam

It is with great sadness that we note the passing of professor emerita Barbara Bowen, Vanderbilt University. She was a past president of the Renaissance Society of America and a notable emblem scholar. While she and I did not

xvi

EMBLEMATICA

overlap longat the University of Illinois, she created an awareness of emblem studies and their importance which serves me very well during my tenure here. Our colleague Professor William Engel, Nick B. Williams Professor of English at Sewanee: University of the South and the RSA representative for emblem studies, has written the tribute for her in this volume. Articles in this issue

The editors are pleased to present eight articles representing a rich crosssection of current studies of the emblem. Their contexts are global and range from Brazil to Poland with respect to the geographical regions and the emblematic practices they investigate. The intellectual breadth of the work presented here is equally impressive: the scope of subjects reaches from emblematic strategies and structures in pre-emblematic works, to sermons, imprese, applied emblems, and theoretical interpretations. Collectively, these studies provide a stimulating mix of approaches and themes. The volume opens with Paulette Choné’s insightful reflections on Les Menus propos (1521) by Pierre Gringore, in which she explores the “perfect book” before the emblem book. She elegantly lays out how in Gringore’s work the emblem, not yet fully formed, is poised to emerge as the new and exciting genre it soon became, and which it did with the publication of Alciato’s Emblematum Liber in 1534. Similarly, Efthymia Priki uncovers pictorial and textual motifs and structures in the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (1499) that informed the emblem from its earliest days. By studying representations of Cupid from Book II of the Hypnerotomachia, she succeeds in shedding new light on the lesser studied part of this milestone of Renaissance publishing, while laying the groundwork for a comprehensive depiction of the theme of repudiated love in European emblems. Walter S. Melion’s paper aligns well with the opening ones in that they all have in common a penetrating philological and visual understanding

of how emblems create meaning. He brings his focus to bear on the known and the secret in the visual analogies between parallel cases that readers of Sylvestro Pietrasanta, 5.}.5 De symbolis heroicis must be able to make in order to produce meaning and thus satisfy the claim that the bearer of the impresa has made for himself with his chosen symbolum.

Preface

xvii

Devotional emblems form the core of this issue with articles of both

a historical and contemporary nature. Martina Dragonovä examines the

emblematic structures of Czech sermons around 1700, contributing to the research of emblems in three different orders in the Catholic Church. The emblems of the homiletics were used to deepen the meaning of the liturgical texts and make their meaning more accessible to congregations. Helmut Renders brings emblem studies into the present day with his study of the reception of Gossner’s Heart of Man among the various religious denominations of Brazil from colonial times to the present day. His comprehensive study of the various printings and interpretations of a single emblem book inform his interpretation of how emblems reinforced and perpetuated colonial, social, and political structures. Denis Drysdall and Bernhard Scholz both focus on Alciato, in highly different essays that illuminate the vast field of research surrounding this towering figure in emblem history. Drysdall’s erudite essay can be profitably read by all teacher-scholars, especially in his discourse on the crane as Alciatos embodiment of Prudence. He convincingly demonstrates that one should follow Alciatos own advice and look to his other works for his emblems. Drysdall reminds us of the three kinds of knowledge there are available to us: knowledge of the past as memory; knowledge of the present as reason; and knowledge of the future as imagination. Scholz’s immensely detailed and knowledgeable reconsideration of Alciato as “Pater and princeps” of the emblem dives deeply into both the past and the recent past. He discusses how the Milanese jurist came to be known as the father of the emblem. Scholz examines the first appearance of this moniker some two hundred years after the Emblematum Liber and its return in the mid-twentieth century, highlighting differences in how the term was used in the different historical contexts. The volume closes with Lukasz Konopas announcement of his stunning

(re-)discovery of the painted emblem program from the cellar called “Under

Fortuna” in Lublin, Poland, and communication of initial research findings.

His newest research is able to relate this architectural program to the Emblemata Saecularia by Johann Theodor and Johann Israel de Bry. Intended as a Stammbuch, or album amicorum, the use of this particular emblem book

as models for the murals suggests the convivial situation, a place where likeminded people might gather around a Stammtisch. His research is on-going, and the editors are delighted to announce it here in English, together with the expanded, continuing research about its context.

xviii

EMBLEMATICA

Book Reviews

The review section presents scholarly evaluations of new publications in emblem studies and, as mentioned above, in emblem adjacent fields. The section opens with a comprehensive, informed review essay by Michael Bath on an important new monograph in emblem studies, namely, Karl A. E. Enekel’s The Invention of the Emblem Book and the Transmission of Knowledge, ca. 1510-1610, about which Bath writes, “. . . it almost certainly deserves to be recommended as required reading for future work in the field.” The reviews section continues with publications from related fields which have a strong bearing on emblem research. Hablot’s monograph on medieval heraldry is a significant compendium to accompany the emblem scholar’s interrogation of the symbols and imprese related to emblems. Similarly, two books on numismatics, one in French and one in English, expand our purview of the allegorical and symbolical languages closely tied to emblems. Veillon’s monograph on French royal medals of the sixteenth century and Wellington's English-language work on the medallic histories of Louis XIV both add to our knowledge of the critical intersection of numismatics and emblems. Emblem authors such as Alciato and Sambucus were known to have collected antique coins and medals and these studies informed their thinking, as it should our own study of the emblem. Robert-Nicoud’s volume on the topsy-turvey world contains a chapter on emblems that provides valuable information to emblem researchers. Ball’s publication on the centenary of the foremost German literary society, the Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft—each of the society's members had a plant emblem—aligns with these publications in a similar fashion. Many members, such as Georg Philip Harsdérffer, Carl Gustav Hille, Justus Georg Schottelius, Sigmund von Birken, among others, were also important emblems authors in the German tradition. Ball also reports on the associated female literary societies who also employed emblems, thus contributing a gender perspective to our research. The reviews section closes with another review essay, this of Robin Raybould’s English translation, Hieroglyph, Emblem, and Renaissance

Pictography, of one of the foundational texts of emblem studies, Ludwig Volkmann's Bilderschriften der Renaissance. Hieroglyphik und Emblematik in ihren Beziehungen und Fortwirkungen.

Preface

xix

The editors of Emblematica want to thank those intrepid scholars who have taken on additional, unpaid work to make this journal better by offering peer reviews and reading and evaluating books for review. While we cannot name the peer reviewers, the book reviews are published under the reviewers’ names. We thank everyone for their work on behalf of emblem studies. Please be sure to let us know about your book publications about emblematica or new books in emblem-related fields which you think we should review.

MARA R. WADE, Editor in Chief

Memories of Barbara Bowen Barbara Bowen passed away in Autumn 2019, leaving a legacy of outstanding work in Renaissance humor and facetiae with a primary focus on Rabelais and Montaigne. She was a meticulous scholar and superb linguist, as is evidenced by one of her more labor-intensive and extremely valued publications, “Renaissance Collections of facetiae, 1344-1490: A New Listing.” Renaissance Quarterly 39 (1986), 1-15. She was the author of five major books, including Enter Rabelais, Laughing (1998) and Humor and Humanism (2004), an anthology of her articles. But what cuts across her research throughout her career was an abiding interest in

the early modern emblem. She was on the editorial board of Emblematica early on and was publishing in this area even prior to the great boom of emblem studies in the 1980s. Most notable in this regard, from among her many articles and conference presentations are “Lingua quo tendis? Speech and Silence in Renaissance Emblems” in French Forum 4 (1979), 249-60;

“Emblems, Elephants and Alexander” in Studies in Philology 80 (1983),

14-24; and “Two Literary Genres: the Emblem and the Joke” in Journal

of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 15 (1985), 29-35; and most notably, perhaps the crowning achievements of her career as an emblem specialist, “Mercury at the Crossroads in Renaissance Emblems, in The Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 48 (1985) 222-29, the result of her

fellowship at Villa I Tatti in Florence in 1982. Bowen continued to explore key themes and topoi of applied emblematics in presentations such as “Housewife on Tortoise: A Renaissance Emblem topos” at the Sixteenth-Century Studies Conference in Saint Louis, 1996, and “Trivial

Pursuit: Hercules and Sixteenth-Century Moral Choices” at the Newberry Library Emblem Conference in Chicago, 1998. She was a good citizen in the Commonwealth of Learning, having served as president of the Renaissance

Society of America and also wrote 77 book reviews in 21 different journals.

Her contributions to the profession overall were recognized by her winning a

prestigious John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Award. xxiil

Emblematica: Essays in Word and Image, vol. 3. Copyright © 2020 by Droz & Emblematica. All rights reserved.

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Les Menus propos by Pierre Gringore

(1521): The “Perfect Book” before Alciato PAULETTE CHONÉ Université de Bourgogne

Les Menus propos by Pierre Gringore (Paris: Gilles Couteau, 1521) appeared before the first French printed emblem books. Pierre Gringore (1475-1539) belonged to the worlds of the theater, courts, literature, and the printed book. Before being admitted into the court of Duke Antoine of Lorraine as a herald, he was known in Paris as “Mère Sotte,’ a personification of Madness anticipating Erasmuss Encomium

moriae, and worked as an author, actor, and producer of mystery plays

and slapstick comedies. His intelligent collaboration among his roles

as a poet, printer, and engraver led him to publish books that are almost emblem books. In this very deliberately structured book, Les Menus propos, the shape of the emblem, although not yet present, is poised to emerge.

)

I

Yhis article examines one of the sources that influenced French

authors, printers, and wood cutters, and copper engravers in the second quarter of the sixteenth century, such as Guillaume de la Perriére, Gilles Corrozet, Barthélemy Aneau, Guillaume Guéroult, Macé Bonhomme, Guillaume Roville, Bernard Salomon, and Pierre Eskrich. Les Menus propos by Pierre Gringore (Paris, Gilles Couteau, 1521) certainly constitutes a case apart, appearing before the first French printed

emblem books, and alongside para-emblematic and proto-emblematic manuscripts.’ It simultaneously provides a preliminary outline of the maI.

Six editions of Les Menus propos can be identified between 1521 and 1535. Gringore collaborated successively with Gilles Couteau, Pierre Le Noir, Denis

1 Emblematica: Essays in Word and Image, vol. 3. Copyright © 2020 by Droz & Emblematica. All rights reserved.

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EMBLEMATICA

Paulette Choné

terial context within which emblem books were made, and the conceptual

and visual intentions guiding their creation. Here I demonstrate not only .

that the specificity of this book should be appreciated from the point of view of the history of literary genres, but also that one might usefully examine it from a philosophical perspective, i.e., as a philosophy, not merely an aesthetics, of creation. It is true that Gringore is generally recognized as being “among the most outstanding writers of the beginning of the sixteenth century” (Gringore 2003, 11). But this prolific polymath and follower of the Rhétoriqueurs, aman who played many roles—poet, playwright, actor, stage director, translator, publisher, and bookseller—and who was an amusing and indeed biting observer of politics and public morals, was never seen in his own time as an author of emblems, nor even of their precursors.” Although his compilation entitled Les Menus propos has captivated readers, to many it seems disjointed and motley, a book of fragments and incomplete pieces patched together. At first sight it is a fabric woven from stories and paraphrases mixed with apologia; poetic and metrical forms and patterns are arbitrarily juxtaposed or overlap one another. However, as demonstrated in the following, such appearances are deceptive, and that the book is, on the contrary, very carefully composed. In both The Blason Poétique and Allied Poetry of the French Renaissance (Saunders 1972) and The Sixteenth-Century Blason Poétique (Saunders 1981), Alison Saunders convincingly established the close connections between emblem and blason poétique, and between emblem and bestiary. She

attributed considerable importance to Gringore’s didactic poems, identifying him as one of the most noteworthy authors of blasons around 1500, specifically because his creations reflect the transition between the blason

derived from the heraldic tradition (in other words, a coat of arms), and

the blason poétique as a panegyric providing a description and an allegorical

or symbolical interpretation of any sort of object (Saunders

1981, 219).

Above all, she was a pioneer in paying attention to the place of the wood-

cuts in Gringore’s blasons. “Indeed,” she states, “it may not be an exaggeration to look at them even as a source also for the allied sixteenth-century

genres of the emblem book and the bestiary, both closely associated with the blason” (Saunders 1972, 52). Then, analyzing the “Blason de Raison”

that opens Les Menus propos, she recognized in it a blason in the full, later sense of the word: a description and an explanation together with a woodcut. In La Renaissance en Lorraine. A la recherche du musée idéal, 1 accorded Janot, and Olivier Arnoullet. 2.

See also: Gringore 1857-1858; Oulmont; Gringore 2005; Brown, 67-87.

3

a major place to Gringore and his engraver, the overlooked genius Gabriel Salmon, which led to this current focus on the “Blason de Raison” and the book as a whole. Before considering the “Blason de Raison” in detail, it is essential to highlight some aspects of Gringore’s life and bibliography in order to understand how his trajectory led him to produce a book such as the Menus propos. It is also helpful to attempt a more direct dialog with him, so that we might appreciate his “tool-chest” from a practical and intellectual point of view. Pierre Gringore was born around 1475 in Normandy. He belonged to four worlds, those of the theater, courts, literature, and the printed book. As early as 1501, he could be found in Paris, as an author and producer of mystery plays, for the scenery of which he was also responsible; he worked alongside the “Enfants sans souci” a company of actors playing slapstick comedies and farces, and where he himself was referred to as “Mère Sotte” ἢ Dire of Madness anticipating Erasmuss Encomium moriae 1511).

Thanks to the theater he attained fame under this stage name, and found himself being led into polemics and moralizing satire. In 1518 he left Paris, and was immediately admitted into the court of Duke Antoine of Lorraine as a herald, a position of no small significance for an author of blasons poétiques. During the twenty remaining years of Gringore’s life, the Duke of Lorraine remained his patron. Despite the physical distance separating Gringore from his Parisian printers, his literary production nevertheless now increased, whereas his theatrical career marked time. Having taunted the Catholic Church and its clergy contemptuously throughout his youth, thanks to the licentious and satirical tradition of medieval drama, and having even flaunted a proto-Reformation sensibility, once in Lorraine he conformed to the conservatism dominant there, reacting as it did against the groundswell of Lutheranism. Gringore wasone of the first French authors

keen to publish his works in print. The pioneering nature of this interest is indicated by his publication of no fewer than four books between 1499 and 1500. These texts are all long allegorical poems and pamphlets, each one published several times, through which he sought to obtain the patronage of the French king, Louis XII. He became the first in the history

of French-language publishing to acquire a “privilège d'auteur” in 1505 for the Folles Entreprises. From that moment he became involved in the new industry of printed books, as both a publisher and bookseller, precisely at the critical moment when the regulation and inspection of this line of activity 3.

On Gringore’s editions, see the studies written by Florine Stankiewicz as part of her online critical edition of Gringore’s works.

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were established. Once in Lorraine, however, he lost this close relationship with the manufacture and trade of books, as these were poorly developed in the duchy and the region around it; this despite brilliant initiatives there, which had presented a very early and modern vision of the relationship between the printed text and the engraving or woodcut.’ However, Gringore gained invaluable support in Lorraine for the Parisian publication of his works, through the contribution of the talented Gabriel Salmon—painter and, above all, engraver—whose

foremost work consists of the wonder-

ful woodcuts accompanying Gringore’s texts. He was certainly Gringore’s friend as well. It is important to note that Salmon was a truly erudite artist, not only an excellent observer of animals, but also as adept in combining visual forms as was Gringore in meter, rhythmic structures, verse forms, and prosody. Their meeting was decisive, despite never having received much attention from scholars. Gringore was very well prepared for this commercially successful venture: an intelligent collaboration between poet, printer, and engraver. This is obvious from his festival booklets celebrating the entries into Paris of Mary of England (1514) and Claude of France (1517), for which he invented the symbolical apparati. He gave these booklets quite a new turn, with his commentary being guided by a claim worthy of a true writer: that he wrote only in order to defend his own creations against the anonymous interpretations that also appeared in print, as those were generally inaccurate, inadequate, and devoid of any interest in the inherent meaning of the pictures. Claiming his right to retain full control over their signification, both as inventor of the apparati and as author of the published texts, he accurately analyzed their complex symbolical content and translated their Latin quotations. He paid close attention to the exact, unique, and immortalized significations of those things that had been encapsulated in the ephemeral instant of the festival, although he knew perfectly well that the meanings of an epigraph or a picture are never exhausted, neither by reading nor by viewing. For him the dual and mutual relationship between a picture and an inscription, or between a spectacle and its written relation, should be driven principally by truth (meaning) and veracity (facts). Each of these relationships circumscribes what might be called a “tool-chest” propitious 4.

Robert Brun paid careful attention to the woodcuts in Gringore’s editions (Brun, 202-204). See his remarks about Gringore’s earliest works, especially Les Folles entreprises (Paris, 1505), and Les Fantaisies de mère sote (Paris, 1516). Les Heures de Nostre Dame (Paris, c. 1525) are discussed in relation to the plate representing Job, with significant differences between the various editions (see Choné, 137-57).

Paulette Choné

5

for creating new works. In addition to the fact that he possessed a large repository of loci communes —derived from Scripture, bestiaries, exempla , proverbs, mirabilia, and fables—Gringore was in a particularly advanta geous position for devising artefacts that already encompassed aspects of the signifying emblem. Furthermore, along with Alison Saunders, scholars need to Pay attenti on to the literary structures and typographical layouts that make the emblem book resemble other illustrated books with tripartite pages: Bibles, moralized editions of Ovid, fables, bestiaries, and blasons poétiques, i.e., what

Saunders calls “para-emblem books” (Saunders 1988, 69). The intellectual,

technical, and commercial genesis of their predecessors endows early emblem books with a very specific twist, which distinguishes them from the first editions of Alciato, whose success gave those French printers specialized in illustrated, didactic books the idea of co-operating closely with writers and engravers, so that they might all benefit from this fashion. Saunders rightly attributes this uniquely French genre of book to the develo pment of printing; she situates its development within that of illustrated books in the decades 1530-50, precisely when the art of the book reached a high level of refinement in France. One can discern a milieu fascinated by this kind of product as early as the previous decade—for example in Salmon’s woodcuts, with their unusual but easily legible motifs, their vigorou s expressivity, their page layout, and not least their extremely strong framing lines. It is obvious that Gringore succeeded in getting woodcuts made especially for his text, such that they can be considered witty inventi ons that he had conceived himself, rather than mere illustrations of a text. Gabriel Salmon provided the drawings for the thirty-three principal (but small) woodcuts, which were then engraved by two or three separate woodbl ock cavers, since we can identify more than a single hand in them. Only one

plate reveals a less skilled hand; two plates were used twice; and another two, very different in execution, bear no relation at all to the rest of the

series. All Salmon’s work in this book, whose twentyfive woodcuts of the

lover's bestiary comprise a magnificent series in their own right, makes the Menus propos an exceptional volume. The “Blason de Raison” opens Les Menus propos and can perhaps be considered a seminal piece in Gringore’s mind and an example of one of the genuinely original forms he invented (fig. 1). Here Gringore makes his intentions clear, for this blason consists of the dedication of the book to Duke

Antoine (Gringore 1857-58, Εἰ aiiii). Given its date, it is a very rare, and

maybe even unique, case of a preliminary section including an engraving.

After just a few lines of compliments, Gringore explains , in twelve lines, the

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Paulette Choné

7

true blason (“droict blason”) of Reason, revealing the name of the friend who inspired his thoughts and comments on the visual “body” of this illustrated poem. As is often the case with Gringore, he writes as an invete rate man of the stage, launching into his discourse with vehemence and exasperation, exhorting his readers to put an end to undignified depictions of the “lai d’Aristote,” where the philosopher is reduced to the state of a four-legged beast, with a foolish woman in the saddle, goadi ng him on with her spurs. Such images of Phyllis and Aristotle had been widely reproduced in engravings, such as Lucas van Leyden’s of 1513, which were certainly known to Gringore, who was now convi nced that the onus was on him to substitute for them the figure of Reason . This substitution had an initiator, who is clearly identifiable in the poem by his nickn ame “Viateur” (derived from the latinized versio n of his name, Viator, meaning pilgrim), that is to say the canon Jean Pélerin, an eru-

dite advisor to King Louis XII, and later to Duke René I of Lorraine, and the author of the first treatise on Perspective printed in northern Europe, the De artificiali perspectiva with its well-propo rtioned layout and its enlightened awareness of the leading European artists of the fifteenth century.’ Gringore then offers his book to a prince , and places

it under the patronage of his friend, a humanist. “Viateur” is his guide in this book’s intellectual pilgrimage, even though it might appear to be a

“modest” miscellany. The woodcut therefore provides both the allegorical portrait of Reason—or Prudence, according to Aristotelian ethics—and Jean Pélerin’s portrait in the guise of a philosopher, “like Aristot le.” In fact, the canon had a very recognizable physiognomy, which confir ms that the Picture is a realistic portrait of him. The poem preceding the woodcut is full of successively critical , normative, and epideictic iconography. It disparages the normative and epideictic representations as inadequate, then establishes which repres entation, found

two lines later, is the most appropriate, and invites the reader to look

Fig. 1. Pierre Gringore, Les menus propos (1521), f. a4, “Raison dessus la figure de Aristote” Courtesy of BnF, Gallica

at it as carefully as possible. It is altogether unfamiliar, even quite odd. The surPrise it provokes is not the same as the discomfort felt by a viewer on first seeing an allegorical composition, for this picture is no allegor ical amalgam, despite its concise display of attributes: the square, the scales, and the clock. 5.

In addition, the pictura in Alciato’s emblem “In aulicos” copies exactly one illus-

tration from De artificiali perspectiva (Viator, Bii v). I especial ly want to thank Pascal Joudrier for this insight. For an example of Alciatos emblem, see Em-

blematum libellvs. Paris 1534,

117; Emblematica Online, University of Glasgow:

hetp:// emblematica.library.illinois.edu/detail/book/A34b.

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Beneath the woodcut come the prosopopeia of Reason (a ten-line stanza), and then twelve lines in which the author once again assumes his moralising role, before ending with his personal émpresa—“Raison par tout” (reason in everything) —which is present in all his literary works, where he often uses it as a palindrome in a playful and decorative manner. These two pages are suggestive of emblematic forms; even if they are not quite an emblem, there are still various elements of an emblem here— a motto, an enigmatic woodcut, a statement operating didactically and at several levels, and even a favored dedicatee indicating the extent of the amicitia, which is so significant in the emblem world, so moving and yet so overlooked except for when it provides an expedient means to reconstructing historical context. Yet it is not simply an issue of proving that what we have here—as elsewhere in the book—is only “possibly an emblem,’ a “pseudo-emblem, or even a “proto-emblem,’ and if an “emblem” at all then one in a somewhat limited sense. If these two pages do not “make” an emblem, then it is reasonable to ask what Gringore did in fact make, what did he intend to do, and what did he see during his initial development of this composition, in which he deployed a versified commentary, a morto, and a woodcut in a wide-ranging variety of ways, but so that these pieces might form an indissoluble unity. He certainly did not see himself as the pioneer of a new genre whose form still remained to be fixed, let alone firmly established. However, an innovative, creative form was taking shape, “making itself? in his study, in the workshop of this master of words, a man passionate about the printed book and the art of engraving. Yet if we say that it was “making itself? it is because we remember the way that Daniel Russell defined the fabrication of an emblem, that is as an organic growth, a development, an expansion, something which made him think of Paul Valéry’s seashell (Russell, 21-32). Literary or artistic forms do not self-generate independently of their creators, as biological lifeforms do according to some intrinsic life-force, and one should keep this distinction in mind when trying to describe Gringores activity in the context of its own genesis, at a time when an emblem was only

a pattern, like the primitive shape of a hand or the embryonic lobe of the brain, as described in developmental biology. The collection of texts included within Les Menus propos is not chaotic. On the contrary, it forms a very deliberately structured book, whose genesis and design Gringore explains many times over. The “Blason de Raison” is followed by a chronicle of the year 1521, a way of inserting the book into its own historical context. Then Gringore once more introduces a poem related to his

personal experience together with its woodcut, “Le curial” on the subject of

the miserable slavery of the courtier, and a practical and moralized appli-

Paulette Choné

9

cation from Aristotle’s Ethics, concluding with a revelation about the real genesis of the work. After writing the final words of his initial manusc ript, Gringore was determined to make a fair copy of it; he received some assistance in this enterprise, but from someone whose identity remains unclear: I had it made by someone Who willingly put in the work and effort.6

After its completion, he offered the book to the Bishop of Verdun, Louis of Lorraine, Duke Antoine's brother, as Louis was passing by on his way to Nancy. It is not clear whether the enhancement and probable embellishment by the unnamed collaborator meant that he had someone sketch and engrave the woodcuts, or whether the gift presented to the prelate was an illuminated manuscr ipt, or the earliest copy of a non-commercial princeps edition printed locally. But it is an incontestable fact that he is divulging a secret here, at the very focal point of the poem. The secret that he reveals conveys three ideas: the narrowness of the literary enterprise when limited to the mere conception of a text; the praise of his princely patronage, a paradoxical rebuttal to the moral dangers of courtly life; and, finally, a highly imaginative conceit, according to which the text summon s more text, or needs an interpretative commentary, a “glose” ( gloss or commen tary) as he calls it. Yet in this key passage of the poem, the “glose” is the name given to the motto itself. “Reason in everything adds gloss to the text;” Gringor e writes, as a kind of intuition of the conceptual interactions to be brought together in a single entity composed of text and picture (“paincture”) and whose three parts function jointly and mutually, Later on, in the poems on the subjects of hunting stags and wild boars, Gringore proves again the importance he attaches to the “glose”—it is essential, he writes, to add a gloss to the text,’ meaning here the addition of a motto. These two poems are composed respectively of twenty-eight verses of eight octosyllable lines, and of twelve verses of fourteen decasyllable lines; each poem ends with a motto of wide-ranging significance. To summarize, the complete poems about hunting contain forty epigrams and forty mottos, while each of the two woodcuts works for any one of these poetic compositions. The shape of an emblem and the sketched intention defining an emblem are presented here in the rudiment or the kernel—the “embryo”—of the emblematic form. Their pres-

ence, however, is still vague, unstated rather than diffuse. But by now the poet

feels this presence to be indispensable, even likely to become apparent in a more polished composition. 6. 7. 8.

Jelefeis par quelqu'un / Qui voulentiers en print travail et peine. = Raison par tout fait sur le texte glose.” ” mettre glose sur le texte”

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Paulette Choné

The book continues with a ballad consistingof versified paraphrases of psalms where a long elegy on the subject of peace dominates. It precedes the short discussion of the deceived lovers according to the pattern of animal nature opening

Here we have a real project: the young man will becom e beloved thanks to this “invention since he failed to do so through music. The coupling of word and image in this book could possibly be viewed as anothe r sort of coupling—the text desires the image, just as the image desires the text, which also suggests a romantic coupling. In offeringit as a present, it will succeed in renewing the love between the two lovers, this restored affection that is the final cause, the animate, living expression of concord between picture and poetry in the perfect book, the “livre parfait,’—complete, accomplished,

with a narrative,’ the credibility of which is emphasized by small details. For ex-

ample, Gringore relates that one day, as he was walking with Duchess Renée of Bourbon’ retinue in the new garden of the castle at Nancy, then under construction, he met a sad and pensive lover (“triste et pensif”) who demanded from him

a text (“escript”) that would be suitable to confess his love to an unyielding lady. At once Gringor e answered:

Whoever wishes to try love

Must show it with text and image

Joyous words are love’s nourishment

And also through image one can keep

Memory and feeling when one is ready to see,

Through writing one can know the feats!° of the gallant, valiant knights, the lovers, learned men, legislators, wise persons,

Because the text read aloud is heard by the ear

And the eye likewise delights in image."

He therefore decides to invent a text and to paint “what belongs in text and story”! in conjunction with the text: An image desires and wants text In this way we can know it better Through text we can’t know beasts and birds As well as through image And in this way, image and text are found In this book, which orders the heart to love.!3 9. 10.

“menus propos des amoureux qui ne ont la grace joyr de leurs dames: figurez sur les hommes, bestes & oyseaulx selon leur nature et complexion: Qui d'amour veult bien faire essay / Le doibt monstrer par escript et rer: Escript joyeulx est d’amour nourriture, /Par la paincture aussy on peult avoir Memoire & sens quant on se appette a veoir, / Par escripture on cognoist la pro-

esse. 11. 12. 13.

R

Car l'escript leu de l'oreille est ouy / Et par paincture œil aussy resjouy. ; i me “ce que appartient par escript et hystoire. i i desire i et veult / Par ce moyen mieulx i Une paincture escript congnoististre on adla peult / On ne congnoist si bien par escripture / Bestes ny oyseaux comme on i : : : par paincture / Et par ce poinct paincture et escriptz sont / En ce livret qui : cueu y d’aymer semond.

11

and also executed to perfection. In Gringore’s narrat ive (Thystoire”)

their complementary role is not only a metaphor for the hearts’ union, it is also an impressive biological and psychosomatic sympathy; it is effective within the sphere of human passions. Manifestly the poetic creati on is a type of medicine, due to the supernatural power of language, but above all when image and word are reciprocally speaking to each other, united by mutual desire and will (“se désirent;” “se veulent”), just as they are when directed towards the particular moment of offering the book, this peculiar object where words and images are both jointly composed and complementary to each other. In the perfect book, according to Gringore, word and image converse together and mutually stimulate each other’s production. For this reason, Gringore and his outstanding engrav er develop twenty-five exemplars (“exemples”) in which the nature of beasts

is employed as a fundamental pattern in a dazzling ethology of the loving heart. Their sources reveal both the foundations of the mediev al bestiaries and the treasury of ancient storytellers. In the highly elabor ate structure of this bestiary, quadrupeds, flying and aquatic animals follow one after the other, each presented according to an unchanging scheme: the name of the exemplar, the woodcut, a decasyllabic poem, a rondeau, and another poem, a further rondeau. At the end of the first poem, an incon spicuous allusion to the following example forms a subtle link with it (excep t in two cases). Thus in a continuing sequence, the logic of which is almost undetectable, march past the

cock, the wild ass, the wolf and the shepherd, the cricket,!* the swan, the dog, the predator wolf, the adder, the monke y with shoes, the crow, the

crow and the corpse, the lion, the weasel, the lark, the sirens, the snake under the balm-tree, the blackbird in the cage, the lynx, the vulture,

the monkey and the spider, the tiger, the panther, the unicorn, the cranes and the peacock, the lion rubbing out his tracks with his tail, the swallow and the woodpecker, and finally the swallow, the hedge hog, and the hydra (figs. 2~3),

14.

The plate of the cricket (gv v) copies one of the most famous illustrations from

Viator’s De artificiali perspectiva (biii v).

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The book ends with a long poem on the subject of the terrifying consequences of modern warfare and a harsh “Testament de Lucifer,’ and Gringore again takes care to anchor his search for a completely new creative form of expression directly in contemporary political and psychological topics; he tries to color it and to reveal its innovative character in moral or erotic “modulating themes.” As an inventor Gringore seems to be undertaking quasi-embryonic research for a form associating image and word, or even painting and literature.!5 He is conscious of the fact that the right shape is ready to be realized, to exteriorize itself into an arrangement that is still latent but the meaning of which is already present—this meaning is even clearly and passionately expressed in the lines quoted above in which text and image call for each other. The right shape, that is the emblem, is therefore almost ready to be identified. One could object that his reflection might be applied to any poem, provided it is illustrated, or that this intention does not denote anything other than the attempt to imagine picture and poetry together, their unity henceforth imperative in the printed book. But Gringore wishes for their harmonization with so much assurance and sincerity, he is so convinced of the originality of his concept and of its power over souls, that it seems certain that he is aware of drawing very close to a new invention; this invention will soon occur as a materialized experiment in the pages of the early emblem books. The history of the literary genres that prefigured or prepared the emblematic age are not defined by a series of determinisms. The allied genres, as Alison Saunders has said, flourished before Gringore, with him, and ac-

companied him for a long time afterward, with their treasury of motifs, the typographical expertise, the expectation of the readers, and so many practical and intellectual conditions that were constantly developing and improving. The emblem is not the continuation or the recitation of the ancient shapes that influenced it. The emblem as a genre could not have succeeded without the consciousness of a morphogenesis at work. In sharp

contrast to the perfection of comparable existing forms, as in embryology 15.

The notion of “modulating themes” is taken from embryology. More precisely, this reflection is largely inspired by Raymond Ruyer’s book, L’Embryogenese du

monde et le Dieu silencieux. Ruyer analyses the famous example of the embryo of the marsupial. When it is three centimeters long, it emerges from the mother’s

uterus and climbs towards the pouch where it attaches itself to a kind of mam-

mary tube, in a kind of “instinctive excursion,’ passing through morphological

transformations that reveal a “thematic memory” directed towards its final form. In Gringore’s thought there are also shapes metaphorically three centimetres long, but sufficiently strongly muscled to undertake this excursion towards the fully developed emblem.

Paulette Choné

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14

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Paulette Choné

15

Gringore’s bold experimentations gave rise to the emergence of inventive focused shapes” that would soon become our familiar emblems.

«

»

“1:

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Works cited

Alciato, Andrea. Emblematum Libellus. Paris, 1534. Also available online through the Glasgow University Emblems Website at https://www. emblems.arts.gla.ac.uk/alciato/books.php?id=A34b.

Brown, CynthiaJ. “Pierre Gringore et ses imprimeurs (1499-1518): collaborations et conflits.” Seiziéme siècle 10 (2014): 67-87. Brun, Robert. Le livre français illustré de la Renaissance. Paris, 1969. Choné, Paulette. La Renaissance en Lorraine. A la recherche du musée idéal. Ars-sur-Moselle, 2013. Gringore, Pierre. Les menus propos. Paris, 1521.

BNE, Gallica. Available on-

line at https:// catalogue.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/cb305432699

- Œuvres complètes. Réunies pour la première fois par MM. Ch. D'Héricault et A. de Montaiglon. 2 vols. Paris, 1857-1858. . Œuvres polémiques rédigées sous le règne de Louis XII. Ed. Cynthia J. Brown. Geneva, 2003.

- Les Entrées royales à Paris de Marie d'Angleterre (1514) et Claude de France (1517). Ed. CynthiaJ. Brown. Geneva, 2005.

Oulmont, Charles. La Poésie morale, politique et dramatique à la veille de la

Renaissance, Pierre Gringore. Paris, 1911. Russell, Daniel. “Comment faire un embléme: production et fabrication,

ou la leçon de la coquille” In La ville et la coquille. Huit essais

Fig. 3. Pierre Gringore, Les menus propos (1521), f. ΚΒ, “Ung serpent est le despit des despitz/ Qui par nom dit et nomme est aspicz,” Courtesy of BnF, Gallica.

d emblématique. Paris, 2016. Ruyer, Raymond. L'Embryogenèse du monde et le Dieu silencieux. Paris, 2013.

Saunders, Alison M. The Blason poétique and Allied Poetry of the French Re= 16.

naissance. Durham, 1972. Also available online through Durham Theses at http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/7944/,

re Sixteenth-Century Blason poétique. Bern, 1981. I would like to thank Professor Alison Adams and Professor Judi Loach for read-

ing this article and making suggestions.

16

EMBLEMATICA . The Sixteenth-Century French Emblem Book: A Decorative and Useful Genre. Geneva, 1988.

Stankiewicz, Florine, ed. Edition électronique du répertoire des œuvres de Pierre Gringore. Paris, 2008. Available online through the Ecole nationale des chartes at http://theses.enc.sorbonne.fr/PierreGringore/gringore.html.

Pride and Punishment: Echoes of the Executioner Cupid from the

Hypnerotomachia Poliphili in Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-Century Emblems

Viator (pseud.). De artificiali perspectiva. Toul, 1521.

EFTHYMIA PRIKI The textual and visual narrative unfolding in Book II of the Hypnero-

tomachia Poliphili establishes the omnipotence of a mighty and violent Cupid, who severely punishes those who spurn love. The most striking visual examples of Cupid as an executioner are three woodcuts depicting Polias first vision, where Cupid appears tormenting

two young women pulling his chariot. This article examines how this

visual representation and its textual context relate to sixteenth- and seventeenth-century emblems on the tyranny of love, thus tracing the evolution of this motif and assessing the role of the Hypnerotomachia as an agent of influence.!

he Hypnerotomachia Poliphili is an illustrated incunabulum, published by Aldus Manutius in Venice in 1499, offering to the brave reader who ventures through it an extraordinary tale of love and death, containing magnificent architectural structures and automatic devices, enigmatic inscriptions, mythological exempla, and, as its title page proclaims, “plurima scitu sane quam digna commemorat” (records many things truly worth knowing).? The Hypnerotomachia’s anonymous author 1.

I would like to thank the peer reviewers of this article for the constructive and

valuable feedback.

2:

The 1499 Aldine edition was re-published in 1545 by the sons of Aldus. How-

ever, it met with greater success abroad and, especially, in France, where five edi-

tions appeared, translated into French and published in Paris: the first in 1546 17

Emblematica: Essays in Word and Image, vol. 3. Copyright © 2020 by Droz & Emblematica . All rights reserved.

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intentionally decided to puzzle his readers concealing his identity with acrostic devices. The decorated initials at the beginning of each chapter form the phrase: “POLIAM FRATEM FRANCESCVS COLVMNA PERAMAVIT” (Brother Francesco Colonna loved Polia exceedingly). There is also a phrase encrypted in the first letters of the first three lines of Polia’s epitaph at the end of the book: “F[rancescus] C[olumna] I[nvenit]” or “I[nscripsit]” (Francesco Colonna invented it, or, wrote it) (Kretzulesco-Quaranta, 44; Hieatt and Prescott, 295). While these acrostics reveal

the author as one Francesco Colonna, the actual historical identity of this individual remains an issue for debate.’ One of the most prominent authorship theories credits the work to a friar by that name from the Veneto area belonging to the Dominican monastery of SS. Giovanni e Paolo, who lived between 1433 and 1527 (Casella and Pozzi; Brown, 287-90; Menegazzo 2001a; Menegazzo 2001b; J. C. Russell, 204-28). Though the narrative structure of the Hypnerotomachia is quite complex, with multiple narrative layers encased in one another and with long ekphrastic descriptions of spaces and objects, the main plot could be summarized as fol-

Efthymia Priki

meaning of Poliphilos dream, while helping us better comprehend the apparent inconsistencies between Book I and Book II in terms of their narrative sequence and their chronological and spatial parameters (Priki 2015, 103-13). More importantly, a closer examination of the imagery and textual content of Book II will provide further clues regarding the author’ sources and the influence that the Hypnerotomachia has exerted in subsequent centuries, To explore these issues, I focus on the representation of Cupid in Polia’s dreams and visions. The textual and visual narrative unfolding in Book II of the Hypnerotomachia establishes the omnipotence of a mighty and violent Cupid, who severely punishes all those who spurn love out of cruelty or pride. The overwhelming power of the god of love is clearly articulated in the wise Nurse’s instructive speech to Polia: No less besides, many other noble lasses treating their sworn lovers with churlish and beastly cruelty, retribution from on high upon their ill-willed hardness, bitterly in diverse terrifying cases, has shown itself an inexorable avenger. Over and above that, it’s to be very much borne in mind how cruel, how untamed, how pitiless, how violent, how powerful in his tyranny the son of the divine Mother is, and how truly by true and undoubted experience we have found it crystal-clear—however much it may be hidden— that not only mortal men, but also the breasts of gods he has lustily without any respect or compassionateness sharply wounded by inflaming (trans. White, 275).

lows: while dreaming, the protagonist, Poliphilo, traverses a series of imaginary

landscapes in order to be reunited with Polia, who is actually dead, as revealed by an epitaph at the end of the book. The rediscovery of Polia in the dream takes place in the first part, Book I, which concludes with Poliphilo’s union with his beloved at the Cytherean island, while the second part, Book II, contains Polias

story as an encased narrative within Poliphilo’s dream narrative, in which Polia undergoes her own initiation as a lover. Book IT has surprisingly not received as much scholarly attention as Book I, mainly because it lacks the latter's elaborate architectural and landscape descriptions. However, Book II deserves closer scrutiny not only in terms of its narrative but also its visual content. As I have shown elsewhere, understanding the role and function of Polias encased narrative in Book II can unlock the overall edited by Jean Martin, reissued in 1553/4 and 1561; an “alchemical” version in 1600 by Béroalde de Verville, reissued in 1657; an abridged version in 1772 published by Antoine Pallandre; as well as two nineteenth-century versions, in

1804 edited by Jacques G. Legrand and in 1880-83 by Claudius Popelin. There was also an English translation of the major part of Book I in 1592 edited by an R. D. (generally assumed to be Richard Dallington), which was re-edited in 1890 by Andrew Lang. For an overview of Hypnerotomachia’s printing history and for the relationship between the Italian original and the translated editions, see: Priki 2009, 67-71; Priki 2012; Farrington. The text is cited from the critical edition of Pozzi and Ciapponi (hereafter abbreviated HP P&C). 3,

For an overview of the debate, see Ariani and Gabriele’s introduction, Ixiii-xc, and Godwin, 69-104.

19

4.

“Non meno etiam molte altre nobile fanciulle ad gli sui votati amatori, rurale,

et ferina crudelitate usando, la superna vindicta supra la sua malivola durecia amaramente, per diversi et terrifichi casi vindice inexorabile s’à dimostrata. Oltra

di questo l'è da essere grandemente nel animo rivocato. Quanto crudele, quanto

immite, quanto impio, quanto violente, quanto potente nella Tyrannica sua il

figlio della Divina Matre sia, tanto veramente, che per vera et indubitata experi-

entia, nui liquidamente comperto habiamo (quantunche celata sia) che non solo

gli mortali homini, ma ancora gli pecti divini vigorosamente ello havere senza alcuno respecto et miseritudine acerbamente infiammando vulnerato” (HP

P&C, 404). I would like to thank Ian White for providing me with a copy of his

unpublished translation of the Hypnerotomachia. This translation was first circulated among the participants of the symposium “Architectures of the Text: An

Inquiry into the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili” at the University of Pennsylvania, whose edited proceedings were published in 1998 in a special issue of Word &

Image (14.1&2). I have opted to use this one instead of the more widely available translation of Godwin, because it is more faithful to the text, both in terms of

lexical accuracy and style.

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Efthymia Priki

The appearance of Cupid as a tyrant, punishing rebellious souls by wound-

artists, engineers, painters, or sculptors, or even as a literary cabinet of curiosities (for examples of such readings, see Huper; Griggs). However, such definitions would be inadequate, because they only describe one particular aspect of the work without even capturing the development of its storyline. Given its main subject matter—the quest of a lover to retrieve his beloved taking place in a dream—Hypnerotomachia is undoubtedly a romance, building on and experimenting with the medieval romance tradition, but, at the same time, it is more than that. Perhaps, one could define it as an antiquarian romance, an architectural romance, or an encyclopedic romance, but again this would involve stressing one aspect over another, while ignoring the diverse character of Book II. An appropriate adjective to describe the Hypnerotomachia’ genre should be one that refers to a predominant trait that applies to the entire work, while demonstrating the work’s inherent flexibility in terms of interpretation. That is why I have chosen to define the Hypnerotomachia as a proto-emblematic dream romance. The Hypnerotomachia has been characterized as “proto-emblematic” in the past (D. Russell, 123-4; Manning, 187), but mostly in terms of the presence of pictorial and ideogrammatic models for the sixteenth-century emblematists (D. Russell, 89, 113-14; Manning, 54-55, 65, 73, 81-82), of the sense of ephemerality in its iconography—particularly, in the triumphs—which anticipate the relation between emblems with ephemera (Manning, 187), as well as in terms of the interplay of text and image in the first part of the romance and, more specifically, in Poliphilo’s encounter with hieroglyphs (D. Russell, 123-24; Manning, 68-73). Therefore, while the term is indeed quite appropriate to characterize this work, its use merits further explanation, in order to demonstrate how it can define the work as a

20

ing them with his arrows is not a novel concept. In fact, later in her speech,

as will be shown below, the Nurse provides examples from classical mythology to illustrate this point further. Apart from Ovid and other classical sources, the interrelationship between the themes of love and punishment is also exploited in medieval and renaissance literature, most prominently in romances; an indicative example is Amour” attack on the dreamer in che Roman de la Rose (13th century). However, the portrayal of Cupid as an executioner, not simply wounding but rather slaughtering insolent or chaste women is quite unusual, leading us to the question: does this portrayal originate in the Hypnerotomachia? The most striking visual examples of Cupid as an executioner in the Hypnerotomachia are the three woodcuts depicting Polia’s first vision, where Cupid appears with a whip tormenting the two young women pulling his chariot. In what follows, I investigate the possible sources of this imagery and examine how this visual representation and its textual context relate to sixteenth- and seventeenth-century emblems on the tyranny of love, thus tracing the evolution of this motif and assessing the role of the Hypnerotomachia as an agent of influence. In doing so, I also explore the extent to which the Hypnerotomachia can be considered as “proto-emblematic” and, effectively, the ways in which this

approach may affect our interpretation of Polia’s violent vision.

A Proto-Emblematic Dream Romance?

Defining the genre of the Hypnerotomachia is not a straightforward process. Due to the almost encyclopedic character of Poliphilo’s descriptions and due to the wealth of information found therein relating to architecture, botany, gardens, anatomy, hydraulics, and to a variety of other subjects, the text could be read as an architectural treatise, as a handbook for topiary 5;

While the god of love and his literary representation have been the focus of several studies (see for example: Cummings; Tinkle; Futre Pinheiro et al.; Konstan; Cupane; Gifford; Couliano), to the extent of my knowledge, there is only a small number of studies focusing on Cupid as a tyrant or an executioner in

medieval or renaissance literature (Hyde; Kingsley-Smith). Only one recent

study focuses on the case of Polia’s vision, viewing it as the apex of a motif of fetishist desire that the author argues is evident both in Book I and in Book II (Leopardi); though presenting some interesting arguments, especially in the link between ruins, death, and fetishist desire, the article overlooks some significant narrative moments and details (e.g. Poliphilo’s celestial vision and the couple's union in the second half of Book II) and it lacks any discussion of how Polias actual death, which is the cause of Poliphilo’s anxiety in the beginning of the romance, relates to this fetishism motif.

21

whole. To start with, the prefix “proto-” denotes an initial, earlier version of

something. Thus, etymologically, the use of the terms “proto-emblem” and

“proto-emblematic” would point either to an early version of a particular emblem or emblem book, or to an early example of text/image interaction where “images play an intrinsic role in the creation of meaning,’ a characteristic feature of the emblematic genre (Grove, 9). In other words, the term

proto-emblematic could be used to characterize a work that pre-dates the idea of the emblem and the appearance of emblem books, but is considered to have an emblematic form or an emblematic function, or both. From this

perspective, the Hypnerotomachia is indeed proto-emblematic.

‘The first and obvious reason is the influence of the book and, especially, of its woodcuts, on renaissance emblems. The Hypnerotomachia is traditionally considered as one of Andrea Alciato’s sources for developing the idea of the emblem (D. Russell, 113), while several iconographic themes,

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devices, and hieroglyphs appearing in the book have been transformed into emblems in subsequent centuries. The influence of the book and the interest it generated, especially in sixteenth-century Italy and France, is interlinked with the fascination of humanists with hieroglyphs (D. Russell, 89, 122-24; Manning, 56-73; Leal 2010, 99). Of particular interest, in this respect, are the humanist circles in Venice and Bologna (Drysdall, 55-94), where hieroglyphs—especially Horapollo’s Hieroglyphica—were studied and discussed, and formed the basis for several works, such as Desiderius Erasmus’s Adagiorum Chiliades (1508) and Felippo Fasanini’s essay “Ex Diversis Auctoribus Declaratio Sacrarum Literarum” included in his Latin translation of Horapollo’s Hieroglyphica of 1517. In both of these texts, mention is made of a picture that the authors have seen consisting of a circle, a dolphin, and an anchor, linking it with a hieroglyphic source and the meaning of festina lente, “hasten slowly” (Drysdall, 85 and 91-92; Leal 2014, 214). Erasmus, in particular, considers this motif as an example of the hieroglyphs by Chaeremon. Given that Erasmus wrote this expanded version of his adages after a stay in Venice, and given that his work is a direct source of Fasanini’s essay, it is most probable that the picture they both refer to is from the Hypnerotomachia (Drysdall, 64; Leal 2014, 212-13). This is significant given Alciato’s possible connection with Fasanini’s circle in

Bologna (Manning, 58; Leal 2014, 210-11), but most importantly given

the influence that Erasmus work had on Alciato’s shaping of the idea of the emblem (Drysdall, 66-68; Leal 2014, 212). In his De verborum significatio-

ne (1530: I, 530), Alciato acknowledges that the hieroglyphs from “Chae-

remon” and “Horapollon” were two of his sources for Emblematum Liber. There is evidence to support that Alciato, following Erasmus, calls “Chaeremon’s hieroglyphs” the hieroglyphs that appear in the Hypnerotomachia

(Leal 2014, 211-13). That would explain why the iconography of some of

Alciato’s emblems seems to be inspired by that book, although—as Leal has

pointed out—the iconographic motifs derived from the Hypnerotomachia do not necessarily correspond to their original meaning, but are given different exegesis (Leal 2014, 217).$ 6.

Efthymia Priki

23

Alciato was not the only one to be inspired by Hypnerotomachia’s hieroglyphs. Two indicative examples are from Pierio Valeriano’s Hieroglyphica (1556), in which he borrowed the image of a goose attached to an anchor

from one of Hypnerotomachia’s hieroglyphic sequences (Manning, 65), and Achille Bocchi’s Symbolicarum quaestionum (1574), in which he heavily borrowed from the same sequence for his emblems “Ex mysticis Aegyptionum literis” (Manning, 65, 73) and “Victoria ex Labore” (Priki 2009, 73). There are also examples where hieroglyphic devices from the Hypnerotomachia were transferred to other media, as in the case of the seven applied proto-emblems at the University of Salamanca attributed to Juan de Alava (1525-1530)

(Pedraza), or the hieroglyph emblem with the elephants

morphing into ants, used in one of the frescoes from the abbey of Santa Gi-

ustina in Padua, preserved in an etching by Mengardi (Iversen, Plate XIX.1;

Priki 2009, 74). Therefore, the Hypnerotomachia contains proto-emblems, that is, early forms of certain emblems, both literary and applied, that appear as emblems from the sixteenth century onwards. While most cases of direct influence identified so far relate to the hieroglyphs in the Hypnerotomachia, this article demonstrates that influence on emblems can also be traced back to other woodcuts, taking as examples woodcuts with narrative

scenes from Book II. The second, perhaps less obvious, reason, is the emblematic function inherent in the book.’ Manning already touches upon this issue to some extent, pointing out the “larger communication strategies. .. in the book, which invoke a syntax based on visually structured models” and the “continual process of instruction and initiation through ciphers, visual puzzles, moral marvels and myths.” However, his observations are based almost exclusively on the first part of the book, with an emphasis on the function of hieroglyphs and the use of typography (Manning, 68-70). Similarly, Russell points out that the “combination of description, illustration, and explanation is reminiscent of Plotinus’s remarks on the hieroglyphic signs and seems to foreshadow the presentation of symbols

in later emblem books” (D. Russell, 123-24); again, his observation is

implicit, author-referential comment relating to the insertion of bits and pieces of information enriching the text and creating an intricate, mosaic-like literary work) could also be seen as contributing to the choice of the word emblema

focused solely on the role of hieroglyphic devices in the narrative. In addition to these elements, I argue that the book could be seen as having an emblematic function in its entirety. The 172 woodcuts included in the 1499 Aldine edition are not merely a decorative element added a posteriori to accompany the reading experience. The purposeful placement of each woodcut at specific points in the printed

fn.1; on the classical, rhetorical, meaning of the word emblema, see also Drys-

7.

Iris also interesting to note the use of the word emblematura in the Hypnero-

tomachia, referring to a type of mosaic (which can be taken both literally, describing a structure or decoration that Poliphilo sees, and metaphorically, as an

by Alciato to characterize his literary inventions (Manning, 69; Leal 2014, 209,

dall, 67).

Some initial observations regarding the text/image interaction in the various

editions of the Hypnerotomachia can be found in Priki 2012.

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edition, their relationship with their textual context, and the fact chat, in their

majority, they are indispensable to the printed book—their removal could alter the meaning of the text—demonstrates that text and image in the Hypnerotomachia are interdependent, which further leads us to the assumption that the author, the woodcutter, and the printer must have worked closely together or, at least, that there was a manuscript of the book with illustrations upon which this edition was based. Whatever the case, there seems to be a pictorial narration alongside the textual narration that not only accompanies but also enriches the reading experience. In fact, as discussed elsewhere, there is a two-way text and image interaction in the meaning-making process (Priki 2012, 339-340): the text is supplementary to the image, filling in any visual gaps, while the image, which is often enigmatic, functions as a bridge to the text, leading the reader to discover its significance by reading the text and, at the same time, providing crucial clues in directing the reader’s interpretation of a textual element. This process is very similar to the reading of emblems (cf. D. Russell, 60). Moreover, the variety of the types of images in the Hypnerotomachia—narrative scenes, diagrams, isolated objects, inscriptions, and so on—and their careful placement in the book guides the reader to what is significant by giving emphasis to this or that object or scene, while, at the same time, the enigmatic character of some of these images deliberately obscures information and baffles readers, provoking them to unlock the

meaning through a process of interpretation that requires them to constantly oscillate between text and image. Taking into account all of these observations, I would argue that text/image interaction in the Hypnerotomachia ascribes to most, if not all, function classes that can be found in emblems as defined by Graham (137): mimetic (the representation of an object in text

and image); semiotic (the unlocking of an object’s meaning through text/image interaction); rhetorical (the emotional and moral reactions an object has on the dreamer and on the reader); syntactic and referential (the mechanisms directing the dreamer’s and the reader's gaze to what matters in the meaningmaking process). The interpretative process is the third reason that justifies the use of the term “proto-emblematic.” Emblems require the active participation of the reader in contemplating the motto, the pictura, and the subscriptio of an

emblem in order to decipher its meaning. Thus, the process of interpreta-

tion of the interaction between text and image is at the core of the emblematic genre. In the Hypnerotomachia, there are four interrelated processes of interpretation: (1) Poliphilo as a contemplative dreamer interprets, or at least attempts to do so, the objects, structures, and inscriptions that he discovers as well as the events that he witnesses—and so does Polia in Book

Efthymia Priki

25

II; (2) Poliphilo as a narrator provides long commentaries interpreting the contents of his dream, while in the case of Polia’s story in Book II, dream interpretation is undertaken by her Nurse; (3) progressing through the book, the reader follows Poliphilo and then Polia in their oneiric journeys, contemplating and interpreting the same objects, structures, inscriptions, and events that they encounter, with the difference that, in the reader’s

case, these elements are two-dimensional woodcuts and texts; (4) by gradu-

ally unlocking the meaning of each element, the reader is able to interpret the dream narrative as a whole. Therefore, the interpretative process in the Hypnerotomachia is related to the emblematic elements encountered as three-dimensional objects by the dreamers and as two-dimensional objects by the reader, as well as to the dream frame of the narrative, which alerts both the dreamer-narrators and the reader to the need for interpretation in order to understand the purpose of the dream and the meaning of Francesco Colonna’s story.

The Tyranny of Love Having briefly discussed the proto-emblematic character of the Hypnerotomachia, let us now turn to the peculiar iconographic sequence of the executioner Cupid exploring, on the one hand, its emblematic function in Book II and, on the other hand, its sources and influence on emblems. But

first, it is important to place the sequence in its narrative context, namely

Polia’s story as it unfolds in the second part of the Hypnerotomachia. Even though Poliphilo’s oneiric journey and its visual narrative sequence conclude at the Cytherean island, the dream is prolonged by the encased narrative of Polia, who is asked by the nymphs accompanying the couple in the garden of Adonis to tell her own version of their love story. This encased narrative is introduced at the end of Book I of the Hypnerotomachia and comprises the content of Book II. With the transition to Polia’s narrative, there is also a change in setting and style. The reader leaves Poliphilo’s architectural dreamland and is transferred to an imaginary rendition of fifteenth-century Treviso that blends the classical past with contemporary elements. Additionally, the woodcuts contained in this part depict only narrative scenes, which when seen in sequence provide a visual narrative for

the story of Poliphilo’s fatal enamoration with Polia, of Polia’s subsequent

initiation, and of the couple’s union—both celestial and actual— under the

auspices of the gods of love. The major part of Polias story is dedicated to her initiation into love, which takes the form of a religious conversion, instigated by the shocking death of Poliphilo caused by her indifference. Her initiation is accom-

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Efthymia Priki

27

»

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26

Fig. 1. Woodcut from the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (1499), fol. B2v. Kroch Library Rare and Manuscripts, PQ4619 .C9 1499. Courtesy of Cornell University Library Digital Collections.

Fig. 3. Woodcut

from the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (1499), fol. B4r. Kroch Library Rare and

Manuscripts, PQ4619 .C9 1499. Courtesy of Cornell University Library Digital Collections.

plished through two visions, a nightmare, and an instructive speech by her Nurse. As a newly converted lover, Polia rushes to Poliphilo’s side to mourn him. However, her loving embrace revives him, proving that love conquers all, even death. Polia’s conversion to Venus is presented as a religious transgression towards Diana (Priki 2018, 95-97). The couple is violently chased away from the temple of chaste Diana only to find refuge at the temple of amorous Venus, where Polia provides an apology for her former impiety towards the gods of love. The remainder of Polia’s narrative presents Po-

liphilo’s perspective on the same story through another encased narrative,

Fig. 2. Woodcut from the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (1499), fol. B3r. Kroch Library Rare and Manuscripts, PQ4619 .C9 1499. Courtesy of Cornell University Library Digital Collections.

in which he recounts his experiences to the high priestess of Venus. Poliphilo’s account fills the gaps of the story and reveals the cause of Polias oneiric experiences. While his body lay dead at the temple of Diana, Poliphilo’s soul had ascended to the heavens, where he had an audience with the gods of love, complaining of Polia’s indifference. As a result, Cupid promised to resolve the problem by presenting Poliphilo with Polia’s stone effigy as a gift, immediately shooting it with an arrow and giving it love-

inspired life, at the same time causing Polias violent oneiric experiences in the earthly domain. However, this is only revealed towards the end of Po-

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Efthymia Priki

29

lia’s narrative. When she experiences her vision of the god of love, she is ignorant as to his identity, while the reader is able to recognize him by his visual appearance, since in the text he is only characterized as “uno infiammabondo et senza istima furibondo, et implacabile fanciullo” (an inflammatory and beyond reckoning furious and implacable youth) and as “il carnifice et immite fanciullo” (the butchering and barbarous lad) (HP P&C, 395-96; Trans. White, 268-69). Specifically, after fleeing from Diana’s temple, where she left Poliphilo’s unconscious body, Polia is supernaturally transferred to a dark forest. There she witnesses a terrible scene with two unfortunate maidens harnessed to the yoke of a chariot violently driven on by a vengeful winged youth (figs. 1-3):

There straightaway with no truce I saw coming along in derangement two sorrowing unlucky lasses, this way and that often stumbling, the deepest appeal to pity, bullyingly commandeered for a fired-hot carriage, and harnessed to the yoke with incandescent chains of strong steel, which, tightening hard, their tender, fair white, down-soft flesh blisteringly seared. And with hair torn, naked, with their arms tied behind their backs, wretchedly they were crying, with gnashing jaws, and on the red-hot chains the trickling tears hissed and sizzled; incessantly driven on by an inflammatory and beyond reckoning furious and implacable youth, who was winged, and seated upon the blazing carriage; with his countenance dreadful, not angrier nor more gruesome was the terrifying Gorgon’s head for Phineus and for his companions; with wild-beast rage and fury and with a sinew-lashed and fire-

Fig. 4. Woodcut

from

the Hypnerotomachia

Poliphili (1499), fol. C6r. Kroch

Library Rare and

Fig. 5. Woodcut

from

the Hypnerotomachia

Poliphili (1499), fol. C7v.

Library

Manuscripts, PQ4619 .C9 1499, Courtesy of Cornell University Library Digital Collections.

incensing whip he was fiercely flogging with no pity, driving on

the shackled girls (Trans. White, 268).5

“Ove senza inducia vidi disordinariamente venire due dolente et siagurate fanciulle, indi et quindi, et spesso cespitante, summa provocatione di pietate, ad uno ignitato vehiculo angariate, et cum cathene candente di forte Calybe al iugo illaqueate. Le quale duramente stringiente le tenere et bianchissime et plumee carne perustulavano. Et decapillate nude, cum le brace al dorso revincte, mise-

rabilmente piangevano, le mandibule stridente, et sopra le infocate cathene le

liquante lachryme frissavano. Incessantemente stimolate da uno infiammabondo et senza istima furibondo, et implacabile fanciullo. Il quale alligero di sopra l'ardente veha sedeva, cum l’aspecto suo formidabile, più indignato et horribile non fue la terribile Gorgonea testa ad Phineo, et alli compagni, cum beluina rabie et furore, et cum uno nervico et incendioso flagello, feramente percoteva,

senza pietate stimulante le invinculate puelle” (HP P&C, 395).

Kroch

Manuscripts, PQ4619 .C9 1499, Courtesy of Cornell University Library Digital Collections.

Rare and

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Efthymia Priki

Rushing through the dense forest, the chariot finally halts, and the furious youth moves on to execute the rebellious women in a quite sadistic and horrific manner, thrusting a sword in their hearts, mutilating their bodies, and feeding them to wild animals:

The violent actions of Cupid and the beasts could be seen as a reversal of Polia’s pitiless behavior towards Poliphilo’s body in the temple of Diana, while the image of Cupid on the chariot brandishing his whip (in the image it looks more like a bundle of birch sticks) anticipates the lovers’ expulsion from the temple of Diana (fig. 4) as well as the chasing of Diana by the gods of love in Polia’s third and final vision (fig. 5). Polia, hidden in the shadows of the trees, watches and describes in grotesque detail the horrendous incident, and fearing for her own life, she starts to weep bitterly:

And the butchering and barbarous lad, after long and gory torture and enormity to these poor unlucky teenage girls, as being blood-thirsty and practiced in such executions, suddenly descended from the blazing vehicle, with an all-iron cleaving claymore, and when he had released them from the galling yoke and heavy draught, then in the middle of their pulsing hearts, he, devoid of any kind of forbearance or mercifulness, with stern untouched severity suddenly thrust them through. And now presently came to savage them a pack of hunting hounds, shaggy-haired, hungry, with fervid barking tunelessly throwing tongue, such as the Albanian king never gave as a gift to the great Alexander; and rabid lions roaring, and howling wolves, and in the air rapacious eagles, and starving kites, and hissing vultures, made their appearance at the warm blood and the unspeakable banquet. And the boy with any humanity removed from him, those over-driven lasses, when their last plaint and cry had been drawn out, in two portions smiting them he cut, and when he had laid open their maiden chests, he plucked out the living heart, and this was cast forth to the ferocious flying creatures, and the smoking entrails to the sinister savage eagles, and the remainder of the pallid bodies, quartered, thrown to the rabid animals (Trans. White, 269).? 9.

“Eril carnifice et immite fanciullo, doppo lungo et cruento stracio et immanitate

delle sventurate et mischine adulescentule. Quale cruento et exercitato in simili

carnificii, dell'ardente vehiculo di subito discese, cum una soliferrea et tagliente Romphea, solute dal molesto iugo, et grave trahere per medio del suo pulsante

core. Ello spogliato di qualunche venia et miseratione, cum rigida et incontami-

31

Oh spectacle of unbelievable harshness and with cruelty so marked, oh unheard-of and unwonted calamity, horrifying scene to behold, wretched in reflection, dreadful and fearsome to listen to, and in thought to be shunned and for fleeing from! Oh my, poor wretched me in grief, where have I thus come without hope, for these mortal perils? Alas for me afflicted and disconsolate, what are these accursed and maddening things that for me real and openly I see? (Trans.

White, 270).

Then, her vision ends as abruptly as it had begun, and she is returned back to the road whence she was taken. When she returns to the safety of her home and the company of her Nurse, she has another nightmare of two vile executioners violating her bedroom, attacking and threatening her because of her disobedience towards the gods of love. Following these terrible visions, Polia finds solace in the wise words of her Nurse who instructs her in matters of love (see Priki 2017, 235-42). In her instructive speech, the Nurse tries to determine the cause of the gods’ wrath by asking Polia to think whether she has ever exhibited any rebellious behavior towards them. To explain further what such rebellion entails and where it leads, the Nurse lists a series of examples from classical

mythology, such as Ajax, Hippolytus, Arachne, and Psyche, who were all punished in some way because they insulted or scorned a god “per negligen-

tia et poco timore delle divine ultione minitante” (through neglect and too

nata severitate, subito tranfisse. Et al presente ferire veneron assai venatici cani horricomi afamati, cum fervidi latrati et absoni intonanti, quali il Re Albaniense al Magno Alexandro in dono non dette. Et rabidi Leoni et rugienti. Et frementi lupi. Et nel aire Aquile rapace,

little fear of divine vengeance threatening) (HP P&C, 404; Trans. White, 275). The Nurse mentions these examples to avoid in order to prevent Polia from committing any more crimes against Cupid, whom she characterizes

torono. Et il puello da lui ogni humanitate remota, le percite fanciulle l’ultimo pianto et voce prolata plectebondo, in due particione secoe. Et reserato il femello pecto suo, il vivace core detraxe. Et quello ad gli feri volatili proiecto. Et le fumante viscere alle sceve Aquile. Et il residuo degli pallidi corpi inquartato ad gli rabidi animali iactato” (HP P&C, 396).

10.

et leiuni Milvi. Et sibilanti Vulturi, al caldo sangue et nepharie dape se appresen-

“O spectaculo di incredibile acerbitate, et di crudelitate insigne, o inaudita et insolente calamitate, scena da spectare horrenda, di considerato miserabile, di

sentire formidolosa et spaventevole, et di pensiculato aspernabile et fugienda. O

me trista me, et meschina dolente, ove senza sperancia ad questi mortali periculi

son io cusi venuta. Heu me afflicta et sconsolata, che cose sono queste maledicte et furiabile che io real et apertamente i’ vedo?” (HP P&C, 397)

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as a tyrannical and violent god when provoked. The Nurse provides further examples that accentuate the omnipotence of Cupid and the inescapability of love, referencing in the process the triumphal imagery that appears in Poliphilo’s dream and that features Jupiter’s amorous conquests as well as the story of Cupid and Psyche. Moving from the mythological examples to Polia’s experience the Nurse points out that love is inevitable, even for Polia. The Nurse also undertakes the task of dream interpretation, attempting to explain the causes of Polia’s vision and nightmare. However, instead of looking into the details of these oneiric experiences, i.e., their imagery, she begins by explaining the power of Cupid’s two arrows, which, interestingly, do not appear in the visions: the gold one causes love, while the gray one made of lead causes hatred. This duality appears to be a reference to two types of love: unrequited associated with Eros and requited associated with Anteros. Eros and Anteros as a pair is a motif that often features in Italian Renaissance literature and art, as well as in emblems (see also: Merrill; Comboni; Stephenson). Traditionally armed with leaden arrows, Anteros is a symbol of reciprocated love and, effectively, the punisher of those who scorn love and the advances of others (Priki 2017, 239). This interpreta-

tion of Anteros was still current in the mid- and late-sixteenth century, as

evident in the work of Vincenzo Cartari, Le imagini dei dei degli antichi,

published in 1556 (Ε 100v-102r) as well as in the paintings of Paolo Fiammingo on the Four Ages of Love that I discuss below. However, at the same time, a new interpretation of Anteros emerges through Alciato’s emblem books, that of Amor Virtutis who rejects and chastises physical love, favoring divine love instead (Dempsey, 364; Puttfarken, 203-8) as also discussed below. Returning to the Hypnerotomachia, the Nurse’s speech proves effective as Polia embraces her emotions for Poliphilo and eventually converts to the religion of love. In a way, the presentation of Polia vision along with the Nurse’s speech could perhaps be considered as a kind of a “proto-emblem” on the tyranny of love with the internal titles performing the function of the motto, the almost cinematic sequence of the three related woodcuts serving as an expanded pictura, the accompanying text as the subscriptio, and the Nurse’s speech as the commentary, interpreting the emblematic vision. In a way, this structure would adhere to the point made by Russell—albeit in regards to the hieroglyphic devices in the book—on the combination of “description, illustration, and explanation” in the Hypnerotomachia as foreshadowing later emblematic structures (D. Russell, 123-24), While the reader is confronting this “proto-emblem” as a contemplative experience of textual and visual interpretation, Polia engages all of her senses as a physical specta-

|

Fig. 6. Andrea

Alciato, Emblematum

liber (1531),

fol. A4v:

emblem

7,

“Potentissimus Affectus Amor.” Glasgow, Stirling Maxwell Collection, SM18. Courtesy of Emblematica Online, Glasgow University.

>

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Fig. 7. Andrea Alciato, Emblematum libellus (1536), p. 11: emblem 7, “Potentissimus Affectus Amor” Courtesy of Emblematica Online, Library of the Getty Research Institute.

Efthymia Priki

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Fig. 8. Gilles Corrozet, mena (1548) fol K4v: emblem 69, “Amour du bien publicque.” Courtesy of Emblematica Online, Glasgow University.

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tor of a living, three-dimensional emblem whose meaning, in this way, becomes much more poignant and mandatory. The idea of a “living emblem? in fact, is not foreign to the emblematic tradition; for example, Russell makes reference to the allegorical tableaux staged in Rouen as “living emblems” that were used as a “vehicle for satire” (D. Russell, 94). In the case of Polia, however, the resulting effect is not satire, but instruction via threats. Similarly, the (female) reader, who sees the terrible images and reads Polia’s description of the vision and the Nurse’s interpretation, is also warned of the punishment befalling those who spurn their lovers and also those who transgress the divine laws. As will be shown in the discussion that follows, the textual and visual narrative sequence of this vision is proto-emblematic not only because of its emblematic function, but also because the image of the executioner Cupid constitutes an early version of an iconographic motif found in renaissance emblem books. However, before looking forward to the emblematic future of this motif, let us turn backwards in pursuit of its potential sources.!! The image of Cupid on a fiery chariot (ignitato vehiculo) drawn by two chained women instantly evokes the triumphal imagery in Book I of the Hypnerotomachia—albeit in a somewhat distorted way—and, particularly, the triumphal procession of Cupid at the Cytherean island, which the couple, Poliphilo and Polia, follows after being ritually chained together. While the iconography of the triumphal procession at the Cytherean island, as well as of the triumphal processions in the realm of Materamoris, are clearly influenced by Petrarch’s Trionfi (c. 1350-1360)! the scene Polia witnesses in Book II lacks the triumphal character of the Book I scenes and of Petrarch’s “Triumph of Love.” Despite the Petrarchan echoes—Cupid’s fiery chariot and the chained (non-)lovers—Cupid in Polia’s vision does

not carry a bow and arrow (cf. Petrarch, “Triumphus Cupidinis” I, 23-24)

and the setting of the whole scene represents a darker, twisted version of the

all-powerful god of love." 11.

12. 13.

It should be clarified that while several sources, mainly classical, can be identified in relation to certain elements in this scene (see: HP P&C, vol. 2, 244-45; HP Ariani & Gabriele, vol. 2, 1119-25), my focus in identifying sources here is in literary or artistic parallels either to the executioner Cupid or the entire vision as a whole.

See Oettinger, 102-27; Fowler 44-47. For the influence Apuleius’s Golden Ass on the Hypnerotomachian triumphs, see Carver 215-18.

Mino Gabriele, in his commentary on the scene, remarks that the use of the metaphorical topos of love’s fire is used by Colonna to “ennoble” (nobilitare) the scene, whose explicit source is Boccaccio’s eighth novella in the Decameron

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Fig. 9. Joannes Sambucus, Emblemata (1564), p. 128: emblem 89, “Voluptas acrumnosa.” Courtesy of Emblematica Online, Herzog August Bibliothek, Wolfenbüttel.

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One of the closest literary and artistic antecedents, which demonstrates a similar experience in an analogous thematic context and which could be directly linked to the Hypnerotomachia, is from the story of Nastagio degli Onesti, the eighth novella of the fifth day in Giovanni Boccaccios Decameron (14th century) (Ciapponi in HP P&C, vol. 2, 244; HP A&G, vol. 2, 1120-

21; Leopardi, 152), which was also visualized in 1483 by Sandro Botticelli in

a series of three paintings (Museo del Prado in Madrid), as well as in a paint-

ing by Davide di Tommaso Bigordi a.k.a. Davide Ghirlandaio, between 1483 and 1525 (Brooklyn Museum). Here we have another case of unrequited love, where the lover, Nastagio, resorts to extreme measures involving supernatural visions in order to convince the woman he loves to reciprocate his feelings. Specifically, after giving up hope of ever conquering the woman he desires, Nastagio retires to the countryside and, while wandering in a nearby forest, he witnesses a curious incident: a young woman naked, with disheveled hair and flesh torn by the branches, being pursued by two dogs and a knight on horseback, who threaten her with death. Initially attempting to defend the woman, Nastagio is informed by the knight that he had already committed suicide and was paying his infernal debt by being ruthless to the woman who had scorned his love causing him to take his own life. Then, Nastagio watches

on as the woman is torn to pieces by the knight and the dogs, before reviving only to re-enact the scene all over again from the beginning. Following this vision, Nastagio decides to stage a dinner in that forest for his beloved and her family, so that she also witnesses the same terrible event. Indeed, the beloved, who is anonymous throughout the story, heeds the message of the vision and immediately accepts Nastagio’s marriage proposal. Even though, in this case,

Fig. 10. Painting by Paolo Fiammingo, Castigo d'Amore (1585-1589). Oil on canvas. GC 2362. Courtesy of

the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna with permission

of KHM-Museumsverband.

Cupid is not involved as a character in the story, the setting of the forest,

the dangers of unreciprocated love, and the cruel punishment of women by scorned lovers are elements that can also be found in Polia’s vision and this novella may well have been one of Colonna’ sources. Regarding the question of impact, given the general influence of the Hypnerotomachia and, especially, of its woodcuts on renaissance art and on emblems, it is worth investigating whether the striking visual sequence of the executioner Cupid from Polia’s vision also exerted any influence on later artists and also the type of contexts in which we find analogous images. (HP Ariani & Gabriele, 1121), However, I find that the opposite is happening. The violent scene reverses the positive image of Cupid’s triumphal procession

in Book I, whose source is indeed Petrarch’s “Triumph of love,” amplifying Polias anguish and, thus, resulting in the opposite effect: in Book I, the couple is elated by the experience, whereas in Book II, Polia is terrified and threatened by Cupid’s behavior.

PT ree ee ee ee Es a eee, Fig. 11. Engraving attributed to Aegidius Sadeler II, Castigo dAmor (1590-1595). Courtesy of the British Museum, U,2.152. © The Trustees of the British Museum.

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41

I have not yet been able to locate any direct descendants of Hypnerotomachia’s executioner Cupid before 1585. Perhaps the closest visual example before then is Andrea Alciatos emblem “Potentissimus Affectus Amor,’ which first appeared in the 1531 Emblematum liber (Augsburg) (fig. 6). Whereas in this first edition Cupid is depicted as a winged and blindfolded youth riding a chariot of lions but without holding any whip, branch, or sword, in later editions such as the 1534 Parisian edition or the 1556 Lyon edition he is brandishing a whip

and adopts a more aggressive stance (fig. 7). This image echoes the executioner

Cupid in that it affirms the power of love through the image of a Cupid as a charioteer subduing even the wildest of beasts. Another somewhat related example can be found in Gilles Corrozets Hecatomgraphie, published in Paris in 1540. In the emblem “Amour du bien publicque” a triumphant Cupid holding two branches commandeers a chariot led by birds (fig. 8); however, in this case, the image and the accompanying text link the winged youth to Anteros as a representation of “true” love associated with peace and concord. Regarding the gruesome image of the maidens being eaten by animals at the bidding of a god, we find a similar, albeit male, example in Joannes Sambucus’s Emblemata, published in Antwerp in 1564. The emblem “Voluptas aerumnosa” shows Actaeon half-transformed into a stag by the goddess Diana and being devoured by his own dogs (fig. 9), which borrows imagery from the classical myth of Diana and Actaeon (Ovid, Met. IIL.138-252). The emblem warns the reader of the dangers of erotic passion and the consequences of squandering time, and urges a simple and responsible life (Visser, 148). The image evokes both the execution of the two maidens in the Hypnerotomachia, and Botticelli’s second episode of the Story of Nastagio degli Onesti; all three cases are related to the theme of transgression resulting in divine punishment. While these emblems are loosely related to the visual sequence in Book II of the Hypnerotomachia, the first instance where an artist closely imitates the image of the executioner Cupid from Polia’s vision can be found in a late-sixteenth-century painting by Paolo Fiammingo a.k.a. Pauwels Franck, who lived between 1540 and 1596. Fiammingo was a Flemish painter, who first appeared in historical records as a registered member of the Guild of Saint Luke in Antwerp in 1561, and who, sometime around 1573, moved to Venice where he remained, initially working as an assistant to Tintoretto but eventually running his own successful studio. Therefore, it is highly

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dus. Dated between 1585 and 1589, the painting is generally given the title

Castigo dAmore, and is the final part of a series of four paintings representing

Fig. 13. Nieuwe ieucht spieghel (1617), p. 213: emblem 46, “Ecce triumphali trahitur Venus ignea curru.” Courtesy of Emblematica Online, Emblem Project Utrecht.

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Fig. 17. Vincenzo Cartari, Le imagini dei dei degli antichi (1626), p. 434. The Getty Research Institute, BL720 .C32 1626. Courtesy of HathiTrust.

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47

the four ages of love, now located in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. Previous studies have shown that in composing this series of paintings, Fiammingo was influenced not only by the Hypnerotomachia, but also by Cartari’s work, mentioned above, and by the Jnscriptiones published in 1534 and attributed to Petrus Appianus. The four paintings were initially attributed to Agostino Carracci, who sometime between 1589 and 1595 produced engravings based on the first two paintings in the series, usually referred to as Reciproco Amore and Eta d’Oro. The other two paintings, known as Amor Letheo and Castigo dAmor, were engraved between 1590 and 1599, probably by Aegidius Sadeler II, an engraver from Antwerp who was also a member of the Guild of Saint Luke. The engravings are usually accompanied by an inscription, informing the image, much like an emblem. Thomas Puttfarken has convincingly argued that the four paintings should be re-interpreted as allegories of the development and of the effects of love analogous to the four ages of mankind proposed by Ovid, each demonstrating different levels of virtue and morality (Puttfarken, 208). Effec-

tively, he re-titles and re-contextualizes the paintings as Love in the Golden Age, where love is reciprocated, Love in the Silver Age, where there is a slight

decline in the standards of love, Love in the Bronze Age, where love is ex-

tinct as the image of Lyseros or Amor Letheo testifies, and, finally, Love in the Iron Age, where love has been corrupted. Fiammingo’s take on the punishment of love is iconographically almost identical to the Hypnerotomachian image, with a few significant alterations that also transform the meaning of the image (fig. 10). Firstly, instead of two women drawing the chariot and being punished by Cupid, there is a man and a woman, possibly representing two lovers. Secondly, instead of a witness to the chariot scene, in the forest background we find men and women either in a state of flight from the oncoming threat or in the process of committing suicide. The viewer might ponder the message in this case: why these lovers are in despair and why Cupid is persecuting them, or whether it is actually Cupid/Eros, or his counterpart, Anteros, depicted in the scene. The inscription under Sadeler’s engraving might elucidate the enigma (fig. 11):

Admire this example of the punishment of love, Of that love which does great harm to what is right,

Which draws with it into the precipice, there to lie afflicted, The unjust and impious man who follows it." 14.

“Del castigo d’amor mira l'esempio / De quell’Amor che fa gran torto al dritto: / Che in precipitio, onde rimane affitto, /Mena colui, che’! segue ingiusto et empio.”

Fig. 18. Painting by Thomas Couture, The Thorny Path (1873). Oil on Canvas. Philadelphia Museum of Art, Purchased with the W. P. Wilstach Fund, the George W. Elkins Fund, and the

Edith H. Bell Fund, 1986, EW1986-10-1.

Based on the inscription, from where the title Castigo dAmor is also derived, the lovers pulling the chariot are being punished because their love is unlawful; they represent unfaithful, deceitful lovers, while the ones committing suicide could also point to those who have been deceived. However, devoid of the inscription, another interpretation may be considered, which is closer to the meaning of the image in the Hypnerotomachia. As Charles Dempsey argues, the punisher here is indeed Anteros persecuting faithless lovers with his flaming sword, while the other half of the painting depicts the rejected lovers committing suicide out of despair (Dempsey, 364). This is further supported by the fact that Anteros is also present in the first painting in the series; similar visual representations of Eros-Anteros appear in later illustrated editions of Cartari’s Imagini dei dei degli antichi, such as the one by Tozzi (Cartari 1626, 408). Fiammingo’ paintings and the derivative engravings by Carracci and Sadeler have been quite influential and there are several reproductions and adaptations of them in subsequent centuries, including Henri Matisse’s painting Le Bonheur de Vivre (1905-6) which was inspired by the first painting in the series (Puttfarken, 203). Regarding the Castigo dAmore or

Love in the Iron Age, two indicative examples that demonstrate the influ-

Efthymia Priki

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48

ence of this particular image are a seventeenth-century drawing by the Italian artist Pietro da Cortona (1596-1669) (Kurz, 221-23), which offers a more dramatic scene with a figure being trampled under Cupid’s chariot and his prisoners having a tormented pose and expression (fig. 12), and a historiated majolica bowl from Urbania (also known as Casteldurante) dating to the third quarter of the seventeenth century, painted by Ippolito Rombaldoni.”* This second example also preserves Sadeler’s inscription, but it contains two differences: there is an additional male figure running from Cupid; and in the background there is a love scene, an element which counteracts the violence of the scene and which was possibly inspired by Fiammingos Love in the Golden Age painting or its derivative engraving by Carracci. The idea of the gods of love as punishers of lovers, and the motif of lovers pulling their chariot, also persist in seventeenth-century and early-eighteenth-century emblem books, mainly in Dutch love emblems, but in a slightly different context. In these cases, Cupid is accompanied on the chariot by Venus while either a man or a woman is pulling it. The earliest example in this category that I have been able to locate is from the Niewwen ieucht spieghel, an emblem book by an anonymous author published in 1617 (fig. 13) This emblem demonstrates the triumph of love and its power to subdue even gods, by showing Mars pulling the chariot of Venus who holds a torch, and Cupid, who takes aim with his bow and arrow. The other examples differ in three main details (figs. 14-16): firstly, Venus takes a more aggressive stance

with her right arm stretched forward in command—this also evokes an image of Venus from illustrated editions of Cartari (fig. 17); secondly, Cupid is shown holding a whip reminiscent of the emblems by Alciato discussed above; and, thirdly, pulling the chariot there is often a woman and, at least in one case, a man, who all appear to be suffering not because of their indifference to love, but rather because they succumbed to physical love. These emblems are often accompanied by the motto “Tyrannis Amoris” or “Tyrannis Amoris Mundani” and their subscriptio, derived from the Gospel of John (8:34), informs us: “Omnis qui facit peccatum, seruus est peccati” (Every man

who commits sin, isa slave of sin). These emblems are from three sources: Ludo15.

This ceramic bowl currently belongs to a private collection, but can be viewed on the Christies website, where the motif is mistakenly linked to Dante Jnferno, without any mention to the image in the Hypnerotomachia: https://www. christies.com/lotfinder/Lot/ an-urbania-maiolica-documentary-istoriato-bowl-

16.

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49

vicus van Leuvens Amoris Divini et Humani Antipathia, published in 1629 and reprinted several times in the seventeenth century, and which was modelled after Vaenius’s Amoris divini emblemata (1615); Daniel Meisner’s Politica Politica, id est Urbium Designatio, Civili Prudentiae Parandae Accommodata, published in 1700, where we have the only case of a man pulling the chariot; and Willem den Elger’s Zinne-beelden der liefde, published in 1703, where the woman pulling the chariot is characterized as a proud soul, and the theme of the punishment is stated in the motto: “De liefde straft de wederspannigen” (love punishes the rebellious). The message of these emblems is clearly negative towards Amor Humano—human love, meaning physical, sexual love, which is regarded as a sin—and opposed to Amor Divino—divine, spiritual love that is represented positively by other emblems in the same books. Therefore, context is key in understanding the meaning of each image, however visually similar they may seem. Contrary to these emblems, in the Hypnerotomachia there is no distinction between human and divine love; they are one and the same. Love triumphs over chastity and pride, while love’ pain is welcomed as a burden necessary for the emotional development of the individual in the process of being initiated in the mysteries of love. The image persists even into the nineteenth century in a painting by Thomas

Couture entitled The Thorny Path (1873, Philadelphia Museum of Art) intended as a satire of decadent French society, where the gods of love have been replaced by a courtesan, and her captives are four men representing different ages and states of society (fig. 18). Conclusion

By focusing on one specific example from Book II—Pollia’s vision of the executioner Cupid—and tracing its legacy in subsequent centuries, it can be demonstrated that Hypnerotomachia’s influence does not only stem from the architecturally rich Book I with its hieroglyphic and cryptic devices, but also from the visual and textual narrative of Book II. Far from being “a rather dull account of a commonplace love affair” and “a prosaic tale of human ordinariness” (Fierz-David, 194-195), Book II is rich in its use of classical and medieval source material, expertly engages in an intertextual dialogue with Book I by inverting many of its elements to create an original narrative, and can also be deemed proto-emblematic in terms of its influence on renaissance emblems, as well as in terms of its emblematic function and the interpretative processes associated with Polias

visions. Moreover, the evolution of the motif of the executioner Cu-

pid in the emblematic tradition shows the versatility of this image that has been adapted to convey a variety of meanings.

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EMBLEMATICA

The examples examined here demonstrate the punishment of pride by divine forces and the theme of servitude to love expressed through the fierce figures of Cupid and Venus on triumphal chariots commanding men, gods, and beasts alike under their yoke. The powerful image of the executioner Cupid, that seems to have originated in the second book of the Hypnerotomachia, has a long history with different meanings in different contexts, but always expresses the difficult path of erotic desire either for those who scorn love or for those who embrace it. Furthermore, apart from the Hypnerotomachia, where the image can be characterized only as “proto-emblematic,’ in its reappearances in the Renaissance and beyond, it is either fully integrated in an emblematic context or, when it is not, it references those contexts. In other words, it becomes a recognizable em-

blematic motif connected to the tyranny of love, even if its specific interpretation varies depending on its association with religious or love emblems. Works Cited Alciato, Andrea. De verborum significatione. Leiden, 1530. _.

Emblematum liber. Augsburg, 1531.

___. Emblematum libellus. Paris, 1534. ___. Emblematum libri II. Lyon, 1556.

Appianus, Petrus and Bartholomaeus Amantius. [nscriptiones sacrosancte vetustatis. Ingolstadt, 1534.

Boccaccio, Giovanni. Decameron. Ed. Vittore Branca. Turin, 1992.

Bocchi, Achille. Symbolicarum quaestionum. Bologna, 1574. Brown, Patricia Fortini. Venice and Antiquity: The Venetian Sense of the Past. New Haven, 1996.

Cartari, Vincenzo. Le imagini dei dei degli antichi. Venice, 1556. Cartari, Vincenzo. Seconda novissima editione delle imagini degli dei delli antichi

di Vicenzo Cartari Reggiano. Padua, 1626.

Carver, Robert H. E. The Protean Ass: The Metamorphoses of Apuleius from An-

tiquity to the Renaissance. New York, 2007. Casella, Maria T. and Giovanni Pozzi. Francesco Colonna: Biografia e Opere. 2 vols. Padua, 1959.

Colonna, Francesco. Hypnerotomachia Poliphili ubi humana omnia nisi somnium esse docet. Venice, 1499.

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. Hypnerotomachia Poliphili. Eds. Giovanni Pozzi and Lucia A. Ciapponi. 2 vols. Padua, 1980. . Hypnerotomachia Poliphili: introduzione, traduzione e commento. Eds. Marco Ariani and Mino Gabriele. 2 vols. Milan, 1998. Comboni, Andrea. “Eros e Anteros nella poesia italiana del Rinascimento: appunti per una ricerca.” Jtalique 3 (2000): 8-21. Corrozet, Gilles. Hecatomgraphie. Paris, 1540. Couliano, Ioan P. Eros et magie a la Renaissance, 1484. Paris, 1984.

Cummings, Michael. “Metaphor and Emotion: Eros in the Greek Novel.” Unpublished PhD thesis. University of Edinburgh, 2009. Cupane, Carolina. Ἔρως Βασιλεύς: La figura di Eros nel romanzo bizantino d’amore.” Atti della Reale Accademia di Scienze, Lettere e Arti di Palermo 2 (1973): 243-97. Dempsey, Charles. “Et Nos Cedamus Amori’: Observations on the Farnese Gallery.” The Art Bulletin 50:4 (1968): 363-74.

Erasmus, Desiderius. Adagiorum Chiliades Tres. Venice, 1508. Drysdall, Denis L. Hieroglyphs, Speaking Pictures, and the Law: The Context

of Alciato’s Emblems. Glasgow Emblem Studies 16. Glasgow, 2013.

Elger, Willem den. Zinne-beelden der liefde. Leiden, 1703.

Farrington, Lynne. ““Though I Could Lead a Quiet and Peaceful Life, I Have Chosen One Full of Toil and Trouble’: Aldus Manutius and the Printing History of the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili” Word & Image 31:2: Hypnerotomachia Poliphili Revisited (2015): 88-101.

Fasanini, Felippo. Hori Apollinis Niliaci Hieroglyphica, hoc est de sacris Aegyptiorum literis Libeli duo de Graeco in Latinum Sermone a Philipe Phasianino Bononiensi nunc primum translati. Bologna, 1517. Fierz-David, Linda. The Dream of Poliphilo: The Soul in Love (1950). Trans. M. Hottinger. Texas, 1987.

Fowler, Alastair. Triumphal Forms: Structural Patterns in Elizabethan Poetry. Cambridge, 1970. Futre Pinheiro, Marilia P., Marilyn B. Skinner, and Froma I. Zeitlin, eds. Narrating Desire: Eros, Sex, and Gender in the Ancient Novel. Berlin and Boston, 2012.

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Gifford, Paul. Love, Desire and Transcendence in French Literature: De-

- “The Invention of Hieroglyphs: A Theory for the Transmission of Hieroglyphs in Early-Modern Europe.” Unpublished PhD thesis. University of Glasgow, 2014. Leopardi, Liliana. “Violence and Desire: Fetishist Impulses and Violence against the Female Body in the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili In Images of Sex and Desire in Renaissance Art and Modern Historiography, ed. Angeliki Pollali, Berthold Hub. New York, 2018. Pp. 149-67. Lorris, Guillaume de and Jean de Meun. Le Roman de la Rose. Ed. A. Strubel.

ciphering Eros. Aldershot, 2005. Godwin, Joscelyn. The Real Rule of Four. London, 2004. Graham, David. “Emblema Multiplex: Towards a Typology of Emblematic Forms, Structures and Functions.” In Emblem Scholarship. Directions and Developments: A Tribute to Gabriel Hornstein, ed. P. M. Daly. Imago Figurata 5. Turnhout, 2005. Pp. 131-58. Griggs, Tamara. “Promoting the Past: The Hypnerotomachia Poliphili as Antiquarian Enterprise.” Word & Image 14 (1998): 17-39.

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Paris, 1992.

Grove, Laurence. Text/Image Mosaics in French Culture—Emblems and

Leuven, Ludovicus van. Amoris Divini et Humani Antipathia. Antwerp,

Hieatt, A. Kent and Anne Lake Prescott. “Contemporizing Antiquity:

Manning, John. The Emblem. London, 2002.

Comic Strips. Aldershot, 2005.

the Hypnerotomachia and its Afterlife in France.” Word & Im-

age 8 (1992): 291-321.

Huper, Marie Sophie. “The Architectural Monuments of the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili.” Unpublished PhD thesis. University of Iowa, 1956. Hyde, Thomas. The Poetic Theology of Love: Cupid in Renaissance Literature. London and Toronto, 1986. Kingsley-Smith, Jane. Cupid in Early Modern Literature and Culture. Cambridge, 2010. Konstan, David. Sexual Symmetry: Love in the Ancient Novel and Related Genres. Princeton, 2014.

Iversen, Erik. The Myth of Egypt and its Hieroglyphs in European Tradi-

tion. Princeton, 1993. Kretzulesco-Quaranta, Emanuela. Les jardins du songe: “Poliphile” et la mystique de la Renaissance. Rome, 1976. Kurz, Otto. “Four Forgotten Paintings by Agostino Carracci” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes XIV (1951): 221-3. Leal, Pedro Germano. “Belles Lettres: Hieroglyphs, Emblems and the Philosophy of Images.” 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, 2010. Pp. 97-111.

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Meisner, Daniel. Politica Politica, id est Urbium Designatio, Civili Prudentiae Parandae Accommodata. N uremberg, 1700.

Menegazzo, Emilio. “Per la biografia di Francesco Colonna.” In Colonna, Folengo, Ruzante, e Cornaro: Ricerche, Testi, e Documenti, ed. A. Canova. Rome and Padua, 2001. Pp. 3-47. . “Francesco Colonna baccelliere nello Studio teologico padovano di

S. Agostino (1473-74).” In Colonna, Folengo, Ruzante, e Cornaro:

Ricerche, Testi, e Documenti, ed. A. Canova. Rome and Padua, 2001. Pp. 48-64. Merrill, Robert V. “Eros and Anteros.” Speculum 19 (1944): 264-84. Nieuwen ieucht spieghel. [Arnhem], 1617. Oettinger, April. “The Hypnerotomachia Poliphili: Image and Text in a Renaissance Romance.” Unpublished PhD thesis. University of Virginia, 2000. Ovid. Metamorphoses. Ed. W. S. Anderson. Bibliotheca Teubneriana. Stuttgart, 1993. Pedraza, Pilar. “La introduccién del jeroglifico renacentista: los ‘enigmas’ de la Universidad de Salamanca.” Cuadernos hispanoamericanos

394 (1983): 5-42.

Petrarch, Francesco. 7rionfi. Ed. Guido Bezzola. Milan, 1957. Priki, Efthymia. “Elucidating and Enigmatizing: the Reception of the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili in the Early Modern Period and in the Twentieth and Twenty-first Centuries.” eSharp 14: Imagination and Innovation

(2009): 62-90.

54

EMBLEMATICA - “Crossing the text/image boundary: The French adaptations of Hypnerotomachia Poliphili” Journal of the Early Book Society 15 (2012): 337-55. - ‘Dream Narratives and Initiation Processes: A Comparative Study of the Tale of Livistros and Rodamne, the Roman de la Rose, and the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili.” Unpublished PhD thesis. University of Cyprus,

Analogies Known and Unknown in Sylvestro Pietrasanta, S.J.s

2015.

. “Teaching Eros: The Rhetoric of Love in the Tale of Livistros and Rodamne, the Roman de la Rose, and in the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili” Interfaces: A Journal of Medieval European Literatures 2e (2017): 210-45.

De symbolis heroicis

. “Dreams and Female Initiation in Livistros and Rhodamne and Hypnerotomachia Poliphili” In Reading the Late Byzantine Romance: A Hand-

WALTER S. MELION

book, eds. Adam Goldwyn and Ingela Nilsson. Cambridge, 2018. Pp. 69-100.

Emory University

Puttfarken, Thomas. “Mutual Love and Golden Age: Matisse and ‘gli Amori de’

Carracci” The Burlington Magazine 124:949 (1982): 203-8.

Russell, Daniel. Emblematic Structures in Renaissance French Culture. Toronto,

Sylvestro Pietrasanta’s Nine Books of Heroic Symbols, a richly argued theoretical treatise on the impresa, consists of 281 heraldic devices that turn on visual comparationes [analogies] between similia [paral-

1995.

Russell, James C. “Many Other Things Worthy of Knowledge and Memory”: The Hypnerotomachia Poliphili and its Annotators, 1499-1700.” Unpublished PhD thesis. Durham University, 2014. Sambucus, Joannes. Emblemata. Antwerp, 1564. Stephenson, Craig E. Anteros: A Forgotten Myth. New York, 2012.

lel cases] whose correlation is modeled on the conditional relation

between a protasis and an apodosis. Pietrasanta states that he has selected devices belonging to famous persons, which contain familiar symbola approved by public opinion, and yet he also compares these devices to exotic, foreign artifacts, as unfamiliar as they are highly wrought and costly, here displayed to highlight their complex structure and texture. The analogies, he explains, will prove most delightful and instructive since they incorporate metaphors that mask the common sense of a signifying word, associating it with a signified thing that appears disguised. The power of Pietrasanta’s heroic symbols is-

Tinkle, Teresa. Medieval Venuses and Cupids: Sexuality, Hermeneutics and English

Poetry. Stanford, 1996.

Vaenius, Otto. Amoris divini emblemata. Antwerp, 1615.

Visser, Arnoud S.Q. Joannes Sambucus and the Learned Image: The Use of the Emblem in Late-Renaissance Humanism. Leiden, 2005. White, Ian, trans. “Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (The Sleeping Amorous Struggle

sue, then, as I shall demonstrate, from a curious combination of what is known and unknown, things ota and secreta.

of Polias Lover)” Unpublished manuscript.

S

ylvestro Pietrasanta, S.J/s De symbolis heroïcis libri ix [Nine Books of Heroic Symbols], a richly illustrated theoretical treatise on the impresa, first issued in 1634 by the Antwerp publishing house of

Balthasar Moretus, consists of 281 heraldic devices that distill the rai-

55 Emblematica: Essays in Word and Image, vol. 3. Copyright © 2020 by Droz & Emblematica. All rights reserved.

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Walter S. Melion

57

son d’être of their distinguished owners (fig. 1).' These are famous men

and women of the past and present—popes, cardinals, bishops, emperors, kings, queens, dukes, military men, and scholars—whom Pietrasanta wished to honor or, equally important, whose patronage he hoped to secure. He transmitted the imprese in the form of emblems comprising a brief motto (/emma), an engraved image (figura), and a textual commentary that

elucidates the symbolic relation between motto and image. Engraved by Andries Pauwels, the devices, as Pietrasanta explains, turn on visual comparationes [analogies] between similia (parallel cases] whose correlation is modeled on the conditional relation between a protasis and an apodosis. Pietrasanta states that he has selected devices belonging to justly prominent people: they contain, for the most part, symbola approved by public opinion, and yet he also compares these devices to exotic, foreign goods, as unfamiliar as they are highly wrought, desirable, and costly, which are here displayed to call attention to their intriguing form and function. By the same token, the analogies will prove most delightful, instructive, and, above all, persuasive, when they incorporate similes and metaphors based on nature or man-made things; the evidentiary truth of these res, anchored in their status as actual and verifiable things, and constitutive of the symbolum’s protasis, must then be linked to an apodosis evocative of the person whose impresa this is. That person’s character and deeds are called forth to the mind's eye, in tandem with the natural or artificial things that are now

seen, retroactively, to function as analogues to the heroic subject’s anima and gesta. The meaning of the heroic symbol, its power to distill a person’s raison détre, his or her heroic feats of body and spirit, issues from the process of discovering how the two registers—that of nature and art, and that of character and accomplishments—operate reciprocally, or, better, how they may be mutually analogized. For Pietrasanta, as we shall see, this process is rife with secrets, in two senses: first, the heroic symbol will be effective only if it is witty and pleasurable, and wit and pleasure result from the challenge of deciphering the conditional relation that binds the verifiable protasis and the intuited apodosis; second, the heroic symbol will be truly heroic 1.

On De symbolis heroicis libri ix, see Judson and Van de Velde, 1:287-91; Daly and Dimmler, S.J. 2005, 260-3; Hôlrgen, 600-626, esp. 605-607; Van Vaeck, Van Houdt, and Roggen, 133-46, and, on Pietrasanta’s conception of the impresa as a chirographum (handwritten assurance) that “commits the author to the execution of his proposed program or course of action,” 135; Daly and

Dimler,

S.J 2016, 62-65; Melion and Dekoninck, 521-2, 535-6. On Pietrasanta, with

specific reference to his canonical visitation of Giuseppe Calasanzio, Sch. P., and the Order of Piarists, see Boero, D.C.D.G., 3-69, esp. 12-16.

Ἐν ἡ _— Fig. 1. Cornelis Galle after Peter Paul Rubens (Pietrasanta 1634, title page), in-quarto. Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

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only if it attaches to persons whose elite status the sywbolum underscores by withholding meaning from the hoi polloi. Just as heroes transcend the multitude, so they deserve to be memorialized in a way that blocks access to all but their fellow elite. Be that as it may, even for them, as will presently become evident, the symbol’s encoded meaning proves to be a limiting condition: in this symbolic universe, there are two constituencies—those capable of decoding the symbola heroïca and those not, the privileged few who partake of the secrets, and everyone else, from whom the secrets are kept. Alone for the former, as Pietrasanta reasons, the common sense of identifiably natural or artificial things will be seen to have been masked by a complementary though hidden apodosis, and conversely, the person or event associated with these things, and their moral complexion, will appear as if veiled or disguised in a foreign garment made up of concrete, thingbased images. The power of Pietrasanta’s heroic symbols thus results, as my essay aims to demonstrate, from a curious combination of what is known and unknown, from component parts that are by turns 2044 and secreta.

Rubens’s Title-Page as Heroic Symbol Let us begin by parsing the argument of the book’s title-page, designed by Peter Paul Rubens, engraved by Cornelis Galle, and expounded by Pietrasanta himself in the peroration that follows the final chapter of Book IX, “Disputationum academicarum de Symbolis heroicis periocha” [Summary of the Academic Arguments in De symbolis heroïcis] (fig. 1) His account of the image freely invented by Rubens in response to the manuscript, begins with a brief definition of the symbolum heroicum: The heroic symbol is a similitude, contracted into a single protasis consisting

partly of an image (figura), partly of an inscription (demma), and having the power perfectly to exhibit and explain a resolution to undertake something difficult and praiseworthy. Let the whole of the apodosis lie hidden from the similitude.*

Accordingly, the relation between the symbolum’s parts, its protasis and

apodosis, turns on the secret nature of the latter, which must be visualized from two sets of clues: the name of the impresa’s owner, cited by Pietrasanta

just below the figura, usually (though not always) at the start of his brief On Rubens’ design, see Judson and Van de Velde, 1:287-91. 3,

“Symbolum Heroicum est, contracta ad solam Protasim, partim figura partim lemmate comprehensam, similitudo, vim habens exponendi perfecte ac persuadendi consilium de re ardua et laudabili molienda. Apodosis a similitudine intacta lateat” (Pietrasanta 1634, 479-80).

Walter S. Melion

39

commentary; and the additional information provided by the lemma, as well as by its relation to the figura. Since he defines the protasis as bipartite, describing it as an image and inscription comprised by a similitude, it seems clear that the canonical impresa will lack an epigrammatic commentary. It will generally not be presented as here, i.e., emblematically, a point he develops in Book V, on the difference between the impresa and the emblem (to be discussed below). Ipso facto, the symbol will be recondite to anyone unacquainted with the person it designates, for the requisite apodosis will be all but irretrievable. One might add that the elaborate frames that encircle the cartouches add another layer of secrecy, for their relation to the images they contain will likewise be indecipherable. It follows that the heroic symbol chief task, as formulated in the “Summary; can be fulfilled only by persons both erudite and ingenious: “Splendor, associated with the dignity of discretion, should shine forth from heroic symbols, and both refinement of spirit and suavity ought to be foregrounded.”* This is exactly what we see transpiring in Rubens’ title-page. Radiant with divine light, a youthful deity, elegant in form, evanescently winged, and graciously smiling, materializes from on high and benevolently acknowledges the offerings made at his altar by two votaries. He personifies ingenium—ingenuity, innate wit, native ability—which Pietrasanta identifies as the source of any symbol’s power to exhibit and explain. Ingenuity gently marshals nature and human art, respectively embodied by the Dianalike woman whose hand he grasps, and by Mercury, whose quill and brushes he takes up. In turn, Nature and Mercury gaze adoringly, and pliantly, at their handler who uses them as his instruments (instrumenta). They are the two alternative sources of the protases that Pietrasanta designates, in the proem soon to follow, as the foundation of the condensed similitudes generative of every heroic symbol. It is as if we were seeing enacted the process whereby Pietrasanta’s heroic symbols, and Rubens fictive allegory, were

fashioned. Ingenium, says Pietrasanta, adopts the “things of nature and

art, using them to convey the glory of true nobility and the trappings of illustrious deeds” (“verae nobilitatis decus, factorumque illustrium ornamenta”). Here, moreover, they not only personify nature and art, but also Pictura, whose mimetic source is nature, and Poésis, which springs from the eloquence of Mercury.5 They stand, of course, for the symbol’s component parts—figura and lemma. Their mutual interaction, like the 4. 5.

“In Symbolis Heroicis eniteat splendor, modestiaeque sociata amplitudo: an-

imique cultus et expolitio praeferatur” (Pietrasanta 1634, 480).

“Caeleste enim illud vitae humanae lumen, mentisque divinae soboles, Ingenium, eximij muneris consortes Naturam Artemque adsciscit, mutuasque opes ad

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Walter S. Melion

61

laurel wreath and caduceus they conjoin, in allusion to the visual and

verbal praise of heroes, signifies that the symbola heroica are painted

poems, poetic pictures. Pietrasanta avers that through word and image, heroic symbols bring lineages and families to light, or, more precisely,

“portray them not obscurely” (“non obscure ferunt”); they also allude to nations and cities, the seats of empire and ingenuity, whose peoples

have resolved to publicize great deeds and accomplishments, and emi-

nently and clearly to adorn them with tokens of glory.’ However, Rubens subtly—one is tempted to say, ingeniously—modifies this claim, for he inserts two sphinxes, legendary guardians of secrets and myster-

ies, at the base of the altar inscribed “De symbolis heroicis.” They call

attention to what is missing from the image—the crucially important apodoses whereby the similitudes are completed. What is more, they are placeholders for the many kinds of secret that Pietrasanta’s heroic symbols, in their form, function, and meaning, would seem to strive more to keep than to divulge. The tenebrous sphinxes, juxtaposed to the brilliant personification of ingenium, insist on the paradoxical oscillation between heroic veiling and unveiling on which his symbola are premised.

vere

Res-based

the Symbolum: The Relation between the Evidentiary,

Protasis and the Inferable, Person-based Apodosis

The proem at the start of unveiling that every heroic announces that he is about symbol (expositurus vim and

Book I purports to exemplify the action of symbol sets in motion (fig. 2). Pietrasanta to reveal the nature and power of the heroic naturam rei), subject matter as yet unknown in

these parts—he means the Low Countries—with respect to the theory and precepts of symbolic construction.’ Since sense perception opens the door

to all knowledge, he makes a point of appealing first to sight, rather than 6.

verae nobilitatis decus, factorumque illustrium ornamenta, confert” (Pietrasanta 1634, 480). “Et vero si disciplinarum omnium inventorumque princeps Ingenium sit; hic plane regnat, ubi geminae illae suavissimaeque oculorum mentisque illecebrae Pictura ac Poësis, unam in laudem venustissime conspirant; eoque natales suos Symbola Heroica non obscure ferunt, ac patriam innuunt, gentem Urbemque

7.

illa, quae summi semper Imperij atque Ingenij sedes, et magna gerere, gestaque praeclare solemne habuit propriis gloriae insignibus decorare” (Pietrasanta 1634, 480). “. . in his Regionibus, quoad artem et praecepta saltem, non adeo notae” (Pietrasanta 1634, 1).

Fig. 2. Sylvestro Pietrasanta, S.J., “Proem,” (Pietrasanta 1634, 1). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

62

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EMBLEMATICA

to mind: his initial chapter therefore consists of several heroic symbols, the

close viewing of which will penetrate the reader’s spirit (“intus ad animum”),

allowing her/him fully to comprehend what the eyes have transmitted to the mind and heart. But almost immediately, Pietrasanta troubles the supposedly easy transition from sight to cognition. He compares the heroic symbols here

assembled, to “foreign wares” (“peregrinas merces”): merces is the term for

tradable goods or commodities; peregrinas indicates that these objects were made abroad, and implies that they are novel and unfamiliar, in this sense unknown to the beholder.’ Pietrasanta analogizes himself to a merchant who trades in imported goods, setting an expedient price (“exquisitis pretijs”); he displays them in two stages: having first set them out [primum explicare], he then focuses on structure, and certifies that they have been fashioned with much care and effort (“texturam earum operosam”) (Pietrasanta 1634, 480). The term textura, though it can signify “structure” usually denotes surface texture, and thus begs the question of what it is that Pietrasanta, as merchant, makes known about his exotic merchandise. The elaborately worked texture/ structure of these desirable things is arrayed before the mind’s eye of the putative buyer. The seller exhibits these goods, attests their workmanship, and offers them at a favorable price, rather than professing to interpret, let alone

dictate, the meaning of the novel things he has given us to see. As it proceeds, the proem becomes increasingly ambivalent about the opacity or transparency of the heroic symbols selected for inclusion. Even though Pietrasanta admits that their meanings are often contingent, even hotly contested, arising from the expectations and predispositions of their audience, he asserts that he, at least, is capable of discerning which meanings

are the most acceptable. Indeed, he describes himself as a fifer, whose playing musters his men into military formation. But no determinative criteria are forthcoming, here or elsewhere in De symbolis heroicis: Perchance differences of opinion may occasionally arise: in this wise do factions and their attachments tend, especially in matters heroic. But just as formerly an army’s fifers, by playing tranquilly and reverentially, enforced, as it were, a certain musical discipline of the camp, lest the soldiers advance

willy-nilly; so, by the tempering influence of this first book, or rather, of the proem, I judge that all rivalrous violence shall abate. For truly, it will be agreed that I have only chased after those symbols approved by general consensus, which exhibit nothing inimical to the dignity of a heroic reputation.” «

9.

: » Peregrinas can also mean .

5

=

5

.

.

The strangely unresolved quality of the proem, its vacillation between a prescriptive (“quoad artem & praecepta”) and a collective (“communibus calculis”) reading of the heroic symbol, and its analogy of Pietrasanta to a merchant who markets foreign wares, the knowability of which appears conditional or factionalized, speaks to a certain instability in the project at hand: even as his commentaries canonize one reading or another, they point to other possible readings, not unlike the malleable metamorphic frames that surround the figurae and lemmata, adding a further element of indeterminacy; moreover, the meanings Pietrasanta conveys, he asks us to

construe as found, mobilized by popular consent, rather than authorized by him: which is to say, once again, that their significance is conditional not definitive, and results from popular predilection or even whim. Pietrasanta accentuates this point about the contingently referential status of the heroic symbol, in chapter 17 of Book VI, “Cur similitudo, prae aliis Comparationibus, delectet et persuadeat” [ Why Similitude, more than any Other Kind of Analogy, Delights and Persuades] (fig. 3). He is at pains to show that one sort of similitude in particular will garner conviction— the one consisting of a protasis based on a visualizable fact. This is because a verifiable fact has the capacity to stabilize the analogy’s potentially variable apodosis, which resembles the hidden premise of an enthymeme in that it requires to be inferred or surmised. Its status is virtual not actual, discoverable rather than given. For example, when the Emperor Vespasian traversed Egypt, and, speaking before his assembled subjects, invited them to “draw from me as from the Nile? he was comparing the benignity of Roman rule, as embodied by him, to that of the riverine source whence Egypt's fields were watered [“Haurite ex me tamquam ex Nilo.”] (Pietrasanta 1634, 295).

He poured this similitude into their hearts, nay rather, into their veins, as if his oratory itself were Nilotic, and he its imperial source. The Egyptians knew him not at all, but were persuaded by the similitude, even though Vespasian had been and, to some extent, remained a mystery to them. Even more compelling is Paul the Deacon's story, in the Historia Langobardorum 11.5, about the cruel similitude hurled by Empress Sophia Augusta against the Byzantine general Narses, a eunuch of the imperial household, during his campaign against the Longobards in Italy (Paul the Deacon, 87-89). Comparing him to a mere eunuch of the imperial seraglio, tranquilla et venerabili, milites, ne sparsi proruerent, ad quamdam quasi Castrensis Musicae disciplinam exigebant; ita huius prioris Libri, seu Prooemij tem-

me peratione, vis omnis, opinor, certaminum remittet. Etenim constabit, sectari

” ; C rare, exotic, or awe-inspiring.

Fortasse orientur quandoque dissidia opinionum: nam ita ferent studia partium, in re praesertim Heroica. Sed ut olim in exercitu tibicines, praecentione “

63

5

è

dumtaxat ea Symbola, quae probantur communibus calculis, et quae nihil prae se ferunt inferius Heroici nominis dignitate” (Pietrasanta 1634, 1-2).

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Walter S. Melion

SEXTVS.

who oversees the sewing of the empress’s seamstresses, she drew a disparaging analogy between his military service and women’s work, and thereby reemasculated him. Since he was truly a eunuch, even if valorous as any man,

LIBER

|

295

her similitude scorched like a thunderbolt (“tamquam fulmen vibraverat”)

APY T OX VIL

(Pietrasanta 1634, 297). He retaliated with a counter-similitude, equally powerful, that threatened Augusta and her consort Justin II; whereas she had aimed with her analogy to impugn his virility, his analogy appropriated the feminine imagery of sewing, and used it against her:

Cur fimilitudo , pra aliis Comparationibus,

deleétet , ac perfundent.

But he retorted that he had indeed learned formerly how to spin and weave in the imperial household; but the thread having thus been prepared, he would presently spin it into such a web as could never be

Ibet hoc expendere feorfim, & tadium vitare Capitis prolixioris: promam autem fimilitudi-

nem feu metaphoram vnam aut alteram ; & mox

veriufque neruum ac robur exprimere conabor.

Vefpafianus recenter vocatus ad Imperium,düm

unwoven, either by Augusta or the uxorious Justin. And he then sum-

moned Alboinus, King of the Longobards, from Pannonia into the heart of imperial Rome, in order that one leader of this most bellicose people having been overthrown, this other one might now succeed him.!°

_

Juftrarer Ægyptum, dixit ibi pro concione : Havy- 7 μ εὐ

_ RITEEX ME TAMQVAM EX NiLo.Quanam oratio in Vira

Once again, the force of the similitude arises from its foundation in fact, or rather, in dual facts: Narses does know how to sew, and he is a brilliant strategist; but like a spider—a latter-day Arachne—he will now use his skill to weave a tactical web so dense that no escape is possible. The similitude operates in multiple registers: as a eunuch is to the seraglio,

a animosque imosque influereinfluer blandiùs , aur aut P° | potuiflériffet inin aures

_ cor & venas irrigare benigniüs> Calum non refpi-

- ciunt Ægyptij, fed Nilum fpem annonz , prodro| mum, imo parentem vbertatis. Atqui ex Principe haurire poffe omnem beni_gnitatis modum, quanta erat futura felicitas?Quan-

so Narses is to the battlefield; as a skillful seamstress spins, so the strate-

gist Narses spins his web. Additionally, there is the similitude that arises out of a pseudo-fact, an apologus [fable]: as Arachne’s tapestry was nonpareil, so Narses’s web will be insuperable. Whereas the empress threatens to dis-identify Narses, eliding his identity as eunuch into the alleged identity of enslaved seamstress, Narses keeps the protasis and apodosis, seamstress-weaver and eunuch-general, but inverts the gendered mean-

τὸ etiam Vefpafianus hoc promifit efficacids , pro-

. mifit deleGtabilids, dum vfus eft fimilitudine Nili,

- cuius eft proprium , Agyptiis aduchere fimul vbe-

Tes riuos, atque vberem annum; quam fi compara-

_tionem,

differ

ing of the similitude, converting the loom into an analogue of war. All

aut exinundatione aliqua fortuità, que de-

this maneuvering ultimately destabilizes the comparatio, whose meaning is shown to be contingent and circumstantial, and becomes increasingly difficult to fix or secure.

aliquando alibi fertilitatem , aut. ex alrerius benigni

10. Fig. bus

3.

Sylvestro

delectetac

Pietrasanta,

persuadeat”

SJ:

[Why

“Cur

similitudo,

Similitude,

more

65

prae than

aliis any

ComparationiOther

Kind

of

Analogy, Delights and Persuades] (Pietrasanta 1634, 295). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

“Respondit vero, πεῖς ac texere in Regia domo se olim quidem didicisse; at licio iam praeparato, brevi orditurum se eiusmodi telam, quam nec ipsa Augusta,

nec lustinianus Uxorius Imperator umquam retexerent: et tum Alboinum Re-

gem Longobardorum ex Pannonia, ut uno avulso bellicosissimae gentis Duce,

alter succederet, in initima Imperij Romani viscera accersivit. . . .Haurite ex me

tamquam ex Nilo.” (Pietrasanta 1634, 297).

EMBLEMATICA

66

Walter S. Melion With respect to pleasure, I have said that it is felt to be greater, the more things the spirit and the mind learn to know; and this occurs in every analogy, wherein we consider each simile, the fitness thereof, and the ready wit of the person who knew how to combine disparate things. Verily, we, too, compare those things, and while this transpires, the spirit draws pleasure from judging the concordance between protasis and apodosis.’”

The Difficult Process of Analogy The difficulty is compounded by Pietrasanta’s understanding of the affective dynamics of analogy. The sense of any similitude, he argues, will be made more potent when it either delights or disturbs the beholder; and such affects are produced by the very process of analogy, which overlays a mask on the facts of the case. This occurs by dint of the relation between protasis and apodosis, for the image of the latter comes to be superimposed like a mask onto the features of the former: In order to explain the matter, I truly reckon that when sententiae [no-

tions, imports, significations] come forth with that apparatus of comparison and metaphor, then they put forward their own features and, in a certain manner, don a mask (“quoddammodo larvam habent”); on that account, whether they be messengers of honor or contumely, of the good or the bad, they either delight or perturb more forcibly."

On the one hand, the facticity of the protasis will ground the similitude, giving it an appearance of truth—firm, constant, and enduring. ‘The protasis, seen in this way, will seem to adduce the thing itself, rather than its mere mask—to invoke Achilles himself, rather than the resemblant “ghost” of

acommon soldier: “... non larvam militis, neque gregarium aliquem, sed

Achillem” (Pietrasanta 1634, 301). Further, this is why any protasis drawn from actual things or historical personages and events will surpass fictional subjects—fables, chimaerae, parables, or hieroglyphs—which deal not in truth but in the masks of truth (“est veritatis larva, non veritas”) (Pietrasan-

ta 1634, 300). Although these figurative devices especially please when they

are mimetic of the truth (“quia iis veritatis imitatio quaedam inest”), their

fictional status will always supervene, vitiating the truth-value of any similitude they anchor (Pietrasanta 1634, 299). On the other hand, the factual

protasis is masked, becomes a kind of fiction, when it puts on the face of the

apodosis it concerns, and for which it stands in a relation of simile or metaphor. Its character is made figurative, whereas previously it was descriptive; it now wears a mask. If this relational state of affairs is unavoidable, it is also the source of the heroic symbol’s pleasurable effect; and, to the extent that delight facilitates and expedites persuasion, the sense of the similitude will depend on the process of masking that distances things from themselves: 11.

“Ut rem expediam, sic equidem existimo: quando veniunt sententiae cum eo instructu collationis aut metaphorae, tunc illae proprios vultus posuerunt, et quo” dammodo larvam habent: ideo seu honoris, seu contumeliae, seu boni, seu mali

nuntiae ‘ace vehementius aut delectant, aut perturbant” (Pietrasanta 1634,

297-98).

67

As the display of ingenuity is proportional to the disparateness of the things analogized, so too, the greater their miscellany, the greater the effect of masking produced by the layering of protasis and apodosis.'° The masking trope applies equally, though in small, to the figure of metaphor, which Pietrasanta, in chapter 9 of Book VI, “Cur in Heroicis Symbolis necessaria sit Comparatio” [Why Analogy is Necessary in Heroic Symbols], defines as a compressed simile whose terms are comprised by either a single word or a bare minimum of words (‘ad unum verbum contracta eius brevitas”). Whereas comparatio analogizes two parallel cases—the protasis and apodosis—metaphora by reason of its very abbreviated form, appears almost to subsume them. The famous Platonic similitude, “As the Scythians conquer by taking flight, only by fleeing sensual desire do we conquer it” may be condensed into the metaphorical statement, “The victorious lover is a Scythian” (Pietrasanta, De symbolis heroicis, 199). The particles wt, quasi, and veluti, when applied to metaphors, clearly reveal that they are the contractions of similitudes, and also insist on their status as images to be conjured up by the mind’s eye (“tum vero imago nominatur”): for example, the wise man accuses miscreants as if he were a deus ex machina; or, the sole pleasures we should allow are domestic virtues, which are to be admitted as if they were waiting women; or, people populate Europe, 12.

“Quod spectat ad delectationem; dixi eam percipi maiorem, quando animus ac mens plura discunt; et evenire hoc in omni comparatione, in qua utrumque simile, et utriusque convenientiam, et ingenium praestans illius qui novit res tam

hoc dispares conferre, consideramus. Quin et comparamus ea nos etiam; et dum

sit, nova emergit voluptas, quam animus capit, dum ipse pariter iudicat Protasim cum Apodosi convenire” (Pietrasanta 1634, 298).

13.

Pietrasanta’s conception of the relation between protasis and apodosis in the heroic symbol underlies Jacob Masen’s theory of the imago figurata, as set forth

figured in his Speculum imaginum veritatis occultae, wherein he argues that the res siga and significans res a between relation complex the from image results

nificata, which are jointly and respectively construable as an emblematic prota-

sis and apodosis. On Masens image-theory, see Bauer, 477-78, 512, 530-36; Dekoninck 2005, 58-63; Dekoninck 2007, 105-18; Dimler, SJ., 126-43; and

Daly and Dimler, 65-71.

eS

eAE

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Walter S. Melion

as if they were ants and frogs living beside marshes or the sea (Pietrasanta

1634, 200). The images of metaphorized things, says Pietrasanta, come to us disguised in foreign dress, like impostors masked and in costume (“alieno habitu, ac veluti personata”) (Pietrasanta 1634, 201). In chapter 17, he adds that compression intensifies this effect: Similarly, we experience all these things in the metaphor; and this being the case, the analogy compressed into a single word pleases all the more suavely and agreeably. In the same way, a well-ordered picture that pleases in panoramic format (“in tabula universa”), pleases all the more when, having been narrowly compressed, it nevertheless deprives nothing of itself to the eye desiring [to see]. It expressly displays the same proportions, with one exception only: that which is here beautifully compressed, is there beautifully enlarged."

The heroic symbol that has been condensed into a metaphor thus requires to be reamplified, its hidden parts unfolded, its similitudinous structure discerned, if the symbol’s argument is fully to emerge. The collateral problem, mentioned above, is that one and the same symbol may be multiply decipherable: “In order that the symbol both delight and persuade, it avails that one argument, not several, be produced, and so too, in that symbol, one analogy: therefore, let that one be chosen

which is the best and most efficacious, and which strikes in the likeness of

a thunderbolt”® How, then, does one decide which apodosis best masks its respective protasis, or conversely, which protasis to laminate onto its respective apodosis. The only criterion supplied by Pietrasanta is that the mutual application of protasis and apodosis should produce an analogy so persuasive that it strikes powerfully, leaving no doubt that this alone is the operative comparatio, and this the ensuing sententia. The measure of efficacy, as becomes evident from the book’s 281 examples, is the combination of disparateness of parts and complementarity of discovered likenesses among these parts. Disparateness needs to coalesce into complementarity, comple-

mentarity to resolve into disparateness, before the heroic symbol will be considered fully viable. Pietrasanta furnishes a fine example of such a heroic 14.

“Haec omnia experimur perinde in metaphora;

quae cum sit comparatio ad

unum verbum contracta, adhuc delectat liquidius et iucundius. Eodem modo

cum placeat Pictura explicatior, in tabula universa; placet ea magis, quando in

arctum cogitur, et nihilominus exiguo in loco nihil de se ab oculo patitur desid-

erari; praeferens utique symmetriam eamdem, tantum eo discrimine, quod hic pulchre contrahitur, pulchre ibi explicatur” (Pietrasanta 1634, 298).

15.

“Una argumentatio, non plures, in uno Symbolo efferri potest, ut delectet simul

et persuadeat; sicut una in eo est comparatio: eligatur ea igitur, quae optima & efficacissima sit, et quae feriat instar fulminis” (Pietrasanta 1634, 302).

69

symbol in chapter 3 of Book IV, “Modus alius dissimulanter consilia exponendi” [Another Method of Imparting Plans Secretly]. In spite of his opening disclaimer that he hesitated whether to include a chapter on this topic, it soon becomes clear that the issues here raised are shared, to one degree or another, by all symbola heroica. The example, which comes from Paulo Giovios Dialogo dellimprese militari et amorose, epitomizes the difficulty of visualizing an apodosis that appears not at all to resemble the protasis, at least superficially. The resemblance between them, once it is discerned, will indeed strike with the force of a thunderbolt, but it may be that only the heroic symbol’s inventor will be able to draw the necessary parallel. Until he parses the symbol, it will keep its secret, refusing to be deciphered. One

evening, among

the noblemen

attending Pope Clement

VII at

dinner, there stood a knight-poet of Bologna, wearing affixed to his cap an agate cameo engraved with an image of the feast of Pentecost. It might have been thought to signify the man’s judicious piety, or the poet’s desire to speak with a heaven-sent tongue of fire, as in Fasti VL.5-6: “There is a God within us; by his actions, we are enkindled.” Unsatisfied with these explanations, the Pontifex asked the man what had caused him to fashion the symbol. He responded that he had devised it after spending a fortune on a young girl whom he aspired to wed. This turn of events was secretly expressed by the word “Pentecost” —”Pente coste,’ in Italian—namely, “Repent the costs; they are too high.” The ingenuity of the device so amused everyone, that even Clement, well known for his severity, left the chamber

laughing (Pietrasanta 1634, 129-30).'® The true apodosis, in this case, is

not the pun “pente coste,’ overlaid onto the word “Pentecost”: rather, it is the knight-poet himself, who like (and yet unlike) the apostles at Pentecost, has come to realize, as if with a fiery flash of divine inspiration, that the

cost of the object of desire always exceeds that object’s intrinsic worth. The action of finding this point of contact between protasis and apodosis can likewise be compared to a fiery flash of inspiration, and in this sense, the heroic symbol can be seen reflexively to allude to its own mode of production. But the analogy is recondite enough to qualify as a nearly undiscoverable secret, whose meaning only the bearer of the symbol is qualified to reveal. A second anecdote describes a similar outcome and set of circumstances. A nobleman is thrown from his horse during a joust held to mark a public festivity. He returns the following day, his breastplate, lance, and

plumes entirely black, his funereal shield likewise black but for the silver

image of a wedge of cheese. His witty device, at once festive yet lugubrious, excites his fellow noblemen to speculate about the heroic symbol's 16.

Cf. Giovio, 17.

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EMBLEMATICA

meaning. Try as they might, none can decode it, until he explains that the device and the color black together picture the vocative interjection “O caso duro,” with the Latin for cheese, caseus, standing for “caso,” and the color of harsh, bitter mourning, standing for “duro” (Pietrasanta 1634,

131-2). Here again, the secret proves impervious to every attempt upon it. The same holds true for the many examples enumerated in the previous two chapters, “Modus loquendi apud Veteres, sine dictione, et scriptione” [The Ancients’ Method of Speaking Without Words or Text] and “An modo co loquendi usa sit Aetas posterior” [Whether Posterity Has Made Use of that Method of Speaking]. Take the story of Idanthura, King of the Scythians, recounted in Clement of Alexandria Stromata V.8 (Pietrasanta 1634, 124)."” He leaves a puzzling symbol for the invading army of King Darius—a mouse, frog, bird, javelin, and plough. Whereas one of Darius’ tribunes interprets it to mean that every household (ure), source of water (rana), space for action (ave), armament (iaculo), and plot of arable land (aratro) will be ceded to the Persians, another tribune’s reading is dia-

metrically opposed: unless the Persians withdraw, the Scythians threaten to make them creep like mice on land, like frogs in water, and, menacing them with Scythian spears, predict that they will be forced to flee like birds taking flight, and to labor on the land like slaves. Similarly, the torque, or neck ornament, decorated with heads of deer and a dog’s head, worn by a stalwart courtier at the court of King Philip I of France, is misinterpreted by his fellow courtiers as an allusion to his prowess as a hunter, when in fact, it was designed to reprove them for their recent timidity in battle (Pietrasanta 1634, 124-25). Unlike the torque’s owner, who fought for king and country with the ferocity of a Molossian hound, they had fled like startled deer. Delighted by the man’s virtue and ingenuity, the king codifies his self-devised heroic symbol, making it universally legible: he institutes the military order of the hound, and commands its recipients to wear a chain of linked deer heads. Without the king’s intervention, however, the symbol’s secret would remain virtually unknown, or known to practically no one. This is what likewise transpires when an iron nail in a silver laver is presented one day by a courtier to a fellow plenipotentiary (Pietrasanta 1634, 127). The gift may be an admonition symbolizing the need to fix (clavum) one’s good

Walter S. Melion

71

a lightning bolt? The question, being unanswerable, contravenes the precept that the heroic symbol should produce one argument, not several, by means of efficacious analogy. The two heroic symbols that conclude chapter 3 of Book IV illustrate what Pietrasanta has in mind. The first belonged to Virginius Ursinus: it consists of an unfinished /emma juxtaposed to an image of the plant

sempervivens (literally, “forever living”] engraved on a shield (fig. 4). The

symbol signifies that its bearer, ever ready to embrace virtue, will bring to perfection any worthy deed that needs completing, on the model of the rebus “semper vivens” [in Italian, “sempre vivente”], which completes the lemma, “La virtù fa sempre vivo”; concomitantly, the symbol promises that the memory of Orsini’s virtue will live forever, conferring on him a kind of eternity (Pietrasanta 1634, 132-33). The stability of this symbol results from its easy, if clever, legibility. The same applies to the impresa of Ferdi-

nand IV, King of Leôn and Castile, who devised it on the eve of a crucial

battle (fig. 5). Inscribed beside the word Valer [to be worth, to be equal to] are three diadems [“diademas” in Spanish], spelling out the hortatory admonition, “Dia de mas valer” i.e., “This is the day to strive your hardest” (Pietrasanta 1634, 133-34). The clever similitude turns on the uniformity of the three identical crowns: as these three crowns are equal, one to the other, so Ferdinand is equal to the task of wearing the crown, and of governing equitably. The device was designed to stir the king’s men to action, and as such, it needed to be witty, but also easily legible, to a large number of followers. Its secret, in other words, was engineered to be withheld only momentarily, then discovered by any person of middling wit. Both of these heroic symbols are exceptions that prove the rule spelled out in chapter 3 of Book VII, “An idoneae sint ad Symbola Heroïca figurae, quarum proprietas est obscurior” [Whether Images whose Properties Are

Obscure, Are Fit to be Used as Heroic Figures]. Here Pietrasanta focuses

on the symbolization of religious matters and venerable truths, but his observations again turn out to be applicable almost universally to all heroic symbols. He makes his case by paraphrasing Girolamo Rucellai, who ad-

vised that perpetual symbols, i.e., symbols of enduring certitudes, should

be partly concealed from their viewers, appearing as if half- rather than

fully-lit. Moreover, they should be “shamefaced” (verecundas), not recon-

fortune (polubro argenteo), nailing it to the post before it slips away; op-

dite (reconditas): their meaning must be discoverable to anyone willing and able to take up the challenge of interpreting them. They should be secretive,

to nail fortune to the post. So, which is it; which analogy will strike like

theaters and public spectacles, which must be brightly spotlit (clarissimas) and instantly knowable (“dum videntur, agnoscantur statim”) (Pietrasanta

positely, the nail and laver may be meant to call to mind that no fortunate circumstance can be retained permanently. Everything eludes one’s efforts 17.

CÉ Clement of Alexandria, 159-60.

in other words, but not impenetrable, unlike the symbols associated with

EMBLEMATICA

Pee

ee,

A

ais AT.

aa

—_

Walter S. Melion

+

>

:

Fig. 4. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of Virginius Ursinu: La virtà Ja [sempre vivo] (Pietrasanta 1634, 133). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

|

Fig. 5. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Zmpresa of Ferdinand IV, King of Leén and Castile: Valer (Pietrasanta 1634, 134). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

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Walter S. Melion

1634, 315). The notion that symbols should be neither too clear nor too

obscure derives from Paulo Giovio, but Pietrasanta is more concerned than Giovio to set the threshold at which secrecy shades into obscurity, and riddling becomes obfuscation: “Paolo Giovio desired them to be neither too clear nor too obscure: otherwise, if they be too clear, anyone at all will comprehend heroic symbols; yet, if they be too obscure, it will be necessary to enlist a sybilline interpreter.”'* Images so obscure that they fail satisfactorily to communicate an authors intention (“mentem auctoris”) can on no ac-

count function as the basis of symbols, since they will prove resistant to interpretation and, as such empty of signficance in his “deest significatio, idcirco symbola censeri non possunt” (Pietrasanta 1634, 317). Consequently, Pietrasanta proscribes the figurae of totally unfamiliar objects, such as gems or plants from the Indies. Even so, he is quick to qualify this prohibition: little known European things may be pictured, so long as the /emma helps somewhat to elucidate them. He approves the heroic symbol of Ercole Tas-

so, on these grounds: playing on his name, it features a tassus (yew-tree),

along with the lemma, “Itala sum, quiesce” [I am Italian; be at rest], which turns on the distinction, made by Pliny in Natural History X.16, between the coma-inducing Spanish yew that endangers all who sleep beneath it, and the Italian yew that threatens no one, being entirely benign (fig. 6) (Pietrasanta 1634, 318-9). The lemma assures the beholder that s/he is looking at the benign, not the toxic species of yew, and the heroic symbol thus avows that Tasso, like this tree, does harm to no one. Implicit in the impresa

is the contrast between benevolent Italians and duplicitous Spaniards: one

may rest at ease in the presence of the former, but woebetide anyone who seeks to repose in the presence of the latter. Knowledge of Pliny is the line drawn in the sand, that demarcates between those for whom this heroic symbol is respectively legible or impenetrable. The impresa of an anonymous author, on the other hand, transgresses this threshold, since its imprecision allows no definitive reading to be inferred. Accompanied by the epigraph “Ardoris rogus” [Funeral pyre of desire], folded letters are shown burning in a bedroom fireplace (fig. 7)

(Pietrasanta 1634, 316). The indeterminacy of these letters poses an insu-

perable obstacle for the reader-viewer, states Pietrasanta, whose source was

the humanist lawyer Scipio Bargalio. It is impossible to determine what

kind of letters these are, whether love-letters bearing glad tidings, or report18.

“Paulus Iovius nec admodum claras nec admodum obscuras eas desiderat: alioquin quivis e vulgo Heroica Symbola percipiet, si nimium clara sint; si autem sint nimium obscura, oportebit interpretem Sibyllam accersire” (Pietrasanta 1634, 316).

het

L:

à

ae

Pe att

?

See

Fig. 6. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of Ercole Tasso: Itala sum, quiesce (Pietrasanta 1634, 318). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

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Walter S. Melion

77

ing some happy outcome, or a different kind of letter altogether, addressed to holy men from whom the writers were desirous of some favor. Such encumbrances are sometimes burned to enable pious men undistractedly to devote themselves to the love of God. So, one asks in vain what sort of love is being invoked, carnal or divine, dishonorable or honorable, or, for that matter, why the letters, whatever their genre, are being burned, and what that burning signifies. Worst of all, there is no way of discriminating among these alternatives; instead, they are muddled, and cannot be demarcated by reference to the figura, the lemma, or the combined image and text. In contradistinction to the impresa “Itala sum, quiesce” wherein two meanings are adduced—an Italian and a Spanish—and firmly distinguished, here the meanings elide, and the heroic symbol becomes an unreadable sort of chimaera (fig. 6): But if such symbols were perchance to exhibit two senses, I would join Paolo Giovio in praising them: for therein lies no obscurity, but rather, a dual significance; and such symbols must be judged on that account to be generative of paired offspring, rather than reminiscent of some monster, which [condition] might incur reproach from one of us. Lest perhaps it fall out that two significations are falsely and confusedly subsumed into a single sense, like [dual] portents in one and the same animal."

For Pietrasanta, the trope of the chimaera whose component parts are elided is deeply troubling: it brings to mind the possibility of a symbolic image that operates beyond the limits of what is describable, straying too far from the province of verifiably representable things, either natural or man-made, that must ground the protasis, ensuring its legibility. The chimaera, on this account, stands for a secret sententia too esoteric and obscure to be fathomable. He warns against this danger by insisting on the importance of the quality of thingness, which must be preserved in the protasis especially. It

must consist, in some measure, of res that are recognizable. Chapter 5 of Book VII, “De figurae allusione varia et ingeniosa in Symbolis Heroicis”

eg

Fig. 7. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of an Anonymous Author: Ardoris rogus, (Pietrasanta 1634, 316). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

[On Varied and Ingenious Allusive Images in the Heroic Symbol], adverts to this topic. This genre of heroic symbol arises from the known qualities, attributes, or possessions of the people being symbolized (“quasi ex pro19.

“At si quae forte Symbola sensus duos prae se ferant, ego ea cum Paulo Iovio laudaverim: non enim inest ipsis obscuritas, sed potius gemina significatio: et fecunda ideo fetu gemello iudicabuntur potius, quam monstro similia; quod aliquis videtur exprobrare. Nisi forte id eveniat, ut in sensum unum, sicuti portenta in unum animal, ambae significationes perperam et confuse agglutinentur” (Pietrasanta 1634, 319).

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Walter S. Melion

priis rebus nata esse videantur”), not least from the things their names evoke, or the things their coats of arms contain (Pietrasanta 1634, 324). A fine example is the impresa of the nobleman Giovanni Battista dell’Arco, embedded in whose name is an allusion to the rainbow (fig. 8). The image portrays a rainbow beside the noon-day sun, with the inscription “A

magno maxima” [Greatest from the great] (Pietrasanta 1634, 324-25). As

the rainbow’s height, breadth, and brightness depend on the position and strength of the sun, so Dell’Arco’s fame and glory depend on whichever illustrious prince he chooses to serve, whose radiance will brightly illuminate his military feats. The protasis concerns the relation between sun and rainbow; the apodosis the relation between princely employer and Dell’Arco; the analogy has to do with reflection and the transmission of light. Also implicit in the émpresa is the notion that the prince’s light will be reflected even on a cloudy day, i.e., whatever vicissitudes arise; moreover, just as the rainbow both issues from the sun’s light and embellishes by coloring it, so

Dell’Arco will reflect the light of his patron, whoever he is, and also beau-

tify and embellish it. Amusingly, Pietrasanta incorporates a seeming chimaera, the image of a

siren, along with the epigraph, “Contemnit tuta procellas” [Safe, she shows

contempt for storms], into the impresa of Girolamo Colonna, Duke of Paliano and Prefect of the Treasury of King Ferdinand (fig. 9) (Pietrasanta 1634, 326-27). The siren is allowable because she derives from the Col-

onna family crest, atop which she is displayed as an ornament. The figura,

seen from this vantage point, is no hybrid fiction, for it illustrates an actual thing. As the siren remains secure and untroubled in her watery home, even when storms rage, so Colonna remains tranquil and unperturbed, even when the times are disordered. And as she scorns the sea’s tempests as mere nothings, so he disdains the fury of his enemies, holding them in the ut-

most contempt.

The heroic symbol becomes all the more concretely persuasive when it integrates more than one thing, showing how they originate in tandem and mutually interact. Ascribed to an anonymous nobleman in imperial service, the impresa “Maturabitur partus” [Its offspring will come to fruition] portrays the origin of the eagle-stone, described by Pliny in Natural History X.4 (fig. 10) (Pietrasanta 1634, 329). The eagle creates the stone by transporting it to the nest, where the interaction of nest and stone transforms the latter into a prophylactic that guarantees the safe incubation of the eagle’s eggs. Thereafter the eagle-stone has the power to underwrite a safe childbirth for anyone who uses it. The heroic symbol converts its every major constituent into a perfect analogue for the plural apodosis it calls

ETAT

Fig.

8.

Cornelis

Galle

after

Andries

Pauwels.

A

Zmpresa

of

Giovanni Battista dellArco: A magno maxima (Pietrasanta 1634, 325). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

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EMBLEMATICA

Fig. 9. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of Girolamo Col-

onna, Duke of Paliano: Contemnit tuta procellas (Pietrasanta 1634, 327). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

Walter S. Melion

Fig. 10. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Zmpresa of an Anonymous Nobleman: Maturabitur partus, in (Pietrasanta, 1634, 329). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

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Walter S. Melion

83

forth. As the eagle changes the stone for the better, so the emperor changes the bearer of this impresa, causing him to mature into a worthy subject; as the worthless stone, after the eagle handles it, metamorphoses into a priceless object, so the imperial client becomes exceptional after the emperor lavishes wealth and patronage upon him. And, as the eagle-stone brings the eagle’s unhatched chicks to term, so the emperor’s consideration ensures that his pliant subject will complete all the great things he has undertaken

on his master’s behalf. Within this witty construction, the protasis itself

becomes like the stone, its bearer like the eagle, in that the relation among the image’ objective constituents and Jemma in a sense gives birth to the apodosis, conjures it up by inviting the completion of the analogy implicit in the protasis. The Relation between Res and Secretum

So total is Pietrasanta’s commitment to the res-based facticity of the protasis, and to the notion that the apodosis will be inferable from these things, that he considers no apodotic subject beyond the scope of this analogical relation. Even the most sacred of subjects may be deployed in heroic symbols of this sort. In chapter 1 of Book VII, “An figurae plures in uno Symbolo esse possint” [Whether Several Images Can Be Comprised by

One Symbol], he illustrates an impresa that, surprisingly, compares Christ

Jesus to a rose nourishing to the honeybee, but poisonous to the scarab beetle (fig. 11) (Pietrasanta 1634, 305-6) The lemma, “Uni salus, alteri pernicies” [Safe to one, fatal to another, alerts us to the scriptural source,

Luke 2:34, and the Aquinian prayer, “Lauda Sion Salvatorem,” that underlie the analogy to be drawn.” As the rose feeds the bee, even while killing the beetle, so Christ was born, in the words of Simeon, to be “set for the fall and the resurrection of many”; and again like the rose, Christ the bread of heaven is given to humankind as “death to the evil, and life to the good”?! Together with the /emma, the secret relation among rose, bee, and beetle, decipherable by reference to Joachim Camerarius’s Symbolorum et emblematum centuriae quatuor II1.92, invites the construction

of an analogy rooted in a great mystery—the nature of the saving grace of

20.

On the Eucharistic hymn “Lauda Sion” written by Thomas Aquinas at the behest of Pope Urban IV for the newly instituted Feast of Corpus Christi, see Kayser, 77; and Henry, 36-38.

21.

“... uti panis divinus ac caelestis, mors est malis, vita bonis” (Pietrasanta 1634, 306).

Fig. 11. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Jmpresa of Christ Jesus: Uni salus, alteri pernicies (Pietrasanta 1634, 305). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

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Walter S. Melion

Christ.” The incongruousness of the comparison between Christ and the image of a lowly rose, bee, and beetle, implicitly calls to mind another great mystery—that of the Incarnation—which centers on the conjunction of res [material things] and divina [divine matters], of high divinity and lowly humanity in the person of Christ. The emphasis on res goes hand in hand with an emphasis on the materiality of the things comprised by the protasis. This topic is covered in chapter 2 of Book VII, “An ex figuris, quae non appareant, possint fieri Symbola Heroica” [Whether Heroic Symbols Can Be Fashioned from Images That Are Invisible]. Pietrasanta construes the condition of invisibility as opposed, even inimical, to the condition of representability; contrariwise, representability necessarily connotes the possibility of material representation. Both figura and lemma participate in the process of representation engendered by the canonical symbolum heroicum, which is to say that image and word are seen as joint instruments that impart to the protasis its rep-

resentational character. The figura supplies the lineaments, the /emma the discernible details or properties; the two elements operate not only visually, but also mimetically: Next in order, as we have shown that the protasis ought not to be fully formed in the figura, absent the /emma, nor fully recounted in the lemma, absent the figura; so from this it can be plainly surmised that an image of some sort needs always to be pictured, and moreover, that the image’s properties should be made known through the epigraph, which substitutes for speech.”

The impresa of Filippo Cardinal Spinola exemplifies the kind of invisibility

Pietrasanta deprecates, as a contravention of his rule of material representation (fig. 12). The sun rises over a panoramic landscape overtopped by

the lemma, “Non cernuntur, et adsunt” [Indiscernible, they are yet pres-

ent”] (Pietrasanta 1634, 309-10). Unportrayed because unseen are the stars eclipsed by the sun’s light, which signify the endowments of lineage and fortune obscured by the brighter light of the Spinola’s future cardinalitial virtue that he promises everywhere to radiate. The impresa offends Pietrasanta’s sensibilities because it paradoxically confuses the registers of 22.

Cf Camerarius, 184-85. On the elevated allegorical functions of insect lore, with

reference to various species of beetle known to emblematists such as Camerarius and

Joris Hoefnagel, see Bass, 228-40. 23.

“Dein, quia ostendimus, Protasim nec debere totam figurari, ita ut sit expers

lemmatis, nec debere totam narrari, ita ut sit expers figurae; ex eo manifeste oritur, debere etiam semper figuram aliquam pingi, atque adeo per epigraphen, quae loco sermonis est, proprietatem figurae indicari” (Pietrasanta 1634, 310).

nee

Ais

TUE

:

Fig. 12. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of Filippo Cardinal Spinola: Non cernuntur, et adsunt, (Pietrasanta 1634, 309). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

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representation and invisibility. The rising sun, though visible in the present, signifies Spinola’s virtues that will come to light presently, in the future. The invisible stars, shining in the apparently empty sky, left of the sun, signify the present but unseen virtues that his future clerical virtue will occlude totally. The absence of what should be present and visible, and the proleptic presence of what shall arise in due course, confounds the relation between present and future. Simply put, future virtue is made discernible, at the expense of present virtues made indiscernible. More to the point, the impresa focuses not on representability but on immateriality—on starry virtues whose form and substance have been dematerialized by the sun, in token of solar virtues still waiting to materialize. Indeed, the lemma calls attention to what cannot be seen in the image, while the sun’s face, equipped with eyes, implies that it alone is capable of detecting the deceptively absent things whose material qualities sunlight has caused to evanesce. Besides, the impresa offends against Pietrasanta’s rule that both the image and lemma must be party to the process of representing the symbol’s material res: on the contrary, Spinola’s impresa leaves the allusion to stars entirely to the text, an allusion, moreover, so imprecise as to lack a clear object of reference. By contrast, Pietrasanta fervently approves the impresa of Lorenzo de’ Medici, in spite of the fact that it turns on allusions to color—strictly speak-

ing, a perceptual rather than material property of things (fig. 13) (Pietrasanta 1634, 311-12). His reasons for allowing, indeed foregrounding, this heroic

symbol to epitomize the desideratum of material representation in the protasis, has to do with his firmly held opinion that color can, in truth, be rendered

materially. Subtending this conviction is the criterion he applies to heighten or, better, reify the protasis’s constituent parts: only those res should be selected which are representable in the various media preferred by painters, draftsmen, sculptors, or engravers. If they cannot be materialized by means of engraving in copper, casting in bronze, molding in wax, or sculpting in marble, then they are ineligible for use in a heroic symbol. (Curiously, he does not mention painting.) He cites Paolo Aresio, Girolamo Rucellai, Ercole Tasso, and Scipio Bargaglio, to shore up his argument: Paolo Aresio insists that images of this kind [i.e., chat signify by means of color] be excluded if they cannot be engraved in cop-

per, poured [in bronze], moulded in wax, or carved in marble.

Girolamo Rucellai allows only those images that are susceptible

to graphic representation in black and white [ink]. Ercole Tasso reckons that this alone pertains to the perfection

of the heroic symbol: that it be an image that can be engraved, cast, moulded, or sculpted.

Fig. 13. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of Lorenzo de’ Medici: Semper (Pietrasanta 1634, 312). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

88

EMBLEMATICA

Walter S. Melion

In contrast, Scipio Bargalio not only allows images contingent on color, but even praises them: and Paolo Giovio can be seen to support him, in that he reproduces and approves the heroic symbol of

Lorenzo de’ Medici.

The Medici impresa consists of three ostrich feathers—one white, one green, the other red—alongside the /emma, “Semper” [Always]

(fig. 13). A diamond ring overlaps the triad of plumes, and it, togeth-

er with the word semper, stands for Lorenzo’s adamantine constancy, whence issue his flourishing faith (white), hope (green), and charity (red). Pietrasanta applauds the impresa for two reasons, both having to do with the apperception of color: first, he imagines that the

epigraph could easily be extended, if need be, to include ever more

specific and perspicuous allusions to these colors; second, he assures

the reader-viewer that these colors are representable, not only in the

media of colored wax or marble, but even in graphic media such as

engraving (Pietrasanta 1634, 312-13). For an example, he illustrates a shield subdivided into six zones, each scored by a different manner of line (“certo ductu linearum”) (fig. 14). As he puts it, “if the image is fashioned with art, what you cut into the copperplate will represent

the proper colors.’” So, the rectangle dotted with points represents gold or saffron; the blank rectangle “untouched by the burin,” where

the paper shines through, represents silver or white; the rectangle, just below, hatched with horizontal lines, represents dark blue; the

adjacent rectangle, hatched with vertical lines represents red; the rect-

angle in the lowest tier, at left, hatched with oblique lines represents green [to be precise, prasinum, “leek-green”]; and the cross-hatched

rectangle shaded by a lattice of closely engraved lines represents sable

24.

25.

“Paulus Aresius iubet figuras huius generis facessere a Symbolis Heroicis; quia aere incide, quia fundi, quia cera fingi, quia marmore sculpi non queunt. Hieronymus Ruscellius admittit eas tantum figuras, quae ut noscantur, colore nigro aut albo egent: ceteras cum Aresio ablegat. Hercules Tassus existimat hoc pertinere solum ad perfectionem Symboli Heroici; nempe ut figura sit, quae incidi, fundi, fingi, aut sculpi possit. Contra Scipio Bargalius figuras coloribus ita obnoxias, non admittit modo, sed laudat etiam: ac videri posset suffragari ei Paulus Iovius, dum refert, ac probat Symbolum Laurentij Medicei.” (Pietrasanta 1634, 311). “Praeterea, quae in aerea lamina incides, ea referent colores proprios saltem,

certo ductu linearum, si figura ex arte fiat” (Pietrasanta 1634, 313).

Fig. 14, Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Schema: Effects of Color

Reproducible in Engraving (Pietrasanta 1634, 314). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

89

90

EMBLEMATICA

or dark black.° Whether these distinctions are dictated by the nature of the colors being translated, i.e., their vibrancy under conditions of intense light, or by sculptural convention [literally, “distinctions it has pleased sculptors to make”], such perceptible qualities, avers Pietrasanta, are consistently detectable by painter-engravers practiced at producing them.” His implication is simple: if they see them, why shouldn't we train ourselves to become equally attentive to these representable phenomena? Ergo, the engravings that populate De symbolis heroicis can be made to communicate colors, both by word and image, whenever the occasion requires. For this result to transpire, it will be incumbent upon the viewer closely to observe the quality of line, and to visualize how it originates in a specific medium—copper—with the aid of a particular tool—the burin—through the skilled agency of an engraver such as Andries Pauwels. Accordingly, colors are a legitimate component of the protasis, for, they can be represented materially, which is to say, by reference to the materials of art. For Pietrasanta, the secret that shades too far into obscurity is the one that has lost touch with recognizable res, natural or man-made, and their material character. I shall examine several symbola epitomizing one or the other category of secret thing to be decoded by intuiting the accompanying apodosis, and then determining the pseudo-syllogistic tertium comparationis, i.e., the axis of analogy linking protasis and apodosis. His dislike of heroic symbols based on hieroglyphs stems from their piecemeal quality, and, more particularly, from the fact that they have been fabricated gratuitously and, as such, can be considered neither a thing of nature nor a thing actually, i.e., artisanally, crafted by human art. Cosimo de’ Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany, was responsible for one such symbol, which consisted of Cosi26.

“Schema oculis subiicio: Pars punctim incisa, colorem aureum seu croceum; pars scalpro intacta, colorem argenteum, seu album; pars quae exaratur lineolis erectis, rubeum; pars quae finditur lineolis transversis, cyaneum; pars quae lineolis

Walter S. Melion

91

IS 228 DE SYMBOLIS HEROIC

es

|

>

dem Cofmi Horofcopum fuifle Capricornum, ij

notarunt , qui Viris Magnis obfequi ftellas & cæJum opinantur. Hæc Symbola ex Hieroglyphicis accepta Pau- | lus Arefius admittit fine exceptione vllà : Hercules Taflus adprobat dumtaxat , fi qua mints obfcura videantur , fumanturque ex rebus familiaribus , ac veluti propriis ; vti funt palma & laurus pro victorid , oliua pro pace , pro amore myrtus , & pro funere cypreflus. πε"

obliquis seu pronis asperatur, prasinum; et quae mutuis lineolis, quasi clathris

inumbratur, atrum seu nigrum repraesentat” (Pietrasanta 1634, 313-4). This account of the color effects produced by different systems of hatching adumbrates the heraldic method of lineation that Pietrasanta would promulgate soon after, in Tesserae gentilitiae ex legibus fecalium descriptae. 27.

With the closing proviso that the engraved fields will appear to be colored only

if the engraver abides by the rules of art, i.e., the conventions encapsulated by

Pietrasanta: “Sive autem hoc exigat natura colorum, qui diversa quadam lege vibrent iubar luminis sui, sive sculptoribus ponere hoc discrimen lubuerit; dicuntur Pictores periti semper in aerea lamina proprios colores rerum agnoscere,

dummodo sculptor ab artis suae legibus non desciverit” (Pietrasanta 1634, 314).

Fig. 15. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of Cosimo de’ Medici: Fidem fati virtute sequemur (Pietrasanta 1634, 228). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

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EMBLEMATICA

mo’s astrological sign Capricorn, goat-headed and fish-tailed, accompanied by an orb, rudder, and cornucopia, and the epigraph “Fidem fati virtute sequemur” [By virtue, we shall strive to keep the faith; or alternatively:By virtue of fate, we shall remain faithful] (fig. 15). Described in chapter 12 of Book VI, “An ad Heroica Symbola sit idonea Comparatio quae sumitur ex Hieroglyphicis” [Whether an Analogy Drawn from Hieroglyphs Is Suited to Heroic Symbols], the symbol makes sense only if we realize that the lexical meaning of the orb, rudder, and cornucopia are, respectively, dominion,

statecraft, and prosperity (Pietrasanta 1634, 227-8). It accordingly signifies either that the virtuous Cosimo shall ever strive by statecraft to hold sway over Tuscany and the world, securing their prosperity, or that born under the influence of the sign Capricorn, Cosimo shall strive virtuously

to keep faith with Tuscany and the world, conferring on them the benefits of good government and prosperity. But is this truly a heroic symbol, asks Pietrasanta implicitly. It makes a factitious hieroglyphic statement about Cosimo, rather than drawing a Medicean analogy from the complementary relation between a res-based protasis and an inferred apodosis: But other authors reject [hieroglyphs]: for, since they are images or figures arbitrarily designated to signify something, and used formerly in place of letters by the wisest men amongst the Egyptians . . ., so it comes about that being mere inventions of men, they lack the greater persuasive force that we require of heroic symbols. Above and beyond, since they are obscure for the most part, they often appear to possess little power to make known the raison d’être of their author.?

It will by now be apparent that Pietrasanta, in parsing the symbola, abbreviates the process of decipherment usually required of the readerviewer. Lacking his commentary, s/he would normally know the person whose impresa is displayed, but what it says about that person—the apodosis to be inferred, and the analogy to be drawn—will be the recipient’s task to ascertain. This s/he does by comparing the symbol's known and unknown parts, its zota, which preferably take the form of 28.

“Sed alij Auctores ea reijciunt: quia cum sint imagines seu figurae, determinatae

ex hominum arbitrio ad significandum aliquid, usurparenturque olim ab Aegyp-

tiorum sapientissimis litterarum vice . . ., quod inde fit, mera hominum com-

menta; et ipsis deest vis ea maior ad persuadendum, quam in Heroicis Symbolis requirimus. Praeterquam quod vim etiam exponendi consilium Auctoris, quoniam ut plurimum obscura sunt, obtinere interdum non videntur” (Pietrasanta

1634, 229).

Walter S. Melion

93

res, i.e., material images of recognizable things, and its secreta, which are images of the portrayed person’s character traits and bodily or spiritual accomplishments. The tertium comparationis linking protasis and apodosis distills an aspiration that the person holds dear. Pietrasanta, as noted above, analogizes his symbola to exotic merchandise (“peregrinas merces”), highly and intricately wrought (“texturam operosam”), whose

material value and rare workmanship will command a high price, attesting the incomparable value of the impresa’s owner (“nisi exquisitis pretijs, licere nemini eas nundinari”).” The heroic symbols, in other words, will attract the reader-viewer insofar as they are unknown or unfamiliar, prompting her/him to scrutinize the things s/he has been given to investigate, the potentially explicable knowledge on display, the secret analogy to be decoded. The devices, as we have seen, turn on cogently argued similitudes that attach to the variously cryptic images. Characteristic of the heroic symbol is a certain tension between nota and secreta, that Pietrasanta strives to maintain, both as a source of delight and persuasive force.

Symbola Drawn from Divine, Artificial, and Natural Things As a coda to the paper, I want to explore more closely how this tension operates in a cluster of imprese taken from chapter 1 of Book I, “Divorum Symbola” [Symbols of Divine Things], chapter 15 of Book VI, “An ad Sym-

bola Heroica sit idonea comparatio, quae sumitur ex arte factis” [Whether Analogies Drawn from Things Made by Art Are Suitable for Heroic Symbols], and chapter 16 of Book VI, “An ad Symbola Heroïca sit idonea com-

paratio, quae sumitur ex rebus naturalibus” [Whether Analogies Drawn

from Natural Things Are Suitable for Heroic Symbols]. Gathered under the rubric “Divorum symbola,” chapter ones opening imprese pay homage to the Virgin Mary. The sequence begins with a heroic symbol that exemplifies the process of decipherment itself (fig. 16). A cylindrical combination lock dangles from the nostrils of a lobate mask atop an auricular frame. The banderole fluttering in front of the lock, inscribed “Uni patet verbo” [It opens to a single word], clinches the allusion to Mary as bearer of Christ the Word (Pietrasanta 1634, 3). Just as a combination lock opens once the letters spell out the password, so Mary’s heart stood open to the Word, even while remaining closed to all other men. Lemma and figura trigger the inference that the apodosis pertains to Mary as the key which unlocks the mystery of the Incarnation, enabling the Lord’s entry into the world. The panoramic landscape behind the lock indicates that the 29.

See note 8.

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EMBLEMATICA

_LYIBER CAPVT

Walter S. Melion

PRIMVS ὁ PRIMVM.

_

Andere mercium harum officinam liber, ferulæ

_ Symbolo; que non claue vil referatur,fed orbibu circumduétis ; donec litreræ coëant, & fiat certi

-

_ verbi fignificatio. Sche eft Herorn ma Ax illius Ma_gnæ, quam cælefti legatione Nuntius fidereus Ma-

_ trem appellauie, & Virginem nihilominùs E mifit. Epigraphe clauftrieft , VNI PATET Non aliter finus Virginis, ad alios liberos - Vni patuit VERBO , quando VERBYM

P FACTVM

AA i

È.

EST, ET HABITAVIT

À

effe perVERBO. claufus, CARO loam 1.

IN NOBIS-

Nubes ’

Fig. 16. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of the Virgin Mary: Uni

patet verbo (Pietrasanta 1634, 3). Courtesy of che Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

95

mystery is universal, concerning the entire world. The strangeness of the protasis—floating high above a distant landscape, the lock, since it hangs from the frame, must be outside the image, and yet appears to hover inside it—signals that it forms part of a comparatio that alone justifies, indeed normalizes, the incongruous juxtaposition of otherwise recognizable, even mundane constituent elements. So, too, Mary, being human, was subject to nature, and yet transcended it, resembling Christ in this respect. The implied layering of the Marian apodosis onto the natural and man-made res of the protasis defamiliarizes, even as it explains, the image’s chief thing and primary motif, the lock: once rotated into place, any password will spring a normal lock open, and once opened, it cannot simultaneously remain closed. The frankly weird frame likewise defamiliarizes the experience of viewing. And yet, the analogy to be drawn insists on the incongruous combination of openness and closedness: like Mary, ever Virgin, who though open to the Word, remained closed to other men, this lock, though opened by a word, will stay mysteriously closed. The paradox results from the curious reverse effect exerted by the apodosis on the protasis, whose res we are forced to imagine operating in a strangely new way, allusive to the Virgin. The superimposition of the apodosis thus allegorizes the protasis without changing the normative appearance of its parts—the lock still looks like a lock, the landscape like a landscape, even though these parts combine queerly. On top of all this, Pietrasanta invites the reader-viewer to read the impresa as a meta-allegory: his assertion that the password will consist not just of a sequence of random letters, but of a word having a specific sense or meaning (“fiat certi verbi significatio”), drives home the point that this heroic symbol stands for the process of unlocking the significance of a motif, which then becomes the lens through which protasis and apodosis are mutually viewed.” Throughout De symbolis heroicis, the lemma middle term is highlighted and set on axis with a crucial object; separated by folds from its fellow words, and raised, the word “patet” facilitates the search for the

analogical tertium—in this instance, the notion of opening the lock, in the manner of Mary's opening to the Word. The play of things known and unknown, the effort expended in bringing

secreta to light, and the pleasure taken in finding connections between nota

and secreta, often extend over several imprese. When this happens, each further analogy is presented as an inflection of the first, since the symbola all share versions of the same apodosis. Symbola 6-8, for instance, characterize

30.

“Pandere mercium harum officinam libet, serulae Symbolo; quae non clave ulla reseratur, sed orbibus circumductis; donec litterae coéant, et fiat certa verbi significatio” (Pietrasanta 1634, 3).

96

EMBLEMATICA

6

DE

SYMBOLIS

Walter S. Melion

HEROICIS

LIBER

97

PRIMVS....

7

i

||

|

|ἢ i

|

|ἰ

|

4

Alca antiqua ,nec co vfu, quo militem ornat

ac cegit, fed inuerfa, ac plena incenfis prunis, fepenumerd plumbariis loco eft foculi; quando ij

_

candefaciunt ferreos cuneos, vt ftannea ferruminent.

~ Ad S. IGNATIVM transfertur ; qui ex milite Legiflator atque Ordinis noftri Parens, in fe ignem habuit, coque hominum corda inflammauit.

17. Cornelis

Galle after Andries

Pauwels, Impresa

of Ignatius of Loyola:

Erfatilis lucerna , non effufura oleum , non amiffura lumen,quantumuis manubrio in om: hem partem impetus detur, exprimit eiufdem fanéti

IcNATIT conftantem & iugem flammam , inter eas

omnes, quæ nos furfum verfum agunt, rerum huma-

narum viciflitudines.

ὦ | |

|

|

VerfaFig.

#

|

: Post

munera bella (Pietrasanta 1634, 6). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

Speculum

?

j

i.3

| Ò

Fig. 18. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Inmpresa of Ignatius of Loyola: Verte, non extingues (Pietrasanta 1634, 7). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

98

EMBLEMATICA

Walter S. Melion

99

the virtues of St. Ignatius (figs. 17-19). In symbolum 6, an overturned helmet, labeled “Post munera bella” [After military service], doubles as a bra-

zier (fig. 17) (Pietrasanta 1634, 6). The device, explains Pietrasanta, alludes to Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Jesuit order to which Pietrasanta himself belonged. The analogy runs as follows: like an old helmet converted to another use, so Ignatius, formerly a soldier, became the founder of a great

reform order; and just as a helmet, thusly repurposed, is used to heat soldering irons, so Ignatius, his heart aflame, caused other hearts to burn with divine love. The conversion of military gear into a sort of forge wherein metalworkers’ irons are heated signifies the spiritual conversion of Ignatius, who changed vocations in 1521, at age twenty: formerly a soldier, he then embraced a different kind of soldiering, becoming a soldier of Christ. The term munera, foregrounded on the banderole, serves to guide the readerviewer's search for an analogical tertium: Ignatius transfers his duties, offices, and service from the secular realm to the sacred, converting his former munera into present instruments of spiritual conversion. For Pietrasanta, as

was the case for Jesuit biographers such as Nicholas Lancicius, Filippo Rinaldi, and Pedro de Ribadeneyra, the founder’s life becomes indistinguishable from the Jesuit vocation.*! Like them, he primarily relies on allegoria in Jfactis (allegory of facts, drawn from comparisons of actual persons, things, and events, especially those facta that appear in Scripture), rather than allegoria in verbis (allegory of words, composed of poetic fictions, rhetorical tropes, and artificial signa of all kinds, such as hieroglyphs), to make his case, describing res in the protasis and imagining personae, their attributes, and attainments in the analogous apodosis.*

Symbolum 7 depicts an ingenious device—a lamp resembling a gyro-

scope, turnable on both the horizontal and vertical axes—accompanied by

the inscription “Verte, non extingues” [Turn, you will not go out] (fig. 18) (Pietrasanta 1634, 7). The strangeness of seeing a lamp burning outdoors in broad daylight, sets in motion the process of analogical discovery that

reconciles the disparateness of protasis and apodosis, and explains why in-

congruous things have been positioned so unexpectedly. The fiery evangelical ardor that transformed Ignatius’s munera is now declared, in symbolum

7, to be inextinguishable, not only within Ignatius, but also in the order Fig. 19. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Jmpresa of Ignatius of Loyola: Omnibus omnia (Pietrasanta 1634, 8). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

that he founded. Just as this revolving oil lamp neither spills oil nor dims its 31. 32.

Onthe precept, largely codified by Jerénimo Nadal, SJ., that Ignatius, in his person, life, and works, epitomizes the distinctive character of the Society of Jesus, see O'Malley, 5.1. 1993, 65-66; and O'Malley, S.J. 2008, 1-36. On the distinction between allegoria in factis and allegoria in verbis, see Strubel, 342-57; and Guiderdoni 89-101.

EMBLEMATICA

En

a

ἘΠ

Al

Li

si

101 4

i

: pa

ri

D

”

light, withersoever its handle is spun, so Ignatius’s Aame remained constant and perpetual amidst all the vicissitudes that jostled him to and fro, as they jostle us now. The lamp, a zotum, albeit a very clever, even rare one, is discovered to harbor a secret reference to Ignatius; on this account, it doubly functions as a similitude—not only to Ignatius, but also to the prior simile, the helmet-brazier, whose association with fire is thus inflected: having lit a new fire within himself (symbolum 6), he keeps this fire burning brightly

Walter S. Melion i

100

(symbolum 7), whatever the vicissitudes, i.e., twists and turns of fate, that

befall him (figs. 17-18). Symbolum 8 then inflects the previous two apodoses, praising Ignatius’s power adaptively to respond to changing circumstances: as he makes his way through the wide world, he inexhaustibly seeks everywhere to ignite human hearts (fig. 19). The main motif is a mirror, strangely hanging out of doors, above which the text “Omnibus omnia” [All things to all], insinuates that Ignatius, in his efforts to convert persons to Christ, embodies the Pauline admonition (1 Corinthians 9:22): “I became all things to all men, that I might save all” (Pietrasanta 1634, 8). As the commentary puts it, Ignatius was most like a mirror in adapting himself to whomever he strove to win for Christ. As a mirror seizes a persons attention by reflecting his face, so Ignatius reflected every man to himself; but his final purpose was to urge the person thus reflected to preen not in body but in spirit, transforming him-/ herself for the better. Whether that person was black or white, beautiful or ugly, mattered not a wit, for he ultimately mirrored their bodies in order to captivate their souls. Viewed through this lens, the mirror so to speak turned out of doors, where it can be seen by everyone, surprisingly recalls the turning lamp, just as the lamp recalls the overturned helmet. The trope of turning, a metaphor for conversion, is found to underlie the protasic res, to be secreted within them, a point of common reference discernible by means of analogy. The Ignatian symbola spawn corollary similitudinous symbola, applicable to the founder’s followers. They feature res that become more and more intricate than the ones displayed in the originating symbola 6-8 (figs. 1719). Symbolum 10, for example, one of several dedicated to Aloysius Gon-

zaga, SJ, consists of a target whose center is attached to a cord; shooting

along this guidewire, a gunpowder missile heads straight for the bull’s eye, not swerving off course (fig. 20). The epigraph, “Ne deviet ardor” [Its fiery

heat will not veer off course], and in particular, the contrast between the

curvature of “deviet” and the straightness of the missile’s trajectory, speak to the fervency and disciplinary rigor of Gonzaga’s commitment to his vocation (Pietrasanta 1634, 10). The implied apodosis is his behavior as a Jesuit:

Vbus papyraceus , fartus pyrio pulucte, & innexus filo,ne cùm arferit, à fcopo aberret, confilium exponit eiufdem B. ALoys11 : quivoluit ad

regimen & quafi ftamen Religiofi Ordinis adhære-

{cere , tantùm ve vitaret periculum erroris ab ardore nimio; dum ardor interim nihil remitteret.

H*: de Drvis Symbola aliqui ingenio felici compofuerunt: & tametfi Auctores fingulo-

rum ignorem ; {cio ΤΥ. v. vit. & vi11.laudem deberi FAMIANO STRADAE è Societ. lesv, Magiftro meo, &

Fig. 20. Cornelis Galle after zaga, S.J: Ne deviet ardor

Andries Pauwels, Jmpresa of Aloysius e Gon(Pietrasanta 1634, 10). Courtesy of τῆς

Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

102

EMBLEMATICA

having resolved to join the order, he wholeheartedly wished to adhere toits rule—its warp, one might say—but also circumspectly to avoid the dangers posed by excessive ardor. He can thus be analogized to a missile shooting its way toward a goal, along a guidewire that anchors it to its target. Whereas the Ignatian symbola focused on fire and the trope of turning, Gonzaga’s celebrates the strait and narrow though still fiery path of virtue. Reared as a cavalryman, he, like Ignatius, became indifferent to knightly affairs. Accordingly, symbolum 10, like symbolum 6, converts military res into allusions to Jesuit ministry (figs. 17 and 20). The differences between the mili-

tary things on show, and the metaphorical uses to which they are put, reveal how the order accommodates its adherents, adapting to their distinctive characters, on the model of symbolum 8 (fig. 19). In this sense, the target, missile, and guidewire that ingeniously cohere into an exercisable kit, can be taken for similes, once removed, to the omnivorous Ignatian mirror. Symbola 6,7, 8, and 10 mix elements that Pietrasanta considered natural—fire and the mirror (in that mirroring is a property of nature)—and

Walter S. Melion

modo, neque ullatenus variatur”) (Pietrasanta 1634, 258). The bridle is a

thing of artifice, but whosoever uses it properly will govern his steed. A vessel will perforce issue from the potter's wheel, if it is properly turned, for this operation is a rule of art “that suffers not the artificer to err in his

labor” (Pietrasanta 1634, 258). The operations of artifice, seen in this light,

are as perdurable as any fixed thing, for they proceed in a predictable way; the fixity of the procedure ensures the necessity of the analogy. And, since the properties of these artificial things, like the qualities of natural things, apply consistently to each and every such thing, they are felt to produce sound analogies having the character of necessary truths. Moreover, with respect to our symbols, since we are wont to look closely at the faculties and properties of the thing made by art, as if they were qualities of nature, and since those properties apply not to one artisanal thing only, but always to every single one, thus it follows that they bring forth fitting similitudes, and assume the certain character of a necessary truth. And in this manner, as art, ever emulous, imitates nature; so, the work of art imitates the necessity possessed by the work of nature.

man-made—the helmet-brazier, lamp, mirror, target, and missile (figs. 17-

20). These were the two species of res, as noted above, that he endorsed

above all others. In chapter 15 of Book VI, on heroic symbols construct-

ed from man-made things, he asseverates that symbola chosen from such things will generate true similitudes: the likeness issues from the workings

of the thing itself, its artisanal physics, and consequently, such things, since their operations are constant and sure, can stably function as the protasis of

a conditional statement constitutive of a persuasive analogical argument: These heroic symbols, selected from things made by art, are approved in the judgment of all authors; because true similitude, the most noble of all analogies, the true vein, flowing source, and mother of those same symbols, belongs to them. Truly, besides pleasing by its use, and delighting exceedingly, the comparison of those artisanal things has, too, the power greatly to persuade, since it wholly stands firm upon a true and, one might almost say, inevitable protasis.°?

103

Following his rule that the engaging protasis must be passably obscure, if it is to engage the intelligent reader-viewer, Pietrasanta often challenges the readerviewer to divine the res-like operations of his symbola ex arte facta. The artisanal things featured, and their workings, like the apodotic analogies to be drawn from them, are themselves presented in the form of secreta. The impresa of King Edward I of Britain pictures a mantlet that at first glance looks like a covered

portico or gallery, the sort of place where ancient athletes were wont to exercise

(fig. 21). Alternatively, it might seem to be an enclosing palisade. However, as

Pietrasanta notes, the heroic symbol will function properly only ifthe building's

true identity is discovered; and the fact that the structure is freestanding, along

The quality of necessity conferred by these operational things stems from the fact that they must be manipulated in a set way, without deviating from procedure, if they are reliably to work (“quod semel & semper fit eodem

with its piers, which end in points, will allow the shed-like edifice properly to be identified as a portable siege engine—a mantlet. Spotting these features calls for playful and attentive viewing. The epigraph, “Hinc fortior ibo” [Henceforth, more bravely I shall go], asserts that thus shielded, Edward will advance to victory, and in fact, this is the symbolum’s chief point: rebellious nobles had imprisoned him, his father Henry, and uncle Richard, but having once escaped

33.

34.

“Haec Symbola Heroïca, desumpta ex arte factis, probantur suffragiis Auctorum

omnium; quoniam eis vera similitudo inest, nobilissima inter comparationes alias, et vena, scaturigo, ac mater eorumdem Symbolorum. Nimirum praeterquam quod delectat plurimum, et est gratissimi usus, collatio ex iis rebus artifici-

atis accepta, vim habet magnam etiam ad persuadendum, cum ex Protasi constet

omnino vera, et fere dixerim necessaria” (Pietrasanta 1634, 257-8).

“Praeterea cum facultates proprietatesque rei arte factae soleant, ut plurimum,

sicut et rei naturalis dotes, in Symbolis nostris considerari; eae vero proprietates

non uni rei artificiatae, sed omni, et soli, et semper conveniant, fundant, quod inde fit, similitudines idoneas, et induunt rationem quamdam veri necessarij.

Atque hoc pacto, uti ars, aemula cum sit, naturam imitatur; ita opus artis imitatur necessitatem, quam habet opus naturae” (Pietrasanta 1634, 258).

104

EMBLEMATICA

248

DE SYMBOLIS

HEROICIS

ratoriæ. Sic ille. Nihilominüs curas interdum alias quiefcere; vt-animus leuamenti aliquid capiens, ad regimen,quafi renouatis viribus, redeat vegetior, in Principe reprehendi non debet. Edoardus I. Rex Britannia, vineam pinxit ; qua defenfi olim- bellatores , fuggredi tuts , & mœnia fubruere folebant , cum hac Epigraphe ; H 1x @

FORTIOR

Walter S. Melion

:

180. Videlicer cius Regni Proce-

rs , Henricum Regem , Richardum fratrem, qui — i

Fig. 21. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of Edward I: Hinc fortior ibo

(Pietrasanta 1634, 248). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and

Rare Book Library.

105

he bravely vanquished his captors, liberating both father and uncle (Pietrasanta 1634, 248-9). If this story is applied to the protasis, it will be seen that Edward, movable like the mantlet, promises always to shelter his kinsmen and fight on their behalf. The impresa further avows that Edward, rather than allowing himself to be held captive, will lay siege to his captors. Belonging to Lorenzo Priuli, Duke of Venice, the symbolum “Nulla hora

sine linea” [No day without a line] poses a different challenge (fig. 22). The

mechanism displayed—a solar clock—is easily identifiable, but the emma calls to mind another kind of artifact, the encaustic panels of the ancient painter Apelles, who honed his inimitable skill by letting no day pass without exercising his brush. The shadowy lines cast by the gnomon displace the lines delineated by Apelles, like one set of res superimposed on another. And, as the superlative but otiose lines of the painter are displaced by the lines of the clock, so Priuli, more beneficent that any artisan, casts countless benefactions upon his subjects, ordering and regulating their days as serviceably as any sundial: “In reigning, to let no hour pass without a line, without benefits, is an art far worthier of praise that Apelles’s no day without a line” The primary analogy ensues not simply from comparison of the Duke’s timely leadership to a clock, but even more from the displacement of artisanal brush by princely gnomon, of picture by clockface, of painter by nobleman. Taken as the alternative persona of the apodosis, Apelles causes us to visualize this shift from one res, the painting, to another, the clock. In turn, this shift in res enriches the analogy between Priuli and the timepiece, by arguing that as Apelles mastered the line of painting, so has Priuli mastered the line of governing, in a manner that transcends his ancient forebear. Pietrasanta makes similar claims about the persuasive influence of natural things: these similitudes, drawn from properties and faculties of nature, are the best and most praiseworthy of all, deservedly prized for their singular excellence. For in them is to be found the power and pulchritude of the heroic symbol, its ability to delight and persuade surely. The constancy of natural res, their fixed qualities, behavior, and effects, allows for more freedom and complexity in the construction of analogical arguments. The characteristics of the plant and animal specimens favored by Pietrasanta appear for the most part as described in Pliny’s Natural History. Take Ferdinando Gonzaga’s impresa, “Alias devorat una me” [The one consumes my others],

in chapter 16 of Book VI, which features a cluster of feathers plucked from 35.

“Nullam in Principatu horam transigere sine linea, et benefactis, ars est et laus

multo praestantior, quam cum Apelli non fuit dies sine linea” (Pietrasanta 1634,

250).

EMBLEMATICA

Walter S. Melion

107

250 DE SYMBOLIS HEROICIS moliuntur. Lemma erat, ALTERA SECVRITAS.

—

Quippe prndentis animi eft, vni tantàm confilio

non fidere , fed falutem collocare in præfidiis mul-

tis ; quo ita, vno deficiente, alcerum fufficiatur. Laurentij Prioli, Ducis Venetæ Reipublica , ο΄

ἱ

κως

ἢ

106

Fig. 22. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of Lorenzo Priuli: Nulla hora sine

linea, (Pietrasanta 1634, 250). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and

Rare Book Library.

ΒΕ ΧΙ ΤΎ

8.

273

_ aquilæ,inter diucrfarum auium rs quas aiunt _ ab οὗ vnà adigi ad teredinem & tabem. Lemma

Symboli fuit, ALIAS DEVORAT VNA MEAS. In-

Symbolum fuit folare horologium , cum eà Epigraphe: NVLLA HORA SINE LINEA.

Nullam in Principatu horam tranfigere fine lined, & benefadtis , ars eft & laus multd præftantior, quam cum Apelli non fuit dies fine linea. Be

«ΓΒΈΔ

Ferdinandus Gonzaga , Prafectus fupremus co_ piarum Caroli V. habuit pro Symbolo plumam

— finuauit, faa omnia priuata decora fuperari ab vnî -

«à gloria, quam indeptus maximam erat, Aquilæ,

hoc eft Imperatoris Caroli, aufpiciis. E

M im

Marcus

Fig. 23. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Zmpresa of Ferdinando Gonzaga: Alias devorat una me (Pietrasanta 1634, 273). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript,

Archives, and Rare Book Library.

EMBLEMATICA

'SEXTYS.

269

Fridericus Vrbini Dux, circa igniarium filicem

_ & ignitabula fcripfit pro lemmate , Non Qy 0VIS TERIT VR: hoc eft non ferro vulgari, fed

—

Ri

ΝΙΝ

TAS

’Le

CASQUE

LIPER’

109

ΕΙΣ

various species of bird, among which an eagle feather has been inserted (fig. 23) (Pietrasanta 1634, 273). The figura derives from Pliny, who says in Book X.4 that the feathers of the eagle, if mixed with those of others birds, will consume them. The impresa turns on the association between Gonzaga, who was supreme prefect of the Imperial Treasury, and his patron, the Emperor Charles V; collaterally, it plays on the association between Ferdinando’s feathery device and the double-headed eagle of the Habsburgs. The meaning, though clear, is nonetheless ambivalent: on the one hand, the emperor bestows glory that surpasses every individual honor, subsumes every other attainment, and renders it nugatory; on the other, imperial virtue is so overwhelming that it threatens not simply to transcend, but also to devalue private virtues, rendering them as if null and void. In this sense, it consumes them. The impresa of Guidobaldo, Duke of Urbino, “Quies in sublimi” [Rest on high], depends on that of his father Federico, “Non quovis teritur” [Nothing at all wears it away], which depicts a piece of flint next to a steel striker (fig. 24 and 25) (Pietrasanta 1634, 270). Just as flint is impervious to mere iron, and sparks only when struck by steel, so the adamantine Federico suffers nothing at all from this injurious age of iron; for as iron draws a spark but no fire from flint, so this

Walter S. Melion

ΕΟ

108

iron age leaves him blithely indifferent, indeed cold. Sitting on an unlit stove, the

striker and the stone must first be recognized, before the analogy, struck from the

collision of striker-like apodosis and flint-like protasis, sparks into life. A corollary implication is that it will be Federico, holder of the steel, who does the striking, if

a spark is to be struck from his steely heart. Guidobaldo’s mpresa instead portrays a bonfire, thus alluding either to the spark struck by his father, which the son has dutifully fanned into a roaring flame, or alternatively, to the son’s greater susceptibility to the fire lit by this sorry iron age (fig. 25). It turns out that the two symbola, like the characters of the two men, are more opposing than complementary. Whereas Federico’ declares him immune to fate’s blows, his son’s, as Pietrasanta observes, indicates that earthly adversity, though it shakes and even burns Guidobaldo, also has a salutary counter-effect, causing him to meditate heavenly, not earthly affairs, and thus divinely to catch fire. His spirit compensates for his vulnerable body, when it falls prey to adversity. James V of Scotland's symbolum consists of a leviathan swimming after amousefish (fig. 26). The /emma, “Urget maiora” [It urges on to greater things], distills Pliny’s account of the huge balaena, in Natural History IX.88, whose overhanging brows so impede its vision, that it must rely on the sharp-eyed musculus to lead it away from menacingly shallow waters (Pietrasanta 1634, 265). The impresa has a double purchase on James's vaunted prudence: it acknowledges that a humble man may preserve a sovereign’s life as surely as any nobleman; more than this, it

’ (οἷο chalybe : vt proptereà neque conftans in aduerfis animus cius, quidquam ab iniuria huius {æ~ ali ferrei pateretur.

fl

3

Liz

Guido

Fig. 24. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of Federico, Duke of Urbino: Non quovis teritur (Pietrasanta 1634, 269). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

110

EMBLEMATICA

270

Walter S. Melion tf

DE SYMBOLIS HEROICIS

Guidobaldi Déc Vihinthlins Βανησ ii

pfit,Qvies IN

svBLIMI: & pulchrè,

i

|

hihi

111 :

Se | Oy

Jacobus V. Scotia Rex, mufculum pifcem , qui :

ficur Fri-LA

“ἐς ae cete belluam maximam , & minès perfpicacem,

dericus Dux in filice,ita ipfe im igne lufit: oftendit-

propter graue pondus fuperciliorum , ideoque in

vada præcipitem, regit tamquam oculus , hac Epigraphe circumfcripfit, VRGET MAIORA. An

| i P . " gue hicἈΝ inς terris‘ fe aduerfisi quidem poffe agitari, &

quati; fed quiefcere animum , calumque ac fedem Piorum meditari.

;

;

‘

’

Fig 25. (οιπεῖίς Cale fer Mode

onde

| Regem & Purpuratum iuuet femiamictus aliquis,

|

inoreu of Gaidohalde, Duke of rhin:

Quies in sublimi (Pietrasanta 1634, 270). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Ar-

chives, and Rare Book Library.

τ τ . quia? dedignari humiles ac tenuisx fortune homines,

_in Principatu non oporteat ; ctim cuenire poflit, ve

si

Me

\

& aliquando etiam feruet? -

1

Marga-

Fig. 26. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Impresa of James V of Scotland: Urget RAGE

(Pietrasanta 1634, 265). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives,

and Kate Book Library

112

EMBLEMATICA

Walter S. Melion

113

affirms that his subjects, though small and powerless, may spur him to accomplish greater deeds; and finally, it evinces his prudential circumspection that declines no well-intentioned aid, even from a humble source, and gives credit where credit is due. Knowledge of the leviathan’s storied behavior, as codified in Pliny, licenses this threefold reading of the heroic symbol. The secretive effect is heightened when, as occasionally happens, the heroic symbols are structured as a mise en abyme: the nature-based protasis sponsors an apodosis focusing on a mental habitude of the heroic subject; forming a mental image of that habitude involves coopting the protasic Jigura, so that it comes to be layered upon itself. In cases such as these, the analogy distills a cast of mind that implicates the very thing we both see in the protasis and imagine the apodotic subject visualizing The subtlest such

impresa is “Durabo” [I shall endure], symbolum of John, King of Aragon, which incorporates the image of a salamander engulfed by flames and look-

ing up at the /emma, as if it were reading the motto (fig. 27). The reference is to Pliny’s account of the salamander’s ice-cold temperament, in Natural History X.86, that protects it even from the fiercest flames. Pietrasanta notes that the term “Durabo” distills the Virgilian passage, “Durate, et vosmet rebus servate secundis” [Carry on and preserve yourselves for better

times], from Aeneid 1.207 (Pietrasanta 1634, 262). The impresa signifies

that just as the salamander survives the fiery onslaught, so John will persevere, no matter the dangers that impinge, by remembering this precept

and repeating it to himself as a safeguard against adversity. The impresa, then, like the Priuli symbolum, has a dual apodosis, for it calls John to mind, even while conjuring up the image of Aeneas, who spoke these words to his crestfallen shipmates soon after the decimation of the Trojan fleet (figs. 22

and 27). The salamander is a similitude for Aeneas, who is a similitude for

John, whose presence of mind the symbolum represents by analogizing the two men, by way of the analogous salamander. The motto, “I shall endure,”

and the reflexive salamander’s steady, intent look at it, are meta-allusions to

John’s mnemonic undertaking, his pledge recursively to emulate Aeneas, by retaining the perseverant image of the salamander and envisioning himself in its guise. Mnemonic tenacity, encapsulated by the motto “Durabo; ensures the preservation of John’s royal rule, and can be seen, in this regard, to be constitutive of his kingly authority. The construction of this heroic symbol—the reified protasis consisting of an amphibious creature impervious

to flame, the inferability of the complementary apodosis from this protasis, the analogy of the vicissitudinous John to the flame-engulfed Salamander,

the discovery of imperishability as their shared tertium—typifies Pietrasantas systematization of the impresa’s symbolic coordinates. Nestling at its

range Æ

=

Dr.

|

ἡ ? ot re it

τυ γε =

ae om

ae

x

be

l

PTE οὐ

2

Lee

eet

\

a Sb

a:

Fig. 27. Cornelis Galle after Andries Pauwels, Jmpresa of John, King of Aragon: Durabo (Pietrasanta 1634, 262). Courtesy of the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library.

114

heart is an ostensible secret—the ruling aspiration definitive of John’s royal persona. Just as it is the syybolum’s function to reveal this secret neither too openly nor too obscurely, so it is the reader-viewer’s task to uncover and to meditate what the impresa partly conceals. The instrument of disclosure is the pseudo-syllogistic, enthymematic method of analogy that Pietrasanta, by precept and example, teaches us to apply. The process is fundamentally conversive, for, as he avers in the proem, it hinges on the transformation of persons previously unknown, or known only superficially (“non adeo notae”), into persons whose raisons d'être have become fully transparent to the mind eye: “ut ea intus ad animum oculi transmittant” (Pietrasanta

1634, 1). In all these cases, the stability of the protasis or, to quote Pietrasanta,

its “inevitability” anchors in a knowable res-based notum—a familiar or at least potentially identifiable natural thing, or an artificial thing whose operational function is either apparent or apprehensible.** Another way of putting this, as I have tried to show, is that Pietrasanta conceives of the notum as the material image of a recognizable thing or operation. In conjunction with its associated lemma, the protasic figura alludes to an apodotic secretum—the image of a person who may be seen by rights to claim symbolic property over the reified protasis, and whose moral character and gesta (bodily and spiritual attainments) the protasis distills by means of simile and metaphor. More precisely, this person, named by Pietrasanta in his commentary, is discovered to be inferable from the protasic res by recourse to comparatio (analogy)—a process that doubles back onto the figura, similizes and metaphorizes its component parts, and in this sense masks

or allegorizes its prior apparency. De symbolis heroicis functions like a

collection of meditative exercises: by naming the person whose impresa we are viewing, Pietrasanta gives us the key to opening the otherwise locked tertium; we are invited to descry the shared theme that connects protasis and apodosis, upon which the identity of the person symbol-

ized hinges. The investment of time, energy, erudite wit, and artisanal

know-how the author demands of his reader-viewer gives evidence of how complex and, pace Pietrasanta, occasionally elusive the activity of decoding can be. The secretum, it would seem, consists not just of the identity of the apodotic persona being symbolically portrayed, but rather, of the process of analogy itself, the coherence of which we are

expected to parse, ascertain, and affirm. 36.

Walter S. Melion

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On the “inevitability” of the protasis, see Pietrasanta 1634, 10.

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Works Cited

Bass, Marisa A. Insect Life: Nature and Art in the Dutch Revolt. Princeton and Oxford, 2019. Bauer, Barbara. Jesuitische “Ars rhetorica” im Zeitalter der Glaubenskämpfe, Mikrokosmos 18. Frankfurt am Main, 1986. Boero, Giuseppe, D.C.D.G. Sentimenti et fatti del P. Silvestro Pietrasanta della Compagnia de Gesu in difesa di 5. Giuseppe Calasanzio e dell ordine delle Scuole Pie. Rome, 1847. Camerarius, Joachim. Symbolorum et emblematum centuriae quatuor. Mainz, 1668.

Clement of Alexandria. Clementis Alexandrini omnia quae quidem extant opera, nunc primum

€ tenebris eruta Latinitateque donata,

ed. Gentian Hervetus. Florence, 1551.

Daly, Peter M. and George Richard Dimmler, 5.1. Corpus librorum emblematum: The Jesuit Series, Part Four (L-P). Toronto, 2005. . The Jesuits in the European Context. Philadelphia, 2016. Dekoninck, Ralph. Ad imaginem: Status, fonctions et usages de l'image dans La littérature spirituelle jésuites du XVUe siècle, Travaux du Grand Siècle 26. Geneva, 2005. . “Ars symbolica et ars meditandi: la pensée symbolique dans la spiritualité jésuite” Littérature 145 (2007): 105-18.

Dimler, George Richard, S.J. “Jacob Masen’s Critique of the Imago primi saeculi” In Studies in the Jesuit Emblem, ed. George Richard

Dimler, S.J.. New York, 2007. Pp. 126-43. Giovio, Paolo. Dialogo dell’imprese militari et amorose di Monsignor Giovio, Vescovo de Nocera. Lyons, 1559. Guiderdoni, A. “The Theory of Figurative Language in Maximilian van der Sandt’s Writings.” In Jesuit Image Theory, Intersections 45, ed. W. de Boer, K. A. E. Enenkel, and W. S. Melion. Leiden and Boston, 2016. Pp. 89-101. Henry, Hugh T. “Lauda Sion,’ in The Catholic Encyclopedia, Volume 9, ed. Charles G. Herbermann et al.. New York: 1913. Pp. 36-38.

Héltgen, Karl J. “Henry Hawkins: A Jesuit Writer and Emblematist in Stuart English.” In The Jesuits: Cultures, Sciences, and the Arts, 1540-1773, ed. John W. O’ Malley, S.J.; Gauvin A. Bailey;

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Judson, Jay Richard, and Carl van de Velde. Corpus Rubenianum Ludwig Burchard 21: Book Illustrations and Title-Pages, 2 vols. London, 1978. Kayser, Johann. Beiträge zur Geschichte und Erklarung der alten Kirchenhymnen II. Paderborn and Miinster, 1886. Masen, Jacob. Speculum imaginum veritatis occultae. Cologne, 1650 Melion, Walter S., and Ralph Dekoninck. “Jesuit Illustrated Books.” In Ines G. Zupanov, ed., The Oxford Handbook of the Jesuits. Oxford and New York, 2019. Pp. 521-52. O'Malley, SJ, John. The First Jesuits. Cambridge (Mass.) and London, 1993.

Emblematic Structures in Czech Catholic Sermons around 1700 MARTINA DRAGONOVA The Petr Bezrué Memorial, Silesian Museum, Opava

. “Introduction.” In Constructing a Saint through Images: The 1609

This study focuses on emblems in Czech baroque conceptual preaching. It introduces the emblematic structural principles in Czech homiletics of the Baroque and describes their representative emblematic forms.' Emblematic structures in these texts are presented through specific examples from baroque postills by preachers from three Catholic religious orders, namely the Theatines with Karel Racin, the Jesuits with Fabian Vesely, and the Franciscans with Damascén Marek. The study of emblematic preaching offers a new view on conceptual baroque sermons. The interpretation of the ecclesiastical texts against the background of the emblem books contributes to a

Illustrated Biography of Ignatius of Loyola, ed. J. O'Malley and P. M. Walsh. Philadelphia, 2008. Pp. 1-36.

Paul the Deacon. Pauli historia Langobardorum, in usum scholar um ex Monumentis Germaniae historicis recusa, ed. Georg Waitz, Scriptores rerum Germanicarum 48. Hannover, 1878. Pp. 87-89.

Pietrasanta, Sylvestro, S.J. De symbolis heroicis libri IX. Antwerp, 1634. . Tesserae gentilitiae ex legibus fecalium descriptae. Rome, 1638. . Speculum imaginum veritatis occultae. Cologne, 1650. Strubel, Armand. “‘Allegoria in factis’ et ‘allegoria in verbis.” Poétique 23 (1975): 342-57,

deeper understanding of literary images, since baroque preachers very

often used emblems that they found in emblem books such as Andrea Alciato's Emblematum liber, Philippo Picinelli’s Mundus symbolicus, Johannes Bollandus’s Imago primi saeculi Societatis Jesu, and Heinrich Engelgrave’s Lux Evangelica.

Van Vaeck, Marc, Toon Van Houdt, and Lien Roggen, “The Imago prim-

saeculi Societatis Jesu as Emblematic Self-Presentation and Com-

mitment.” In Art, Controversy, and the Jesuits: The Imago primi

saeculi, ed. John W. O’Malley, SJ. Early Modern Catholicism and the Visual Arts 12. Philadelphia, 2015. Pp. 133-46.

T=

article presents various forms of emblematic representation in Czech baroque homiletics. It focuses on emblematic structures in the texts of so-called conceptual sermons, which are characterized by their use of rich language, 1.

Chris Hopkinson translated this paper into English. This paper was created as part of project “The literary genres of early modern age in context of period spirituality” SGSO5/FF/2014-2015, University of Ostrava. The author also wants to thank the editorial board of the Acta Comeniana for their gracious help with this article.

117 Emblematica: Essays in Word and Image, vol. 3. Copyright © 2020 by Droz & Emblematica. All rights reserved.

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EMBLEMATICA

witty and surprising similes, and highly figurative visual imagery. In the Bohemian Crown Lands, such conceptual approaches began to appear in sermons in the 1690s and lasted until the first half of the eighteenth century. This type of sermon is exemplified by the works of the Theatine cleric Karel Racin (ca. 1660-1711): Cry éivlové proti hitiné dus bojujici a k spravedlivému pokäni dohänéjici [Four elements battling against the sinful soul and urging it to make just repentance] (Prague 1698), Operae Ecclesiasticae, Robota cirkevni, v nedélni den netoliko dovolend, ale taky od ctrkve svaté katolické prikdzand |Operae Ecclesiasticae, The work of the Church, not merely permitted on the Sabbath, but required by the Holy Catholic Church] (Prague 1706), the Jesuit priest Fabian Vesely (16841739) Kazdni postni, na kaëdÿ patek [Fast-day sermons for every Friday] (Prague 1728), and the Franciscan Damascén Marek (1663/1664-1725) Troji chléb nebesky pro laënÿ lid esky [Threefold bread of heaven for the hungry Czech people] (Pt. I, Prague 1728). Emblematic structures shape and organize their texts. P. M. Daly in his monograph Literature in the Light of the Emblem offers a detailed definition of emblematic structure in texts, including references to other scholarly works (Daly, 195-9). Among Czech literary theorists, Martin Bedïich has explored emblematic structure in literature and defines it in the following way: Emblematic structure in a text is that part of the text bounded by an initial lemma— i.e., a more or less clearly defined motto; this is followed by a Passage intended to evoke a visual image, and the structure is then concluded by a commentary known as the subscriptio. This entity must be autonomous in its essence and its meaning; it should be possible to remove it from the surrounding text without changing its meaning.”

Therefore, emblematic structures in homiletic texts—similarly to visual

emblems—can be said to consist of three parts: a brief motto (énscriptio),

a verbal description of an image (pictura), and a lengthier interpretative

commentary (subscriptio). In some cases, the order of these three elements 2.

“Emblematickä struktura v textu je takovd 4st textu, jez je ohranitena

pocatetnim lemmatem, tj. viceméné jasné vymezenym mottem, näsleduje za ni pasdz majici evokovat vizudlni predstavu a to vse je uzavieno vykladovym

zavérem, subscriptiem. Tento celek musi byt ve své podstaté a ve svém vyznamu autonomni, mélo by byt moëné jej z okolniho textu vyjmout, piéem? jeho vyz-

nam musi züstat stejny” (Bedtich, 846-56). All translations from Czech were provided by Chris Hopkinson.

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may be rearranged. Other variations occur; there are also emblematic structures with more than one image, several passages of commentary, and related adaptations. Similarity to visual emblems from emblem books is not a sufficient criterion for identifying emblematic structures in texts, however. The important question is how the preacher handles the visual motifs, because this determines whether or not a particular example is indeed an emblem. It must be possible to incorporate the verbal description of the image into an emblem, which must display the characteristic features of a genuine emblem, not merely motivic similarity (Daly, 85). It is important to emphasize that emblematic structures in homiletic texts are not necessarily taken directly from emblem books, and equating the two could lead to confusion. More important than searching out analogous topics in emblem books and sermons is the ability to discern emblematic structures where they exist in texts and to determine their meaning and function in the given text. Emblematic structures represent a special form of verbal-visual intertextuality, manifested in baroque sermons by both a visual and a verbal component. The description of the visual image may be accompanied by a detailed explanation or commentary, or it may be left without any such accompaniment. Each component of the emblematic structure is complete, and in most cases it expresses a single meaning, contributing this meaning to the entity that is the emblem. Emblematic structures thus have a conceptual function; they are carriers of meaning. Similarly, Albrecht Schône notes that the texts of baroque dramas are permeated with emblematic structures whose meaning is frequently only accessible through a knowledge of emblem books (Schéne, 89-90). Two main types of emblematic structures occur in the texts of baroque sermons. In the first type, genuine ekphrasis, the author creates a precise verbal equivalent of an emblem taken from a particular emblem book, while in the second type, quasi-ekphrasis, the emblematic structure in the text is constructed as an analogy of an emblem. As a visual emblem, the subject of the emblem is expressed by means of an actual emblematic image, the pictura, in a textual emblematic structure the

image is expressed by means of a verbal description. The conceptual sermon, which was already popular elsewhere in Europe, began to emerge in Czech homiletics in the mid-seventeenth century. Sermons of this type were characterized by their vivid imagery and sophisticated symbolism. According to Eva Knapp and Gabor Tiiskés, emblematic sermons can be divided into two main types: (1) sermons featuring one main emblematic image or variations on this image and (2) sermons incorporating several emblematic elements and making use

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of a variety of emblematic motifs which do not directly express the core idea of the sermon. Some emblematic sermons fall somewhere between these two types, incorporating features of both—such as sermons that contain a variety of emblematic motifs which function as the dominant principle shaping the text. In addition to the work of Vaclav Cerny, important scholarly treatments of emblems and emblematic sermons in the Bohemian Crown Lands include studies by Milan Kopecky, who notes that emblematic sermons are often based on a specific emblem, whereby the preacher draws a parallel between the emblematic image and the entire content of the sermon (Kopecky, 65). Milo’ Sladek, observes that emblematic sermons were relatively rare in Bohemia and lists some of the best-known emblem books that were used as sources by Czech preachers, such as Piero Valeriano’s Hieroglyphica, Jacobus Typotius’s Symbola divina, and Filippo Picinelli’s Mundus symbolicus (Sladek, 25-36, 39). Michaela

Soleiman pour Hashemi states that conceptual and emblematic sermons were intertwined, and meet the criteria of high style (Soleiman pour

Hashemi, 71). Another Czech scholar who has explored emblematics in a

broader context is the art historian Lubomir Koneény, who in his seminal

work Mezi textem a obrazem {Between Text and Image] defines an emblem and describes its structure, discussing the connection between emblems and baroque conceptualism and emphasizing the interdisciplinary nature of research in emblematics. The organizing principles in emblematic sermons comprise both the basic emblematic concept, together with any variations or additional emblematic images, and also the tripartite emblematic structure. In an emblematic sermon constructed around a single emblematic image, the primary image appears in the introductory part of the sermon as well as

in the main section and/or the conclusion. In such a case, the emblem is

a compositional principle underpinning the sermon, which is composed

of repeated emblematic mottos, variations on images, and emblematic

commentaries. Different emblematic motifs may be interwoven within a single sermon. The core topic of a conceptual sermon may be based on a visual emblem, and the various forms of this emblem may serve as a means of thematic organization or as a structural principle underpinning the entire text. One such structural principle is the repetition and variation of the same emblem throughout the text. Another type of emblematic composition involves the division of one image into a series of related images, or details from the image; each image or detail stands alone as a

complete entity, and is accompanied by its own interpretative commentary.

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The tripartite structure of an emblem is frequently reflected in the composition of the sermon, whose components describing images and offering interpretations mirror those of an emblem. A particular emblem may be the main topic of a sermon, indicated at the beginning of the sermon in the form of a biblical citation or a classical epigram; this topic then permeates the text in the form of the emblematic structure—the motto (énscriptio), description (pictura), and interpretative commentary (subscriptio). As mentioned

above, the individual components

of the

emblematic structure may be arranged in a different order within the text of the sermon; for example, the interpretative commentary (subscriptio) may precede the description of the image (pictura), or it may follow the pictura. The transition between the components may be signaled by a shift from one type of text to another, e.g. from description to commentary, or by the alternation of prose and verse passages. When constructing emblematic structures, preachers would usually begin by naming the core topic of the emblem. Then they would invent a suitable motto, e.g. a quotation from Ovid, and a suitable image, and finally they would select illustrative passages and citations from the Bible. When creating the emblematic image, preachers would draw upon natural or artistic depictions from emblem books they had at their disposal. In the commentary, they would choose suitable proverbs and citations from the Bible or poetic texts. Both of the above-mentioned types of emblematic sermons, i.e., those featuring a single main emblem, and those making use of a variety of emblematic motifs, are found in Czech conceptual homiletics. In the first type, the emblematic structures occur at the very beginning of the sermon (the exordium), while in the second type the emblematic structures are incorporated into the main part of the sermon (the confirmatio) as variations on the preacher's central concept. Most emblematic structures are found in the confirmatio. There are fewer such structures in the introductory parts, and only sporadic occurrences in the concluding parts. It is evident from texts written by Czech baroque preachers—especially the sermons from Ctyti éivlové proti hriiné dusi bojujict and Operae ecclesiasticae by Karel Radin whose work contains the largest number of emblematic structures— that emblematic principles were used in Czech conceptual sermons as early as the 1690s. Conceptual sermons with emblematic structures at the very beginning of the text (the exordium) tend to be highly inventive, sophisticated, and original. The preachers used these emblematic structures to capture listeners’ attention and firmly establish the topic of the sermon in their minds. The emblematic structures in the exordium serve to present the main topics of

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123

the sermon in a compelling manner. Drawing from Heinrich Engelgrave’s

emblem book Lux Evangelica,’ Damascén Marek gives an example, based on the emblem of the Last Judgement (fig. 1), of how emblematic mottos

can mirror these topics:

Unscriptio:) What is now concealed, / The Day of Judgment will reveal.

Tunc videbunt, and then they shall see, in the Gospel of St. Luke, 21:27.

[Pictura:]*

So painters,

woodcarvers

and

other

skilled

and

trained

craftsmen, when they have to place a painting on the altar in a house of God, or to mount a carving, have the custom, by which they always abide, of covering their work with some kind of rough sheet, thus concealing it from the gaze of foolish folk so that these folk, seeing a work not yet completed, should not disparage and vituperate it, judging it on the basis of their loitering. However, when the good work is finished and ready in its place, the craftsmen quickly and immediately remove and cast away the sheet, presenting their work to one and all to

be judged. [Subscriptio:] So will it come to pass with us, dear listeners

in Christ the Lord, when the Son of Man descends to Earth on a cloud with great power and solemnity to judge the living and the dead—tunc videbunt, and then they shall see not only this equitable judge, from whom nothing can be concealed—as, according to the true words of St. Paul, Omnia nuda et aperta sunt oculis ejus, all things are naked and opened unto the eyes of him—but each of them shall see the good and bad deeds, virtues and vices, holiness and iniquity of their neighbor, and of the entire world [Heb 4:13]. So the sheet which now covers and conceals everything shall be removed and cast away, and we will be revealed to the eyes of the world, angels, people, and devils—as the Holy Father Basiliusso beautifully and aptly writes,’ like a painter in his turf-roofed cottage, or in his shack, when he completes his various paintings, he immediately displays and presents his work for others to see and judge, unconcealed by sheets and shrouds . . . So it will be with our minds, after our death, when the sheet of our body, which used 3.

This is drawn specifically from Engelgrave’s vol. 1, p. 20, emblem no. II, Tunc

4,

‘The transcription of the Czech baroque texts follows the rules set out in (Vintr, 341-6) Only obvious printing errors are corrected. Parts of the text originally printed in antiqua typefaces are reproduced in italics. Standard abbreviations are used as references to books of the Bible. The individual parts of the emblematic structure in the textual examples are marked by [Jnscriptio], [Pictura], and [Subscriptio).

5.

Reference is probably from Basilius Ancyranus. Liber de vera virginitate.

videbunt, lemma “Adytis cortina reclvsis.” Virg. 3. Aeneid.

EA

SE

SRE TS e

EM

ee

e eur

ee

;

:

Fig. 1. Heinrich Engelgrave, Lux Evangelica (1655), p. 20, “Tunc videbunt.” Image courtesy of Emblematica Online, Duke University Library.

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EMBLEMATICA to cover our soul, shall be removed, and when all the various thoughts painted in our minds shall be made clear and evident to all, so that every person can freely see and judge the colors in which that soul was either embellished or tarnished throughout its life.

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125

“ostrovtipné pero” [the sharp-witted pen], “academicus” “versovnik” [the

versifier], “symbolista” [the symbolist], and “zpévomluvnik” [literally “the

song-speaker”]. In some cases, a sermon may include direct references to emblem books within the text itself (“Engelgrave”) or in the marginal notes

Compared with the complex and inventive emblematic structures in the exordium, the emblematic structures in the main part of the sermon (the confirmatio) are typically less inventive and serve primarily as examples of virtues and vices. This type of emblematic structure can be classified as moralistic and didactic. The following example from a sermon by Karel Ragin shows a symbol expressing patience and purity from Mundus symbolicus:

(“Mundus symbolicus,’ “Lux. Ev,’ “Imago primi saec.”). The most frequently cited emblematic authors and their works are Andrea Alciato's Emblematum liber, Filippo Picinelli’s Mundus symbolicus, Johannes Bollanduss Imago primi saeculi Societatis Jesu, and Piero Valeriano’s Hieroglyphica. Of course, preachers did not cite only from emblem books, they were also capable of devising emblematic structures based on other literary texts.

For this reason Aresius Trismegistus from my Order, later the Bishop of Tortona, [/nscriptio:] made this motto for a violet: “Suavior e longuo? it smells pleasant from afar. [Pictura:] The violet is a tiny flower which has to suffer and endure much—not only the cold frosts and dews of March and April, but also being frequently covered in snow, yet nevertheless it endures everything with patience, retaining its beauty and fragrance. [Subscriptio:] Again a good example and a reminder of how free people should behave.”

Collections of baroque conceptual sermons contain emblems in various forms and on various levels of the text. They are used for purposes of teaching, explanation, and the dissemination of knowledge; as arguments to demonstrate and support a particular truth, as means of persuasion, justification, and confirmation; and in some cases, as a basis for the entire concept of the sermon. In the homiletic context emblems perform the function of taking an individual or local situation and raising it to the level of a general, eternally-valid truth. When seeking to identify emblematic structures in baroque sermons, it is essential to be aware of contemporary theories of emblematics, such as Jacob Masen’s Jconomystica and Bohuslav Balbin’s Verisimilia humaniorum disciplinarum (1666), Quaesita oratoria (1677) and Brevis tractacio de amplificatione oratoria (1688), and to study the most important emblem books from which preachers drew their inspiration, including the authors discussed above. Taking into account contemporary theories of emblematics, though not preferring any one theory over another, the following discussion draws on various sermon texts and the best-known emblem books. Emblems contained in emblem books represented a source and an inspiration for emblematic structures in baroque sermons. However, the fact that a visual emblem is similar, or even identical, to a textual emblematic structure does not necessarily indicate that the emblematic structure was directly derived from the visual emblem; both the emblem author and the preacher may have been influenced, quite independently of each other, by classical literary topoi. The following works were most frequently cited by Czech baroque preachers: Alciato, Picinelli, Bollandus, Valerianus

These kinds of examples offer familiar images easily accessible to the

congregation.

Emblematic Sources in Czech Baroque Sermons

Emblem books are valuable resources containing contemporary knowledge and casting light on the meanings of emblems that were widespread during that time. Comparing the texts of sermons with emblem books can help rediscover forgotten meanings and offer insights into the most frequently depicted subjects, often clarifying literary images that are unclear to modern scholars. Baroque conceptual sermons contain few direct references to emblematic materials, since preachers generally did not cite their sources. One reason was their audiences’ widespread knowledge of emblematics, which formed an integral part of education at the time. Preachers generally

did not mention the authors of emblem books by name, but instead used

indirect references—most frequently emphasizing the authors’ erudition. We can thus find references to “ostrovtipny Didacus Saavedra” [the sharpwitted Diego Saavedra], “uéeny” [the learned] (Picinelli), “véci piirozenÿch zpytatel” [the inquirer into matters of nature] (Piero Valeriano), 6. 7.

See Appendix, citation 1. See Appendix, citation 2.

Emblematic Structures in Czech Baroque Sermons

(Hieroglyphica), Engelgrave, all mentioned above, and P. Aresius (Jmprese

Sacre), J. Typotius (Symbola divina et humana), A. Bocchi (Symbolicarum Quaestionum de Universo Genere), J. Camerarius (Symbolorum et

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EMBLEMATICA

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127

emblematum), P. Giovio (Dialogo dell’ imprese militari e amorose), C. Ripa

(Iconologia), and O. Vaenius (Emblemata aliquot selectiora amatoria). In

addition to the study of emblem books and theories of emblematics, when

searching for emblematic structures useful sources of information are the aforementioned references to emblem books given as marginal notes to sermons, as well as information contained in the texts of the sermons themselves: citations of emblem mottos and interpretative commentaries,

signals for visualization, e.g. “we can see,’ “you can see etc., encouragement to meditate on the emblems, and emblematic terminology chosen by the preachers. Emblematic terminology may form part of the full title of the sermon, or part of the foreword or dedication, as in the case of Karel Raëin's postil:

Operae Ecclesiasticae, the work of the Church, not merely permitted on the Sabbath, but required by the Holy Catholic Church. That is, Sunday sermons written according to the four holy Gospels, and including a multitude of scripture from both holy Testaments and figures of the holy Fathers, as well as stories both religious and secular, with many symbols and mottos, to help not only all officers of the Church, but also to be of use and pleasure to all lovers of the ancient language of St. Wencelas.?

In this fashion Raëin, who was at the forefront of emblematizing Czech sermons, articulated the practice of employing images with homiletic texts. Emblematic structures can also be found in the foreword to Raéin’s Operae ecclesiasticae (fig. 2): After writing my Lenten discourses under the title “The struggle of four elements battling against the sinful soul” I promised to devote my Sunday sermons to you, my dear reader, and I am keeping this promise, bringing them to you and presenting them to you under the title “The work of the Church;” be aware that as a peasant toiling in the field of Christ, my intention is more to work the abandoned and poorly-tended soil of the human soul than to provide a large volume of rhetoric, figures, and eloquence. For what spiritual help is provided by eloquence, so mischievously intoxicating with its wit, unless it serves the purpose of teaching the simple folk and gaining souls? Because usually, those whose speech contains eloquence do not seek to gain and save souls, but merely to further their own glory and praise. [Pictura:] Such a speaker or preacher can truly be likened to a cypress tree, which has nothing besides its inner beauty, being fruitless and barren, 8

Emphasis added by the author (both in the original and in the translation). See Appendix, citation 3.

l-

_

{1i1TC

—

—

Fig. 2. Andrea Alciato, Emblemata (1621), p. 848: emblem CXCIX, “Cupressus.” Image courtesy of Emblematica Online, Glasgow University Library.

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EMBLEMATICA

Martina Dragonova

about which a certain academicus | Inscriptio:] wrote this motto:!° “Pulchra coma, nil aliud,” pretty clothes but nothing else,!! or, as Alciatus proclaims: “Pulchra coma est pulchro digestaque ordine frondes, / sed fructus nullos, haec coma pulchra gerit.” [The cypress is a beautiful tree, / but devoid of all fruit.)'?[Subscriptio:] This is similar to the speech of a preacher who only seeks to achieve eloquence—it is empty and without spiritual use, pleasing the ear more than strengthening the human soul and reinforcing the good in it. And dear reader, do not say that these sermons of mine, here given up to the light of day, are like a beggar’s clothes, sewn together from many rags— that is, made up of many things collected and stolen from various books and writers—for I will respond to you in the manner of the most excellent and erudite man Lipsius: . . . I take rocks and timber from elsewhere, but the building of my entire house is my own work. I and I alone am in charge of this building, and I have done all the work that was necessary to build it. Just as a spider’s web is not better because the spider spins its own yarn, my own work is not worse because it is made of things taken from elsewhere, like the honey taken from the bee. So I entreat my dear reader not to disdain my simple and inept (yet well-meaning) work, but, if you find in it anything that requires improvement, kindly improve it, but whatever you find to be good, then use it to better yourself and to save your soul."

In baroque literature we encounter many different variations and forms of emblematic expressions, to which various authors attribute different meanings. Many emblematic forms are described as symbols, mottos, or parables, without drawing detailed distinction between these terms. For this reason, it is not easy to distinguish one emblematic form from another. In some sermons, emblematic structures can be identified on the basis of marginal notes giving references to emblem books. However, these references are quite scarce. Another important indicator of the presence of emblematic structures in the texts is the presence of emblematic mottos and figurative passages or ekphrastic descriptions. In some sermons, emblematic passages may be signaled by the presence of mythological commentaries and verses or other citations from the works of classical

authors such as Plato, Aristotle, Ovid, Plutarch, or Pliny. In conceptual 10.

This is likely a reference to Picinelli. It occurs with the lemma “Pulchra coma,

11.

See

12. 13.

nihil aliud” (Cologne 1687). Picinelli

lib. IX.

(Arbores),

cap. XII.

Cypressus,

Hypocrita, with a citation of an emblem by Andrea Alciato. See Alciato 848, emblem CXCIX (Cupressus). See Appendix, citation 4.

num.

154,

129

sermons, emblematic passages increasingly came to perform a didactic function, and the visual element of the emblematic structure was gradually reduced to a simile. Over the course of time, Alciato’s original emblems gave rise to two main types of emblematic structures. The simpler first type is moralistic and didactic in nature, while the more complex second type serves as a figurative means of expression enabling the author to address religious and meditative topics. Emblems of the first type draw on classical and humanistic topoi, collections of proverbs and sayings. The second type has its origins in Christian meditation, the tradition of Biblical exegesis, and symbolic theology.'* Naturally these two types were often combined, leading to a variety of mixed forms and variations.

Specific Forms of Emblematic Structures in Baroque Conceptual

Sermons

Like visual emblems, emblematic structures in texts consist of three parts (inscriptio, pictura, subscriptio), and they frequently (though not always) contain the word “näpis” [motto]. They may be inspired by visual emblematic models (both witty and meditative emblems) from well-known

emblem books, with the addition of a relatively original and self-contained

passage written by the preacher, who modifies the emblem to fit the context of his sermon (a citation of the emblem and the preacher's application of it—especially of the subscriptio—to Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary, the Holy Trinity, virtues, and vices). Following Knapp and Tüskés, we can divide emblematic structures into six main types: (1) symbols, (2) emblems, (3) hieroglyphs, (4) heraldic interpretations of coats of arms, (5) impresas, and (6) series of emblematic expressions permeating the entire sermon, eg. a chain of symbols representing various virtues or vices (177-82). The individual types of emblematic structures used in sermons are not static forms; they interact, overlap, and combine with one another.

Symbols Symbols are unequivocally the most frequently occurring type of emblematic structure in baroque conceptual sermons. Like an emblem, a symbol consists of a motto (inscriptio), an image (pictura), and a poetic or prose commentary (swbscriptio).

symbol

14.

See Dragonova Némcova 196-223.

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Martina Dragonova

131

The symbol expresses a concept related to the general topic of the sermon. The meaning of a symbol is not complex or hidden; it can be easily understood, expressed, and described in figurative language. Almost all the symbols in the sermons investigated here are inspired by the emblem book Mundus symbolicus, from which the preachers cited frequently. In baroque sermons, symbols are inserted “objects” —passages of text, literary-visual mosaics consisting partly of citations and partly of the preacher's own words. Symbols serve to describe Christian virtues and vices or to express the nature of Jesus Christ, the Holy Trinity, religious experience, and/or spiritual advice. In the following example from a sermon by Karel Racin (1706), the Holy Trinity is depicted as a rainbow: [Pictura:| A rainbow appeared in the sky, which, though it is resplendent with three colors, nevertheless contains these colors in an ordered manner, so that neither color in any way impinges on the beauty of another; the colors, although different, are nevertheless all part of one rainbow, an arch in the sky, about which Lukarinus [Inscriptio:] wrote this motto: Et unum sunt, and they are one, or uno lumine trinus, three within a single light, [Subscriptio:] which demonstrates the trinity of persons that is one in the essence of God, whom we recognize, honor and praise with the light of the true faith.’°

This example from Ra¢in demonstrates a straightforward interpretation of a natural phenomenon in religious terms. Emblems

Emblems occur less frequently than symbols in baroque sermons, and they express meanings in a more indirect, hidden, and complex manner. Emblems, like symbols, have a tripartite structure. There is no consensus among emblem theorists regarding the definition of the term. J. Sebacher defines an emblem as a motif originating in the Bible, e.g. a lily growing among thorns, while J. Masen classifies this particular image as a symbol (Masen, 601). Other scholars do not define an emblem on the basis of the source of its imagery, but rather according to the intellectual complexity of the thought that it expresses. The following example of an emblem featuring the motif of purity (which is as fragile as a mirror, a bubble, or snow) is taken from a sermon by Fabian Veselÿ,! and it is inspired by an emblem from Imago primi saeculi Societatis Jesu (fig. 3) (Bollandus, 186): 15.

See Appendix, citation 5.

16.

See Vesely 159-60.

HathiTrust Digital Library.

[Pictura:] Purity is like a mirror, as St. Aegidius said: ... Purity is a beautiful mirror, which becomes clouded by the smallest breath, and this small cloud of steam removes all its beauty. It is like a beautiful and pure bubble which, as soon as you touch it, bursts and disappears: [Jnscriptio:] Si tangas, frangas.

It is like the snow which only retains its whiteness as long as nobody touches it; if you take it in your hands and squeeze it, it immediately loses its beauty, becomes dirtied, and dissolves. Tetigisse, perisse est. |Subscriptio:| 1 do not— and must not—speak of this any more clearly, but I shall say only this: Sapienti pauca. A few words are enough for the wise one to understand."

Although Vesely builds out from an emblem by Bollandus, his allegories remain more in the realm of allusions. 17.

See Appendix, citation 6.

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133

Hieroglyphs A hieroglyph is an emblematic expression in which the meaning is not defined, but is referred to directly. Preachers either used Egyptian motifs or created their own variations. A hieroglyph may have a tripartite structure, or it may consist merely of a description of an image followed by an interpretative commentary. The main emblematic source for hieroglyphs was Valeriano’s Hieroglyphica. Hieroglyphs can also be found in Picinelli’s Mundus symbolicus. The following example of a hieroglyph, featuring the motif of divine providence as an eye on the hand and the symbol of a peacock’ tail, is taken from a sermon by Karel Raéin (fig. 4):'8 A loyal and dear father who loves his children must always keep his eyes open in order to see and know what they lack, so that he can help them. Almighty God is just such a loyal father, whose merciful eyes always remain open, with which he sees all our needs and wants. For this reason, in ancient times, as Valerianus writes: [Pictura:] People wanting to express divine providence painted their hands with an open, watchful eye in the palm of their hand, Unscriptio:] known by the motto: Oculata manus. A hand with an eye. To confirm this, I read in the holy scripture that the heavenly bride, praising the hands of her heavenly bridegroom and our merciful heavenly Father, spoke as follows: ... [Pictura 11:] His hands are beautifully formed, golden and full of hyacinths. Others read the text as follows: “Manus eis sicut cauda pavonis” His hands are like a peacock® tail. [Subscriptio:] 1 have no doubt that you are all aware that when a peacock spreads out its tail, the feathers are marked with many eyes, because this is a symbol or a sign of God's providence. The heavenly bride thus wanted to say and to prove that Almighty God, as a good and kind father, has his eyes open to the whole world, and His eyes see all our needs, and at the same time he extends his generous hand to help us.”°

While the example of the peacock derives from natural history, the motif of

divine providence as an eye on a hand has a long emblematic tradition. Coats of arms

Heraldic interpretations of coats of arms, for either families or cities, are

individual forms which serve to celebrate a person or a family. Like emblems, they may have a tripartite structure. This emblematic form is found in sermons 18. 19.

The motif features in Valeriano, 234, and it is Alciato’s emblem XVI. Cf. Song of Sol. 5:14.

20.

See Appendix, citation 7.

Fig. 4. Andrea Alciato, Emblemata (1621), p. 91: emblem XVI, “Sobrius esto et memineris.” Image courtesy of Emblematica Online, Glasgow University Library.

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by O. F. J. the coat of also found pilgrimage [The Most

Martina Dragonova

135

de Waldt who presents, for example, religious interpretations of arms of the Bohemian city of Pisek. These heraldic emblems are in works by B. Balbin, Diva Turzanensis [Lady from the place of Brno-Tuïany] (1658) and Prepodivnd Matka Svatohorské Maria Remarkable Virgin Mary of Svata Hora] (1666). Heraldic motifs

are re-interpreted in various ways in baroque sermons. The following extract

from a sermon by Karel Raëin describes and interprets the coat of arms of the Bechyñskÿ family, which features three carp, with reference to the carp symbol from Picinelli’s Mundus symbolicus: I then note that the fish are not satisfied with their natural watery abode, for

almost all their glory and majesty is covered and concealed by the water, so they

emerge from the water and eat the finest food, as there are many images showing [Pictura): the carp eating its fill, about which a certain academicus [Inscriptio]: wrote this motto: Pretiosa vescitur esca. From your Grace’s childhood, you longed for the fine food of erudition, wisdom and prudence, a nourishing treasure not

eaten by everybody; even asa child you displayed the intelligence of an adult and the reason of a man, when not only in the lower schools, but also when learning

the wise arts and the law, you graced the famous university of Prague, leaving

behind you the immortal memory of your precious name.”

In this manner the heraldic three carp and their need for physical substance become transposed to intellectual nurturing and the requirement for intellectual stimulation /mpresas. The impresa is another form originally referring to a particular person. It may be either bipartite or tripartite in structure. Unlike the emblem with its universal application, an impresa expresses the personal credo of a monarch, aristocrat, or, as was often later the case, an academic society. The

following example, taken from a sermon by F. Vesely, contains an impresa

featuring the motif of the bees from the personal coat of arms of Grand Duke Ferdinando I de’ Medici, as depicted in Alciato’s Emblematum

liber (Principis clementia) and in Picinelli’s Mundus symbolicus (lib. VIII.

Insecta; cap. I. Apis; num. 4, symbol Princeps clemens, lemma “Majestate tantum”) (fig. 5):

Bargalius, when depicting the Grand Duke of Tuscany Ferdinando I, [Pictura:] painted the king of the bees, who, surrounded by smaller bees, had above him [Juscriptio:] the following motto from Pliny: Majestate tantum. 21.

See Picinelli, lib. VI. Pisces, cap. XVIIL, no. 108, symbol Contemplativus, lemma “Pretiosa pascitur esca.”

22.

See Appendix, citation 8.

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Martina Dragonova

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With only majesty, he rules over all. [Subscriptio:| By this painting, he wanted to express the great goodness and kindness of this Duke, who behaved

with such mercy to his subjects as if he were the king of the bees without any sting.”

The bee swarm has always referred to the harmony of a well-functioning society.

Here the image of the queen bee becomes masculine to accommodate the ruling duke.

Chains of Emblematic Structures Occurring Throughout the Entire Sermon A chain of (three or more) emblematic structures consists of a series of self-contained emblematic expressions forming a single

allegorical entity within the text ofa single sermon. The following example, taken from a sermon by Karel Raëin, contains a chain of emblems: a pruned vine, incense burning in a fire, flames

fanned by the wind, ground saffron, a palm tree, and swiftly flowing water. All these images signify a person undergoing various difficulties in their life. The emblem of the flames fanned by the wind is from Otto Vaenius’ Emblemata aliquot selectiora amatoria, “Crescit spirantibus auris” (fig. 6):

Fig. 6. Otto Vaenius. Emblemata aliquot selectiora amatoria, (1618), p. 43, “Crescit spiran-

[Pictura 1:] When a winegrower carefully prunes a vine, the vine becomes more fertile, bearing more grapes, to which I [Inscriptio I:] give the following motto: Praeciosa sic melior, better for being pruned. [Pictura II:] Incense thrown into a fire smells more fragrant and pleasant, [/nscriptio II:] with this motto: In igne redolentius, more fragrant for being in the fire. [Pictura III:]

tibus auris.” Photo courtesy of Emblematica Online, University of Utrecht.

[Subscriptio:] God, in the kindness and goodness of the burning love of His soul, treats all His friends in a similar manner—even though according to appearances and human judgment it seems

that he treats people in a harsh and cruel manner, visiting many

Saffron, when ground down, is better, [Jnscriptio III:] with this

motto: Attritus melior,” better for being ground down. [Pictura IV:] A palm tree grows higher the more weighted down and battered it is, [Jnscriptio IV:] with this motto: Depressa extollitur, the further down it is pushed, the higher it rises. [Pictura V:] A fire fanned by the wind grows stronger, [Inscriptio V:] with this motto: Crescit spirantibus auris, it grows when fanned by the wind. [Pictura VI:] Water forced through a narrow passage

between rocks flows faster and clearer, [Inscriptio VI:] with this motto: Vires acquirit oundo, quicker thanks to running. 23.

See Appendix, citation 9.

24. 25.

See Emblematica Online, University of Utrecht. See Picinelli, lib. X. Herbal, cap. XII. Crocus, no. 39, symbol Crocus.

and various privations upon them.”°

The chain emblems allow for the fugue-like variation on the theme of the benefits of adversity. Most of the preachers at the time did not create entirely original emblematic expressions, but employed known motifs that they varied and paraphrased, sometimes even masterfully transformed, thereby recycling and reinterpreting emblematic images in their texts. More important than the author’s unique creative act are however the thoughts and religious images reproduced in the sermons, which are manifested in literal, often unrecognized, quotations in sermons. For

26.

See Appendix, citation 10.

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example, de Waldt uses an unsourced quotation from the work of the Austrian preacher Abraham a Sancta Clara in Sermon On the Day of St. Matthew the Apostle:” In order to better recognize the flatterer and have no misfor-

tune through him, observe that the flatterer is just like a mirror: “Quidquid speculo objicitur, imitatur, sic adulator,” says Plutarch,

or whatever mirror will reflect, this follows, so does the flatterer.

The flatterer is the same as a parrot, who does say only what he hears: ais ajo, negas, nego. The flatterer is like a sunflower that always turns to follow the sun, comes out, stands, sets as the sun and turns evil and good, as the Lord is.”

The examples of the mirror, parrot, and sunflower describe the mindless imitation of the sycophant. Conclusion

Homiletic emblems represent a specific form of figurative literary expression and meaning-conveyance, although they have not been clearly defined as a genre. Such emblems enable classical and conventional topoi to be enriched by contemporary new meanings and associations, and emblematic expressions are integral to baroque conceptual sermons. Emblematic

sermons are literary expressions and text passages that contain descriptions

of images or other figurative elements inspired by baroque emblematics, and that can be interpreted similarly to visual emblems. They are not merely citations from emblem books, but may also be invented by the sermon’s writer. The primary function of emblematic structures in sermons was to capture listeners’ attention and to entertain and instruct the congregation. Emblems helped to make sermons more figurative and more attractive to their audience. Conceptual sermons inspired by emblems feature series of emblematic images which act as structural devices in a text dominated by a single main emblematic image.

27.

“Die Schmeichler seind nicht ungleich einem Spiegel, guidquid speculo objicitur,

imitatur, sic adulator. Was man dem Spiegel vorstellet, das reprasentirt er, spricht

Plutarchus. Sie seind gleich einem Papagey, so nichts Anders schväfen, als was

sie hôren, ais, aio, negas, nego. Seind gleich der Sonnen-Blum, so mit der Son-

nen aufgehen, mit der Sonne stehen, mit der Sonne sich wenden, mit der Sonne untergehen” (A Sancta Clara, 46). 28.

See Appendix, citation 11.

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The study of emblematics in sermons brings a new perspective to

baroque conceptual preaching. The interpretation of sermon texts against

the background of emblem books contributes to a deeper understanding of literary images. Baroque sermons are permeated with emblems and emblematic structures whose meaning is frequently only accessible through a knowledge of emblem books. Czech baroque preachers most often took their inspiration from emblem books by Alciato, Picinelli, Bollandus, Engelgrave, Ripa, and Camerarius, as demonstrated above. Emblematic forms occur in all parts of sermons. The introductory sections generally contain relatively complex emblematic expressions, whose striking imagery illustrates spiritual truths. In the main sections of the sermon, moralistic and didactic emblematic expressions are used to convey simpler meanings connected with virtues and vices. Preachers, when writing their sermons, tended to borrow, adapt, and create variations on emblems from a rich repertoire of emblem books, since it was relatively uncommon for preachers to create their own original emblems. Nevertheless, it is possible to discern each preacher's individual style in their use of emblems. As Knapp and Tüskés have noted, sermons inspired by emblems have their own “peculiarly limited form of originality” (Knapp and Tüskés, 188). Different emblematic forms overlap in various ways in the texts of sermons, enabling preachers to create rich, highly effective works of art with a strong sensory appeal to listeners. The conceptual sermon with emblems, which was already popular elsewhere in Europe, began to emerge in Czech homiletics around 1690, and lasted until the first half of the 18th century. From the works of Czech baroque preachers,

and in particular from K. Rain’s Ctyri äivlové proti hrtiné dusi bojujict and

Operae ecclesiasticae, whose work exhibits the most emblematic structures, it is evident that emblematic principles were used in conceptual preaching from the 1690s until about the middle of the 18th century. Over the course of time, the emblematic passages of the sermons became increasingly didactic in nature, while the pictorial component shrank to a comparison, and thus the earlier distinct three-part emblematic division began to fade away.

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Appendix Citation 1

[Inscriptio:| Co se nyni zatajuje, / To den soudny vyjevuje. Tunc videbunt, tehdaz uzïi, u svatého Lukag’e v kapitole 21, 27. [Pictura:| Tak maliti, tak fezbäïi a jini uméli a vycviéeni délnici ten obyéej maji a vzdy takovÿ zachovavaji, ze kdyz néjaky obraz, budto v chramich Pané na oltäf postaviti, aneb néjakou rytinu vyzdvihnouti maji, tehdy dilo své jakousi $patnou plachtou zastiraji a zakryvaji, aby tak néktery hloupec, vidouce jesté skutek nedokonaly, jej netupil a nehanél a skrze své lelkovani περ δε! k rozsuzovani. Jak ale milé dilo jiz zhotovené a na misto piipravené jest, tehdy rychle a nenadale tu zastéru odtrhuji a jednomu kazdému k nâleZitému rozsuzoväni dilo své predstavuji. [Subscriptio:| Tak bude s nâmi laskavi v Kristu Panu

poslouchati, kdyz Syn ¢lovéka piijde v oblace s moci a velebnosti velikou, souditi Zivé i mrtvé, tunc videbunt, tehdaz uzii netoliko toho spravedlivého soudce, pied kterym nic se tajiti nemü£e, nebo, dle svatého Pavla pravdivého vysvédéeni: Omnia nuda et aperta sunt oculis ejus, vsecky véci jsou nahé a odkryté oëima jeho, ale taky jeden kazdy dobré i zlé skutky, ctnosti i zlosti, svatost a nepravost blizniho svého, anobrz celého svéta shromazdéného. Tehdaz ta zästéra, kterdzto nyni vsecko zakryva a zastira se odtrhne a odvrhne a my budem divadlem svétu, anjeläm, lidem i dabliim, jak pékné a jadrné ρίξε svaty otec Basilius, jako malti, kdyz v stanku drnovym, to jest drnem piikryté chaloupce, neb v katrëi, rozliëné malovani své na tabulce dokonä, takovou hned vübec v$em viudy (bez opony a zästéry) k vidéni a rozsouzeni piedstavi a jak samo v sobé jest, malovani své vylozi. ... Tak taky

i mysle nase, po smrti, kdyz zastéra téla, jizto duSe zakryta byla, se odejme, cokoliv rozliénÿm myslenim v ni maloväno bylo, vèem vübec patrné se dokaze a ukäZe, aby jeden kazdy svobodné vidéti a rozsouditi mohl, jakymi barvami duÿe budto okraslena, neb zakalena skrze cely éas zivobyti svého byla. (Marek, 7-8) Citation 2

Z té piitiny mého ἔάάιι Aresius Trismegistus nazvany a potomné tertonensky

biskup, fiale tento näpis uëinil [Jnscriptio:| “Suavior e longuo,” libezné voni

zdaleka. [Pictura:] Fiala jest maliékÿ kvitek, mnoho trpéti a vystati musi, netoliko studeny mraz a rosu mésice bfezna a dubna, ale taky mnohdykrate snéhem zakryta byva, nicméné vseckno trpélivé snäëi, svou kräsu a vüni zachovava. [ Subscriptio:

Opét pékny piiklad a napomenuti s povinnosti svobodného stavu. (Radin 1706, 62)

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Citation 3 Operae Ecclesiasticae, Robota cirkevni, v nedélni den netoliko dovolena,

ale taky od cirkve svaté katolické ptikazana. To jest, nedélni kazani, dle spisu étyr svatych evangelistüv zhotovené, kdeZto hojnost rozli¢nych Pisma svatého obojiho Zäkona a svatych otcüv figur, téz duchovnich i svétskych historii, 5 mnohymi symbolis a napisy, ku pomoci netoliko v$em duchovnim panim spräveüm, ale i taky k uzitku a potéSeni vem starobylé svatoväcslavské feëi milovnikim, se vynachazi. (Raëin 1706, title page) Citation 4

Po zhotoveni mych postnich diskursuv pod jménem Vojny ètyì zivliv proti hiiné dusi bojujicich, ptipovédél sem tobé mij laskavy étendii také mé nedélni käzäni obétovati, to co sem ptipovédél, splñuji a tobé je prednasim a piedstavuji, které pokudz pod titulem a jménem Cirkevni roboty zapisuji, pomni, ze s nima viceji, jakoëto v Kristovém

poli robotnik, zpustlé a zalezelé pole lidskych duëf vypracovati, nezli mnohych teëniküv, figur a kräsomluvnosti hledim. Neb co k duchovnimu prospéchu darebné a toliko mnohé vtipy loudici a mamici kräsomluvnost spomaha, pokudz k nauéeni sprostého lidu a k zejskani duëi tizena neni? Ponévadz obyéejné ten, ktery v své feëi kräsomluvnosti uZiva, ne zisk a spaseni dust, ale svou vlastni chvalu a slavu hled4. [Pictura:] Takovy feénik anebo kazatel vpravdé ptipodobnény byti mize k cypresovému stromu, ktery mimo zevnitini kräsy nic jiného na sobé nema, bez ovoce

a neplodny jest, jemuz jisty akademikus [Jnscriptio:] tento näpis zapsal: Pulchra coma, nil aliud, pékna odéni a nic viceji, anebo jak Alciatus prozpévuje: Pulchra coma est pulchro digestaque ordine frondes, / sed fructus nullos, haec coma pulchra gerit. / Cypti$ jest strom krasny, / vèak vseho ovoce prazdny. [Swbscriptio:] Napodobné feë takového kazatele,

ktery toliko na kräsomluvnost pozoruje, prazdnd a bez duchovniho uZicku jest, viceji ucho obveseluje, nezli duée lidské silni a v dobrém tvrdi. Aniz netikej mij laskavy étenäti, ze tyto mé na svétlo vydané käzäni jsou jako zebracky odév s rozliënÿch zaplat seëitÿ, to jest, z rozliënÿch knéh a spisovatelüv sebrané a kradené véci, nebo ja tobé na to odpovim a feknu, co jest psdno zanechal znamenity a u¢eny muz Lipsius: ... Kameni a ditvi od jinad beru, vyzdvizeni pak celého staveni moje jest. Vrchni spravce tohoto staveni jsem jà sm a potiebnych k tomu véci sem i tam zjednal sem. Jako pavutina ne proto, Ze pavouk piizi ze sebe souk, lepäi jest, téz moje prace ne proto opovrienéjii bude, Ze z ciziho jako od véelitky med,

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vybrand jest. Procez mij laskavy étenäti s touto mou prostou a hloupou, v$ak dobie minici praci nepohrdej, anobri, pokudz v nf nalezneë, co by napraveni potiebovalo, laskavé naprav, toho ale co lepäiho v ni byti uhlidäÿ, k spaseni tvé dude a k tvému lepimu uzivej. (Racin 1706, title page) Citation 5:

[Pictura:] Postavil na obloze nebeské duhu, kter4 aëkoliv s troji barvou se

stkvi a honosi, nicméné tak je v sobé sporädané obsahuje, Ze jedna druhé v krase ani té nejmen’i prekäzky neëini, ty barvy, a¢koliv rozliéné jsou, nicméné jednu duhu, anebo oblouk na obloze nebeské piisobéji, kterÿm Lukarinus tento näpis zapsal [Jnscriptio:] Et unum sunt, a jedno jsou, anebo uno lumine trinus, jednim svétlem troji, [Subscriptio:] co nam dokazuje trojiho v osobach a jednoho v podstaté Boha, kterého svétlem pravé viry osviceni uznavame, ctime a velebime. (Racin 1706, 372-73)

Citation 6

[Pictura:] Zrcadlu podobna jest Cistota, jakZ pravi svaty Aegidius: ... Cistota

jest kräsné zrcadlo, které nejmensim dechnutim poskvrnéné byva a mal para v8ecku kräsu jemu odnimé. Jest ona podobna kräsné a éistotné bublince, které jak se dost malo dotkne’, hned ona se puké a trati: Unscriptio:] Si tangas, frangas. Jest podobna snéhu, ktery tak dlouho svou bélost zachovävé, jak dlouho se ho Z4dny nedotyka, vezme’-li ho do rukou a budes se s nim maëkati, hned kräsu svou ztrati, zéernä a rozplyne: Tetigisse, perisse est. |Subscriptio:] Nechci jà o tom, ani nesmim zietedinëéj mluviti, ale to jen pravim: Sapienti pauca. Moudrému dosti jest ponavrhnouti, aby se dovtipil” (Veselÿ 159-60) Citation 7

Vérny a laskavy otec, jenz své déti miluje, musi védyckny oteviené o¢i miti, aby vidél a poznal, co jim schäzi, anebo v éem by jim nâpomocen byti mohl. Takovym vérnym Otcem jest Büh véemohouct, ktery vzdycky své milosrdné o¢i oteviené md a s nimi na véechny nage potieby a nedostatky patii. Z té pticiny za starodavna, jak ρίξε Valerianus: [Pictura:] Chtéje lidé opatrnost bozskou vypsat a vyslovit, vymalovali ruku a v dlani té ruky oteviené a bdéjici

oko, [Jnscriptio:| s timto dolozenym näpisem: Oculata manus. Oéitd ruka.

K potvrzeni toho étu v Pismé svatém, ze choté nebeské vychvalujice ruce

svého nebeského Zenicha a naieho laskavého nebeského Otce takto mluvi: ... [Pictura II:] Ruce jeho na soustro délané zlaté a plné hyacinthüv. Jini ten

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text takto ctou: Manus eis sicut cauda pavonis. πος jeho jako pavovy ocas. [Subscriptio:] Nepochybné, ze vam viem dobie znâmo a povédomo jest, kterak v pavovém ocasu, kdyz jej rozlozi a roz3iti, v peti jeho plno oëi se spatiuje, a to z té piiciny, ponévadz jest symbolum anebo znameni bdëjici opatrnosti boïské. Chtéla tudy skrze to choté nebeské Hicti a dokäzati, Ze Büh vsemohouci jakozto dobrotivy a laskavy otec své oëi k celému svétu oteviené πιά ἃ s nimi na véeckny nase potieby hledi a spolu taky jednim éasem svou stédrou ruku k nasi pomoci stahuje. (Raëin 1706, 528-29).

Citation 8

Znamenäm pak, ze ryby netoliko svym ptirozenym vodnim obydlim spokojené nejsou, aby téméf jejich valnost a slva s vodami zakryté a potopend neziistala, ven z vody vychazeji a s tim nejdraZ$im pokrmem se krméji, neb mnohych zdäni jest, Ze [Pictura:] kapr zlatem se krmi a syti, kterému jistÿ academicus [nscriptio:] tento napis napsal: Pretiosa vescitur esca. Drahy a ne od kaïdého nabyty poklad a pokrm jest uéenost, moudrost a rozSafnost . . . a ten jest mnohem lep3i a vzactnéjsi nezli zlato. [Subscriptio:] . . . Po tom drahém a zlatém pokrmu moudrosti, uéenosti a rozSafnosti, hned od détinstvi vase milost dychtila a laénéla, daje na sobé jeëté v tom véku dospély vtip a musky rozum znati, kdyz netoliko v nizSich skolach, ale i také v uméni mudrckém a pravnim se cviceje, zdejsi prazskou nejslavnéjsi universitatem svou jemnosti oëlechtiti jste racilt zanechaje po sobé nesmrtedlnou pamatku svého vzactného jména. (Racin 1698, fol. A3).

Citation 9

Bargalius chté Ferdinanda prvniho, velikého toskansk¢ho knizete dobrotivost vyobraziti, namaloval kräle véel, jenz uprostted menäich véeliéek postaveny mél nad sebou tento népis z Plinia: Majestate tantum. Jen samou velebnosti véecko Hdi. Kterÿmäto malovänim chtél on ponavrhnouti velikou dobrotivost a piivétivost tohoto knizete, jenz tak laskavé zachäzel s svÿmi poddanymi, jakoby byl säm kral véelitek beze v$eho zahadla. (Vesely, 90-91). Citation 10

[Pictura 1:] Kdyz vinat v svÿm éase pilné vinny ket obiezAva, tedy vinny ket tim plodnéjsi jest a tim viceji hroznüv nese, kterému ja [/nscriptio 1:] tento napis piidavam: Praeciosa sic melior, tak obtezany lepäi. [Pictura 11:] Kadidlo do ohné vhozené, tim libezné a piivétivéj voni, [Jnscriptio 11:]

s timto ndpisem: Jn igne redolentius, v ohni vonavéjsi. [Pictura III:] Safran

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Martina Dragonova

ἔίπι viceji setteny byva, tim lepäi jest, [/nscriptio III:] s timto nâpisem: Attritus melior, setteny lep3i. [Pictura IV:] Palmovy strom, dim viceji stlateny a zkazeny byva, tim vej$ povstava, [Inscriptio IV:] s timto näpisem: Depressa extollitur, snizeny se povySuje. [Pictura V ]: Od vétru rozfoukany

Daly, Peter Maurice. Literature in the Light of the Emblem: Structural Parallels Between the Emblem and Literature in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Toronto, 1998.

ohen roste, [Jnscriptio V:] s timto napisem: Crescit spirantibus auris, roste

foukajicim vétrem. [Pictura V1:] Vody, kde skrze ouzké skäly svij spd maj,

tim prudéeji a éerstvéji tekou [/nscriptio VI:] s timto napisem: Vires acquirit

oundo, silnéjsi béhem. [Subscriptio:] Napodobné jedné a zachäzi svÿmi piateli a s jednou kazdou lskou boëi, hotici dusi laskavy a dobrotivy Buh, ackoliv dle zdani a soudu lidského zda se, jakoby zostra a zpurné s élovékem zachäzel, kdyz ho s mnohym ἃ s rozliénym protivenstvim navstévuje. (Raëin 1706, 404-5)

Citation 11

Abys lépe mohl seznati pochlebnika a nékdy nemél skrze ného neëtésti, pozoruj, Ze pochlebnik jest rovné jako zrcadlo: Quidquid speculo objicitur, imitatur, sic adulator, pravi Plutarchus, nebo cokoliv zrcadlu se piedstavi,

to ndsleduje, tak rovné pochlebnik ëini. Pochlebnik jest co papousek, kterej nic jiného netlacha, jenom co sly3i: ais ajo, negas, nego. Pochlebnik jest rovné jako sluneénice, kterä se vzdy za sluncem οτάξί, vychazi, stoji, zapada, jak ona tak tento na obratku zly a zase dobry jest, jak kdy pan jest. (De Waldt, 64) Works Cited A Sancta Clara, Abraham. Abrahamisches Gehab dich wohl! Ein Buch zur

Lehre und Warnung, zur Erheiterung und GemüthsergeKung fiir Jung und Alt. Vienna, 1827.

Alciato, Andrea. Emblemata. Padua, 1621. hetp://www.em blems.arts.gla. ac.uk/alciato/books.php?id=A2 la&o=. Basilius Ancyranus. Liber de vera virginitate. Venice, 1530. Bediich, Martin. “Co je to emblematickä struktura v textu?” Ceské literatura 56:6 (2008): 846-56.

Bollandus, Johannes et al. Imago primi saeculi Societatis Jesu. Antwerp, 1640. hetps://archive.org/details/imagoprimisaecul0Oboll. Cerny, Vaclav. AZ do predsiné nebes. Crrnäct studit o baroku naïem i cizim. Ed. Jarmila Viskova, Prague, 1996.

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Engelgrave, Heinrich. Lux Evangelica. Vol. 1. Cologne, 1655. http://www.europeana.eu/portal/record/9200386/ BibliographicResource_3000045164311.html. Knapp, Eva, and Gabor Tüskés. Emblematics in Hungary: A Study of the History of Symbolic Representation in Renaissance and Baroque Literature. Tubingen, 2003. Koneënÿ,

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Masen, Jacob. Speculum imaginum veritatis occultae. Cologne, 1664.

Picinelli, Filippo. Mundus symbolicus. Cologne, 1687. Racin, Karel. Cryfi zivlové proti hi'tiné dusi bojujict. Prague, 1698. - _. Operae Ecclesiasticae, Robota cirkevni. Prague, 1706. Schone, Albrecht. Emblematik und Drama im Zeitalter des Barock. Munich,

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Sladek, Milo’. Svét je podvodny verbér. Prague, 2005.

Soleiman pour Hashemi, Michaela. “Krozlieni konvenéni a literarné prestizni homiletiky obdobi baroka” Bohemica litteraria 10

(2008): 69-75.

Typotius, Jacobus. Symbola divina et humana, pontificum, imperatorum, regum. Prague, 1601. Vaenius, Otto. Emblemata aliquot selectiora amatoria. Amsterdam, 1618.

Also available through Emblematica Online, University of Utrecht at http://emblems.let.uu.nl/val618.heml.

Valeriano, Piero. Hieroglyphica sive de sacris Aegyptiorum literis commentari. Basel, 1556.

_

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Vesely, Fabian. Käzéni postni, na kaëdÿ pätek. Prague, 1728. Vintr, Josef. “Zasady transkripce ¢eskych textù z barokni doby” Listy filologické 121 (1998): 341-46. Waldt, Ondiej Frantisek Jakub de. Chudlorec. Prague, 1736.

J. E. Gossner’s Emblem Book The Heart of

Man in Brazil: A Protestant and Pentecostal

Perpetuation of the Catholic Reform’s Worldview HELMUT

RENDERS

Methodist Universiy of Sao Paulo, Brazil

This

article

suggests

that

a

relationship

exists

between

the

performative power of the religio cordis in Brazil and the sociological type “Brazilian” described as “cordial man” by Sérgio Buarque de Holanda (2004, 147). It then relates this to the translation of Johann

Evangelista Gossner’s book Das Herz des Menschen [literally “The Heart of Humankind,” often translated as The Heart of Man] (1812)

by the Danish-born Presbyterian A. Jensen as Um folheto célebre ou o

Livrinho do Coraçäo (1914), its Methodist edition, an independent

Lutheran version (1932), and later Pentecostal (1954) and Baptist

(1998) editions.' Protestants and Pentecostals have interwoven an essentially Catholic colonial emblem tradition or colonial religious matrix into their own narrative, ignoring existing alternative versions

of a Protestant religio cordis.

In the following the text will generally be referred to as The Heart of Man, unless

a specific argument is being made about a particular edition, in which case the original title will be used. In actual fact, the title “The Little Book of the Heart”

reflects the Presbyterian and Methodist version, while the “The Heart of Man’

reflects the Lutheran Pentecostal Baptist version and these titles will be used also as appropriate.

147 Emblematica: Essays in Word and Image, vol. 3. Copyright © 2020 by Droz & Emblematica. All rights reserved.

en — — — +

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Introduction

y academic focus is on religious studies, specifically how the Mi: of religious discourse relates to the world around us. For the past fifteen years I have been working in Brazil and have

become slowly aware chat, in this cultural and social context, visual, ritual,

and gestural languages are much more relevant and formative than, for example, confessional texts. This article illustrates this by resuming a partial result of a study of a very specific iconic expression of Brazilian religious visual culture. It concerns my response to my first contact with a Brazilian edition of Johann Evangelista Gossner’s Livrinho do coraçäo (Little Book of the Heart]. The text was given to me as a Protestant book, but it appeared to have a more Catholic character to my eyes. I started to investigate its background (Renders 2009a, 373-413), its immense popularity (Renders 2009b, 116-53), and its effect (Renders 2009c, 89-113); I came to understand it as a part of the wider phenomenon of the religio cordis and its effect on Brazilian Protestantism (Renders 2009c, 89-113),

an unusual,

if alternative, discourse of the

religion of the heart that persists down to our own time (Renders 2013, 109-32).? These studies resulted in a much more profound understanding

of Gossner’s book itself, its origins (Renders, 2012a, 65-78), and its Brazilian adaption (Renders 2012b, 77-105).3 This article summarizes the

central ideas of this research, now presented as a whole, for the benefit of Anglophone readers who may not have the ability to read Portuguese texts. It then explores additional aspects and differences among the various texts.’ Considering the Brazilian Protestant and New-Pentecostal Renaissance of the religio cordis from the early 1920s and again from the 1980s onward, I propose the following hypothesis: Gossnet’s book is the link between the Catholic religio cordis as religious expression of the colonial project of the

Helmut Renders

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Portuguese Empire and the late modern Protestant and New Pentecostal versions of a religio cordis. Both share an intentional emphasis on the relationship between the religious subject and the world around them through terms more typical of the pre-modern than the modern mentality. More precisely, Gossner’s book introduces certain aspects of a mentality of the Catholic Reformation to Brazilian Protestants and Pentecostals. In comparison, visual expressions of existing alternative readings of the religio cordis, whether Catholic, Protestant, or Pentecostal, are still rare in Brazil. They also exist parallel to what I would refer to as the dominant pictorial discourse. The paper is divided into three parts. The first describes the special role of Gossner’s book in the Brazilian religious context as a bridge between the colonial religio cordis and the modern religio cordis, and thereby contributes to what some authors describe as a contemporaneous religious matrix that resembles the colonial project. The second part presents the different Brazilian editions and some of their particularities. The third part focuses on the unbroken promotion of a very limited world relationship that expresses, primarily, fear of persecution and that has a very powerful, seductive influence. This discourse can be identified in the pictorial language and its accompanying texts of the Catholic Reformation.

1. Continuity: Gossner’s Book of the Heart and its Relation to the Religio Cordis Brasiliensis The far-reaching, transconfessional, and transdenominational acceptance of a Protestant emblemlematic language in Brazil in general, and of a religion of the heart in particular, becomes understandable within the larger cultural context. The Conquista of Latin America was in religious terms accompanied by the Catholic Reformation or, from a Protestant point of view, the Counter-

The study extends work by Sabine Médersheim (2008, 2010, 2014), later mentioned in Peter M. Daly (2014, 73-75), to the Brazilian context. I would like to thank Prof. Dr. Médersheim for her kind support during the initial phase of my

Reformation. During the sixteenth century and up to the beginning of the seventeenth century, the religious books and single prints depicting saints, their attributes, and other devotional themes used in the Spanish and Portuguese colonial empire to promote Christianity came mainly from Antwerp. Through their excellent relations with the Spanish court, Christopher Plantin (1520-1589), and later his son in law, Jan Moretus (1543-1610), held the monopoly on the production of religious books promoting Catholic Reform. While printing presses arrived in Mexico City and Lima, Peru, the two capitals of the viceroyalties of the Spanish

careful work as editor.

5;

This research culminated in a post-doctoral publication. See Renders 2011. See Renders 2013b. This article builds on a version first presented at the Tenth International Conference of The Society for Emblem Studies in Kiel, Germany, from 27 July to 1 August, 2014. I thank the Fundaçäo de Amparo à Pesquisa do Estado de Sao Paulo for funding my participation (FAPESP process 2014.03194-3) . The production of the images included in this article was also

made possible by FAPESP (process 2015.13737).

research, and Prof. Dr. Mara R. Wade for her kind support, encouragement, and

On the importance of C. Plantin, see Bowen and Imhof 2008.

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Helmut Renders

Americas, as early as 1539 and 1581,° the first official Portuguese printing press in Brazil can be dated to 1808 in Rio de Janeiro and the arrival of Dom Pedro 1.7 Consequentially, production of religious materials was highly controlled, which had a profound cultural impact. The Project on the Engraved Sources of Spanish Colonial Art has documented the influence of the religious language of emblems (see PESSCA, 2916), more precisely, the specific literary genre of emblem books, for the Spanish cultural space. In Brazil, similar observations have been made, mainly in recent years (Pinheiro, 1951; Oliveira, 1979, v-xii and 2003; Almeida, 2008, 65-88; Gomes, 2008; Sobral, 2008, 101-24; Martins, 2009; Amaral, 2010, 10730; Silva 2012, 63), although a systematic investigation comparable to that of PESSCA has yet to be conducted. Within the diversity employed in the symbolic languages of religious emblem books, the language of the religio cordis stands out, in particular, because it was used to highlight the inner—and intimate—aspect of the ideal of the mystical union as the most precious goal of religious experience in the spiritual project of the Catholic Reformation (Wierix 1585-6;

von Haeften 1629; Hermann

1642). Part of this is owing to the Latin

American—especially Portuguese—appreciation for Ignatius of Loyola. The theological language of the Jesuits can also be called #heologia cordis, for John of the Cross and for Teresa of Avila, whose spirituality soon after her death has been summarized in iconographic terms as religio cordis. The profound link between the Portuguese royal family and the iconography of the religio cordis can be traced from royal heraldry to its medals, and corresponds to the period discussed here. In 1481, before the Portuguese arrival in the Americas, the five quinas (blue escutcheons with five besants,

that is, with five gold coins) were introduced into their official shield. They refer to the five wounds of Christ with the heart at the center.” 6.

7.

8.

One third of the books was printed in indigenous languages; see Mena

69-90.

1997,

A printing press accompanied the Dutch, but their printer, Pieter Janszonon,

died soon after he arrived in Brazil, in 1643. A hundred years later, in 1747, it is known that the printer Antônio Isidoro da Fonseca worked in Rio de Janeiro. See Gomes 2008, vii. Another piece of evidence is the reproduction of the emblem book Horatii Flacci Emblemata by the Catholic humanist Otto Vaenius (1612). It can be found

in a Franciscan monastery in Salvador, Bahia. See also Amaral 2010, 107-30;

2011, 151-62.

9.

The political significance of this religious symbol became evident in its use dur-

ing the “Pilgrimage of Grace” in 1536-1537 in England, when Catholics used a representation of the five wounds in an attempt to challenge the Protestant ruler.

151

A complex millennial understanding of the vocation of the Portuguese crown informed this choice, a decision, which blended very well with its colonial pretensions. In 1789, at the start of the French Revolution, the heart icon was also integrated into the three main Portuguese medals for the Order of Christ, the Order of Saint Benedict of Aviz,!° and the Order

of Saint James of the Sword.'! The decision of Queen Mary I (1734-1816)

of Portugal, Brazil, and the Algarves symbolically approximates the fight of the French Jesuits, since the monarchy under the protection of the religion

of the heart was entitled the “religion of the king” (Edmunds 2006, 55077}.

My research on the importance of the re/igio cordis brasiliensis in colonial times has shown how the heart mysticism aligned very well with the logic of a slave society. It is well known that Jesuits and the Discalced Carmelites

were the religious orders with the most slaves (See Johnson 2008, 2), and

that the Discalced Carmelites was the order that attracted the colonial elites, especially after the expulsion of the Jesuits (See Orazem 201 1a; 201 1b). However, the significance of the religio cordis as the articulation not only of personal piety, but of a wider social project, did not end here. Its last major Catholic expression was the devotion of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, mainly promoted as the spirituality of ultramontanism and romanization in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and gave continuity to many ideas already promoted by the Catholic Reformation (Menozzi 2001). Although this spirituality no longer promoted a society economically based on slavery, it still stood against republican ideals and ideas, and a modern worldview in general. This worldview was symbolically expressed by the Christ figure on the Corcovado Mountain in Rio de Janeiro, which was, in 1932, the capital of Brazil. The statue and its surroundings still form today a sanctuary of the Sacred Heart and it was the declared intent to promote 10.

The house of Aviz ruled Portugal between 1385 and 1580.

11.

Originally, all military orders and the two first orders were connected to the Templars and to the Crusades.

12.

Schneider (2007, 198) writes that during their prohibition in France between 1773 and 1814 the Jesuits survived in religious societies of the Sacred Heart.

When the order was reinstated in 1872, the Superior General of the Society of

Jesus Pieter Jan Beckx consecrated the Jesuit order to the Sacred Heart of Jesus at the Church of Gesù in Rome.

13.

‘The common distinction between mysticism and mystics that is prevalent in German academia is used here. Mysticism is normally rejected as an extreme of the mystics. It represents a great challenge that this distinction is rarely made in

English-language or Latin American literature.

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Catholicism as the privileged religion of Brazil, even if it was not the state religion. As a result of the first Vatican Council, ultramontanism can be interpreted as one of the three closed (fundamentalist and exclusive) Christian religious systems that marked the twentieth century, all of which were intended to guarantee certainty in issues of faith by introducing the concept of infallibility: papal infallibility (Catholic Fundamentalism [1870-1928]), infallibility of scripture (classic Protestant Fundamentalism [1890-1928]) and the infallibility of religious experience (late Protestant Fundamentalism [1970-2000]). One could add to this an understanding of modern logic as a system that suggests the idea of the infallibility of reason, that makes not only the conflicts between Catholicism and Protestantism between 1850 and 1945 more plausible, but also those between ultramontanism, classic as well as recent Protestant Fundamentalism, and modernity. The study of the religious visual culture behind these competing movements makes it more understandable why these movements interacted so violently to each other: they behaved according to the dynamics of iconoclasm. The religio cordis brasiliensis can be understood as a central part, and vivid expression, of what others describe as the religious matrix of Brazil," and was dominant until 1808; it was subsequently reestablished after 1860 by the ultramontane movement. As we intend to show, the redigio cordis brasiliensis was recycled, but maintained by several branches first within Protestantism, and later within Pentecostalism and even neoPentecostalism. Looking back from 1936, the Brazilian sociologist and historian Sérgio Buarque de Holanda identified a Brazilian sociological type, which he called the “cordial man,” passionate in his defense of his family and friends and the combat of his enemies, eager to mix the public with the private sphere, religion, and the laicized state (Holanda 2012). In other words, Holanda understood the “cordial man” as not

only unprepared for modern democracy, its bureaucratic processes, and impersonal political structures, but as openly opposed to it. In agreement with Holanda’s studies and convinced by their utility even today,’ I suggest that it might be appropriate to describe the religio cordis brasiliensis as a specific religious typus which can be called

14. 15.

As mainly enthusiastic and preferentially mystic; see Bittencourt Filho 2003. This does not refer to his classic Weberian understanding of the modern world as characterized by an ongoing process of secularization, which would eventually outrun the “cordial man.” Even today there is no further evidence of this.

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“cordial religion.”'* In the present context Holanda’ sociological types of the adventurer and the worker can be understood as formed by two different types of spirituality: There is a work ethic, as there is an ethic of adventure. Thus, the individual worker will only attribute moral value to those actions that he feels like practicing and, inversely, will deem immoral and detestable those qualities inherent to the adventurer—audacity, imprudence, irresponsibility, instability, vagrancy—everything, in short, as it relates to a spatial concept of the world, which is characteristic of this type . . . energy and effort directed towards immediate reward is extolled by adventurers; while energy and effort aimed at achieving peace, stability, personal safety and efforts made without the prospect of rapid material advantage are seen by them as vices and despicable (Holanda 2006, 44).

For me, not for Holanda, the difference between the worker and the adventurer is the difference between people led either by a mystic experience or by mysticism. A mystic is able to challenge and transcend inhuman structures within and by religious experience, whereas mysticism, which offers the illusion of heavenly life or a mystical union with heaven, becomes petrified by its enthusiastic spirituality. Since colonial times in Brazil this enthusiasm has been accompanied by millennial self-understanding (Sebastianism). There can also be no doubt that those aspects of the religion of the heart that rejected violence and slavery were not promoted in Brazil. When Gossner wrote Das Herz des Menschen |The Heart of Man] he was still a Catholic folk theologian and missionary. Only fifteen years later, he became a Lutheran. As early as 1811 he was very close to the Christentumsgesellschaft (Society for Christianity) in Basel, Switzerland, a transconfessional group composed of the Reformed, Lutherans, and Catholics (like himself). Membership of this association, and the fact that he suffered persecution at the hands of the Jesuits and his ecclesiastic superiors, suggest that he did not promote the conventional Catholicism of 16.

Exceptions exist as shown by the description and interpretation of the heart as

a rare hagiographic element of Benedictus Rosario, the saint of the slaves. See Renders 2013, 109-32. We cannot deepen this here but we believe that the sociologists Bittencourt Filho and Holanda are right and wrong at the same time: the “cordial man” did not die out (contradicting Holanda, who follows Max Weber's theory of an inevitable growing secularization), and mysticism has not

taken over the laicized state (contradicting Bittencourt). More likely in Brazil one should work with the model of religious modernity, not dominated by secularization or by the “revenge of religion.” See Sell and Brüseke 2006.

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his time. Thus the question must be posed what type of Catholic Gossner was. His emphasis on the human heart is modern—but not new. His stress on the existence of the Devil and demons is premodern. There is no doubt that the second point is central to his argument, as his introduction states: “today people laugh about the Devil as if he does not exist, they deny his existence and his influence on the human beings.” This can also be seen in the emblems (1813, iv). In addition one notices the absence of certain classic themes of Catholic theology. The doctrine of Original Sin is not mentioned; neither are the sacraments, nor the Church as a sacrament, nor the ecclesiastic hierarchy, nor priests. Moreover, although he talks a lot about the Devil and hell, he does not refer to purgatory. Gossner’s emphasis on the human being diminishes the importance of the institutional and especially sacramental mediation of salvation, which might have been of one of the reasons for his problems with religious authorities, especially the Jesuits. He does, however, work with at least two major Catholic doctrines: Todsiinden [Deadly Sins] (cf. Gossner 1813, 1,

and 21) and zuvorkommende Gnade | prevenient grace] (cf. Gossner, 1813,

1). The latter represents a doctrinal reorientation, which occurred at the Council of Trent and replaced the irresistible grace of Augustine. Gossner’s The Heart of Man shows then clear evidence of its dependence ona traditional Catholic, mainly Jesuit, emblem iconography: the mere use used in the book are full of references. Anton Wierix provided inspiration for his emblems (fig. 1), while Vincent Huby (fig. 2) and his Miroirs du pécheur | Mirrors of Sin] that became widespread in a popular print edition by Garnier (1739) were also influential.!7 Huby introduced into the emblem the head above the heart to articulate a relation between the facial expression of the religious subject and what occurs within his or her heart.'* The engravings in Gossner’s book (figs. 3 and 4) employ the medieval iconography of the Passion of Christ as found in the images of the Mass of Gregory the Great (emblems 4 and 6; triple presence of the crucifix, emblems 4, 9 and 10;! and the Trinity, emblem 17. 18.

There are editions from 1683, unavailable for this study. See Anne Sauvy (1989). See Bannasch 2007, 70-172, who refers only to Gossner. However, William Blake (1757-1827) used the metaphors of the heart and the face in his poem

“The Divine Image” from his Songs of Innocence: “For Mercy has a human heart,

/ Pity, a human face, / And Love, the human form divine, / And Peace, the human dress” (Blake 1794, 14). 19.

Inemblem 10, the believer, on his deathbed, grasps a crucifix with his two hands.

eeTK

of emblems in theological treatises was a Jesuit specialty and the engravings

0

τς

ee

Fig. 1. Antoin Wierix, Cor Jesu amanti sacrum (1586/87), emblem

Image Courtesy of Museum Plantin-Moretus.

13.

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Fig. 2. Vincent Huby, Possession diabolique (1682). Image courtesy of Bibliothèque nationale de France.

Helmut Renders

the

Fig. 3. Johann Evangelist Gossner, Das Herz des Menschen

(1813), pp. 18-19: Emblem 4. Image courtesy of archive.org.

Picture of the inner state of a human being, who, reconciled with God through Christ’s merit, knows nothing more than Jesus the crucified.”

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5). This iconography is still alive in Brazil and is especially represented by the typical Franciscan crosses, for example, in the cities of Tiradentes

and Sao Joao Del Rei (in the state of Minas Gerais). Last but not least,

Gossner relates, as does Huby, the presence of good or evil, God or the Devil to the rejection of the seven deadly sins (emblems 1-3, 6, 7, and 9) or the observations of the three theological virtues—faith, hope and

charity. The seven classical virtues are divided in two groups: Demuth, Freygiebigkeit, Lieble] und Keuschheit [humility, generosity, love and chastity] and Nichternheit, Geduld und Fleiff |sobriety, patience, and diligence]. Gossner’s emblems focus on the Deadly Sins, which appear in six of ten emblems, whereas the seven virtues are only present in one emblem. This is but one indication of the book’s general emphasis on the strong presence of the evil in the world. The model of the seven vices and virtues is a fundamental element of Catholic moral theology since Prudentius’s Psychomachia (400), which related the imaginary of the battle for the human soul with the entry of Christ into the human heart and the marriage of the divine Spirit with the human soul, elements one can still identify in Huby and Gossner.

Excursus: Spanish Colonial Paintings of the Predecessor of Gossner’s Book, Based on the Images of Vincent Huby

Der NCerzens Fufiand tines Meith defsen Eufer œceder erhaltet und do E 4 die Wel lieh yewint. Fig. 4. Johann Evangelist Gossner, Das Herz des Menschen (181 3),

Ρ. 26-37. “The state of the heart of a human being whose eagerness has cooled and who started again to love the world.” Image courtesy of archive.org.

In earlier publications I suggested the possibility that the wide acceptance of Gossner’s pictorial language in Brazil is directly related to the enduring presence between 1588 and 1753 of Anton Wierix’s iconography in his Cor Jesv sacrum amanti |The Sacred Heart of Jesus devoted to whom he loves] (See Sauvy 1989). Demonstrating this has proven to be very difficult, because Jesuit libraries and archives have not survived in Brazil. In Spanish America the situation is different. Influences of the work of Anton, Jan, and Hieronymus Wierix and Vincent Huby in the Latin American colonial art of the Spanish Empire are widely documented. The presence in Latin America of Vincent Huby’s emblem book Espelhos [Mirrors] confirms that this

pictorial language had been already introduced to Latin America, while Gossner’s The Heart of Man follows Huby’s model. The fact that this pictorial language was reproduced in colonial paintings shows its lasting influence and makes plausible its wide acceptance as a cultural phenomenon of an established religious emblematic language.

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e

2. Variations: The Book of the Heart in its Brazilian Editions between 1914 and 2014 Although religious emblem books are sometimes considered to be largely a Catholic phenomenon, this is not the whole story. It is known that the Protestant reformers Luther and Calvin used seals which integrated the symbol of the heart. Historically, Protestantism has been at the vanguard of the emblem books with the Calvinist Georgette de Montenay (1540-1581) compiling perhaps the first religious emblem book, one in which the religio cordis shaped its language.” In the next

century Daniel Cramer (1568-1637) created an autonomous Lutheran

expression (Cramer 1624a; 1624b), described by Sabine Médersheim (2006, 295-329) also as theologia cordis. Both works advanced a formal language clearly distinguished from the Catholic emblem language of the religio cordis. Nevertheless, this alternative Protestant language of the religio cordis had no effect in Brazil for obvious reasons: Protestantism was permitted only slowly after 1821. This also seems to have inhibited the circulation of the Protestant reproduction of works by Anton Wierix, Benedictus von Haeften, and Herman Hugo,”! from Germany and England.” Nevertheless, these later cases confirm the transposition of a pictorial discourse from the Catholic to Protestant Reformation as early as the sixteenth and seventeenth century, as I have confirmed for the twentieth century in Brazil. Five Brazilian editions of Gossner’s The Heart of Man have been identified, and there is strong evidence for the first example: e

+ .

+ 20. 21. 22.

e

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1955 [?]-2011: 50 or more editions by the All Nations Gospel Publishers, mainly distributed among the members of the Church Assembly of God [of Brazil] (figs. 10, 12, and 15); 1998-2007: 10 editions by the Baptist Publishing House, reproducing the Pentecostal edition (figs. 1 and 13).

The broad acceptance of this book and the continuous promotion of its visual discourse by a wide range of Brazilian religious denominations lasted for at least a hundred years. The following section explores their diversity and those aspects that these editions have in common.

2.1 The Presbyterian Edition and Its Methodist Copy

1932: [in German] Edition of the Deutschen Vereinigung für Evangelisation und Volksmission in Ponta Grossa, Paran4, Brazil; 1914—)1950 [?]: Edition of the Presbyterian Church of Brazil (figs.

The first Brazilian edition from 1914 was, interestingly, edited and published by a Danish-born Presbyterian, A. Jensen, who translated the book directly from Gossner’s German (fig. 5). Jensen explains in his introduction that he translated the text “freely from the German, added a preface, made some adaptations and amplified it with final reflections” (Gossner 1914). His editor’s hand appears, in fact, at several points. Jensen adapted the book carefully to appeal to Brazilian Catholics, Presbyterians, or Calvinists. The title is The Little Book of the Heart, or A famous Tractate: or The Little Book of the Heart.* The diminutive form “Livrinho,’ little book, is a characteristic of Brazilian Portuguese to create a relation of proximity to persons or subjects to which one under normal conditions would not have access. Within the Brazilian social system there is a linguistic strategy permitted to a person of a lower social rank to achieve favors from a person in power by saying his name in the diminutive form. The objective is to create a kind of familiarity as if one belongs to the same family, which creates bonds of responsibility when there is no legal right to appeal to such. In linguistic terms, the title is then a clever call to appropriate himself to a holy book [which does not belong to him].

1916 [?]-1980: 20 editions by the Methodist Publishing House,

23.

[1864]: [in German] The Barmen Mission Society starts its work among Lutherans in Brazil;

5 to 7);

reproducing the Presbyterian edition (figs. 8 and 9);

For detailed information about the several editions in French and Latin, as well

as a polyglot edition, see Adams 2000, 637-39; 2001, 567-74.

There were two Portuguese Catholic versions of Hugo Herman’s Pia desideria, in 1656 and 1830. See Amaral 2011, 139. Concerning

Quarles 1773.

Wierix,

see

Hohenburg

1691.

Concerning

Van

Haeften,

see

24.

In Portuguese: “Livremente do alemäo, prefaciado, adaptado e aumentado com

reflexes finais.” In Portuguese: “Um folheto célebre ou O livrinho do coragao.” On the third page we read, “O coraçäo humano: templo de Deus ou de Satanas, representado por 10 geniais ilustraçôes para edificaçäo e despertamento da cristandade”

[The human heart: temple of God or Satan, presented by 10 genius illustrations

for the edification and promotion of Christendom]. Jensen copies the German title and maintains the correct translation, using “humano” [human] instead of “homem” [man].

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Beyond this detail, Jensen attends also quite openly to the potential Brazilian Catholic reader. First, Jensen used a translation of the Bible from Father Anténio Pereira de Figueiredo,” and makes clear that this tradition has been “approved by the ... Archbishop of Bahia.” He also openly describes the book as “a Catholic work”: The Little Book of the Heart, a Catholic work of truly universal character, is very different from other more or less sectarian mission publications, and attracts attention, by the complete absence of disputes [...], it is not propaganda of a sect that promotes itself with varying degrees of fanaticism, but only a most legitimate and truthful advertising of the Christian Spirit (Gossner 1914, 21).?*

“Other more or less sectarian mission publications” may refer to Catholic or Protestant ones, as the rejection of “fanaticism” addresses both Catholic and Protestants. Overall Jensen assumes the position of the Missionary Conference of Edinburgh that considered Catholicism a Christian religion that shares with Protestantism a united “Christian Spirit.” That is probably the reason why he translated on the third page of his book, where the original title of Gossner’s work appears, the word “Christian” rather than “Christianity.”” Concerning the Catholic virtue-ethics, Jensen does not comment

on his substitution of liberalitas [generosity] with liberty. But one has to be careful. Jensen does not promote the liberty of religion, but the 25.

‘This edition was still a translation from the Vulgate, not from Hebrew and Greek. Actually, in 1914 only the New Testament existed in a Protestant transla-

tion, the so-called Traduçäo brasileira [Brazilian translation]. It was a joint effort

of Presbyterians and Methodists with the help of Brazilian writers and poets Rui

Barbosa, José Verissimo, and Heräclito Graça. The complete Bible came out in

26.

Fig. 5. Johann Evangelista Gossner, O livrinho do coraçäo (1914), front page. Image courtesy of archive.org.

27.

1917, with a preface by the Methodist Hugh Clarence Tucker. The first Brazilian edition of the originally Portuguese Almeida Bible came out only in 1948. In Portuguese: “O Livrinho do coraçäo, obra catélica ou de carater verdadeiramente universal, é destinada a uma missäo muito diferente de outras mais ou menos sectérias, prima, naturalmente, pela completa auséncia de disputas ... nao se trata de propaganda de seita que foi fazerse com tal ou qual grau de fanatismo, mas, unicamente da mais legitima e verdadeira propaganda do Espirito cristao.” In Portuguese: “O coraçäo humano: templo de Deus ou de Satanäs, . . . para edificaçäo e despertamento da cristandade.” In German: “Das Herz des Menschen oder der Tempel Gottes oder Satans, .. . zur Erweckung und Beférderung

des christlichen Sinnes.” So whereas the German version speaks of “revival and

promotion of the Christian sense [maybe “way” would be better], Jensen refers to “Christendom.”

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of its leading figures Pastor Erasmo Braga, a strong promoter of the Social Gospel. The Little Book of the Heart consciously omits any promotion of

a more constructive interaction with the society. Published within the context of the high point of the ultramontane’s conflict with the Brazilian state, the book is actually quite surprising in its irenic treatment of Catholic references. Where Gossner had only cited 1 John 3:4-10 (Gossner, 1813, 2), Jensen quotes two Latin verses: “praebe, fili mi, cor tuum mihi. . . /

omni custodia serva cor tuum. . .” (fig. 6). This is actually a literal reference to Proverbs 23:26a and 4:23a, following the Vulgate: “My son, give me thy heart;” “Keep thy heart with all diligence.” Proverbs

23.26 in its complete form appears a second time, on page 3, ina collection of texts called “Golden texts” (textos 4ureos) side by side

with Psalms 50:12-13, Ezekiel 36:26-27, and “Saint” Matthew 5:8.” All these texts have in common that they refer to the human heart as something that potentially can be “given? “pure” “new? and “clean” (fig. 7). It seems to me that the first and repeated quotation from

Proverbs relates directly to John Calvin, and his motto: “Cor meum

tibi offero, Domine prompte et sincere” [My heart I offer to you, my

Lord, [my heart] ready and sincere] which is also known in its pictorial

form as the seal or heraldic arms of Calvin. Twice Jensen omitted the two classic Catholic termini technici used

by Gossner, deadly sins and provenient grace. The first marks a general difference between Protestants and Catholics, the second between the Reformed and Catholics, but not, for example, between Methodists

and Catholics. Protestantism does not distinguish between great and small sins, and Calvinist doctrine regards within its doctrine of the double predestination sin as irresistible. 28. 29.

30.

In Portuguese: “... todo ao redor de nés, riqueza, fama, prazeres, sim, tudo é ... nada...” Iam not sure whether Jensen was aware of the proximity of this expression to the classic Catholic model of a union with God. The use of “Saint” before the names of biblical authors is uncommon in a Brazil-

ian Protestant publication. In Portuguese: “dado,” “puro,” “novo; and “limpo.”

Fig. 6. Johann Evangelista Gossner, O livrinho do coragao (1914), p. 1. Image courtesy of archvive.org.

mystic’s liberty from institutional religion. Jensen stresses that the union with God reveals the transitory character of “. . . everything around us, riches, fame, pleasure, yes, everything represents .. . nothing. . ? (Gossner 1956, 64).% What in Gossner is at least a little understandable, turns out among Brazilian Presbyterians to be much less comprehensible. Jensen writes in a republic, and belongs to a church, which since 1910 had as one

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One of the famous Pietist pictorial motifs is the image of the Broad and Narrow Way. Jensen followed this motif and reassembled the emblems

significantly, placing the set of emblems 6 to 8 in the old edition before

emblems 3 to 5. This results in the following order, considering the numbers of the original edition: e First group: emblems 1, 2, 6,7, and 8 e Second group: emblems 3, 4, 5, 9, and 10 With this reorganization, Jensen combines four pictures of the heart

Fig. 7. Johann Evangelista Gossner, O livrinho do coragao (1914), p. 2. Image courtesy of archive.org.

resulting in the death of the desperate sinner (emblems 1, 2, 6, 7 and 8)

and four that cumulate in the happy death of the believer (emblems 3, 4, 5, 9 and 10). In his panoramic description, Jensen (1956, 12-13) describes the emblems in this “new” order, but he does not comment at all on its reorganization.

The Methodist Edition: A Copy of the Presbyterian Edition As early as April 1916, the Brazilian Methodist Publishing House started

promoting The Little Book of the Heart in its monthly journal Expositor Cristäo, a campaign it kept running until November 1918.*' In a next step, the Methodist Publishing House produced an edition of its own, probably a licensed version, as this version is a copy of the Presbyterian Edition.

Although we do not know the exact year of the first Methodist edition, there is a copy of the sixth edition from around 1956 (fig. 8) and the presumably

last edition, the twentieth edition, from 1980 (fig. 9). Because these editions kept Jensen’s text and images, they promoted doctrines not very common

among Methodists. First, Methodist Pneumatology refers to Prevenient

Grace, not Irresistible Grace. That is, the Methodist concept is much closer to the Catholic concept of Prevenient Grace than to the Calvinist concept

of Irresistible Grace, which opens the way for accountable and responsible human interaction with God and the world. Second, Brazilian Methodism

was the only denomination that adopted the Social Creed in Brazil (see

Renders 2009c, 89-113; 2009d, 373-413) and adapted it to their context,

31.

Propaganda with emblems (like fig. 16): Expositor Cristao, vol. 30, n. 13, 10

(06-04-1916); n. 14, 10 (13-04-1916), n. 15, 10 (20-04-1916); n. 16, 10 (27-

04-1916); propaganda (like fig. 13): Expositor Cristao, vol. 30, n. 18, 10 (11-05-

1916); n. 19, 10 (18-05-1916); n. 20, 10 (25-05-1916); n. 22, 10 (08-06-1916); n. 23, 10 (15-06-1916); n. 24, 10 (22-06-1916); n. 25, 14 (29-06-1916); n. 26, 14 (06-07-1916); n. 31, 10 (10-08-1916). Without images: Expositor Cristao,

vol. 31, n. 8, 12 (01-03-1917) and n. 57, 2 (27-12-1917) and in a list together

with other books once in Expositor Cristäo, vol. 32, n. 47, 8 (28-11-1918). Related or not: with the end of World War I in November 1918, the advertisement for the booklet ended.

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se

ES

168

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Fig. 8. Johann Evangelista Gossner, O livrinho do coraçäo, (1956), Front Page.

Image courtesy of the Brazilian Methodist Archive.

courtesy of author.

WA

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promoting a direct involvement with labor affairs and both rural and industrial workers’ rights. In contrast, Jensen’s translation does not support such ideas and also openly rejects the idea ofeven a minimal transformation of the world to offer better living conditions.” The Presbyterian translation of Gossner’s Book and its limited use by Methodists suggests either a lack of doctrinal interest or eagerness on the part of the Methodists, while simultaneously suggesting a clearer understanding of the text on the part of the Presbyterians. This situation is not, however, uncommon for a more mystical religious self-understanding. 2.2 The Lutheran Edition[s] There are very likely even older Lutheran editions, because a friend of Gossner, Ignaz Lindl, the director of the Barmen Mission in 1827, pioneered work among German immigrants in Brazil from 1865 onwards. However, it has so far proven impossible to confirm the existence of such an earlier Lutheran edition. There certainly exists a German edition from 1932, edited by Friedrich Wilhelm Brepohl and published by the Deutsche Vereinigung für Evangelisation und Volksmission [German Association for Evangelism and Popular Mission] in the state of Parana, Brazil. At the time, Brepohl was already known through his publications supporting the German military presence in German South-West Africa in 1914 (Brepohl 1914), the defence of the organization Stahlhelm, and an ultraconservative

organization of former German combatants of World War I. Brepohl maintained a strong anticommunist position (Brepohl 1921) which

he continued to advocate in Brazil in Treue, Tapferkeit, Kameradschaft!

[Loyalty, Bravery, Cameraderie!] (Brepohl 1932), the year before Hitler’s election. From 1933 onwards, he promoted in Brazil the position of the Deutsche Christen [German Christians], the fascist wing within the

Lutheran Church, publishing Mein Kampf in der deutschbrasilischen Presse gegen jüdischen Missbrauch des auslanddeutschen Idealismus im Jahre 1931 [My struggle in the German-Brazilian press against Jewish abuse of foreign German idealism in 1931] (Brepohl 1934), Nationalsozialistische

Helmut Renders

German Heritage] (Brepohl 1933e), and Reichskirche und Volkskirche [The Church of the Reich and the National Church]

32.

A minor difference is that the later Methodist editor probably did not have a “Omni custodia serva com tuum” instead of “Omni custodia serva cor tuum.”

twentieth and last edition in 1980.

1933d). He

created in 1867 by Charlotte Reihlen (1805-1868), although it does not

mention her authorship. In so doing, the edition in 1934 testifies to the blending or at least approximation of the two images, something we have already seen in Jensen’s Portuguese edition. The coexistence of the message of Gossner’s booklet and Brepohl’s promotion of fascist Christian ideals piques scholarly attention. At the very least, the question must be posed whether Brepohl did not understand the imagery contained in Gossner’s book itself as a challenge to Fascist political and religious positions. Whereas the Catholic Reformation developed a religious visual narrative to intensify faith experience without questioning the political system, Brepohl understood the text as not being in conflict with social ideals opposed to oppression, injustice, and lack of solidarity.

2.3 The Pentecostal and Baptist Editions Starting in the 1950s an edition of The Heart of Man by the All Nations Gospel Publishers was distributed in Brazil, principally among Pentecostals.® As Presbyterians and Methodists had been doing, members 33.

Very similar to Catholicism and Protestantism, Pentecostalism is also divided

34.

I would like to thank Prof. Dr. Ingrid Hépel, Kunsthistorisches Institut, Christian-Albrechts-Universitat zu Kiel, and Chair of the Society for Emblem Studies, for her help in obtaining the only surviving copy of the edition from 1934, preserved in the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek, in Leipzig.

35.

The editions for Africa and India are already well known. See Sabine Médersheim and Wim van Dongen (2008); van Dogen (2014), and Peter M. Daly (2014, 73).

good knowledge of Latin. From the fourteenth edition onwards one reads

The “heart” becomes “with” in Portuguese. This error is maintained up to the

(Brepohl,

combined this with a messianic emphasis on Pentecost in Werdet voll Geistes [Be Filled with the Spirit] (Brepohl 1932b), Pfingstgabe [Pentecostal Gift] (Brepohl 1933b), and Pfngstgnade [Grace of Pentecost] (Brepohl 1933c).% Brepohl’s edition of Das Herz des Menschen |The Heart of Man], was printed in Dinglingen, Germany. The title page describes it as “explained by Johannes Gofner and compiled and edited by pastor Friedrich Wilhelm Brepohl.”* Brepohl used the version from the Johannis-Druckerei [ Johannis Press], which remains today the main distributor of the booklet in Germany. In comparison with the original edition, the edition from 1934 contains, divided between two pages, the poster “The Narrow and the Bright Way”

Revolution und Volksgemeinschaft |The National Socialist Revolution and the (German) National Community] (Brepohl 1933), Reichskanzler A. Hitler und das Ausland-Deutschtum (Chancellor A. Hitler and the Foreign-

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into different branches, with distinct consideration of different forms of the religio cordis. Brepohl opted for a mythicist version of Pentecostalism, and, as seen below, the mythicist branch within the Assembly of God choose Gossner to reach out to its Catholic context.

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E

Fig. 10. Johannes Evangelista Gossner. O coragao do homen (1980b): front page. Image courtesy of author.

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Fig. 1 . Johannes Evangelista Gossner. O coraçäo do homem front page. Image courtesy of author.

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of the Assembly of God, the major Pentecostal church in Brazil, distributed the text in huge numbers, especially during their evangelical activities. Surprisingly, this edition was also occasionally used by Catholic communities (fig. 10).% In contrast to Jensen edition, the South African edition by All Nations Gospel Publisher follows the original order of the emblems in Gossner’s book. The text is nearly independent, but sometimes resembles the original text.” From 1998 onwards a Baptist publisher took over the text and engravings, with this version reaching a tenth edition in 2008 (fig. 11). Gossner’s original use of Mensch [humankind or human being] has been

replaced by homem [man] in the Pentecostal and Baptist editions. The front page of both the Pentecostal and the authorized Baptist edition show not the inside of the heart, but an angel and the Devil (joined in the Pentecostal

version with demons in the form of bats) Baptist version, the Devil keeps the heart The color of the Devil on the front page changed from brown to blue. It is unclear a greater sensitivity to race issues.

(fig. 10) fighting for a heart. In the bound to him by a chain (fig. 11). (fig. 10) of the Pentecostal edition whether the change of color signals

The two following images (figs. 12 and 13) also address the relation between color and ethnicity or race and sin. The South African version portrays the heart of the sinner always as black, whereas the Baptist version printed in Brazil relates darkness and light to the sinner’s heart and the divine in the opposite way. An analysis of the supposedly Pentecostal or Protestant emblems (figs. 5 to 16) confirms that the Catholic iconography is still intact. While the text

changed, now consisting of the many Bible quotations compiled in each chapter, the visual language of the emblems was maintained with high fidelity to the details of the original emblems. The only major and theologi-cally relevant exception is the substitution of a crucifix with a cross without Jesus.

3. Significance: The Description of the Relation of the Religious Subjects to the World around Them The Little Book of the Heart was formative in many ways. One aspect is its promotion

of a dichotomist worldview, dividing life into spheres

dominated either by the Devil and his demons or by God and his angels. A comparison of Huby’s and Gossner’s emblems with, on the one hand, emblems of the religio cordis by Anton Wierix, reveals 36.

This is not surprising considering the presence of the emblematic iconography

37.

The Pentecostal and then the Baptist edition kept the quotation from 1 John

created by Vincent Huby (1608-1693). 3.4-10, only changed it to 3.4-20.

Fig. 12. Johann Evangelista Gossner, O coraçäo do homem (1980b), p. 3. Image courtesy of author.

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Fig. 13. Johann Evangelista Gossner, O coragdo do homem (2007), p. 6. Image courtesy of author.

Fig. 14. Johann Evangelista Gossner (1970), p. 39: emblem 4, from O livrinho do coraçäo. Image courtesy of the Brazilian Methodist Archive.

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Fig. 15: Johann Evangelista Gossner (1980b), p. 28: emblem 7, from O livrinho do coraçäo. Image courtesy of author.

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Fig. 16. Johann Evangelista Gossner (1970), p. 69: emblem 9, from O livrinho do coraçäo (1970). Image courtesy of the Brazilian Methodist Archive.

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in the latter’s work that the Devil is graphically and textually much less present. On the other hand, in all three the world is absent, just as any representation of the natural or cultural world is widely absent in this genre of Catholic emblems. In all ten emblems an angel also appears, accompanied in six cases by the dove as a symbol of the Holy Spirit. Just as the demons are the mediators between the human being and the Devil, the angels are divine intermediaries. This battle for the human heart results in a total victory of the Trinity — marked by a complete absence of the Devil and his demons—or by a complete success for the Devil and the disappearance of God (figs. 14 and 15). The consequences are eternal destinies in heaven or hell. One emblem makes an exception to the general omission ofall references to the natural or cultural dimensions of the world (fig. 16). Two male figures represent the relation of the world to the believer, while a sack full of coins portrays the relation of the believer to the world. The two figures are a man with a cup and one holding a knife or sword. The two Portuguese versions follow the original German text:

1814: “You see in this picture how the human heart is surrounded on all sides by enemies. . . . Below are two men who represent the world, the one with a cup invites [the viewer] to sensual and worldly pleasures, the other with a knife tries by threats, persecutions, blasphemies, and other violent means to frighten [the viewer] from doing good and to tempt [the viewer] toa sinful life”* 1914/1956: “It is now seen, again, the heart of the old man surrounded by enemies, the world, the flesh and the devil—who, nevertheless are not yet in a position to enter the heart . .. The world is represented here by two men; the one with a sword (as in the emblem number 3) stand for threat and persecution, while the other, with the chalice, represents the attractions and sinful pleasures of this century.” 38.

“Du siehst auf diesem Bilde, wie das Herz des Menschen von allen Seiten von Feinden umgeben ist. [..] Unten stehen zwei Manner, die die Welt vorstellen, wovon einer durch die Darreichung eines Bechers zu sinnlichen Lustbarkeiten,

und weltlichen Vergniigungen einladet; der andere mit dem Dolche sucht durch

Drohungen, Verfolgungen und Lasterungen und andere gewaltsame Mittel vom Guten abzuschrecken, und zu einem siindhaften Leben zu verleiten” (Gossner

39.

1814, 28).

In Portuguese: “Vése agora, outra vez, o coraçäo do homem cercado dos velhos

inimigos, o mundo, a carne e o diabo — que nao esto, contudo em condiçôes de

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1985: “A Christian ... stands firm even when he is tempted on all sides... We see a man dancing with a glass in his hand, trying to seduce the Christian with the pleasures of the world... The second man is stabbing the Christian. When a believer or even an enemy of the Gospel speaks badly about others, when he is unfaithful, when he mocks and threatens others, all this is like a knife in the heart of the sincere Christian .. ’4°

The sack with grains symbolized in Gossner’s interpretation the call to keep oneself distant from the world by being as independent as possible, for example, by stocking food. It also symbolizes the call to practice charity. Apart from the variations, all editions maintain the idea of being surrounded by enemies and demons. There is no neutral, free, or middle ground, and the world is not seen as being inhabited by God. Therefore, the most positive attitude possible symbolizes the open money bag, or charity. Gossner’s original textual explanations, followed by the Presbyterian/Methodist and then the Pentecostal/ Baptist versions, confirm the importance of charity: 1814: “The open money bag displays his charity, his fraternal charity. He works against avarice when he gladly shares with his needy brothers as much as he can, to practice love and to free his heart more and more of an earthly tear.”"’ 1956: “The open bag means that the Christian must always practice charity, remembering the words of Christ who said .. . ”“

40.

outra vez entrar... O mundo esta aqui representado por dois homens, um dos quais com uma espada (como também na tampa n. 3) representa a ameaça e a perseguiçäo, enquanto que o outro, com o célice, representa os atrivos e os gozos deste século pecaminoso” (Gossner 1956, 66). In Portuguese: “.. .um cristäo ... fica firme mesmo quando tentando de todos os lados . . . vêse um homem a dançar com um copo na mio, tentando assim o cristäo com os prazeres do mundo. ... O segundo homem esta esfaqueando o Cristao. Quando uma pessoa que se diz crente ou mesmo um inimigo do Evan-

41.

42.

gelho fala mal dos outros, é infiel, escarnece e ameaga os outros, tudo isso é como fosse uma faca no coraçäo do Cristäo sincero. . ” (Gossner 1985, 26). In German: “Der offene Geldsack zeigt seine Wohltätigkeit, seine brüderliche Nächstenliebe an. Er arbeitet dem Geitz entgegen, indem er gern von dem Seinigem seinen bediirftigen Brüdern mittheilt, soviel er kann; um Liebe zu iiben und sein Herz immer mehr vom irdischen loszureissen” (1814, 40). In Portuguese: “A bolsa aberta significa que o cristäo deve sempre praticar a caridade, lembrandose da palavra de Cristo que disse. . ” (Gossner, 1956, 68).

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1985: “The open money bag shows that not only your your money has to be consecrated to God. Instead of money for nothing, spend it on alms to the poor and part and offerings to God’s Work. Some give all their the glory of God.”

heart but also spending your give the tenth possessions to

There is a tendency across the three texts to show a shift from the advocacy of a concept of charity without any ecclesiological emphasis, to a more typically missionary attitude, characterized as an exclusively ecclesiocentric charity promoting the idea of setting aside a tithe. There is no mention in any of the three texts of transforming society by democratic means or promoting justice and solidarity as human rights. The relationship to the world becomes more evident when one reflects upon the relationship between the Jesuit Huby, Gossner himself, and the type of Pentecostalism represented by All Nations Gospel Publishers. Huby can be considered to have promoted the Catholic Reformation. In the eighteenth century the devotion of the Sacred Heart of Jesus became known

as the religion of the king—that is, in defence of the French

monarchy against the French Revolution—and in the late nineteenth century ultramontanism promoted this devotion as anti-republican. Between the appearance of these two confessional expressions, Gossner’s book was published. Owing to Napoleon’s occupation of Bavaria, Gossner later transferred his negative impression of it to the revolutionary activities in Berlin around 1848. Known since 1816 to conservative aristocratic Protestants circles in Berlin,“ Gossner received an invitation to Russia.

During the revolutionary uprisings in 1848 in Berlin “... in a letter sent to Frederick William IV just before the eighteenth of March 1848, [Gossner] ask[ed] insistently not to use false, but real ammunition” (Hachtmann,

1996, 209). In the same paragraph the author describes Gossner—along

with Krummbacher—as

43.

a “militant conservative”

to which

could be

In Portuguese: “O saquinho aberto de dinheiro, mostra que nao somente o seu

coraçäo, mas, também o seu dinheiro esta consagrado a Deus. Em vez de gastar a toa o seu dinheiro, gastao em esmolas para os pobres e da o décimo e as ofertas rs a Obra de Deus. Ha quem dé tudo que possui para a gléria de Deus” (1985, 28).

44.

added a militant “aristocratic” conservative.** What, in Gossner, can be also described as the reflection of traumatic experiences, becomes much more questionable in the Brazilian editions for two reasons. First, since as early as 1914, the Presbyterian Jensen, and his Methodist followers in particular, espoused a highly developed religious discourse critical of the establishment and pro-labor, if not socialist: the Social Creed. There is no way that even Brazilian Presbyterians and Methodists could have overlooked this discourse, as the Social Gospel was present among them since the Missionary Conference of 1910 in Edinburgh. The new edition of Gossner’s book must therefore be interpreted as a counter-discourse to the Social Gospel. Second, in 1914, Brazil had already been a republic, and Protestants—especially Presbyterians and Methodists—were active promoters of democracy and republican ideals. With the exception of the 1980s when they stopped circulating the booklet and advocated for the redemocratization of the country, the Methodists did not maintain this double discourse. Among the Lutherans, things were somewhat different. Brepohl’s edition seems to be unique. It aligns more with his proximity to the Arian Church of the German Christians than to the Confessional Church. When the Confessional Church took over in this power struggle, all of Brepohl’s publications became obsolete.** The Pentecostal option to use the book from the 1950s onwards—the first time in Brazil that they started large evangelist campaigns by tent missions—can be understood, first, based on their unworldly and critical dispensationalist eschatology. Second, the context of the post-World War II world order and its sharp communist-capitalist divide in part contributed to the dictatorship of Vertülio Vargas (1937-1945) and certainly to the Brazilian dictatorship of 1964-1985. When Pentecostals started to use the book, they were still not politically relevant; citizenship as a project or the ideal of social

transformation did not fit into their eschatology.” Ten years after the introduction of the democratic constitution of 1988 in Brazil, the Baptist edition (1998 onwards) reflected an option for political abstinence — and thus indirect support of the dictatorship by the Baptist Alliance of Brazil during 1964-1985. Although it is even less understandable 45. 46.

Bigler 1972, 128-29 mentions that the information about Gossner’s Catholic

revival in Bavaria already found in 1816 its interest among Berlin’s “Pietist aristocracy.” “By this, a new element of religious mysticism, originating from the

Catholic South, was introduced to the Protestant North of Germany.”

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47.

Gossner stay in Russia was also indebted to representations of a Russian mysti-

cism, in part, presenting itself as Protestant.

As there is no direct evidence as to how the All Nations Publisher is related to the state of apartheid in South Africa, the visual evidence of their booklet provides the focus here. There are some exceptions among rural Pentecostal leaders, who involved themselves in the fight for land reform.

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or defendable in the new millennium than at the beginning of the twentiethcentury,itrepresentsareligiousattitudethatisstillalive. This attitude sympathized with, if not actively promoted, the presidency

spite of this, it perpetuated a profoundly negative worldview and downplayed ideas of social responsibility concerning charity. By this, it contributed to the conflicts within the churches and between the churches about the “right” spirituality and the “right” relation to the state. The “inner” world was not related to the real “outer” world, which contributed to a willing or silent support of dictatorships, and absence from the fights for democracy. Ultimately, it culminated in a massive persecution of those Catholics and Protestants who did so (Araüjo, 1982).

of Jair Messias Bolsonaro, a candidate from the extreme right, who

himself made a political alliance with right wing evangelicals in order to be elected in 2018. According to the evidence presented here, emblems are both past and present in Brazil. The numerous modern editions of Gossner’s Heart of Man not only inform, but perform. As art historians, such as Horst Bredekamp argue, they are “image acts,” or examples for visual agency (Bredekamp, 2017). Final considerations The Little Book of the Heart as an Iconological Bridge between the Colonial religio cordis brasiliensis and Protestant Constructs of the “Cordial Man”

A wider and presumably more ecumenical distribution of Gossner’s work is not found in any other part of the world. This phenomenon cannot be explained solely in terms of cultural history—as a response to the dominant religious discourse—nor aesthetically—by the inclination of the Brazilian religious culture to orality and imagery, but it has to be discussed in terms of its social significance. In Brazil, the religio cordis is associated particularly

with the Jesuits and the Discalced Carmelites—the Order who united the

colonial elite of this slave society—up to its last mutation as the favored piety of ultramontanism and romanization. This relates the religio cordis in Brazil almost without exception with a project of a mystic inwardness which almost immunized its adherents to social issues. With the uncritical reception of Gossner, the various Protestant and Pentecostal denominations promoted social values that were—and are—just as unfriendly towards republican ideals as the Catholic version. Despite some Catholic and Protestant attempts in the 1980s to reinterpret the religio cordis as a religious language of solidarity and justice, the colonial preconceived meaning retained the upper hand. This may have something to do with the power of symbolic emblems and the very specific grounding and definition of the religio cordis brasiliensis.

The Little Book of the Heart and the Relation between the Religious Subject and Society As in Europe, in Brazil The Little Book of the Heart did not respond to the social challenges and political possibilities of modernity, providing a vision of a critical but active citizenship with a necessary religious component. In

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I argue that Jensen believed that the contents of the original version were

generally consistent with his understanding of the Presbyterian tradition. He subtly presents Calvin as the representative of the religio cordis and discreetly omits non-Presbyterian concepts. Moreover, Jensen reassembled the sequence of emblems according to the model of the two ways, the “Broad and Narrow way, which, in fact, reaffirms only a central aspect of the book’s original message: its unilateral negative understanding of the world as seductive or oppressive. Thus, even the introduction of the word “liberty” in place of the word “generosity,” that is, a distinct Protestant concept, did not contribute to the creation of a new Protestant reading of the virtues. The dichotomous imagery of a battle between God and the Devil in the human heart prevailed. The book focused on reaching a pious death, with no intention of transforming the world. That these fundamental ideas prevailed in the Pentecostal version of the 1950s and its Baptist version published from 1998 forwards, show the power of, and fascination for, emblems in Brazilian Christian churches, even where one would not immediately expect it. Works Cited

Achen, Henrik L. von. “Human Heart and Sacred Heart: Reining In Religious Individualism. The Heart Figure in 17th-century devotional piety and the emergence of the cult of the Sacred Heart.” In Categories of Sacredness in Europe, 1500-1800. Conference at the Norwegian Institute in Rome, 2001, ed. Arne Bugge Amundsen and Henning Laugerud. Oslo, 2003. Pp. 13158. Adams, Alison, Stephen Rawles, and Alison Saunders. 4 Bibliography of French Emblem Books. 2 vols. Geneva, 1999-2002. Adams,

Alison. “Les emblemes ou devises chrestiennes de Georgette de Montenay: édition de 1567.” In Bibliothèque d'Humanisme et

Renaissance 62:3 (2000): 637-39.

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. “Georgette de Montenay’s Emblemes ou devises chrestiennes, 1567: New Dating, New Context.” Bibliothèque d'Humanisme et Renaissance 63:3 (2001): 567-74. Almeida, Isabel. “Alciato in Parnassus: Emblematic Elements in Vieira’s Sermons.” In Mosaics of Meaning: Studies in Portuguese Emblematics, ed. Luis Gomes. Glasgow, 2008. Pp. 65-88. Amaral, Jr., Rubem. “Emblematica mariana no convento de Sao Francisco

de Salvador, Bahia.” Lumen et Virtus 1:3 (2010): 107-30.

. “Emblematica Mariana na Igreja do Antigo Recolhimento de N. S. da Conceiçäo de Olinda (Pernambuco) e seus modelos europeus.”

In Emblemdtica Trascendente: Hermenéutica de la Imagen, Iconologta del Texto, ed. Rafael Zafra and José Javier Azanza. Pamplona, 201 la. Pp. 151-62.

. “Portuguese

Emblematics:

(2011b): 124-31.

An

Overview”

Lumen

et virtus

1:4

. Pfingstgabe. Ponta Grossa, Parana, Brazil, 1933b. . Pfingstgnade. Ponta Grossa, Parana, Brazil, 1933c.

. Reichskirche und Volkskirche. Ponta Grossa, Parana, Brazil, 1933d. . ReichskanzlerA. Hitler und das Ausland-Deutschtum. Ponta Grossa, Parana, Brazil, 1933e.

. Mein Kampf in der deutschbrasilischen Presse gegen jüdischen Missbrauch des auslanddeutschen Idealismus im Jahre 1931. Ponta Grossa, Parana, Brazil, 1934. Bowen, Karen L. and Dirk Imhof. Christopher Plantin and Engraved Book Illustrations in Sixteenth-Century Europe. Cambridge, 2008.

Cramer, Daniel. Emblemata Sacra. Frankfurt am Main, 1624. http://diglib. hab.de/drucke/th-470/start.htm. . Emblematum Sacrorum Secunda Pars. Frankfurt am Main, 1624.

Araüjo, Joao Dias de. Inquisition without Burnings: Twenty Years of History

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. Opfer des Bolschewismus. Neuhof, 1921. . Das Herz des Menschen, ein Tempel Gottes oder eine Werkstatte des Satans, in zehn Sinnbildern dargestellt. Erklärt von Johannes Gossner. Zusammengestellt und herausgegeben von Pfarrer Friedrich Wilhelm Brepohl. Ponta Grossa, Brazil, 1932a. [printed in St. JohannisDruckerei, Dinglingen, Baden, Germany]. . Werdet voll Geistes. Ponta Grossa, Parana, Brazil, 1932b. . Treue, Tapferkeit, Kameradschaft! Ponta Grossa, Parana, Brazil, 1932c. . Nationalsozialistische Revolution Grossa, Parana, Brazil, 1933a.

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Daly, Peter M. The Emblem in Early Modern Europe: Contributions to the Theory of the Emblem. Aldershot, 2014. Dongen, Wim van. “Imagery with a Mission: Gofner and Gschwend on the Streets of Lagos, Nigeria.” Paper presented at the Tenth International Conference of the Society for Emblem Studies, in Kiel, Germany, 27 July-1 August 2014. Edmunds, Martha Mel Stumberg. Piety and Politics: Imaging Divine Kingship in Louis XIV’s Chapel at Versailles. Newark, DE, 2002. Garnier, ed. Le miroir du pécheur. Troyes [ca. 1738-1754].

Gomes, Luis. “Introduction” to Mosaics of Meaning: Studies in Portuguese Emblematics, ed. Luis Gomes. Glasgow Emblem Studies: Vol. 13. Glasgow, 2008. Pp. v-xxii. Gossner, Johannes oder eine Johannes Augsburg,

Evangelista. Das Herz des Menschen, ein Tempel Gottes Werkstätte Satans, in 10 Sinnbildern dargestellt von Gossner. Zur . . . Befoerderung des christlichen Sinnes. 1814.

. Um folheto célebre ou o Livrinho do Coragao: o coraçäo humano templo de Deus ou de Satands, representado por dez geniais ilustragoes para edificaçäo e despertamento da cristandade. Trans. André Jensen. Sao Paulo, 1914.

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EMBLEMATICA . Das Herz des Menschen, ein Tempel Gottes oder eine Werkstätte Satans, in 10 Sinnbildern dargestellt von Johannes Gossner, ed. Friedrich Wilhelm Brehpohl. Ponta Grossa, Paranä, 1932. . Um folheto célebre ou o Livrinho do Coraçäo: o coraçäo humano templo de Deus ou de Satanäs, representado por dez geniais ilustraçôes para edificaçäo e despertamento da cristandade. Trans. André Jensen. 6th edition. Sao Paulo, 1956. . Um folheto célebre ou o Livrinho do Coraçäo: o coraçäo humano templo de Deus ou de Satands, representado por dez geniais ilustraçôes para edificaçäo e despertamento da cristandade. Trans. André Jensen. 14th edition. Sao Bernardo do Campo, 1970.

. Um folheto célebre ou o Livrinho do Coraçäo: o coraçäo humano templo de Deus ou de Satanäs, representado por dez geniais ilustraçôes para edificaçäo e despertamento da cristandade. Trans. André Jensen. 20th edition. Sao Bernardo do Campo, 1980. . Ὁ coraçäo do homem. Pretoria, [1985]. . O coraçäo do homem. Sao Paulo, 2007 [9th Edition]. Hachtmann, Riidiger. “Ein gerechtes Gericht Gottes: der Protestantismus

und die Revolution von 1848—das Berliner Beispiel” Archiv für

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Hugo, Herman. Pia Desideria Antwerp, 1642. Facsimile with an introduction by Hester M. Black. Manston, 1971.

Johnson, Elizabeth A. Ora et labora: Labor transitions on Benedictine and Carmelite properties in colonial Sao Paulo. Baltimore, 2008. Martins, Maria de Almeida. “Tintas da terra, tintas do Reino: Arquitetura e Arte nas missôes jesuiticas do Grao-Para, 1653-1759.” Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Sao Paulo, 2009. Mena, Magdalena Chocano. “Colonial Printing and Metropolitan Books: Printed Texts and the Shaping of Scholarly Culture in New Spain: 1539-1700.” Colonial Latin American Historical Review 6:1 (1997): 69-90.

Menozzi,

reductio, et instruction. Antwerp, 1629.

Hohenburg, Christian. Lebendige Hertzens-Theologie. Frankfurt / Leipzig, 1691.

Holanda, Sérgio Buarque de. Rafzes do Brasil. 26th Edition. 19th reprint, Sao Paulo, 2004. [1st Edition 1936]). . Roots of Brazil. Trans. G. Harvey Summ, Pedro Meira Monteiro, foreword. Notre Dame, IN, 2012. Huby, Vincent. The State of A Man in Sin. Plate I from a set of twelve illustrations on The States of Man. Paris, 1682. Retrieved from: Project on the Engraved Sources of Spanish Colonial Art

(PESSCA). http://colonialart.org/images/1793B jpg.

. The State of A Man in Perseverance. From the Daniel Liebsohn Collection, Mexico City: [1780-1820]. Retrieved from: Project on the Engraved Sources of Spanish Colonial Art (PESSCA). http://colonialart.org/images/1799B.jpg

Daniele. Sacro cuore: um culto tra devocione restaurazione cristiane della societa. Rome, 2001.

interiore

e

Médersheim, Sabine. “Theologia Cordis. Daniel Cramer’s Emblemata Sacra in Northern European Architecture.” In Emblems Around the Baltic, ed. Simon McKeown and Mara R. Wade. Glasgow Emblem Studies: Vol. 11. Glasgow, 2006, 295-329. . “The Most Printed Emblems in the World: Johann Gossner's

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Oliveira,

Myriam

Andrade

Ribeiro

de. “Gravuras

Européias

e o

Aleijadinho.” O Estado de Sao Paulo (Suplemento Cultural) 3:436 ( 1979): 3-4.

Oliveira, Myriam Andrade Ribeiro de. O Rococé Religioso no Brasil e seus antecedentes europeus. Sao Paulo, 2003. Orazem, Roberta Bacellar. “Um importante modelo de santidade feminino contrarreformista: Santa Teresa D’Avila e sua representagao nas igrejas de associaçôes de leigos carmelitas

em Sergipe e Bahia colonial.” Revista Brasileira de Historia das Religiôes 3:9 (201 1a): [n.p.].

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. “A traduçäo do livro catélico O coraçäo do ser humano, de J. E. Gossner (1812), pelo presbiteriano A. Jensen (1914): promoçäo de um imaginärio catélico ou sua releitura protestante?” Estudos

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.“O coraçäo como atributo hagiografico de Sao Benedito do Rosario: hipôtese sobre a sua origem e seu modelo subjacente da vida crista.” Horizonte 13:29 (2013): 109-32. . “Os Emblèmes ou devises chrestiennes vanguardistas de Georgette de Montenay: uma religio cordis imagética calvinista.” Ciéncias da Religiéo—Historia e Sociedade 11:1 (2013b): 129-50. Sauvy, Anne. Le miroir du cœur: quatre siècles d'images savantes et populaires.

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1951.

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S

Pythagoras and the Cranes, or Prudence for Students

DENIS L. DRYSDALL University of Waikato, New Zealand A chapter in the Parergon iuris and a “Praelectio” of 1539 show that

Alciato developed his idea of prudence initially in the context of the classroom. The advice given to Mignault, to seek the meaning of his emblems in his other works, appears as a valid method of approach and as a useful tool of historical research in general.

n his letter to the reader of 1573 Claude Mignault describes how he was advised by a friend, one Léger Bontemps,! where he should look to find answers to some of his questions: He generously gave me indications about many of them, but said this especially, that, if possible, I should go to the source itself from which it would appear each emblem was drawn, and as far as possible explain Alciato by using him as his own interpreter; that is, that I should bear constantly and carefully in mind Alciato’s other writings where I might find convenient proof .… .? 1.

A Benedictine of Dijon, described by Mignault as a man of no ordinary learning in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, and cited by Du Verdier as author of several

works of piety published between 1555 and 1568. See, for example Bibliothèque

2.

frangoise, vol. IV, 581-2, with a notse by La Monnoye referring to the passage in Mignault. The BL catalogue describes the name as a pseudonym. This may be because we find “Agathochronio” [Bontemps] in 1573 and 1577, but “Agathochthonio” [Bonneterre] in 1581. Despite its perpetuation in all later editions, the latter seems to be an error. “Ille quidem de nonnullis me libere admonuit, sed hoc maxime, ut fontem ipsum, si fieri posset, adirem, ex quo nimirum emblema quodque sumptum

193 Emblematica: Essays in Word and Image, vol. 3. Copyright © 2020 by Droz & Emblematica. All rights reserved.

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Mignault followed this advice, and I am going to follow him in turn because I think there is a useful lesson to be learned from this method, which I shall come back to in my conclusion. The work which Mignault refers to most often in the course of his ample commentaries—eleven times in all—is the one entitled in the later editions of Alciato’s complete works Parergon iuris libri duodecim | Twelve

What duty of mine has not been fulfilled?]. In 1546 the title was in Greek

only, although with errors (see below). It was given a Latin title by Aneau in

1548." The picture shows, or should show if we follow the epigram, a flight

of cranes, each of which carries a stone in its claws (figs. 1-3). The epigram reads: The Samian, famous founder of the Italic brotherhood, Summed up his teaching himself in a brief verse: “Where have you gone astray? What are you achieving? What are you leaving out that should be done?” Urging each man to render this account to himself. It is said that he drew this precept from a flight of cranes Who pick up a stone and carry it in their claws, So that they never delay, and so that adverse winds do not take them off course. By this rule human life was to be governed.*

books of digressions from the law]. This work had grown in stages over

more than twenty years of Alciato career; it is first mentioned in a letter of 1529. The material of the first collection of three books was certainly almost all gathered before 1529 when he talks of “100” chapters, or 1530 when he mentions “three books” (there are eventually 126 chapters in the first three books). The date of the dedicatory letter is 1536, but the work finally appeared in print in 1538. Alciato remarks several times in his letters that this sort of material was continually cropping up in the course of his lectures, and a second collection, books 4-10, appeared in 1543. He

went on gathering such notes, and two more books, 11 and 12, appeared posthumously in 1554. In its final form the work consists of 331 chapters, so that the eleven passages which Mignault found relevant to the emblems are in fact a very small proportion. Of course, the Parergon iuris was not the only work in which Mignault could find material for his commentaries. One other well-known case is the treatise on dueling, De singulari certamine, which describes the emblem on the coat of arms of the Dukes of Milan. Another, very pertinent to the emblem I shall deal with here, is a lecture, a “praelectio,” delivered as the

This was the final product; but we should look at the earlier material in what we can assume is chronological order. A chapter in the first book of the Parergon iuris (1.20), which probably dates from before 1530, is a typical “digression.” It starts with definitions of pieces of machinery mentioned in the Digest (19.1.54), moves on to types of cranes as used in theatres and

by builders, which are not actually mentioned in the Digest, and thence to the bird called a crane (the same image exists in Greek: γέρανος [géranos]; Latin: grus; French: grue). But what shall we say about “catadromus” [tightrope]? Paulus recalls this word, following Labeo’s Probable Views, book 2: “If his job [i.e., of a slave] before the sale was normally something dan-

introduction to his classes in 1539, the second year he spent in Bologna. It is

combined with some material from the Parergon iuris, or as Alciato authors

often refer to it, the Parerga, to form one of the emblems of 1546; the trail is such that, for once, almost the whole process of creation is visible, together with a clear indication of one way at least in which Alciato thought the emblem could be applied in a practical sense. In addition to this, I shall refer to a tantalizing passage in the Parerga which seems relevant to the muchdiscussed problem of Alciato’s ideas about the pictures. The emblem in question is now entitled “Lapsus ubi? quid feci? aut officii quid omissum est?” [Where have I transgressed? What have I achieved? esse constaret: et Alciatum Alciato interprete, quoad eius maxime fieri posset,

enarrarem: id est, Alciati scripta alia, quo id praestarem commodius, sedulo et accurate voluerem .. ”” (Alciato 1573, 17; 1577, 19)

195

gerous, it [the fact that he broke a leg] will be considered your

3.

4.

In 1548 Aneau, or Rouillé perhaps, gave it the title: “Quid excessi? Quid admisi? Quid omisi?” Mignault preferred to keep only the Greek. The editor of 1621 chose to follow Erasmus (see later, where I refer to Erasmus Adagia III x 1) and translate the Greek as I have quoted here. “Πῇ παρέβην; τι δ᾽ ἔρεξα; τί μοι δέον οὐκ ἐτελέσθη; / Italicae Samius sectae celeberrimus auctor / Ipse suum clausit carmine dogma brevi: / Quo praeter-

gressus? quid agis? quid omittis agendum?

/ Hanc

rationem

urgens red-

dere quemque sibi. / Quod didicisse gruum volitantum ex agmine fertur, Arreptum gestant quae pedibus lapidem: / Ne cessent, neu transversas mala flamina raptent. / Qua ratione hominum vita regenda fuit.” Author's translation. The Samian is, of course, Pythagoras.

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EMBLEMATICA

Denis L. Drysdall

197

; 4

i

4

4+

dr ΟἹ

Fig. 1. Andrea Alciato. Emblematum libellus. (Venice, 1546), Ρ. 29r. “Πῇ παρέβην;

τι δ᾽ ἔρεξα; τί μοι δέον οὐκ ἐτελέσθη. Image courtesy of Emblematica Online, Glasgow University Library.

Fig. 2. Andrea Alciato. Emblemata libellus. Ed. B. Aneau. (Lyon, 1548), p. 23. “Quid

excessi? Quid admisi? Quid omisi?” Image courtesy of Emblematica Online, Glasgow University Library.

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Denis L. Drysdall

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199

responsibility. For example, if he were a slave who was used to descending on a rope or being sent down a sewer . . ? Julius Pollux shows that this is how a descent on a crane is described,’ when someone is let down by a machine from the upper part of a theatre to seize someone and carry him back up with him... For this could not be done without risk. The image is taken from cranes which come down to the ground to pick up a stone which they hold in their feet, so that when they are flying up high, they can drop it and tell from the sound of its fall whether they are flying over the sea or the land, as Suidasf and the scholiast of Aristophanes’ Birds show.’ Pliny believes, with greater probability, that the stone is held in the foot so that it falls when they drop off to sleep and reveals by the noise their failure to keep watch. This [the habit of holding up a stone] is probably also the source of the name “crane” for the machine by which architects raise heavy stones, as mentioned in Vitruvius.’ Others think it comes from the similarity of appearance of the birds [and the machines].

There is no indication here that Alciato is thinking as yet of an emblematic image, that is, of an image which he could use in one of his own epigrams. He has simply wandered, as he does regularly in the Parergon iuris, from one idea to another and ended up with the birds. He does this so often that it is clear in fact that one aim at least of that work is to demonstrate his competence in the fields of literature and history, as well as in law. He has, however, shown that he is familiar with an image of a moral idea which has a long history and is perfectly well known. The Suda and the scholiast of Aristophanes make the same point with their rather unlikely story, but Alciato shows a clear preference for Pliny, whose account of the crane, while ostensibly natural history, is in fact entirely taken up with affirming the bird’s prudence and discipline:

Fig. 3. Andrea Alciato. Emblemata cum commentariis. (Padua, 1621), p. 102: emblem 17, “If παρέβην; τι δ᾽ ἔρεξα; τί μοι δέον οὐκ ἐτελέσθη." Image courtesy of Emblematica Online, Glasgow University Library.

5:

Pollux, 4.127 and 130.

6.

Suda, T184.

7.

“Tépavor θεμελίους καταπεπωκυῖαι λίθους" [Cranes / with great foundation stones

8.

Vitruvius, 10.13.3.

they had swallowed down]. (Aristophanes, 1137, translation by E. Diehl). See also Scholia, pp. 235-36. Author’s translation. See appendix, citation 1.

200

EMBLEMATICA It is a vast distance, if one calculates it, over which they [the cranes] come from the eastern sea. They agree together when to start, and they fly high so as to see their route in front of them; they choose a leader to follow, and have some of their number stationed in turns at the end of the line to shout orders and keep the flock together with their cries. At night time they have sentries who hold a stone in their claws, which if drowsiness makes them drop, it falls and convicts them of slackness, while the rest sleep with their head tucked under their wing, standing on either foot by turns; but the leader keeps a lookout with neck erect and gives warning. . .. It is certain that when they are going to fly across the Black Sea they first of all make for the straits between the two promontories of Ramsbrow and Carambis, and proceed to ballast themselves with sand; and that when they have crossed the middle of the sea, they throw away the pebbles out of their claws and, when they have reached the mainland, the sand out of their throats as well.!°

It is noticeable that Alciato does not mention the sand ballast—he probably found that a little unlikely too. At this point what seems to have his approval is the image of the cranes standing sentinel at night with a stone in their claw, rather than that of them carrying the stone in flight. The cranes’ carefulness is implicit in the whole passage, but the virtue which the

bird particularly symbolizes is shown most clearly by the word translated as “slackness,’ in Latin “indiligentia.” The opposite is of course “diligentia, attentiveness, industry, discipline. But Alciato would also know, though he does not cite him here, that Pliny’s principal source is Aristotle. Aristotle says that the story of the stone carried as ballast is false, but describes the leaders and signalers they have while flying, and the sentries keeping 10.

Denis L. Drysdall

watch while the others sleep (Aristotle, 597a32-b3, and 614b18-30). The important point about the Aristotelean connection is that he describes the bird explicitly as φρόνιμος [phronimos], sensible, prudent, having practical wisdom. “Phronesis” in Latin “prudentia” was no vague notion to either the ancients or the moderns of Alciato’s time. Following Aristotle, it was thought of as the wisdom acquired from practical experience, as opposed to the intellectual understanding acquired from the use of reason: it consisted of memory of things past, of awareness of things present, and of foresight for things to come; and it was the virtue particularly required for government, be it of a household or of a country. The crane was a common symbol of this prudence;!! but this is as far as Alciato appears to have gone at this point; the idea of an emblem and the other elements it will contain have not occurred to him yet. The second major ingredient of the emblem appears in the lecture I have mentioned, given as an introduction to his classes in Bologna in 1539.° Here Alciato takes as his text a line from a poem known as the Carmen aureum (Golden verses), commonly attributed to Pythagoras. It is an attribution which Alciato appears to accept, although Erasmus, to whom we shall come in a minute, questions it:“ITj παρέβην; τι ὃ ᾽ἔρεξα; τί

μοι δέον οὐκ ἐτελέσθη; [Where have I transgressed, what have I achieved, what duty of mine has not been fulfilled?]!? We should note that in his

“praelectio” Alciato gives, by way of a Latin equivalent, not a translation, but an adaptation where the tense of two of the verbs has been rendered as present, and the subject of the whole line is the second person singular, so that the questions are addressed to the hearers: “Quo pratergressus,'* quid 11.

“Immensus est tractus quo veniunt, si quis reputet, a mari Eco. Quando proficis-

cantur consentiunt, volant ad prospiciendum alite, ducem quem sequantur eligunt, in extremo agmine per vices qui adclamant dispositos habent et qui gregem voce contineant. Excubias habent nocturnis temporibus lapillum pede sustinentes, qui laxatus somnio et decidens indiligentiam coarguat: ceterae dormiunt

12.

head respectively (cf. Bartolomaeus Anglicus, 3.22). “Prelectio in vespertinas lectiones iuris civilis anni tertii,

M.D.XX XIX? quoted

from D. Andreae Alciati Mediolanensis, LC. Lucubrationum in ius civile et pon-

tificum (Basle, Guarinus, 1571), V, 1225-6. This lecture was first published in

ac praedicit ... Certum est Pontum transvolaturus primum omnium angustias

in the Crimea.

See also Erasmus, IILvi.68, “Cranes that swallow a stone” For the analysis of

prudence as remembrance, knowledge of things present, and foresight, see, for

example Cicero, 2.160. The three forms of knowledge arise in the three faculties of memory, reason, and imagination located in the back, middle, and front of the

capite sub alam condito alternis pedibus insistentes; dux erecto providet collo

petere inter duo promontoria Criumetopon et Carambim, mox saburra stabiliri; cum medium transierunt, abici lapillos e pedibus, cum attigerint continentem, et e gutture harenam.” Pliny, 10.58-60. Translation by H. Rackham (Loeb Classical Library). Criumetopos and Carambis are Cape Ince in Turkey and Cape Sarich

201

13.

14.

the Opera omnia of Lyon, P. Fradin, 1560. The verse is line 42 of the Carmen aureum (Anthologia lyrica graeca, fasc. 2,

Ρ. 86) and is attributed to Pythagoras by Diogenes Laertius (8.22).

The word “praetergressus” suggests Alciato may also have seen the version of this line to be found in the pseudo-Virgilian “De viro bono.” See Virgil, 167, lines

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agis, quid omittis agendum?” [Where have you gone astray? What are you achieving? What are you leaving out that should be done]? Unfortunately, there is clearly at least one error, possibly two, in the Greek of 1546 (the second verb is also garbled in 1548), and the “praelectio” was first printed in a posthumous edition of the Opera omnia. It is impossible therefore to know whether Alciato’s version in 1539 and the form it has in line 3 of the emblem are the result of an error in the Greek he had at the time, or a deliberate adaptation. I am inclined to think that he would have known the

suls, governors of provinces, offices of distinction, honor, and fame,

although titles of this sort differ in some measure. They have now become obsolete with change in the form of the state, and have not remained in use anywhere, but cach magistrate bears the title which has been granted to him either by the law of the city or by the certificate of his prince. Therefore there is little advantage in tormenting oneself for hours with making distinctions between the offices of the ancient magistrates. Bartolus indeed and the old commentators seem to have

used no more than three or four lectures on this subject.” So if anyone wants to spend the greater part of the year on this matter, Pythagoras’s

correct Greek (as did Erasmus) and would have adapted his Latin initially for the purposes of the classroom—so that the advice is directed to the students—and that he then retained this form for the emblem. In the lecture there is no mention of the cranes; Alciato is not making use of an image here, but applying some general, literal precepts to the learning situation.

precept will be whispered in his ear: “Look at what you are doing” That leaves the third one: “Let us not omit anything that should be

done.” And in this respect indeed students everywhere are so much at fault that we are left with scarcely any remedy. 1 am about to lecture

this year on the first part of the New Digest," and 1 shall include some useful material to be expounded, But 1 shall do it in such a way that

Truly, these three precepts, or rather oracles, must be always present to each one of us. First of all, of course, in any undertaking, you must not slip or be carried away from your intended path. This concerns those

what we have to learn in addition from this body of material will be

a very small part of what I have to say. The commentaries of both old and modern authorities are so extensive, and there are so few lectures

who have their minds on other things and yet come to lectures; such

in the course of a year, that those [commentaries] we shall discuss are

as those who are possessed by love, those obsessed with fighting and quarreling, those given over to dice and games, or addicted to forbidden arts, and yet continue to call themselves scholars. Annaeus Seneca attacks these people in the words of the ancient jurist:'* “Indeed, he says, “a large part of living is wasted when we are doing ill, most of it when we are doing nothing, and all of it when we are doing some-

as nothing in comparison with what will be left out. It is important

therefore that, on the days you do not have public lectures, you should

yourselves examine in private study some of the more notable laws, and taking one commentator, say Bartolus, you should sample the material itself. And this will be useful in ensuring that no sin is seen to be committed against Pythagoras’ verse.” (Alciato 1571, columns

thing else.”"* For those who have their ears present but their mind

elsewhere are said by the Romans to be “doing something else.” The

second point is that we should pay attention to what we do, so that, when we do something good, we may enjoy great pleasure; but if we

see that something has turned out badly, we may refrain from it in future. For the greatest reward of virtue is this very pleasure of the mind. So to those young people who spend too long on pettifogging subtleties, or on the obscurities of even the best laws, one would be right to say, “Look at what you are doing” An example of this idea can be learned in this year’s lectures. In the time of the Roman empire there

were a variety of legal officesin their state: pretorian prefects, procon-

1225-6. Author's translation.)

For Alciato the three phrases of the verse are the occasion for three vital pieces of advice for his students. The first is a warning against coming to lectures or trying to be a student with one’s mind on other things; that is, the requirement to be fully committed to what one is doing. The second is the need to assess carefully the relative value of the various parts of what one is studying and to distribute one’s time accordingly; that is, to keep each 17.

14-17; or the imitation in Ausonius, 4.14-17.

Scaevola, “nihil facere” [doing nothing], quoted in Digest, 7.3.1.4. 16.

Seneca, 1.1.

203

18. 19.

Alciato refers here and below to the medieval schools of commentators known as the glossators and the post-glossators. It was a mark of his method that he continued to maintain the importance of such as Bartolus of Sassoferrato, the principal representative of the latter. The Digestum novum consists of books 39-50 of the Digest. See Appendix, citation 2.

204

Denis L. Drysdall

EMBLEMATICA

part of what one is studying in an overall perspective. The third concerns the students responsibility to ensure that they cover the essential material of the course, since the lecturer, confined by a limited number of lectures, cannot possibly do so; that is, to accept responsibility for one’s own part in the process. Each of these precepts is a specific and practical requirement of the students’ situation at the beginning of their lectures. Their application is initially confined to the classroom, or rather to the learning process. It gives a glimpse of Alciato the teacher, his concern with the learning of his students and the effectiveness of his methods. But, taking the three phrases together, the verse also implies a general requirement of regular, honest self-analysis, which provides a rule of life ensuring constancy and purposefulness. Alciato may have been influenced in this by Erasmus, who expounds the line as an adage commending a daily moral discipline and applies it particularly to the worldliness and gluttony of monks and priests, but in Alciato’s case this general rule of life is closely

tradition, but the addition to the verse in the printed work of the visual picture. It has been argued that Alciato would have regarded pictures as being suitable for a popular audience, but not for the sort of educated audience for whom he wrote his epigrams, that he never intended that these should be illustrated, and that the pictures are entirely the responsibility of the publishers. It has proved impossible to resolve this question definitively, although it has been pointed out that he never expressed any surprise or objection at their appearance! Book 6 chapter 8 of the Parerga does tell us however that Alciato attributed great importance to the visual element in the learning process. The chapter is entitled “Studiis plus conferre oculos, quam aures . . .” [The eye contributes more to learning than the ear . . .] and immediately plunges into the same theme of diligence in study: Everyone knows how diligently a scholar should give his attention to good studies; for where you apply your mind, it will be worthwhile; and students should never come to class unless they have first practiced and looked beforehand at the subject set for disputation. For there are some who are so lazy and careless that they listen indeed to the teacher, but then do no work at home; to be sure, they are students with their ears only, not with their eyes. Against these I am in the habit of quoting the Homeric riddle from book 19 of the Odyssey, lines which Virgil rendered thus in book 6 of the Aenead: “Two gates of Sleep there are, whereof the one is said to be of horn, and thereby an easy outlet is given to true shades; the other gleaming with the sheen of polished ivory, but false are the dreams sent by the spirits to the world above”? Truly the ivory represents the teeth, and the horn the eyes. Things which are seen with our own eyes are both completely certain and more easily remembered; things which we perceive only by hearing them from the mouths of others are uncertain and, being observed by us as if through a cloud, fade away more quickly. And so for study and the disciplines, the horn-like eye does more than the ivory-like teeth.”

connected with his classroom practice (Erasmus, III x 1, added in 1526).

As far as we can see, the final step in the process of composition, the idea of putting these two ingredients together—using the image of the cranes as a visual complement of the precept of Pythagoras—is Alciato’s own. It seems to be a good example of what he meant when he said that he described something from history or from nature which might mean something special (Barni, no. 24). This is the essentially emblematic

process: the cranes, symbol of prudence, are made the visual metaphor of the sort of disciplined living produced by the pseudo-Pythagorean selfanalysis. The virtue to which the emblem points is prudence in general, as the classification by Aneau in 1548 confirms, but its background in the “praelectio” shows that Alciato had a notion of a particular form of prudence for students. His commentators develop the general theme at length, but seem unaware of this particular application. Before leaving the Parergon iuris, | would add that it offers what might be a clue to the much-disputed question of Alciato’s attitude to the pictures which accompany his emblems from the earliest edition of 1531. To be quite clear, we are not discussing now the illustration of the moral precepts with images such as the cranes, which is a metaphorical or allegorical image of the literary 20.

This was dated as 1522 by Barni and later corrected by Abbondanza to be 9 Jan. 1523.

205

21.

The word “emblema” itself does not necessarily imply a picture, since it was a common practice of the times to inscribe words on objects as well as to inlay or carve representations. However Alciato himself does compare his emblems

to printers’ devices, which were representations of animals or objects (“qualis

anchora Aldi, columba Frobenii, et Calvi elephas .. .”). See also Drysdall 2004

22.

and Drysdall 2001. Odyssey, 19.562-65. Aeneid, 6.893-96: Trans. H.R. Fairclough (Loeb Classical

23.

See Appendix, citation 3.

Library).

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EMBLEMATICA

Leaving aside the obvious question raised by the traditional, somewhat forced interpretation, Alciato follows here, I would suggest (even though one could argue that he is talking in this context about texts and about reading for oneself) this does show that Alciato recognized the effectiveness of visual stimulus and does answer to some extent those who allege that he would have had no time for

pictures.

I have, one might say, followed the advice Mignault was given. The explanation of Alciato’s particular conception of prudence in this emblem, using him as his own interpreter, might demonstrate, or at least support the notion that historians can make some real progress in approaching their subject and understanding a writer's intention, even if we are, as modern theory has so persistently, and rightly, reminded us, condemned to read in the light of our own culture and experience. I believe that what happened in history is, or was, a reality. It is an infinitely complex one which we can never know perfectly and directly and be confident that we know, but I also believe that, while we may not

be able to get outside the limits of our own cultural system, patient and careful scholarship, as free as possible of extraneous philosophical or rather political agendas, in particular the study of every available contemporary document, such as in this case Alciatos other writings, can expand the boundaries of our own understanding, can modify our own culture as it were, can produce successive

approximations to ideas that are distant from or even alien to our own. We cannot know with certainty what happened or what people thought in the past, but, with the help of the essential discussion which takes places between scholars and the peer review which is imposed on their results, we can reach more or less agreed positions which can be further tested by subsequent research. These positions we can expect will be better approximations to the reality than the arbitrary ones dictated by individual idiosyncrasies and intellectual fashions, just as we can agree about most essentials of the world we inhabit, even though we

are all isolated individuals. The understanding of ideas distant from our own, bringing our own into perspective and into question as they do, constitutes for me the value and the justification of all historical study.2

Denis L. Drysdall

207

Appendix Citation 1

Sed quid de catadromo dicemus? cuius ex Labeoni, libro secundo πειθανῶν, his verbis Paulus meminit: Si periculosam rem ante venditionem facere solitus est, culpa tua id factum esse videbitur. Puta enim eum fuisse servum, qui per κατάδρομον γεράνου descendere, aut in cloacam demitti solitus esset. Ostendit lulius Pollux libro quarto, cap. XIX decursionem gruis sic dictam, cum ex sublimi theatri parte per machinam quis delapsus aliquem rapit, & sursum secum asportat: ut cum Aurora Memnonem

rapiebat, lupiter

Ganymedem, vel cum Diana Endymionem, & si qua similia. Non poterat autem citra periculum id fieri. Metaphora a gruibus sumpta est, quae in terram descendunt subripiendi alicuius lapidis causa, quem pede retinent, ut in

alto volitantes, eo demisso experiantur ex cadentis strepitu, supra mare, an

vero terram volitent, ut Suidas, & Aristophanis interpres in Avibus ostendit. Plinius probabilius credit, eum idcirco pedibus contineri, ut lassatis somno decidens indiligentiam strepitu coarguat. Hinc & nomen sumpsisse géranon, id est, gruem machinam, qua architecti saxa ingentia sublevant, probabile est, cuius mentio Vitruvio habetur. Aliia similitudine avis dictam putant (Alciato 1548, 1.20). Citation 2

Etenim tria hæc non tam præcepta, quam oracula, unicuique nostrum semper ante oculos esse debent. Imprimis scilicet, ne qua in re aut excidas, aut transversus ab instituto tramite feraris. Quod iis contingit, qui aliis in rebus animi intentione occupata, ad scholas tamen accedunt: ut qui vel amore capti, vel armis rixisque dediti, vel aleæ lusuique mancipati, vel artibus illicitis addicti, scholastici tamen nomen servant. In hos Annæus Seneca veteris Iureconsulti verbis invehitur: Etiam magna (inquit) pars vite elabitur male agentibus, maxima nihil agentibus, tota aliud agentibus. Qui enim auribus solis presentes, mentem

alio intendunt, ii aliud agere

Latinis dicuntur. Alterum est, ut attendamus ad id, quod agimus: ut cum quid boni a nobis factum fuerit, magna voluptate afficiamur: si vero quid

male vertisse viderimus, in futurum abstineamus. Etenim premium virtutis

24.

Reprinted by kind permission of Canterbury University Press from L’Offrande

du Coeur. Medieval and Early Modern Studies in Honour of Glynnis Cropp. Eds. Margaret Burrell and Judith Grant. Christchurch, New Zealand, 2004.

maximum ipsa est animi voluptas. lisce enim iuvenibus, qui in sophisticis

cavillationibus, vel legum optimarum ambagibus diutius immorantur, recte

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EMBLEMATICA

quis dixerit: Vide, quid agas. Cuius rei exemplum in huius anni lectionibus accipi potest. Fuerunt florente Romano imperio varii in eorum Republica magistratus: ut præfecti prætorio, ut proconsules, ut præsides provinciarum, ut clarissimi, ut spectabiles, ut illustres: et si qua alia sunt huiusmodi nomina. Hæc hodie mutata Reipublicae forma exoleverunt, nec ullo in uso permanserunt, sed unusquisque iudex eam habet cognominationem, quæ sibi vel lege municipii, vel principis sui diplomate concessa est, ideoque parum refert diutius in veterum magistratuum muneribus dignoscendis versari. Bartolus certe et Veteres non ultra tres, aut quatuor lectiones hac in re

videntur consumsisse. Quod si quis maiorem anni partem hoc in argumento

transigere velit, huic recte præceptum Pythagoricum insusurrabitur: Vide quid agas. Superest tertium, ne quid agendum omittamus. In quo sane adeo peccant universi studiosi, ut vix ullum supersit remedium. Professurus

sum hoc anno, in primam Digesti novi partem: utilesque aliquas materias

interpretandas accipiam: sed ita, ut que dicturi sumus minima eorum pars sit, que ex hoc volumine deberemus addiscere: adeo diffusi sunt cum Veterum, tum Recentum commentarii: & tam paucæ toto vertente anno lectiones occurrunt, ut que exposituri sumus, eorum que omittuntur, comparatione pro nihilo sint. Oportet ergo, ut quibus diebus a publicis lectionibus vobis sunt feria, privato studio insigniores quasque leges ipsi perspiciatis, & adhibito uno interprete, puta Bartolo, rem ipsam delibetis. Et hoc enim proderit, ne adversus Pythagoricum carmen commissum quicquam videatur” (Alciato, 1571, V, columns 1225-6). Citation 3

Quanta diligentia debeat unusquisque studiosus bonis disciplinis operam dare, omnes sciunt: ubi enim intenderis ingenium, valet: nec unquam ad scholas adscendere auditores debent, nisi prius meditati, & articulo qui

disputandus est praeviso: sunt enim aliqui adeo ociosi & negligentes, ut praeceptorem quidem attente audiant, caeterum ipsi deinde domi nihil laborent: nempe auribus duntaxat studentes, non oculis. Adversus hos soleo ego Homericum gryphum proponere, cuius carmina ex XIX Odys. P-Verg,

lib. Aeneid.VI sic Latinis rediddit: ‘Sunt genuinae somni portae, quarum alter fertur / Cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris: / Altera, candenti perfecta nitens elephanto, / Hac falsa ad terram mittunt insomnia manes.

Denis L. Drysdall Etenim

209

ebore dentes repraesentantur, cornu vero oculi. Quae propriis

luminibus a nobis conspiciuntur, ea & certissima sunt, & memoriter facilius tenentur: quae vero auditu duntaxat de ore aliorum percipimus, incerta sunt, & quasi per nebulam nobis inspecta celerius evanescunt. Studiis igitur & disciplinis plus cornea pupilla confert, quam eburnei dentes” Parergon iuris libri 10 nunc primum, partim multo quam antea emendati,. in lucem ed. (Alciato 1548, 6.8.). Works cited

Alciato, Andrea. Omnia quae in hunc usque diem Sparsim prodierunt usquam, opera... Basel, 1548, vol. II. “Praelectio in vespertinas lectiones iuris civilis anni tertii. MDXXXIX,” quoted from D. Andreae Alciati Mediolanensis LC. lucubrationes in ius civile et pontificum. Basel, 1571, V, columns 1225-6, This lecture was first published in the Opera omnia. Lyon, 1560. _.

Emblematum libellus. Venice, 1546.

____- Emblemata ... Ed. B. Aneau. Lyon, 1548. —_

Omnia emblemata ... Ed. Cl. Mignault. Antwerp, 1573 and 1577. ___. Emblemata cum commentariis. Padua, 1621.

Anthologia lyrica graeca. Ed. E. Diehl. Leipzig. 1949-52. Aristophanes. The Birds. Ed. Jeffrey Henderson. Cambridge (Mass), 2000. Aristotle. Historia animalium. Ed. E.S. Forster. London and Cambridge (Mass), 1937. Ausonius. Eclogarum Liber. Ed. Hugh G. Evelyn-White. London and Cambridge (Mass), 1919. Barni, Gian Luigi. Le lettere di Andrea Alciato giureconsulto. Florence, 1953. Bartolomaeus Anglicus. De proprietatibus rerum. 1230. Critical edition

by Robert Steele (1988) of the English translation by John Trevisa (1397).

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Digest. lustiniani digesta augusti. Berlin, 1840. Available online at https:// droitromain.univ-grenoble-alpes.fr/ Diogenes

Laertius. Lives of Eminent Cambridge (Mass), 1972.

Philosophers.

Ed.

R.D.

Hicks,

Drysdall, Denis L. “The Emblems in Two Unnoticed Items of Alciato’s Correspondence.” Emblematica: An Interdisciplinary Journal for Emblem Studies 11 (2001): 379-91. “Devices

as

‘Emblems’

before

1531.”

ÆEmblematica:

Interdisciplinary Journal for Emblem Studies 16 (2004): 253-69.

An

The Fate of an Early Modern Honorific Epithet: Andrea Alciato as “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” in 1666 and after 1964

Du Verdier, Antoine and La Croix du Maine. Bibliothèque frangoise. Paris, 1772:

Erasmus, Desiderius. Adagia.

In Collected Works of Erasmus. Vol. 35.

Toronto, 2003.

BERNHARD FE SCHOLZ

Pliny. Plinius Secundus. Naturalis historia. Ed. H. Rackham. London and Cambridge (Mass), 1940-1968. Pollux, Julius. Onomasticon. Leipzig, 1900-1967. Scholia graeca in Aristophanem. Ed. Fr. Dübner. Hildesheim, 1969.

Seneca, Lucius Annaeus. Moral Essays. Ed John W. Basore. London and New York, 1935.

Suda. Suidae Lexicon. Ed. Ada Adler. Stuttgart, 1967-1971. Online at

http://www.stoa.org/

Virgil. Appendix Vergiliana. Ed WN. Clausen. Oxford, 1966. Vitruvius. Marcus Vitruvius Pollio. The Ten Books on Architecture. Ed. M.H.

Morgan. Cambridge and London, 1914.

With the expression “emblematum pater et princeps” coined for Andrea Alciato around the middle of the seventeenth century, then forgotten for some three hundred years, and eventually resuscitated around the middle of the twentieth century, again to characterize Andrea Alciato, the question presents itself whether emblematum pater et princeps meant the same both times, or whether the two uses differed from each other because they involve different conceptual frameworks. This paper attempts to reconstruct (some of) the differences between the two uses by focusing on the different kinds of material inferences that respectively could, or can, be drawn while using that expression during the seventeenth and the twentieth centuries.

211 Emblematica: Essays in Word and Image, vol. 3. Copyright © 2020 by Droz & Emblematica. All rights reserved.

212

EMBLEMATICA Pro captu lectoris habent sua fata libelli. Terentianus Maurus,

De litteris, syllabis, pedibus et metris, v. 1286. (end of 3rd century, CE) (...) nam in collibus vallibusque etiam imperito patet plus soli esse quam caeli' Marcus Fabius Quintilianus,

Institutionis oratoriae libri xii, 1,10,45. The inferential significance of a belief depends on what else one believes. Thus the unit of meaning should be taken to be a whole theory, not just a single sentence. But that means that if two interlocutors have different beliefs, they mean different things by the sentences they utter. Robert B. Brandom, Articulating Reasons. (2003) I. Introduction

n the truncated state in which it has come down to us, and in which it has become something of a set piece of elegiac discourse on culture, the phrase “Habent sua fata libelli” seems to state that books, like anything else, are subject to the vicissitudes of fate, with no identifiable causes or reasons explicitly being named, and with fate consequently epitomizing the inexplicable. But in its non-truncated form in which “Habent sua fata libelli” first appeared in the didactic poem De litteris, De syllabis, De Metris of the Roman grammarian Terentianus Maurus (end of third cent. CE) as “Pro captu lectoris habent sua fata libelli” [It is according to the capabilities of the reader that books have their fates], the fatalistic stance

of the familiar version is quite absent (50). In its place we find an assertion that might be read as an early theory of reader-reception in nuce: if you wish to understand the fates of books, do consider the capabilities of their 1.

“[E]ven an inexperienced person will have to acknowledge that in the case of hills and dales the surface area is larger than the surface areas of the skies above them.”

Bernhard F. Scholz

213

readers. But such a reader-reception theory was clearly not what Terentianus Maurus had in mind when he thus pointed out the melancholy role of the reader. Rather, he wished to ward off, proactively, criticism of his own book by prospective readers. So he saw no need to develop this brief hint at the reader as a possible cause of the fate of books any further, nor to say anything about the constituents of a particular readers captus, which might comprise anything from his temperament, his intellectual grasp of things, his educational and social background, his cultural affinities, and, not to forget, the logical space opened up for him by the conceptual framework to which he is subscribing What follows is an attempt at contrasting two fundamentally different ways in which the captus lectoris might have manifested itself during the last third of the seventeenth century on reading a statement from Bohuslaus Balbinuss Verisimilia humaniorum disciplinarum (1666) and then did manifest itself during the last third of the twentieth century on encountering that statement quoted and re-contextualized in Albrecht Schéne’s Emblematik und Drama im Zeitalter des Barock (1964), and subsequently turning up as a set-piece of modern scholarly discourse on the emblem: “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus.” Of the various factors one might focus on in an analysis of the make-up of a period-specific captus lectoris 1 will focus on the diverging uses the phrase “emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus” was put to during the second half of the seventeenth and the second half of the twentieth centuries, and on the diverging material inferences that it was permissible to draw from it during those periods.’ To obtain a suitable vantage point for taking a 2.

See K6rner for an analysis of the structure of a conceptual framework underlying the manner in which a person classifies the objects of his experience, the standards of intelligibility, which he applies, and the metaphysical beliefs he holds.

3.

Since there are no reception documents from the seventeenth century regarding Balbinus’s statement about Alciato, our analysis will have to be based on a reconstruction of a competent reader’s likely inferences. Hence the tentative formula-

4.

tion “might have manifested itself” I will use the term “material inference” to be able to account for the fact that a mid-sixteenth century reader of Paolo Giovios Dialogo dell'imprese militari

et amorose (Rome 1555), on coming across the assertion that a perfect impresa

was to have a “corpo” and an “anima,” was entitled to infer, with reference to the salient Aristotelian conceptual framework, that these metaphors stood for

the theoretical concepts of causa materialis and causa formalis respectively, and

Bernhard F. Scholz

EMBLEMATICA

closer look at the seventeenth-century reading of that phrase, and to be able to get an idea of the “otherness” of such a seventeenth-century reading I will first discuss the later manifestation of chat captus lectoris as it came about in the wake of Albrecht Schéne’s study.

most prominent representatives of the philologically inspired humanist approach to the study of Roman law known as mos gallicus.* Giambattista Vico in 1708 even named that school of legal studies after him: Extitit deinde in Italia Andreas Alciatus, quem deinde Galli summa cum laude sectati sunt; qui, sicut antiquae Jurisconsultorum sectae ab ipsis Authoribus habuere vocabula, ii itidem Alciatiani appelari deberent. (97-98)

Il. “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” in Modern Emblem Scholarship

[Then Andreas Alciatus appeared in Italy whom the French followed with great success; like the Ancient schools of jurists, which were named after

1. Becoming the “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” The publication in 1531 of Andrea Alciato's Emblemata by the Augsburg printer Heinrich Steyner,° it is now generally accepted, marks the beginning of the emblem genre as it was to flourish for the next two and a half centuries, with a brief revival in Victorian England in the nine-

teenth century® and with quite a few stragglers even in the twentieth.” On the title page of that first Augsburg edition Alciato’s profession is

given as that of a iurisconsultus, someone learned in the law, and he is indeed remembered in the annals of legal history as one of the

could therefore be replaced by those two concepts. Such a reader was entitled to assume, that is to say, that these paired theoretical concepts were implied by the paired metaphors Giovio was using. For a detailed discussion of the concept of “material inference” see Brandom, 52-55. 5,

I shall use “Emblemata” for the title of Alciato’s collection of epigrams, and “Em-

blematum liber” and “Emblematum libellus” for Heinrich Steyner’s Augsburg

1531 and Christian Wechel’s Paris 1534 editions of the Emblemata, respectively.

For a survey of research up to 1990 on the century-long debate that eventually led to the acceptance of the 1531 edition as the editio princeps of the Emblemata, rather than of the phantom edition Milan 1521, see Scholz 1991, 213-54. 6.

See Holtgen 1986.

7

Among twentieth-century examples of emblem books the most noteworthy

specimen is undoubtedly the one produced by the graphic artist M.C. Escher in collaboration with “A.E. Drijfhout” i.e., the art historian Godefridus Johannes

Hoogewerff. A comparative study of the duration and of the variants of the emblematic production in the different European literatures has not been un-

dertaken so far. But a reader of the recently published Companion to Emblem Studies can assemble such a picture for himself, provided he is patient enough to work his way through some ten accounts of the emblem production in different languages, unaided, unfortunately, by an index rerum or by cross-references between the various accounts. See Daly 2008.

21

Wi

214

their founders, they should be called Alciatians.]

Subsequent historical research has settled for a somewhat more modest ranking: Andrea Alciato (1492-1550)

must now share his prominent

position as a proponent of mos gallicus with several other illustrious early modern iurisconsulti of equal or near-equal standing, among them Guillaume Budé (1467-1540), Ulrich Zasius (1461-1536) and Jaques Cujas

(1520-1590)

In the field of emblem literature, however, Andrea Alciatos claim to

fame has remained unchallenged. As evidenced by a number of honorific epithets given to him during a period of immense emblematic productivity in the wake of the Augsburg 1531 and, even more so, the Paris 1534 edition of the Emblemata, he has been elevated to the ranks of the great originators in the fields of bonae litterae, a rank he holds to this day. As early as 1574, less than half a century after the publication of those first two editions, Luca Contile (1505-1574) showers him with a whole series of such

epithets, ranging from “il divino Andrea Alciato,” to “l'immortale Alciato,”

to “l’unico Alciato” to “il magno Andrea Alciato”(9r, 9v, 24r, 24v, 42). In 8.

On mos gallicus see Troje. On Alciato’s celebrated status as the founder of legal humanism see Oslié.

9:

See Troje. In his survey of 1682 of virtually all of the treatises on the device that had appeared up to his own time, Claude-Frangois Menestrier has not much good to say about what he calls Contile’s “raisonnement sur neuf sortes d’Inventions”: “C'est ainsi qu'il nomme les Marques des dignitez, les Armoiries, les Livrées et les habits de diverses couleurs, les Modes, les Emblemes, les Revers des Medai-

10.

Iles et les Monnoyes, les Chiffres et les Hieroglyphiques. Mais on peut dire qu'il n'a rien entendu de tout cela, et qu'il a donné en ce pretendu raisonnement de 53 grandes pages un epouvantable galimathias” (12). [“Reasoning on nine types

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1584 Vincenzo Ruscelli (f1.1584), only slightly less exuberant an admirer of Alciato than Contile, speaks of him as “il ingenioso formator d’emblemi” [the ingenious fashioner of emblems] (14). In 1634 Silvester Petrasancta

Between the middle of the sixteenth and the middle of the twentieth centuries, it would therefore seem safe to claim, referring to Andrea Alciato as “emblematum pater et princeps” was a one-time occurrence limited to the pages of Bohuslaus Balbinuss Verisimilia humaniorum disciplinarum of 1666. Things changed only in 1964—and then radically—when the eminent

SJ (1590-1647) refers to him as the “auctor praecipuus” [the foremost au-

thor] and the “princeps” of the emblem, a “vir iuris humani ac simul eru-

ditionis amoenae scientissimus” [a man most learned both in law and in the knowledge of the beautiful], and he supports his own observations on

the emblem genre by repeatedly appealing to “Alciati auctoritas” (157, 160, 472). In 1666 the Bohemian Jesuit Bohuslaus Balbinus {Bohuslav Balbin] (1621-1688) calls him “emblematum pater et princeps” (1666, Ch. VII, §1;2006, 440)," the “father and the prince of the emblems,’ and in 1681 the

German Jesuit Jacob Masen (1606-1681) writes about him as “huius artis

princeps laudatissimus Alciatus” [Alciatus, the most praiseworthy prince of that art (i.e. of the emblem)], as “symbolographorum princeps” [the prince of the writers of symbols], and as “Alciatus potissimus” [the most capable Alciato] (454, 467). More such honorific epithets could undoubtedly be found in treatises on the emblem, and in prefaces to emblem books from the later sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries. “Emblematum pater et princeps” was thus only one of several honorific titles given to Alciato in the course of the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries for the seminal role he was assumed to have played in the coming into existence of the emblem genre. Nor was it the preferred title during that period. Since no evidence has come to light to date that would suggest that any of Bohuslaus Balbinus’s contemporaries or successors writing on the emblem adopted or even quoted the expression “emblematum pater et princeps” as the latter had used it in his Verisimilia humaniorum disciplinarum of 1666, we may assume that Balbinus was indeed the only early modern writer on the emblem ever to apply that particular honorific epithet to Alciato. of invention”: “This is how he names insignia, coats of arms, liveries and clothing of various colors, ornaments, emblems, medal reverses, coins, figures, and hieroglyphs. But it can be said that he understood none of what he offered in the so-called reasoning, 53 pages of horrendous gibberish” (Editor Translation)

So, with Menestrier usually not given to judgements as harsh as this, perhaps a

11.

granum salis is in order with regard to Contile’s exuberant praise of Alciato.

A splendid bilingual (Latin-Czech) critical edition with notes and commentary was published by Olga Spevak in 2006. This edition will be cited in the following as “Balbinus 2006.”

217

German literary historian Albrecht Schéne (1925) quoted Balbinus’s state-

ment “emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus” in his ground-breaking book-length study on German baroque tragedy entitled Emblematik und Drama im Zeitalter des Barock at the end of a discussion of the origins of the emblem (24).° Schône, it should be noted, slightly altered Balbinus’s

assertion, introducing upper-case letters where Balbinus had lower-case ones, thus moving from Balbinus’s original “pater et princeps” to his own “Pater & Princeps.” Slight as the change may seem, replacing—perhaps inadvertently—two ordinary-language expressions by two expressions that look more like official titles may perhaps be seen as at least in part responsible for the use to which Balbinus’s formulation was going to be put in present-day scholarly discourse on Alciato. Considering the large number of occurrences of the expression “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” in studies on the emblem of published in the wake of Schéne’s pioneering book, some of them referring to Schéne’s footnote to Balbinus in that book as their source, others claiming the content of Schéne’s footnote (24, note

1) as the fruit of their own scholarship, and virtually none of them having recognizably turned to Balbinus’s original text for confirmation,"* it is 12. 13.

14.

Balbinus’s statement is also quoted in in the introduction to Henkel and Schône,

xvii.

Modern references to Alciato as “emblematum pater et princeps” or, in the wake of Schéne’s book, “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” can be found, e.g. in Homann 23; Pelc 16, 252; Porteman 13; Balavoine 9; Héltgen 1978, 201; Hôültgen 1986, 157; Hôpel 39; Sack 146; Schnabel 130; Campa 199; Anton 201; Daly 396; Drysdall 79. This list, needless to add, could easily be extended. The 1666 edition of Balbinus’s Verisimilia is a rarissimum in Western European and American libraries. A Czech translation—without an accompanying Latin text from which the quotation about Alciato could have been taken—was published by Bohumil Ryba only in 1969. The annotated bi-lingual critical edition (Latin and Czech) by Olga Spevak of 2006, unfortunately does not appear to have found its way into many West European or American collections as yet. De-

spite the fact that he was a towering figure of Bohemian Baroque culture there is next to no secondary literature on Balbinus in a West European language.

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hardly an exaggeration if one claims that Schéne’s book was instrumental in turning the honorific epithet “Emblematum pater et princeps” into the only one of the many early modern honorific epithets given to Alciato that is still widely remembered, and, more importantly, that is still used by modern emblem scholars for the purpose of referring to Alciato. Notwithstanding the fact that Andrea Alciato had been acknowledged as the author of the Emblematum liber ever since 1531 when the first edition of that book came off the press in Augsburg, a fact that had been laboriously confirmed during the second third of the nineteenth century when a previously assumed Milan 1521 edition of the Emblemata was shown to be non-existent by Henry Green, he in a sense became the “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” only after 1964 when, in the wake of the international reception of Schéne’s book, it became common scholarly practice to use Alciato’s name and the honorific epithet “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” interchangeably. We do not know what prompted Albrecht Schône to opt for this particular epithet rather than for any of the other epithets given to Alciato during the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries. If it was his intention to place Andrea Alciato among the great originators of the past, his choice of the formulation “Pater et Princeps,” considering its illustrious pedigree,” was certainly a felicitous one. But we are in a position to reconstruct the “grammar” of the expression “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” as it is currently being used, i.e. we can determine the rules that came to govern its use once Schône had effectively introduced it into the discourse of modern scholarship on the emblem, and once it had been generally adopted to refer to Andrea Alciato. We can do the same for the “grammar” of “emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus”

during the seventeenth century, and we can reconstruct the material interferences that are, respectively were permitted to the user of those expressions then and now.

Among the rare exceptions are Soutkova, 152-55 et passim; Svatoë 81-88;

15.

16. 17.

Kraus 340f.; Koneény 223-238. A brief reference to Balbinus in Daly and Dimler 2016 deals with bibliographical rather than conceptual matters. Credit for having transplanted Alciato’s honorific epithet, recently granted to

him by Schône, into British and American emblem scholarship goes to Peter

M. Daly, who, in 1979, paraphrased Schéne’s contribution to emblem theory and that of several of his German followers from the first fifteen years after the publication of Emblematik und Drama. See Daly 1979. See Green 1870; Green 1872.

Ας discussed below in Sect. IIL.2.

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2. The Intentionalist Thrust of the Expression “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” in Current Emblem Scholarship Modern references to Alciato as “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” proceed from the tacit assumption that the expression “Pater et Princeps” in that description needs to be understood figuratively, and that, if needed, it could easily be replaced by an expression conveying its literal meaning. In that respect modern references to Alciato with the aid of that phrase do not differ from its early modern use with lower-case initial letters. But are we then also entitled to assume that an early modern reader would have associated the metaphorical expression “emblematum pater et princeps” as he would have come across it in Balbinus’s treatise with the same literal meaning as a modern one would with “Emblematum Pater et Princeps?” To settle this question, we first need to determine the literal meaning that is nowadays— explicitly or implicitly—associated with that expression. When he lifted the phrase “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus” from the context of Balbinus’s discussion of the generic features of the emblem, Albrecht Schéne clearly was not concerned with the conceptual implications which that phrase may have possessed in the latter’s argument, nor with the material inferences a contemporary reader might have drawn from it. Instead, having just summarized the known facts about Andrea Al-

ciato as the author of the first book of emblems, Schéne apparently wished to secure authoritative support for his own findings. At the same time, it was, we may assume, to apply the claim of primacy to the emblem genre as a whole as it was to develop in the wake of Alciato’s Emblemata, and not just to the publication of the first book of emblems. Schône did this by making that broader claim explicit, providing it with auctorial support with the aid ofa Latin quotation from a treatise by one Bohuslaus Balbinus, quite unknown

in 1964, but by now a household-name in emblem stud-

ies. He juxtaposed that quotation with a statement couched in present-day language, with which he undoubtedly meant to convey its literal meaning: “Man wird Andrea Alciati, der 1531 solche Embleme zum ersten Male vorführte, als den Begründer dieser neuen Gattung bezeichnen dürfen. Em-

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blematum Pater & Princeps est Alciatus” (Schône 24). [We are justified in calling Andrea Alciati who in 1531 came out with such emblems for the first time, as the founder of this new genre. Emblematum Pater & Princeps est Alciatus.]'* Note that now Balbinuss “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus,’ which does not explicitly refer to the emblem qua genre, is explicitly made to refer to the genre: “the founder of this new genre.” Note also that Schône gives extra weight to Balbinus’s statement by capitalizing what eventually was to become Alciato’s modern honorific epithet: “Emblematum Pater & Princeps est Alciatus” in place of Balbinus’s “emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus.” It is as if “Pater & Princeps” was the name of an acknowledged mantle that had fallen on Alciato’s shoulders for having founded the emblem genre. Bohuslaus Balbinus’s own term for the emblem genre, it is worth pointing out, was emblema, and the title of his chapter on the emblem and the impresa as genres is “De emblemate et symbolis”(2006, 438-55). But when he put forward his claim about Alciato he did not opt for *“Emblematis pater & princeps est Alciatus” in order to indicate Alciato’s paternity cum princeliness, which would indeed have made Alciato into the father and prince of the emblem genre. Instead he used a formulation which, as we will

see below in section III,4, can either be read as an attempt at integrating the title of Alciato’s book of emblems into his statement, or as a reference to the batch of emblems produced by Alciato: “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus.” We do not know for sure whether Balbinus perhaps chose that formulation with an eye to being able to distinguish between the wordimage texts of the first book of emblems, and the emblem genre as such that eventually came into being, and which he was in the process of analyzing. Nor can we tell on the basis of his text whether he perhaps wished to avoid having to assign a normative role for the illustrated epigrams contained in Alciato’s Emblemata. But if such a separation of the first texts of the emblem genre from the genre of the emblem as such was indeed what he had in mind, it would have been in accordance with auctorial precedent, namely with Aristotle’s procedure in the Poetics. Aristotle, it will be recalled, first

Bernhard F. Scholz

ides, but completely without treating the characteristics of the tragedies they produced as generic norms, and only later analyzes the genre of tragedy as it developed until “it found its natural form, and there it stopped? but now without reference to those founding fathers (1449a13; 1898, 19).

Asa convinced Aristotelian,? Balbinus, we may be fairly certain, would not very likely have considered the statement “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus” as expressing the claim that Alciato had founded the genre of the emblem qua genre. But if Balbinus’s “emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus” does not, as Schéne’s “Emblematum Pater & Princeps” appears to be doing, tacitly equate the name “Alciato” with the description “founder of the emblem genre,” what exactly did Balbinus’s own statement imply as far as Alciato’s role for the emblem was concerned? Schône, we may assume, did not mean the expression “Begriinder” [founder] to be understood in the sense of a well-defined theoretical term

from the terminological arsenal of one or the other school of literary theory, i.e., as a term that would call up a specific theoretical stance towards a problem like that of the place of the individual author in the course of literary evolution, or, more narrowly, that of the role which an individual author might be able to play in the emergence of a specific literary genre. We are more likely meant to read “Begriinder” as an item from the vast and fuzzy repertoire of the nomenclature of literary studies,” as a term, that is, which is charged with only a bare minimum of conceptually significant implications, and which will therefore allow only few if any theoretically significant material inferences to be drawn from it.”! Schéne’s “literal” rendering of the 19.

the great masters” [“tenere te viam tritam, et ordinem disciplinae sequi, quem

Aristoteles omnium academiarum magister tenuisset, cum quo vel errare pulcrum: honestus error est (si tamen error) magnos duces sequentibus”], (Richter,

20.

18.

21.

relying as it appears to be doing, on the magic of a Latin quotation, which may have been strong enough to hide to Schéne’s early readers the need to familiarize themselves with Balbinus’s name and work.

In an undated letter to the German dramatist and pedagogue Christian Weise

(1642-1708), mailed from Prague sometime in 1680, Balbinus advises the lat-

ter to stay on his chosen path and “to follow Aristotle who, as a teacher of all Academies, has given the sciences their order, so much so, that it is even beautiful to err (with him). An error is honorable—f it really is an error—if one follows

mentions the founding fathers of tragedy, Aeschylus, Sophocles and Eurip-

[τἰ5 tempting to call Schône’s manner of arguing an “argument from authority”

221

82-83). On the distinction between the “nomenclature” and the “terminology proper”

of literary scholarship see Stawiriski, 65-80.

“Begründer” is here used, at best, as a term from the general nomenclature of literary scholarship, but not from the terminology proper of a specific approach. By contrast, as we shall see, the metaphorical expression “pater et princeps” as used by Balbinus was clearly meant to be explicated so as to yield terms of a

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figurative expression “Pater et Princeps” by means of “Begründer”—itself clearly a “sunken image” —will therefore initially have to be read as stating little more than the chronological fact that the author of the Emblematum liber of 1531 was indeed the author of the first book of emblems, and, as such, in some unspecified manner, the initiator of the new genre of the emblem. Yet it would be rash to assume that even an as seemingly theoretically innocent expression as “Begriinder dieser neuen Gattung” did not possess certain theoretical implications, sedimented over time, which form the backdrop to the way in which a twentieth-century literary historian like Albrecht Schéne—and we, too, as his intended readers—more or less spontaneously now use and understand that expression. As a glance at Alciato

Bernhard

E Scholz

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Questions like these, raised with an eye τὸ gamering support for the the emblem genre, and the answers to these questions, retrospectively sead into the description “emblematum pater ct princeps” thes mmvolsed com the emblem genre with what Alciato himself muse have had im mand wie=

the Augsburg printer Heinrich Secyner, into the leter's social and ccomomeic Groumsrances,™ into the use of illustration in carly modem praia =

scholarship of the last century and a half suggests, there are a number of re-

cided to call his collection of epigrams “Emblemata?” Why did he have his

Emblemata published in Peutinger’s Augsburg rather than, say, in Amer-

bach’s Basel? Did he (himself) intend his Emblemata to be accompanied by woodcuts, and if so, did he intend it in the specific manner in which it actually happened in the Augsburg Emblematum liber of 1531, i.e. with the characteristic layout of that edition?” What were his reasons for changing publishers in 1534, switching from Heinrich Steyner of Augsburg to Christian Wechel of Paris? Why did he distance himself from the Augsburg

1531 edition? Why did he approve of Wechel’s Paris 1534 edition of the Emblemata, but not of Steyner’s Augsburg 1531 edition?”

22. 23.

terminology proper, namely that of a poetics in the Aristotelian tradition. Any theoretically relevant material inferences, which “Begründer” might conceivably have permitted in 1964 were in fact neutralized by the rather odd collocation with “vorführen” (expose, put on display), which certainly does not possess any implications that might be relevant for literary theory except, perhaps, for a theory of drama performance. On the differences in layout and typography between Heinrich Steyner’s and Christian Wechel’s editions of the Emblemata see Scholz 1993, 149-157. For a proof that these are indeed the questions currently being raised, and for a summary of the currently accepted answers to these questions see Drysdall 2008,

socisces 2s it is revealed by the study of his extensive comespomdemce. dur to what extent the circumstances, the events and the relasions ssudeed cos uibured το furthering or hampering the execution of wha Alien kanscif wished to happen. Looking for 2 terminus a quo of this still theiving eneerpeise of sesame

English anciquarian Henry Green's extensive efforts im the 18605 τὸ locas 2 copy of the elusive Milan 1522 edition of the Emblemaza τα the mega

libraries of Exxope. Green, it is worth recalling τε this τοῖσι, spoke of dee

two decades prior to the assumed dase of publication of thax edscion as of the “cwency-onc years before Alciatus appeared, τὸ conquer for hamsel€

2 kingdom, and to reign king of Emblemasises for about 2 ceammry and 2 half” (Green 18702, 60) Putting matters in these venms Geeem peobabis

hoped τὸ convey to his Victorian contemporaries 2 sense of Alcizess am 79-97. The history οὐ research sneo the precise nacace of Anders Alcan

παῖε x

che «οπαύσις ἵκεο crstence of the primed cdseums of bus Emblemaza cat 5e at

28 the τώσοτν of seecnges 1e answer pest these meenmonalise questions For a1 ones view of the history A that reseacch see Scholz 1991. See Sacks

RE

current issues, all of them concerned in various ways with the precise nature of Alciato role as “founder” of the emblem genre, and all of them bound up with characteristically modern—as opposed to early modern—ways of looking at literary authorship, literary production and literary evolution: What exactly did Andrea Alciato himself mean by “emblema” when he de-

On mondcnes ies catty modern prating sex Hed.

See

aax 1990; Κίον 2909,

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portance in the development of the emblem genre through appealing to a then and now familiar way of articulating a sense of a man’s worth by eliding—in good Victorian style—the man with his works. Expressions like “to conquer for himself a kingdom,’ and “to reign king of Emblematists,” undoubtedly focus on Alciato’s role and achievement from a slightly different angle from Schéne’s “Begründer dieser neuen Gattung.” But they do share essential elements with the description “Emblematum Pater & Princeps” under which Alciato is nowadays recognized as an author. Virtually all of the questions raised about Alciato’s role in the development of the emblem genre by emblem scholarship ever since Henry Green’s abortive library expeditions around the middle of the nineteenth century are, I would like to suggest, “intentionalist” in the sense that they all expect to be able to answer questions about the coming into being of the first book of emblems and, in its wake, about the coming into being of the emblem as a literary genre, by trying to determine what Andrea Alciato himself had in mind at certain points in his life. Putting to investigative use the modern notion of authorial intention they make use of what G. E. M. Anscombe has called, “a form of description of events” for which it is essential that the question “why?” is answered with reference to the intentions of the agent in question (84). When a description of that form is used, i.e., when an event is explained under a description of that form, things are made intelligible by being shown to result from what an agent had in mind when he carried out a certain action. The driving force behind of all this questioning, that is to say, will have to be understood as the desire to unravel the complex tangle of events preceding, accompanying and terminating in the publications in the Augsburg 1531 and the Paris 1534 editions of the Emblemata in terms of historically ascertainable authorial intentions, authorial reasons and ‘real’

causes—often viewed as causes furthering or impeding those intentions, and justifying those reasons—, which, it is assumed, eventually resulted in the publication of the Augsburg Emblematum liber of 1531 and the Paris Emblematum libellus of 1534, always with a narrow focus on what Alciato himself had in mind, and on what he himself was prompted to do or prevented from doing. For that reason, anything Alciato had to say about the emblem came to occupy such a prominent place in recent historical as well as theoretical discussions of the term “emblema.” For an early modern writer of a treatise on poetics like Balbinus, answering such intentionalist questions, and employing the specific form of description of

Bernhard F. Scholz

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events that goes with answering them, we shall see, would not have produced any knowledge worth having about a literary genre like the emblem. And an early modern reader of a treatise on poetics, raised as he was on the same classical texts as its author, would have found the intentionalist tendency of modern emblem scholarship, together with the significance that it tends to attach to Alciato’s own pronouncements, quite puzzling, too. As we will see there would not have been any room for that tendency in either of the two conceptual frameworks at the disposal of early modern poetics, those of dialectics and of rhetoric”

3. “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” as a Proper Definite Description in Modern Emblem Scholarship If the name “Andrea Alciato” nowadays habitually calls up the phrase “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” and vice versa, it does so in much the same way as honorific epithets like “The Father of the English Bible,” “The Father of Our Country,’ “The Father of the Constitution,” “Princeps botanicorum; “The Father of the H-bomb” or “The Mother of Us All” call up the names “William Tyndale,” “George Washington”

“James Madison,” “Carl von Linné? “Edward Teller” and “Susan B. An-

thony,’ respectively. In all of these cases the bearer of the name in question is identified through the “father-”/ “mother-”/ “prince-” metaphor as having originated the coming into being of the object or the institution named by the epithet. Epithets involving the notion of firstness in the sense of temporal primacy, without the attached notion of authorship and parentage, are perhaps even more common: “The First Man Killed in the Boston Massacre” calls up the name of Crispus Attucks, “The First Man to Sign the Declaration of Independence” that of John Hancock, “The First Man to Climb Mount Everest,” that of Sir 27.

Early modern poetics did indeed possess the concept of a voluntas auctoris [author’s will]. But approached under that description the activities of an author

were not meant to be understood in the light of events that had taken place in the life of an individual or as intended by that individual for personal reasons. Rather, the concept of voluntas auctoris allowed for accounting for the typical

ways in which the materia of reasons a literary work could be dealt with. On voluntas auctoris in general see Babilas 15-16, 27-28; Lausberg, passim s.v. “voluntas® On voluntas auctoris as a principle for justifying allegorical interpretation see Hempfer 51-57, especially 52-53. For a detailed analysis of the early modern conception of authorship in relation to Andrea Alciato see Scholz 1999.

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Edmund Hillary, * “The First Man in Space” that of Yuri Gagarin, “The First Man on the Moon” that of Neil Armstrong, or “The First Black President” that of Barack Obama, just as “The First Real-Estate Tycoon to become President” will probably call up that of Donald J. Trump eventually. But this second type of expression, though closely related to the first one, need not concern us any further in our attempt at determining the rules that currently govern the use of an honorific epithet like “Emblematum Pater et Princeps.” When honorific epithets such as the ones we are concerned with— technically speaking: proper definite descriptions”—are applied to a person, this amounts to making a complex predication about that person, which combines an existence-claim with a uniqueness-claim: there is/was an X (e.g. a “Father of the English Bible” a “Father of our Country,’ a “Father of the H-Bomb,’ a “Mother of Us All,” a “Father and Prince of the Emblems,’) and at most one person P is/was X. And when such a combination of an existence-claim with a uniqueness-claim about a particular person is subsequently treated as involving a generally known fact, when it has, in other words, entered the domain of common knowledge, we have before us the kind of honorific epithet to which “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” nowadays belongs, together with the “Father of the English Bible” and the “Father of the H-Bomb,’ and all the other epithets of the first group.” 28.

29.

is usually forgotten when Hillary is given his honorific epithet. “A definite description is a denoting phrase in the form of “the X” where X is

a noun-phrase or a singular common noun. The definite description is ‘proper’ if X applies to a unique individual or object, e.g. “the first person in space” and “the 42nd President of the United States of America” are proper. The definite descriptions “the person in space” and “the Senator from Ohio” are improper improper because X applies to nothing” (See Wikipedia, English, sx. “Definite description”).

When in 2011 the American philosopher Robert B. Brandom called Immanuel Kant “the great gray mother of us all” he coined a new honorific epithet for Kant, but still one along the lines of the epithets just mentioned (Brandom 2011,1). But it is an epithet that may forever be waiting to cross the threshold

into the space of common knowledge, due to the recalcitrance of many represen-

227

Another “grammatical” feature, which the expression “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” nowadays shares with proper definite descriptions like those just mentioned, and which is owed to the fact that it has found its place in the domain of common knowledge, is that it can either stand in apposition to the name “Andrea Alciato” (1), or it can be used as a substitute for it (2). The following statements from recent emblem scholarship may serve to exemplify both possibilities: (1) In 1542, the French writer and printer Gilles Corrozet coupled the illustrated fable to the typographical lay-out of the humanist emblem, which had been inaugurated by the emblematum pater et princeps Andrea Alciato (Smith 161). (2) About 1521, thirteen years before the printing of the first edition in 1534 [sic], the emblematum pater et princeps had actually put together a manuscript collection of his emblems (Héltgen 1986, 157).

With both of these closely related uses of the proper definite description “emblematum pater et princeps” the reader is tacitly assumed to be familiar prior to coming across either in a particular text with the collocation of description and name.*! With both uses, too, the question whether or not this description of Alciato is factually correct no longer enters the picture. Using the expression “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” in either manner one in fact tacitly assumes—and one expects one’s readers to as-

That Sir Edmund Hillary was accompanied by the Nepalese mountain guide Tenzing Norgay, often referred to as “Sherpa Tensing” all the way up to the top

because the noun phrase X applies to more than one thing, and the definite descriptions “the first man on Mars” and “the Senator from Washington D.C.” are

30.

Bernhard F. Scholz

31.

tatives of the Empiricist tradition, and, perhaps even more so, due to the fact that Brandom crosses a gender line so far apparently always observed by fashioners of new honorific epithets, by turning Kant into a “mother.” For the sake of completeness, a third, less common, use of the honorific epithet “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” in contemporary emblem scholarship should be mentioned, which, however, for obvious reasons does not shed much light on the difference between the early modern and the present-day use of the epithet. It consists in explicitly quoting the epithet approvingly or disapprovingly from a

statement by someone else, i.e. employing it in the mode of de dictu: “[Deshalb] kann auch der Titel eines ‘Emblematum Pater et Princeps’ noch immer zu Recht

bestehen, den ihm [i.e. to Alciato] eine spätere Generation [sic] verlichen hatte.”

[(Therefore) the title of an ‘Emblematum Pater et Princeps given to him by a later generation, may still be considered appropriate.]. Note, however, that Vera Sack here turns Alciato’s honorific title from a proper to an improper definite description by speaking of “the title of an ‘Emblematum Pater et Princeps, thereby opening up the possibility that the emblem genre had more than one father. (Sack 146).

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sume—the correctness of what is being claimed about Alciato: Andrea Alciato, and no one else, was indeed the one and only “Emblematum Pater et Princeps.” Significantly, it is the very form of proper definite descriptions like the ones mentioned that precludes the possibility of considering that there actually may have been a collective effort involved in bringing about the achievement under consideration—founding the United States, developing the H-Bomb, laying the foundations for women’s emancipation, but also: establishing the literary genre of the emblem. Achievements of that sort must, as a consequence of the very form of the proper definite description, be hailed as necessarily the singular achievements of individuals. The use of a proper definite description of this type thus involves, one might put it, an analytical apriori, i.e. a presupposition of analysis, which determines both what one must, and what one need not take into consideration as one attempts to account for the origins of a particular cultural achievement: one single and singular achiever for every achievement.?? Clearly not all of the honorific epithets given to Alciato during the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries would lend themselves to being analyzed along these lines, Not all of them, that is to say, are structured in such a way that they could be turned into proper definite descriptions that can be placed in apposition to, or used as substitutes for the name “Andrea AL ciato.” This is true, trivially enough, of the epithets lavished on Alciato by Luca Contile: “il divino Andrea Alciato” “l’immortale Alciato” “unico AL ciato” to “il magno Andrea Alciato” Here the adjectives “divino,’ “immortale,” “unico” and “magno” serve as qualifiers that explicitly require mentioning the name of the person who is to be characterized with their aid. As for Ruscelli’s description of Alciato as “il ingenioso formator d’emblemi, the above analysis is applicable only if we read “formator; as we may, in the sense of “first fashioner” rather than in the sense of the early modern 32.

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generic concept of the poeta as “maker.”> Otherwise the uniqueness claim normally involved in using a phrase as a proper definite description could not be put forward, and the expression “il ingenioso formator d’emblemi” could not do descriptive work in this manner. Petrasancta’s “Auctor praecipuus et princeps,’ Balbinus’s “emblematum pater et princeps” and Masen’s “huius artis princeps laudatissimus” however, all could have done service as proper definite descriptions in the manner just described. With all of these the existence-, primacy- and/or uniqueness-claims are explicitly put forward, and the phrases articulating those claims can be used in isolation, ie. detached from the name “Alciato.” All three—and probably a number of similar ones, too—thus could have served equally well as candidates for being turned into the proper definite description that was to be associated with the name of Andrea Alciato by modern emblem scholarship in the wake of Schéne’s Emblematik und Drama.

ΠῚ. “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” in Mid-Seventeenth Century Poetics: Bohuslaus Balbinus’s Verisimilia Humaniorum Disciplinarum (1666) 1. Asserting that “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus”:“emblematum pater et princeps”as Involvinga Predicate rather than a Proper Definite Description

development of the emblem genre can be gleaned from the fact that the only

When Albrecht Schéne borrowed Bohuslaus Balbinus’s formulation “emblematum pater et princeps” for the purpose of characterizing Alciato’s role in the development of the emblem genre, he did so, we have seen, by using that expression as a proper definite description for Andrea Alciato. He also suggested a literal meaning for it, which brought it in line with the prevailing intentionalist paradigm of mid-twentieth-century literary scholarship. Schéne himself, it should be noted, quoted Balbinus’s statement in its entirety, in which the expression “emblematum pater et princeps” syntactically served as a predicate: “emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus.”

published Companion to Emblem Studies is Andrea Alciato, and that, in line with this preferential treatment of Alciato, there is, sadly enough, no article to

33.

The extent to which that apriori determines even present-day perception of the

author mentioned in the title of any of the twenty-two articles of the recently

be found in that volume that would explicitly address the role of any other em-

blem writer in the development of the genre, or with the creation of variants of the emblem by other writers. For more on this issue see Scholz 2011.

His aim, however, in thus quoting the statement from Balbinus was not to See e.g. Scaliger 1561, 3: “Poetae igitur nomen non a fingendo, vt putarunt, quia fictis vteretur; sed initio a faciendo versu ductum est” [The name of the poet therefore was not taken from feigning, because he makes use of fictions; but ini-

tially from the making of verses].

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test its validity or to discuss its theoretical implications, but, perhaps succumbing to our common weakness for quotations from Latin, to derive early modern authorial support from it for his own claim about Alciato as the founder of the emblem genre. Schône therefore, understandably, did not see the need to ask what exactly Balbinus himself may have wished to assert about Andrea Alciato when he called him “emblematum pater et princeps,” and why he employed that particular metaphorical expression in putting forward his claim. What Balbinus’s statement about Alciato, as quoted by Schéne in the context of Emblematik und Drama, asserts about Alciato is in fact only what Schone himself allowed it to assert by placing it next to its presumed literal meaning: “We are justified in calling Andrea Alciati, who produced such emblems for the first time in 1531, the founder of that new (literary) genre.”>* Whatever Balbinus himself may have had in mind when he called Alciato “emblematum pater et princeps,’ and whatever inferences a competent seventeenth-century reader would have been able to be draw from Alciato being referred to in this manner, is kept out of sight by the seeming obviousness to a modern reader of Schéne’s equation of the honorific epithet prized from Balbinus’s predication with the aid of the phrase “der Begriinder einer neuen Gattung.” In the context of Balbinus’s Verisimilia the phrase “emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus” has the form of an assertion about Andrea Alciato, with the phrase “emblematum pater et princeps” serving as the predicate of a statement of the form: “x e P.” How did Balbinus come by the formulation “emblematum pater et princeps?” Did he invent it himself? Is that phrase, used as a predicate, ‘sortal} i.e., does it, by subsuming Alciato under that predicate, place him into a group of recognized patres et principes? If so, which, if any, were the other members of that group? How was being thought of as being the “pater et princeps” of a particular achievement understood around 1666? What exactly did Balbinus assert about Alciato with his statement “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus?” How did he argue his case? 34.

Needless to point out that Alciato did not produce anything like that in 1531. He had been busy writing epigrams he called “Emblemata” on the model of those of the Greek Anthology at the beginning of the 1520s. Having with considerable success added woodcuts to his edition of those Emblemata, but without Alciato’s consent, it may in the end have to be the printer Heinrich Steyner of Augsburg who will need to be identified as the “Begriinder” according to Schône of the emblem genre, rather than Alciato.

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The answers to these questions will not be as easily obtained, nor will they be as straightforward, as the answer to the question about the current use of the expression “Emblematum Pater et Princeps” i.e. about the grammar and the semantics of that expression used as a proper definite description. They are for a good part hidden away in a corner of early modern poetics rarely if ever visited by contemporary students of that poetics, namely in the corner of the conceptual presuppositions of that poetics, of its conceptual frameworks, and of the forms of argumentation that were habitually employed when general claims about literary genres like the emblem and the impresa were put forward. Looking for answers to these questions we will need to approach Balbinus'’s text from a number of different angles. We will not only have to consider the likely provenance of the expression “emblematum pater et princeps,’ and to pay attention to an easily overlooked stylistic feature of Balbinus’s statement about Alciato. We will also have to take a closer look at Balbinuss brief polemic against two fellow Jesuits who were also writing on the symbolum and the emblem, and we will have to consider a possible challenger, Paolo Giovio, to Alciato’s being called the “pater et princeps” of the emblem. Most importantly, we will have to pay close attention to Balbinuss decidedly rhetorical approach to the emblem and the impresa, and to the specific conceptual presuppositions of that approach—as opposed to the older dialectical approach and its fundamentally different presuppositions, rarely recognized as such, which had been prominently present in the early treatises on the device and the emblem that had been written in part as expositions of the five conditioni of Paolo Giovio's Dialogo dell’ Imprese Militari et Amorose.»

2. Earlier Bearers of the Title “Pater et Princeps” In keeping with the conventions of early modern theoretical discourse, Bohuslaus Balbinus apparently saw no need to reveal or even to hint at a possible source of the expression “pater et princeps, which he was using in his statement about Alciato’s achievement. But we may be quite sure that he would have wished—perhaps even eagerly—that that expression would be recognized by his readers as an adaptation of a formulation coined by a Classical author, rather than thought of as a metaphorical coinage of his own making. 35.

For a more detailed discussion than can be given here of Paolo Giovio’s role in the development of an early modern poetics of the device and the emblem see Scholz 2002a, especially sections II,1 and 11,2.

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One important reason for that assumption is that it was an institutionalized practice of early modern culture to grant a status of prominence by inserting an individual into an ‘official’ discourse through using a specific honorific epithet, or one recognizably similar to it, which had been used through the ages, preferably from Classical Antiquity onward.% Another reason, which we shall consider in greater detail later, is that in being seen to be employing this particular formulation as a template for expressing his assessment of Alciato, Balbinus may have wished to be understood to be taking a stance in an ongoing debate about the appropriate conceptual framework for determining the defining properties of aliterary genre like the impresa or the emblem, without necessarily being seen as a vocal exponent of the stance he was adopting. The lineage of the predicate in Balbinus’ assertion about Alciato can be traced all the way back to a passage from one of Horace’s Odes in which Octavianus is addressed as “pater atque princeps”: ... hic magnos potius triumphos, hic ames dici pater atque princeps, neu sinas Medos equitare inultos te duce, Caesar. (Carmina 1,2) [... may you enjoy here great fame of victory, And to be called Father and Prince; As our leader, Caesar, let not the Medes roam unpunished.]*”

As a Jesuit priest trained in accordance with the educational program of the Ratio Studiorum (1599)** Bohuslaus Balbinus would undoubtedly have been familiar with Horace’s Odes ever since his early school days.” That he may have been well aware of the fact that he was modeling—somewhat extrava36.

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gantly, perhaps—his formulation “emblematum pater et princeps” for Andrea Alciato on Horace’s “pater atque princeps” for Octavianus is therefore a very likely possibility. In doing so he would have followed the not uncommon practice of transferring a phrase such as an epithet of praise from one cultural sphere to another, in this case from the political to the literary sphere. But there are also quite a few medieval and early modern occurrences of “pater atque princeps” and “pater et princeps” used as honorific epithets, which may also have come to Balbinus’s notice. Among the figures referred to in this manner are some of the greatest of the great from both the realms of religion and philosophy. Among these are Moses, according to Pico della Mirandola the “princeps et pater in lege, et princeps et pater in sapientia, et princeps et pater in

profetia;”*' Plato, according to Albertus Magnus, the “pater et princeps” of the Stoics;* St. Anthony the Anchorite, according to Martin Luther, “ipsissimus monachorum pater et monasticae vitae princeps;”# and Benedict of Nursia, according to tradition, the “pater et princeps monachiae institutionis# None of the other honorific epithets given to Alciato mentioned earlier on—“il divino Andrea Alciato, “Pimmortale Alciato,’ “lunico Alciato” “il magno Andrea Alciato, “huius artis princeps laudatissimus Alciatus’—can boast of a similarly formulaic status, and none can therefore boast of a similarly impressive line obscenities, if needed]. (The Ratio Studiorum: The Official Plan for Jesuit Education, 395).

40.

Τῆς sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries, it must be remembered, were not yet hampered by the policing hand of historicism in its at times astonishing ability to see similarities and to promote the #ranslatio imperii et studii in place and time.

This practice can be viewed in relation to the vast project of translatio imperii, of

“Et quia Moises magister noster erat in summa perfectione perfectus, et erat princeps et pater in lege, et princeps et pater in sapientia, et princeps et pater

41.

project see Copeland passim.

highest perfection, and was prince and father in the law, prince and father in

in profetia...” [And because Moses was our teacher who was perfected to the

passing on cultural contents, and thus cultural valuations, to later ages. On that

37.

On Horace use of “pater et princeps” for Octavianus see Syme 519ff.

38.

The title “Ratio Studiorum” [Plan of Studies] is commonly used to refer to the

document that formally established the globally influential system of Jesuit ed-

ucation in 1599. Its full title is Ratio atque Institutio Studiorum Societatis lesu [The Official Plan for Jesuit Education]. (See Wikipedia, English, sx. “Ratio Studiorum”).

39.

Bernhard F. Scholz

Chapter H27 of the Ratio Studiorum of 1599, which formulates the “Regulae

professoris humanitatis” [Rules for the Teacher of the Humanities] expressly mentions as suitable teaching material for eloquence in Grade 1 a selection of Horace’s Odes, “modo sint ab omni obscaenitate expurgati” [expurgated of all

wisdom, prince and father in prophecy] (Wirszubski 129). 42.

“Stoici autem quorum pater et princeps fuit Plato . . ” [The Stoics, however, whose father and prince was Plato. ..] (Albertus Magnus 344).

43.

“ipsissimus monachorum pater et monasticae vitae princeps” [the very father of

44.

“Pater et princeps monachiae institutionis . . . Benedictus” (Quoted in: Bloch

45.

There were undoubtedly many individuals through the ages who were simply called “pater” (e.g. in the twentieth century: Edward Teller as the “Father of the

the monks and the prince of monastic life] (Luther 578).

1025).

H-Bomb”) and many individuals who were simply called “princeps” (e.g. in the

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of earlier holders of the title of “pater et princeps” Was Balbinus fully aware, one wonders, of the enormous prestige and pedigree with which he was supplying—‘burdening’ might perhaps be a better word—Alciato for having written the emblematum libellus he had chosen to call “Emblemata?” In the absence of any documentary evidence that might reveal to us the extent of Balbinus’s familiarity with the texts just mentioned,“ we cannot know for sure which, if any, of those prior uses of the honorific epithet “pater et princeps” Bohuslaus Balbinus had come across by the time he wished to praise Andrea Alciato. As a student of rhetoric intimately familiar with Quintilian’s Institutionis oratoriae libri xii, he could also have come by at least one part of his epithet from that ever-present source. There he would have found references to the “duo maximi oratores,’ namely to Demosthenes as “Graecae eloquentiae princeps” and to Cicero as “Latinae eloquentiae princeps.”” A few books later he would have encountered the description of Pindar as: Of the nine lyrical poets, Pindar is the most prominent one by far [/onge Pindarus princeps] because of the splendor of his inspiration [spiritus magnificientia}, his maxims [sententiae], his (rhetorical) figures [figurae], the most beautiful wealth of his topics and words, [rerum verborumque copia] and because of the veritable river of his eloquence [eloquentiae flumen].®

Although in these formulations from Quintilian there is only talk of an individual as the “princeps” of some achievement, they share with the formulation “pater et princeps” the desire to identify the rank of the individuals concerned. In contrast to the examples given above, the cultural heroes whom Quintilian

late twentieth century: one Richard Pearle as the “Prince of Darkness’ of the first administration of President George W. Bush). But it would appear to have

been the Horatian collocation “pater et princeps” which paved the way for the

formulaic use of that collocation, rather than a merger of the traditions of the

use of ‘pater’ and of ‘princeps. 46.

We must not forget that Balbinus had no way of putting “pater et princeps” into

47.

nate enough to be able to do]. “Quanta sit autem in ea difficultas, vel duo maximi oratores, alter Graecae, alter Latinae eloquentiae princeps, docent” (Quintilian VI, 3, 1-2) [How difficult

48.

an early modern counterpart of Google [as the author of this article was fortu-

this is (namely to make the judge laugh) even the two greatest orators, the prince of Greek, and the prince of Latin oratory, will teach us]. “Novem vero lyricorum longe Pindarus princeps spiritus magnificentia, sententiis, figures, beatissima rerum verborumque copia et velut quodam eloquentiae flumine” (Quintilian X, 1,61).

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referred to as “princeps” were various kinds of writers, namely two orators and a poet, i.e. cultural heroes whose achievements would have been more similar to Alciato’s than those of the patres et principes mentioned earlier on. More significantly still, Quintilian describes the poet in question, Pindar, as if he, too, had been an orator, thus paving the way for further such descriptions of poets as orators: Pindar is being praised for his sententiae, his figurae, his “rerum verborum copia,” his eloquentiae flumen, all of them key items discussed by Classical rhetoric. Whatever, therefore, the extent of Balbinus own familiarity with the antecedents of “pater et princeps” may have been, when he referred to Alciato as “emblematum pater et princeps” he de facto made use of an epithet with a long history that had first been applied by Horace to Octavianus, and that had subsequently been used for some of the greatest of the great in the fields of philosophy and religion, poetry and rhetoric. He made use of an epithet, that is to say, which, de facto indicated Alciato’s membership in a class, namely that of the patres et principes of old. Early modern readers of Balbinus’s Verisimilia with the appropriate cultural baggage—and the beneficiaries of the Ratio Studiorum would in the course of time certainly have all acquired a good deal of that baggage—would have recognized at least part of this august lineage of Alciato’s honorific epithet, and they would thus have been able to properly place Alciato. The common denominator of all of these antecedents of “pater et princeps” is clearly not just the suggestion that the various patres et principes had been the first ones in time to do something, ie. the first ones in a purely chronological sense, but that each of them had laid the foundation for something that would prove very significant later on, that each of them had indeed been a “founding father.” With the idea, however, that, as one of those illustrious patres et principes, Andrea Alciato was thought to have been a “founding father” or a “founder, we are only seemingly back to Albrecht Schéne’s suggestion discussed earlier on that he was the “Begründer” of the emblem genre. For the very fact of being called a “pater et princeps; and thus being placed in line with a number of earlier patres et principes now turns out to involve a range of theoretical implications that are fundamentally different from the ones called up by being referred to as a “Begriinder” in the modern every-day sense of that expression. Calling him “emblematum pater et princeps” does indeed amount to ascribing the property of being the father and the prince of the emblems to Alciato. But now the question will have to be what exactly those theoretical implications were, which

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that expression possessed in the seventeenth century, i.e. how the property of being the “emblematum pater et princeps” named by a phrase with a truly illustrious lineage, and now applied to Alciato for the purpose of being able to say something about the beginnings of a literary genre, was understood around the middle of the seventeenth century. In order to be able to answer that question we need to take a closer look at several contextual aspects of the first, and, until 1964, apparently the only occurrence of “emblematum pater et princeps” namely its occurrence in Bohuslaus Balbinus’s Verisimilia of 1666.

ulla res sub sole still needs to be joined by its causa formalis, its causa finalis and its causa efficiens, the latter in the shape of the emblem’s author, in order for the emblem to come into existence.*® The emblem can take the res for its materia from nature, history, even from myth, fable and invention without losing the power to make its point.$! The impresa, by contrast, requires a much stricter selection of res if it is to achieve its persuasive goal. Here certain types of res that are admissible in the emblem, are explicitly ruled out: Furthermore (and it is necessary to keep that in mind) what is be-

3. Bohuslaus Balbinuss Rhetorical Approach to the Symbolum and the

ing posited in the figura [i.e., what is being depicted] must always be, or at least most of the time, a matter of fact [debet contingere] (this is a difference with the emblem), for which reason fables, al-

Emblem

Chapter VII (Caput VII) of Balbinuss Verisimilia consists of two paragraphs, each devoted to one of the two genres mentioned in the title of the chapter: “De emblemate et symbolis” (2006, 438-55). That those two genres are dealt with in the same chapter reflects the by then generally accepted view that they were two closely related species of the same genus, and that they differed from each other due to a single differentia specifica. Balbinus does not offer a detailed account of the shared genus; he does not even mention its name. He only identifies in rhetorical terms the essential property of that shared genus as “acumen styli” [stylistic pointedness], a generic

property to be found, he suggests, in the epigram, the emblem [emblema],

the impresa [symbolum] and the maxim [elogium].” The differentia specifica that distinguishes the emblem from the symbolum he identifies by means of what amounts to a mix of ontological and rhetorical terms. As far as the

emblem is concerned, there is, Balbinus, suggests, “nulla res .… sub sole quae

materiam emblemati dare non potest” [there is nothing under the sun that could not provide the materia of an emblem] (2006,442). It is important to note that the term “materia” as used by Balbinus and by his contemporaries refers to the causa materialis of the emblem, rather than to its ‘subject mat-

ter’ in the modern sense in which the latter term refers to what the emblem is ‘about. The causa materialis of the emblem genre thus supplied by an 49.

With the identification of acumen styli as the shared property of the genus to which the emblem is assumed to belong Balbinius agrees with other seventeenth- century Jesuit writers on poetics like Jacobus Pontanus [Spanmiiller] SJ.,

both of whom list brevitas, suavitas and argutia as the defining properties of that shared genus. For a brief discussion of this type of classification see Scholz 1992, 113-37, esp. 132-33.

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legorical narratives, histories and coincidental events must be ex-

cluded, since they prove nothing [quia non probant].”

With the symbolum, Balbinus thus suggests, the power to convince [vis

suadendi] can be derived from much fewer kinds of res than with the

emblem. Here, i.e. with the symbolum, persuasio will result ‘always or most of the time from fact’ [“semper aut plerumque debet contingere”], which, since they prove nothing [“quia non probant”], rules out fables, apologias, histories, and chance events. With the emblem, by contrast, as he had said earlier on, anything goes: “nulla res . . . sub sole quae materiam emblemati dare non potest.” For Balbinus the difference between the impresa and the emblem is thus a difference in the ability to achieve persuasio due to a difference in the truth-value of statements about the res chosen to serve as materia. With that position on the divergent kinds of res suitable for the materia of either genre, Balbinus, 50.

For a more detailed discussion of the four causae of the emblem see Scholz 2002a, 43-62.

51.

It is important to note that “materiam dare emblemati” here refers to providing an individual emblem with its specific subject matter in the sense of what that emblem is about. “Materia emblematis, which we will encounter later, by contrast, refers to the materia in the sense of one of the four Aristotelian causae of the emblem genre. “Deinde (idque necessario notandum est) quod in figura ponitur, semper aut

52.

plerumque debet contingere (qua ratione ab emblemate differt), unde excluduntur fabulae, apologi, historiae et quidquid casu et forte evenit, quia non probant” (Balbinus 2006, 450).

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it will be recognized, departs from the majority opinion according to which imprese offer truths that are applicable to their bearer only, while emblems offer general truths, i.e. truths that apply to all.* Balbinus’s attempts at defining the emblem and the impresa [symbolum] display the same rhetoricizing tendency as his identification of their differentia specifica. The emblem, he formulates, apparently trying to straighten out a less clearly rhetorical definition suggested by fellow Jesuit Silvester Petrasancta:™* “est enunciatio seu sententia pictura expressa, translata ad mores et hominum

vitam” [(the emblem) is a declaration/proposition or a maxim expressed by means of a picture, and transferred/applied to the customs/practices and to the life of man] (2006, 438). The impresa is defined similarly: The symbol (which others call insigne, and the Italians impressa) is a comparison/analogy contracted with a lemma to form a protasis, which possesses persuasive power. Or alternatively: a heroic symbol is a combination of figura and lemma through which its author explains his intention with respect to pursuing a laudable or fleeing a reprehensible issue.

Note that with both genres the verbal components are given greater weight than the pictorial ones, so much so that one would not go wrong if one were to speak of a systematic priority of the verbally over the pictorially realized parts of the genres discussed as species of the unnamed genre characterized by acumen styli in Balbinus’ rhetorically oriented poetics. The reason for this preference for word over image undoubtedly has to do with the then generally held belief that an image needed to be accompanied by words if it was to acquire a specific and unambiguous meaning. 53.

54.

Bernhard F. Scholz

A third manifestation—surely the clearest one—of the markedly rhetorical drift of Balbinus’s analyses of the emblem and the impresa can be seen in his decision to formulate his generalizations about both genres in terms of “regulae,’ “praecepta,” or “leges” of the art of producing specimens of both genres, rather than, as most of the early followers and interpreters of Paolo Giovio's Dialogo dell’Imprese Militari e Amorose (Rome 1555) had done, in terms of the causae that were responsible for the coming into being of those genres. It is undoubtedly the most telling manifestation of that drift since it brings Balbinus’s analyses terminologically in line with the master texts of Classical affective rhetoric, Cicero’s De oratore and Quintilian’s Institutionis oratoriae libri xii, where the generic features of an oratio were, likewise, formulated in terms of the praecepta that the future orator was to be taught and to master.” It also takes those analyses out of the purview of dialectics where the early writers on the poetics of the emblem and the impresa had located their analyses when they attempted to find suitable theoretical equivalents for Giovio’s figurative references to the “soul” and the “body” of the impresa.* In the case of the emblem Balbinus significantly chooses a mix of first- and second-person perspective, thereby expressly approaching the emblem under the aspect of making an artifact, and addressing his formulation of those praecepta at a reader who, he assumes, wishes to produce 57.

Needless to say that if assessed in terms of early modern definition theory the differentia specifica suggested by Balbinus for the emblem and the impresa is a rather problematic one since it consists in a difference in disposition rather than in property between the two genres.

thetoric (De oratore, I, 23). Quintilian insists that in the making of an orator “the rules and skills are not worth anything unless aided by nature” [“nihil praecepta atque artes valere nisi adiuvante natura”) (Quintilian, Institutionis oratoriae, 1, Proemium 26); he uses expressions like “praeceptum dare orationi” (I 6,44) [to offer a rule for the speech], “regula sermonis” (1 6,44), “loquendi regula” (17,1),

poem containing a weighty maxim] (2006, 438). “Symbolum (quod alij insigne, Itali impressa vocant) similitudo est cum lemmate ad protasin contracta, vim habens svadendi. Vel aliter: symbolum heroilaudabilis aggrediendae aut rei illaudabilis fugiendae” (2006, 448).

56.

On this necessary relation of word and image see Scholz 2002b, 108-28.

[“cupidus adulescens”] could wrongly be of the opinion that there was no meth-

praecepta,’ the rules taught by the teachers of rhetoric (De oratore, I, 15), and of the catalogue of rules [“doctrina praeceptorum”] taught by the schoolmen of

“Est igitur emblema apud Petrasanctum ingeniosum symbolum constans ex pictura et brevi carmine ac sententiam aliquam graviorem complectens” {With Petra-

cum est figura et lemma, quibus author explicat suum propositum alicujus rei

Thus Cicero speaks of the early days of oratory when an ambitious young man

od [“via exercitationis”] nor any rules [“praecepta artis” to be followed. (Cicero, De oratore, I, 14), of those who believe that the practical experience in the law courts was even more important for the future orator than the “magistrorum

sancta an emblem is a witty/ingenious symbol consisting of an image and a brief

55.

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58.

“praecepta communia” [generally accepted rules] (II 5,15), and, like Cicero before him, he disagrees with those who believe that eloquence could do without rules [“qui nihil egere eius modi praeceptis eloquentiam putent”] (II 11,1). See below, Sect. IV.1. For a detailed discussion of the decisive role of Giovio’s five conditioni of a perfect impresa as point of departure of early modern poetics of the device and the emblem see Scholz 2007, 67-101.

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Bernhard F. Scholz

emblems of his own, and who will therefore be less be interested in what the emblem genre is ‘in itself in its essence—the line of questioning that used to

I. A heroic symbolum does not only consist [literally: is not made up of] of a lemma, for a pictura is necessary that expresses a similarity.

First: a comparison or similarity is necessarily required in an emblem. ... Therefore, if I want to make an emblem ... I must invent. Second: there is no difficulty in inventing an emblem if you pay close attention to Pliny and the others who wrote about the nature of things. ... Third: after you have extracted a similarity from nature or from history (for you must above all take care of the similarity which you are going to express through the picture) think about a emma or inscription . . .°

II. And it does not consist [is not made up of] just of any pictura or figura, since each depicted res can mean many different things, as, e.g. a depicted sun. Only something certain and determined added to the emma will make for meaning.

go after causae—as in how to go about making them:”

The praecepta for making symbola—Balbinus now speaks of “leges symbolorum’—which he formulates in the following paragraph, are not explicitly addressed to a ‘you’ as were those for making emblems. But they, too, formulate

a rhetorical ars poetica of the symbolum in the literal sense of an art specifying the rules for making symbola, which is offered to the aspiring practitioner of that ars—i.e. one who will carry out the “conficere” of the symbolum—as an exhaustive listing of the features he must attempt to realize in a text that is to qualify as a symbolum (2006, 450-4): 59.

Balbinuss approach would have been in keeping with the practice of making emblems that was established during the seventeenth century at Jesuit schools and seminaries in accordance with the stipulations of the Ratio Studiorum. That

the practical rather than abstractly theoretical drift of the Verisimilia was recognized and appreciated by Balbinus’s contemporaries is suggested by the follow-

ing passage from Christian Weise’s prefatory letter to Balbinus in his edition of the Verisimilia, which was published in Leipzig in 1687: “You have written the Verisimilia humaniorum disciplinarum, and in this work, in which you excel with your good judgment, you have dealt with your topic not theoretically, as many others tend to do, but practically, something that can be said of only very

few.” [“Scripsisti VERISIMILIA HUMANIORUM

DISCIPLINARUM; ac

in eo conamine, quo polleres iudicio, non theoreticè, quod multorum est, sed practicé, quod pertinet ad pauciores, demonstrasti”] (Richter 302, 304). For an authoritative discussion of the practice of emblem making at Jesuit colleges see Porteman 1996; see also Loach.

60.

ΠῚ. The syymbolum must possess the power to convince and to please; that means, it is not sufficient if it only expresses the author’s mind, but an argument based on a similitude must be included in it.

Of the characteristic features of Balbinus’s account of the emblem and the symbolum that justify calling that account “rhetorical”—the identification of the shared generic property as that of acumen styli, the identification of persuasio as the defining functional characteristic of both genres but realized differently in each case due to the different truth-values of statements about the kinds of res providing the materia, and, last but not least, the formulation of the generalizations about both genres in terms of praecepta and /eges for the aspiring practitioner of the art of making emblems and symbola—it is the last one mentioned that will turn out to be the most important one for our discussion of the theoretical implications of the phrase “emblematum pater et princeps”® For it will turn out that for Balbinus it was Andrea Alciato as the concrete author of the Emblemata of 1531 and of 1534 who was to be credited with having been first in offering the possibility of inductively formulating those praecepta and leges, and who for that reason deserved the honorific title of “emblematum pater et princeps.” Paolo Giovio, by contrast, had been understood to have opened up the possibility of an analysis of the izepresa—and, in its wake, the emblem—in 61.

“Primo: In omni emblemate est comparatio vel similitudo et necessario requiritur. ... Itaque si emblema facere volo... invenire debeo. ... Secundo: Nulla est difficultas emblematis invendi, si accurate Plinium eosque, qui tura scripserunt, volutaris. ... Tertio: Postquam similitudinem ex aut ex historia inveneris (nam de similitudine ante omnia solicitus quam pictura exprimes), tum de lemmate seu inscriptione cogita”

43).

de rerum narerum natura esse debebis, (2006, 442-

241

“I. Solo lemmate symbolum heroicum non conficitur, picture enim necessaria

est, quae similitudinem exprimat. II. Neque sola pictura seu figura confici potest, cum eadem res depicta, multa et diversa significare possit, ut, verbi gratia, pictus

sol. At lemmate addito jam aliquid certi et determinati significabit. III. Debet symbolum habere vim svadendi et delectandi, id est: non sufficit, quod authoris

mentem exprimat, sed inclusum in eo esse debet argumentum a similitudine . . ἢ

(2006, 450). 62.

For a general account of Balbinus as a representative of seventeenth-century rhetoric see Svatoë.

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terms of the four Aristotelian causae with his identification of the soul and the body of an impresa in the context of his formulation of the five conditioni of the perfect impresa. For that reason, we shall see, he was deemed to deserve an honorific title of his own. The titles commonly given to Giovio, we shall see in section III.5, were not the kind of titles that were of interest to Balbinus since they were tied up with Aristotelian causes rather than with rhetorical precepts and rules.

4. A Stylistic Peculiarity of Balbinuss Assertion that “Emblematum Pater et Princeps est Alciatus and a Possible Reason for It An early modern reader with the usual training in Latin and in Classical rhetoric would very likely have noted that in formulating his claim about Alciato’s role for the emblem Balbinus opted for a word order that involved the words “Emblematum” and “Alciatus” in the two emphatic positions of a Latin sentence, the one at the beginning, and the other at the end, rather

than for the unemphatic order that would have involved placing the subject “Alciatus” at the beginning, and the predicate “est” at the end: “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus” rather than *“Alciatus emblematum pater et princeps est.” Keeping in mind Balbinuss intimate familiarity with Classical rhetoric—the Verisimilia actually contains a long section on rhetoric, and it uses rhetorical concepts and terminology throughout—Balbinus’s choice of word order can hardly have been accidental. Very likely his

readers were meant to notice that emphatic word order, and, therefore, to

read the claim about Alciato along the lines of: there are fathers and princes of many things; here we are concerned with the father and prince of the emblems, and that father and prince of the emblems is Alciatus—and none other. The first stress, the one on “emblematum? may in fact have suggested

itself to Balbinus because of his wish to make use of the quasi-formulaic character of the time-honored phrase “pater et princeps.”® It would have allowed him to put that formula expressly to use in connection with a discussion of the origins of the emblem, which could thereby expressly be as63.

Ας discussed below in sect. IIL.5.

64.

Sec Balbinus 2006, Caput x-xii. Eleven years after Verisimilia Balbinus published a textbook in dialogue form exclusively devoted to rhetoric, see Balbinus

65.

As discussed below in sect. III. 2.

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signed a father and prince of its own. The second stress brought about by inversion, the stress on “Alciatus, is more difficult to place. Was it indeed meant to be read as implying that Alciato, and no one else was the “pater et princeps” of the emblem, perhaps in an attempt to ward off a competing paternity claim? But if Balbinus did indeed mean to ward off a competing claim to the title of “emblematum pater et princeps” and if he therefore wished to make his point as a matter of fact about Alciato, but also rhetorically by choosing an emphatic word order for his claim, who might that competitor have been around 1666 who needed warding off?

5. Competing or Complementary “Paternity Claims”: Paolo Giovio or Andrea Alciato? Together with the names of his fellow Jesuits Silvester Petrasancta (1590-

1647) and Jacobus Masen (1606-1681) whose work he discusses, albeit briefly, the sixteenth and seventeenth century authors Balbinus only mentions by name without comment in his chapter on the emblem and the symbolum form a veritable who's who of recent Italian, French, German and Dutch writing on those two genres: Paolo Aresi (1574-1644), Scipione Bargagli (1540-1612), Anselmus Boétius [de Boodt] (1556-1632),

Joachim Camerarius (1534-1598), Nicolas Caussin (1583-1651), Luca

Contile (1506-1574), Alexander Donatus [Alessandro Donati] (15841640), Jan Jessenius (1566-1621), Claude Paradin (after 1510-1573), Philippus Pincinelli (1604-ca. 1670), Nicolaus Reusner (1545-1602), Aegidius Sadeler (1570-1629), Hercules Tassus [Ercole Tasso] (1556-1613), Emanuele Tesauro (1591-1675), and Jacobus Typotius (1540-ca.1601) (2006, 444-46). All of them are mentioned as writers who, in one way or another, had contributed to the knowledge about the emblem and/or the symbolum as it was available by the time Balbinus wrote. The one name signally absent from this list is that of Paolo Giovio (14831552), who, we need to recall, had formulated in his Dialogo dell’Imprese

Militari et Amorose (Rome 1555) the five conditioni to be met by a perfect impresa, which, either directly or indirectly, were to serve as the point of departure for virtually all of the discussions of the device and/or the emblem

2006, 1677.

66.

As discussed below in sect. IV.1.

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by the authors explicitly mentioned by Balbinus.‘ The absence of Paolo Govios name is all the more surprising since not only had his five conditioni provided all of the writers mentioned by Balbinus with that crucial point of departure for their theorizing; many of those authors had also explicitly praised Giovio for having done so. That praise had usually taken the form— hardly surprising in the context of early modern culture—of showering Giovio with honorific epithets not unlike those granted to Andrea Alciato. In fact, many more of the honorific epithets to be found in the treatises on the device and/or the emblem published before and after Balbinus’s Verisimilia (1666) highlight Paolo Giovio’s role in the development of an ars poetica of the symbolum and the emblem, rather than Andrea Alciato’s role as author of the first book of emblems and originator of the emblem genre. Among the illustrious titles and descriptions given to Paolo Giovio was that of the first author “qui praecepta tradidit, constituitque novam quondam symbolorum quasi disciplinam” [who gave the rules, and established a new discipline of these symbols] given to him by Abraham Fraunce (ca.1558 to 1560-1592 or 1593) in 1588 (M2 v.); that of the “arcimaestro” [archmaster] of the impresa by Stefano Guazzo (1530-1593) in 1590 (183); of the author who “mostré la strada, per questo solamente designis-

simo di lode” [who showed (us) the way, for which he alone deserves being praised], by Giulio Caesare Capaccio (1550-1634) in 1592 (2); of “le patron quia plus de frequentation que nous dans le vaste Ocean” of the device [the ship’s captain who has sailed the vast Ocean of the device more often than we have] by Henri Estienne, Sieur des Fosses (15[??]—16[2?]) in 1645 (29); of “la seconda Gloria di Como, dotato di perspicace & erudito intel-

letto, fù il primo Padre di quest’Arte, ad emulatione di Andrea Alciati nobile Milanese, Padre delle Argutie Morali, chiamate ‘Emblemi” [the second

glory of Como (i.e. Giovio'’s place of birth), gifted with a sharp and learned intellect; he was the first Father of this Art; in emulation of Andrea Al-

ciato, the noble Milanese, the Father of the moral argutiae called Emblems] by Emanuele Tesauro 1591-1675) in 1654 (626); of, simply, “’Autheur de l'Art des Devises” [the ‘Author’—in the sense of ‘auctor; ‘originator —of

the Art of the Device] by Pierre LeMoyne (1602-1671) in 1666 (32); of

“un des plus grands genies de son temps, & qui a esté le premier maistre 67.

‘That Balbinus was familiar with at least some of the writings of Paolo Giovio is suggested by a number of references in Verisimilia: Balbinus 2006, 118, 464, 492, 500. None of them are, however, to Giovio’s Dialogo.

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de la Devise .. . qui en a donné les premieres regles” [one of the greatest geniuses of his time, and . .. the first/foremost master of the Device - . . who has provided the first rules about it] by Dominique Bouhours (1628-1705) in 1671 (334, 379); of “le Père des Devises, ... le premier de tous les Autheurs qui ont écrit de la nature des Devises et qui en

ont donné les règles” [the Father of the Device, . .. the first of the Au-

thors who have written about the nature of the Device, and who have

given it its rules], and of “symbolorum pater” [father of the symbola]

by Claude-François Menestrier (1631-1705) in 1682 and in 1695 respectively (1682, 1,3; 1695, 2). Perhaps the most extravagant praise for Paolo Giovio came from the pen of the Jesuit Jacobus Boschius (16521704) as late as 1701, who wrote a metric sermon entitled “Leges Jovianae generales” [general Giovian laws] in which he praises Giovio as the

“Pater Artis” who “unius in Laevae digitos praecepta redegit omnia,” and “qui forsan omnium primus de hac Arte Commentarium edidit” [the father of the art, who singlehandedly made all the precepts, and who was, peradventure, the first to write a commentary [i.e. a poetics] of that art]. In the eyes of Jacobus Boschius Paolo Giovio was not only the pater artis; even the ‘laws’ he had formulated, i.e. the five conditioni of the perfect impresa, came to bear his name (17 and note c). It is important to note that a good deal of the assigning of honorific epithets to Giovio and to Alciato took place simultaneously, and that these epithets continued to be given to Giovio right into the early eighteenth century, just as did epithets for Alciato. But one rarely comes across a writer on the poetics of the device and the emblem who, like Emanuele Tesauro, mentions both Giovio and Alciato, or who gives an honorific epithet to both. An exhaustive search would undoubtedly yield several more honorific epithets for Giovio, just as it would very likely yield several more also for Alciato. In the face of two such similar sets of epithets given to two authors for having ‘fathered’ the twin genres of the impresa and the emblem the question can hardly be avoided whether there was a complete disjunction between the two sets, ie. whether the one set was only used for Giovio and his role for the impresa or device, and the other only for Alciato and his role for the emblem. Or was there perhaps some overlap, with Giovio’s set of epithets set also referring to him in relation to the emblem, and Alciato’s also the impresa?

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To find answers to these questions we will need to take a closer look not only at the structure of early modern discourse of the emblem and the device but also at how that discourse abandoned one conceptual framework for another during the years between the second half of the sixteenth and che first half of the seventeenth centuries, no longer basing itself primarily on the framework of Dialectics, and switching to that of Rhetoric instead. The paternity issue just mentioned, we will see, dissolves once it is understood that Paolo Giovio's honorific epithets were granted to him when his five conditioni were explicated in relation to Dialectics, while those given to Andrea Alciato were meant to reward him for his role for a rhetorical understanding of the emblem. 6. The “Level”-Difference between Paolo Giovios and Andrea Alciato’s

Honorific Epithets

Even incomplete listings of honorific epithets for Giovio and for Alciato like the ones presented above suggest that while Alciato’s epithets tend to occur only in discussions of the emblem, the ones given to Giovio are to be found both in discussions of the impresa and of the emblem. At the surface this difference in scope may seem due to an ambiguity in the use of two key terms of those treatises on the emblem and the impresa, namely of the terms “symbolum” and “ars.” But underneath that surface there hides a problem rarely recognized by present-day students of early modern poetics. It involves the differences in structure and function of the conceptual frameworks of the ars dialectica and the ars rhetorica. The Latin term “symbolum” could serve in early modern poetics as the term for a genus under which a number of rather diverse species could be subsumed, among them the impresa, the emblem, the aenigma, the reverse

of the medal, and the hieroglyph. Each of these species of the genus of the symbolum, it was understood, exhibited a different combination of word and image. That in fact was what permitted treating all of these diverse word-image genres as species of the genus of the symbolum. But “symbolum” could also be used as the Latin term for one of the several species subsumed under the genus of symbolum, namely as the Latin equivalent for Italian “impresa, and it could be used, thirdly, as a term for an individual specimen of the species known as symbolum. The term symbolum thus could be used on all three levels of the accepted scheme of classification, which, it

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will be remembered, involved ordering a set of similar individuals (in this

case: symbola) by subsuming them, qua individuals, under a species (in this case: symbolum), by then subsuming a number of similar species, among

them symbolum under a shared genus proximum (in this case: symbolum),

and finally by distinguishing those species from each other by means of differentiae specificae that would allow identifying them as sharing the same genus of symbolum while differing from each other in terms of a differentia specifica for each species. Significantly, when “symbolum” served as a term for a genus under which the several word-image species (impresa, emblem, aenigma, reverse of the medal, hieroglyph etc.) could be subsumed it was usually rendered in the vernaculars as symbole, symbol, Symbol. But used as the term for one of those species or for an individual specimen it was rendered in the vernaculars as “émpresa “devise? “device; “Sinnepop, “Sinnenbild” Thus, only treatises in Latin would fully exhibit the terminological ambiguity under consideration. The manner in which Bohuslaus Balbinus employs symbo/um in the title of his chapter on the emblem and the device nicely illustrates its use as a term for just one of the species of the genus the term for which he, significantly, does not feel the need to mention since he is not primarily interested in classification. “Symbolum” here stands next to the term for a different species of that unnamed genus: “De Emblemate et Symbolis.’* By contrast, the title of Claude Mignault’s introductory treatise to his edition of Alciato's Emblemata illustrates the use of “symbolum” as a term for a genus: “Syntagma de symbolis: stemmatum et schematum ratione, quae insignia seu arma gentilitia vulgo nominantur: deque emblematis.” [A treatise on Symbols; on the Theory of Coats of Arms and Figures, which are 68.

In the body of this chapter Balbinus offers the following twofold definition of the term ‘symbolum, clearly understood by him as a term for a species rather than

a genus: “Symbolum (quod alij insigne, Itali impressa vocant) similitudo est cum

lemmate ad protasin contracta, vim habens svadendi. Vel aliter: symbolum heroicum est figura et lemma, quibus author explicat suum propositum alicujus

rei laudabilis aggrediendae aut rei illaudabilis fugiendae ... .” [(Something is called) a symbolum (what others call Jnsigne, and the Italians Impressa) when a likeness, a resemblance and a Jemma together bring about a protasis (i.e. when a pictorial metaphor is combined with a lemma so as to result in a protasis)

that has the power to please; or, alternatively: a Heroic Symbol is a figure plus a lemma made public, through which its author unfolds his plan to undertake a praiseworthy matter or to avoid a non-praiseworthy one . . .]. (Balbinus 2006,

448).

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Commonly Called Insignia or Family Badges; and on Emblems]. ‘Symbolum’ here serves as a term for the genus under which Mignault wishes to subsume such species as coats of arms, imprese and emblems.” In his case the use of the term “symbolum” as a term for a genus could therefore be expected to foreground the shared generic features of coats of arms, imprese and of emblems; what establishes these as species in their own right, and what distinguishes them from each other, would have to be identified as their respective differentiae specificae. With the ambiguity of Latin “symbolum” permitting its use both as a term for a genus and for a species subsumed under that genus, Paolo Giovio in his role of “symbolorum pater” could therefore score on two different levels of the relevant scheme of classification. Translated into Latin, what he had been saying about the corpo and the anima of the impresa could thus be read ambiguously—and was indeed read ambiguously—as applying both to the genus and to the species referred to as “symbolum,” and, since the emblem was generally considered as yet another species of the genus symbolum, what Giovio had been saying— better perhaps: what he was assumed to have said—about that genus qua genus could also be understood to apply to the emblem qua species. Andrea Alciato’s claim to fame, by contrast, expressed by “emblematum pater et princeps” and by the other honorific epithets given to him during the sixteenth and the seventeenth century, extended to just one of the items on the species-level that were subsumed under the genus of the symbolum, 69.

As Denis Drysdall has pointed out in his invaluable translation plus commentary of Mignaults Syntagma, a modern translator trying “to be consistent in the use of English terms for each of Mignault’s Latin ones (symbolum/symbol, stemma/coat of arms, schema/figure, insignia/insignia, arma gentilia / family badges)” has to face the fact that Mignault’s terminology appears to be inconsistent in that he “uses symbolum in contexts where imprese would clearly be appropriate. When he differentiates between figurae, schemata, insignia, and symbola

and when he quotes Giovio’s rules, it is clearly to the picture that he applies the

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namely that of the emblem, but never also to the impresa as a species, and certainly not to the symbolum understood as the genus of those two species. And since, in the context of the scheme of classification in question, it was the term for the species that was to be defined by joining the term for the appropriate genus with the term for the appropriate differentia specifica, Giovios presumed observations on the genus of the symbolum were bound to carry greater weight than Alciato’s sparse remarks on the emblem.” Needless to add, the ambiguity of the term “symbolum” was bound to disappear with the shift to writing the poetics of the impresa and the emblem in the vernaculars in the course of the seventeenth century. But as long as Latin remained the language of choice for writing treatises on poetics, the scheme of classification in force required that a common Latin term should be used for the shared genus of the two species of the emblem and the impresa, and as long as Giovio was assumed to have said something relevant about that genus, no matter what term was chosen for it, the scope of his statements would thus have automatically included both species. In the case of the ambiguous use of the term “ars; matters are considerably more complicated. Here, too, a single term served early modern writers on poetics to name two categorically different concepts. But now it was not a matter

two concepts operating on two different levels of one and the same scheme of classification. Rather, the two concepts named by the same term “45” are now located on two different levels of description, namely, using modern terminology, description on the object-level and description on the meta-level. For the term “ars,’ as used in early modern treatises on poetics, could refer both to the different skills needed for producing the texts of various literary genres, ie. for producing specimens of a particular species, i.e. devices, emblems, aenigmata etc. But it could also refer to the conceptual accounts of those skills, ie. to the poetological accounts formulated in the context of one or the other of the available elaborated conceptual frameworks for doing poetics. Of the author of emblems or devices it could thus be said that he had mastered—and was therefore in possession of the ars—in the sense of the skill—of making emblems or devices. That indeed is the situation that applied to Andrea Alciato as the author of the Emblemata when he was called “huius artis princeps laudatissimus Alciatus” by

last term, as it is also clear that for him the emblem is properly the picture” (See Mignault, Notes [English 1]). Perhaps, rather than speaking in this context of an inconsistency in the use of ‘symbolum’ on the part of Mignault Mignault was simply too accomplished a theorist for that—one might think of a systematic terminological ambiguity, which can easily be resolved—and probably was re-

Jacob Masen.”' But being thought of as being in possession of an ars in this sense 70.

For a discussion of Alciato’s references to his Emblemata see Miedema. For a critical assessment of Miedema’ article see Scholz 1986.

of the early modern scheme of classification on which the term was being used in

71.

As discussed in above in section 1. But note that in the examples of praise for Alciato given there the use of the term “ars” is very rare, perhaps due to the fact

solved in this manner by early modern readers—by referring to one of the levels the passages under consideration.

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of a skill did not imply that one was also expected to be capable of producing a conceptual account—an ars in the meta-level sense of the term—of the ars one had mastered and was practicing. That, indeed, was the achievement attributed to Paolo Giovio rather than to Alciato, to whom Emanuele Tesauro therefore rightly referred to as “il primo Padre di quest’Arte” who developed his ars, as he puts it “ad emulatione di Andrea Alciati nobile Milanese, Padre delle Argutie Morali, chiamate “Emblemi” thus ascribing to Alciato the skill of having produced the moral argutiae known as the Emblemata, without, however, granting to Alciato the possession of an ars in the sense of a systematic body of concepts. It is Giovio in possession of an ars in that sense whom Abraham Fraunce called the author “qui praecepta tradidit, constituitque novam quondam symbolorum quasi disciplinam,’ without it being implied that Giovio himself had produced, or could produce the kind of texts described by the ars he was reflecting on. In Giovios case, being called “symbolorum pater” was therefore not necessarily meant to imply that he had himself produced exemplary texts of the species of symbolum, or exemplary texts of any other species that could be resumed under the genus of symbolum, which could be imitated and emulated in the way Alciato’ texts could and, indeed, were imitated and emulated, only that he had produced texts on one or the other of those species. Claude Mignault—perhaps thinking of an illustrated edition of the Dialogo—does indeed credit Giovio with having done both, making the creation of symbola teachable and learnable through producing examples, and through producing the outlines of an a7s. But he clearly wishes to put greater weight on the fact that Giovio was the author of a most significant text on that genus, and on that species: Ishall add, in order to offer (mainly for the pleasure of those who cultivate this liberal and ingenious form of knowledge) a sort of formula for creating symbols, that very handy and easy teaching to be found in Giovio, who not only created heroic imprese for many princes, but sketched out, rather than elaborated completely, a sort of straight-forward and concise manual.”

Bernhard F. Scholz

Giovio, and Giovio alone, was thus thought to have made possible an ars poetica of the symbolum in the sense of a body of conceptually articulated knowledge, and the claim put forward for his paternity was thus, using modern terminology, a meta-level claim also in regard to his initiating role in inserting the impresa and the emblem into a specific form of poetological discourse. In that sense he can be said to have made the development of a poetics of the symbolum and the emblem possible. The task of such a poetics would be to inquire into the ‘nature’ of both literary genres by ascertaining their causes, cognoscere per causas. But Giovio was not usually assumed to have had much part in the invention or the production of the symbolum, understood either as a genus or a species, or the emblem understood as a species. The claim regarding Alciato’s paternity, by contrast, was, again using modern terminology, an object-level claim about the production of the first book of emblems, and thus about the invention of the emblem as a literary genre. But it did not at all concern the invention of a form of theoretical discourse on that genre, or the insertion of the emblem into it.” In principle, the paternity claims put forward for Giovio and Alciato could therefore have been complementary ones, existing side by side, with the latter being given credit for the invention of a single genre, namely the emblem, and the former for the invention—better perhaps: the initiation—of the discourse that could serve to reflect on the ‘nature’ of that genre, and of similar ones, within the framework of the scheme of classification then in force. Therefore, when Bohuslaus Balbinus called Andrea Alciato the “emblematum pater et princeps” when Luca Contile called him “il divino Andrea Alciato, “Pimmortale Alciato” “Punico Alciato” and “il magno Andrea Alciato,’ when Vincenzo Ruscelli spoke of Alciato as “il ingenioso formator demblemi;’ when Silvester Petrasancta referred to him as the “auctor prae-

cipuus” and the “princeps” of the emblem, and when Jacob Masen wrote about him as “huius artis princeps laudatissimus Alciatus,” and as “symbo-

that “ars,” though in principle applicable both to the skill one possesses and the

conceptual account of that skill, was preferably applied to the conceptual account rather than the skill.

72.

“Adiiciam, ut tandem (eorum gratia maxime, qui hanc liberalem et ingeniosam cognitionem colunt) formulam quandam apponam symbolorum conficiendorum, expeditam illam quidem et facilem iuxta lovii doctrinam, qui non modo

notas heroïcas principibus multis excogitavit, sed et artem quandam apertam

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et compendiariam admodum inchoavit potius quam perfecit” (Mignault, 17, trans. Denis Drysdall).

73.

Matters could really not have been otherwise since the only references by Alciato

to his emblems, which were known to students of the emblem during the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries were the brief references contained in the

dedication to Peutinger in the Emblematum liber and the equally brief reference in De Verborum, but not his remarks in his letter to Francesco Calvo.

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Bernhard F. Scholz

lographorum princeps’ the Alciato they were thinking of was the author who had produced the first book of emblems, who was therefore first author in possession of the ars—in the sense of ‘skill —of making emblems, and who therefore deserved to be credited with having initiated the emblem genre. That view of Alciato even applies to Masen’s calling him “artis princeps laudatissimus,’ and to Petrasancta appealing to “Alciati auctoritas.” For in this case, too, the avs mentioned by Masen refers to Alciato’s presumed

mastery of the ars of producing emblems, just as the auctoritas attributed to Alciato by Petrasancta refers to the fact that the Emblemata produced by the auctor Alciato offered the opportunity for other writers to also produce emblems, by imitating and emulating Alciato’s examples. In none of these cases does the term “ars” refer to an ars poetica or an ars rhetorica in the sense of a body of conceptually articulated knowledge. In some of Giovio’s honorific epithets mentioned above, this distinction between an ars as a skill on the part of an author and an ars as a theoretical account of that skill is expressly made, in others it isn’t. Thus in Abraham Fraunce’s “qui praecepta tradidit, constituitque novam

quondam

symbolorum

quasi

disciplinam,”

[who

gave

the rules

and established a new discipline of these symbols], in Pierre LeMoyne’s “lAutheur de l'Art des Devises in Claude-François Menestrier’s “le Père des Devises, ... le premier de tous les Autheurs qui ont écrit de la nature des Devises et qui en ont donné les règles” in Dominique Bouhours’s “le premier maistre de la Devise ... qui en a donné les premieres regles” or in Jacobus Boschius’ “pater artis . . . qui forsan omnium primus de hac Arte Commentarium edidit” [the father of the art... who was peradventure the first to write a commentary [i.e. a poetics] of that art], Giovio is conceived of as the first author to have offered a conceptual account of an already existing ars, with Henri Estienne’s “le patron qui a plus de frequentation que nous dans le vaste Ocean” to be read as a metaphorical version of the same view. By contrast, in Giulio Caesare

Capaccio’s assessment of Giovio as the author who “mostrà la strada, per questo solamente designissimo di lode” [who showed the way for which he alone deserves being praised], or in Claude-François Menestrier’s “symbolorum pater,’ that distinction is only implied. But we may be quite certain that an educated early modern reader of treatises on poetics, knowing that Giovio had not himself produced imprese, would have read all of the honorific epithets given to Giovio along the same

253

lines as involving the theoretically crucial distinction between an ars in the sense of a skill, and an ars in the sense of a conceptual account of that skill. With “symbolum” used ambiguously in Latin early modern treatises on the impresa and/or emblem as a term for both the genus and the species of the symbolum, and “ars” used ambiguously as a term for both the skill an author had mastered of producing individual works of a particular species, and for the conceptual account of the ensemble of the salient characteristics of a genus and/or a species under which those individual works could be subsumed, it becomes important to apply the ‘right’ sides of the alternatives to Paolo Giovio and to Andrea Alciato. Calling Paolo Giovio the pater artis of the symbola meant that he was credited with having laid the theoretical foundations of an ars—in the sense of a conceptually elaborated poetics— of the genus of the symbolum under which both the impresa and the emblem could be subsumed, and/or of a poetics of the species of the symbolum, i.e. of the impresa, with the emblem, understood as a similar species that was to be distinguished from the impresa by means of a differentia specifica. But calling Giovio the pater artis of the symbola would not also have implied that Giovio had himself produced any specimens of the species impresa, or of a different species of the genus symbolum, i.e., it would not have meant that he possessed the skills that were needed for producing imprese or emblems. Calling Alciato the pater artis of the emblem, by contrast, could only have meant that, possessing those skills, he had made available for imitation and emulation the ars—in the sense of a skill—of making of emblems. But it would not have implied that Alciato had himself contributed conceptually to the ars of the poetics of the emblem in the manner Giovio had done, except by producing specimens that could serve as the point of departure for theoretical reflection. 7. Balbinus’s Polemic Against Silvester Petrasancta and Jacobus Masen Balbinus is on the whole very sparing with his discussion or criticism of alternative views on the impresa and the emblem. His Verisimilia, after all, were meant as an introductory instructional manual of received opinion first and foremost, rather than as a full-fledged treatise offering new in-

sights, discussing the insights of others, or suggesting new departures. So, it is all the more striking that in his chapter on the emblem and the symbolum,

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before presenting his own views, he enters into a brief polemic with two of his Jesuit confratres who also had written on those genres. The polemic is directed at Silvester Petrasancta (a.k.a. Petra Sancta, Pietra Sancta, 1590-

1647), and at Jacobus Masen (1606-1681), the first the author of an influential treatise on the impresa entitled De symbolis heroicis (1632/1634), the second the author of an equally influential treatise on symbols in general, with the title Speculum imaginum veritatis occultae (1650). Balbinus identifies Petrasancta and Masen as representatives of the two opposing sides of an ongoing conflict about the proper referent of the terms “anima” and “corpus” when those terms are being applied to the two medially distinct components of the emblem and the impresa. In Balbinus’s view that conflict is altogether spurious, and his own modest proposal—“Meum non est tantas componere lites, satis erit praecepta quaedam dictasse” [It is not for me to put together great lawsuits; (for me) it will do to have formulated a few precepts] (2006, 442)—is expressly meant to allow him to avoid having to take sides: There is nothing so variegated, nothing more tiring for writers [i.e. writers on poetics], and leading straight to dispute and discord, than imprese and emblems. Pater Petrasancta calls the inscriptio the soul of the emblem, and the figura its body. Pater Masen, however, tacitly denies this, and maintains that the picture is the soul, and the inscriptio the body.”

Balbinus only characterizes the rejected approaches in terms of the respec-

tive uses of the paired concepts of corpus and anima in the analysis of the

emblem and the impresa. Significantly, he mentions the terms “corpus” and “anima,” and the disagreement about their proper use, as if neither needed

any further explanation, and that may indeed have been the case as far as his

intended readers were concerned. Petrasancta’s and Masen’s names, we may

take it, were meant to be understood as those of disagreeing near-contemporary representatives of two diverging traditions of explicating what Paolo Giovio had in mind when he suggested in his Dialogo dell ‘Imprese Militari 74.

“Nihil tam varium est, nihil, quod authores fatigaverit magis, usque ad lites et discordiam, quam symbola et emblemata. Pater Petrasancta animam emblematis

vocat inscriptionem, figuram ipsam corpus. Contra Pater Masenius isthoc tacite

reprehendit, et imaginem animam,

inscriptionem corpus esse affirmat. Meum

non est tantas componere lites, satis erit praecepta quaedam dictasse” (Balbinus 2006, 442).

Bernhard F. Scholz

255

et Amorose (1555) that an impresa, if it was to be perfect, should possess a corpo and an anima. The early Italian theorists of the impresa and the emblem, it will be recalled, had undertaken to develop Giovio’s formulation of those conditioni into a full-fledged poetics of first the impresa, and then the emblem, with the distinction of corpus and anima always at the center of their considerations.” Paolo Giovio himself had apparently seen no problem in deciding which of the two medially distinct parts of the impresa was to be thought of as its body, and which as its soul. According to the fifth of his five conditioni, which an impresa would have to meet if it was to be considered perfect, it was “il motto, che è l’anima del corpo.” And a few lines later, summing up his five conditioni, Giovio points out: che la sopradetta anima et corpo sintende per il motto, ὁ per il soggetto; et si stima che mancando ὁ il soggetto à l’anima, ὁ l’anima al soggetto, l’impresa non riesca perfetta. (Giovio 9) [that by the soul and the body mentioned above are meant its motto and its subject matter [body]; and if it is estimated that either the soul is lacking its body or a body its soul, the impresa is not to be considered perfect. ]

The problem of the proper referents of ‘corpus’ and ‘anima,’ which Balbinus

associates with the names of his (near)-contemporaries Silvester Petrasancta

and Jacobus Masen only arose when Giovio’s followers, among them Scipione Ammirato (1582-1656), Girolamo Bargagli (1537-1586), Scipione Bargagli (1540-1612), Luca Contile (1505-1574), and Girolamo Ruscelli (1500-1586), began to take a closer look at the latter’s formulation of the

five conditioni of a perfect impresa, doubting whether Giovio’s own equating

of body and soul with motto and subject matter was sound, and wondering how those paired metaphors might better be explicated instead. In the end, the expressions “corpo” and “anima” were treated as metaphors that could and should be replaced by their presumed literal equivalents, “materia” and “forma, both of them well-defined terms from the conceptual arsenals of the ars dialectica and the ars topica inherited from the Aristotelian tradition. Read in this manner Giovio’s five conditioni could serve as the ground plan for the poetics of the impresa and the emblem of the next century. 75.

See Scholz 2002a, 43-62.

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That, however, left the questions still unanswered, whether it was the motto as a manifestly verbal text, or not rather its function in the context of the impresa as a whole that was to be thought of as its forma, and whether it was the manifestly visual pictura of the impresa or not rather what that pictura depicted, its res picta, that was to be thought of as its materia.”° According to Petrasancta, who devotes a whole chapter to the issue of “An in Symbolis Heroiis figura sit corpus, Epigraphe verd sit anima,’ it is not the epigraph qua epigraph, i.e the lemma qua lemma of the impresa— i.e. what Balbinus refers to as its “iscriptio” —that is to be thought of as its anima, but the similitudo one becomes aware of once the lemma has been placed next to the pictura. The lemma, Petrasancta suggests with the help of an impressive series of analogies, is only the necessary adiumentum, the necessary means of aid, for bringing to light the similitudo in its role as anima: Just as the words and the voice in man are not man’s spirit and soul, but rather are means with the aid of which the soul expresses its proper disposition, so the Lemma, its means of aid, so to speak, offers up the similarity, which is the true soul of the impresa. Also, it is neither the notation of the chords nor the words added to them that is the soul of music; rather it is harmony. So, too, it is neither the figura nor the inscription which is the soul of the impresa, but rather it is the similarity. ... Thus the soul of the impresa is the similarity or comparison which is brought about by figura and lemma, just as harmony, the soul of music is brought about out of chords and sounds; even imitation, which, similarly, is the soul of drama, is brought by the verses and the dramatis personae. . . . In this way the lemma indicates, rather than constitutes, the soul of the impresa, and out of the many elements of the figura it touches the one out of which emerges the comparison: just as the pointer of the sundial designates one out of several hours out of which comes forth the meaning of the sundial. 77 76.

Bernhard F. Scholz

Petrasancta is clearly at pains trying to secure plausibility for his understanding of the specific way in which a symbolum can be said to possess an anima. What he is trying to pin down with this series of analogies is the psychologically sophisticated idea that a similitudo will present itself to the perceiver spontaneously whenever the two elements of each of the pairs he mentions are placed side by side. He does this by first reminding his readers of examples of this occurrence with which they would have been familiar from everyday experience, and by then suggesting that what is true in the case of these familiar examples is also true of the so far less well understood juxtaposition of Figura and lemma in the symbolum. Significantly, with each of the items that Petrasancta considers as analogous when it comes to possessing an azima— man, music, drama, sundial, impresa—the respective anima must not be thought of as one of its constituent material parts. Rather, in all of these cases the anima of the entity in question manifests itself, as it were, as the result of the contiguity and the interaction of two distinct materially present entities—that of word and voice in the case of man, of chord and word in the case of music, of verse and dramatis persona in the case of drama, of pointer and markings of the hours in the case of the sundial, and—the reason for setting up the whole series of analogies in the first place—of lemma and pictura in the case of the symbolum. Contrary to what Balbinus suggests about Petrasanctas position, the anima of an impresa is thus for the latter neither identical with its lemma nor with its figura. Instead, it manifests itself in the form of a comparison or similarity resulting from their juxtaposition.” With Masen the matter is somewhat more complicated. But he, too, cannot be accused of simply identifying one of the two medially distinct parts of the impresa and the emblem with their soul, the other with their body. In contrast to Petrasancta, Masen does not even use the metaphorical terms “anima” and “corpus” in his analysis. Instead, he uses the terms “for-

Using a modern distinction, one could argue that it was Giovio himself who had inadvertently encouraged the subsequent confusion by appearing to have

anima Symboli Heroici est similitudo seu comparatio; quae conflatur ex figura et lemmate, quemadmodum harmonia, vti est Musices anima, ex numeris ac so-

corpo on the content plane (soggetto) of the impresa.

. .. Sic lemma indicat potitis, quam contituit animam Symboli Heroici, et ex plurimis dotibus figurae vnam tangit, ex qua oritur comparatio: quemadmodum Indiculus ex pluribus horis vnam designat, ex qua fit Horologij significatio” (Pe-

nis; imitatio vero, pariter Dramatis anima, ex versibus ac personis; conflari solet.

located the anima of the impresa on the expression plane (motto), and the its

77.

257

“Nimirum verba et voces in homine, non sunt eiusdem hominis mens et anima; sed sunt adiumenta, quibus affectus proprios anima exprimit. Sic lemma, quasi adiumentum sui, adhibet similitudo, quae potius est anima Symboli Heroici. Praeterea neque notae nummerorum, neque adscripta iis verba sunt ipsius Musices anima; sed potiùs harmonia est anima eius. Sic etiam nec figura, nec epig-

raphe sunt anima Symboli Heroici, sed similitudo est potitis anima illius. ... Sic

trasancta, lib. vi, cap. vii, 194-95).

78.

One wonders whether Max Black, when he put forward his now much admired

‘interactional’ view of metaphor, was familiar with his seventeenth-century Je-

suit predecessor. See Black, 273-94.

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ma” and “materia,” which had been considered the proper literal equivalents of those metaphorical ones ever since Aristotles De Anima and Thomas Aquinas’ commentary on that treatise had become indispensable items of medieval and early modern intellectual culture.” In view of this generally accepted equation of “anima” and “forma; Masen’s question “Quae materia emblematis, quaeque eius forma?” | What is the materia of the emblem, and what its forma?], which serves as one of the chapter-headings of his Speculum Imaginum Veritatis Occultae (ch. 54)* can therefore be understood as the established non-figurative equivalent of Petrasancta’s question concerning the proper identification of the anima and the corpus of an impresa. But the issue under consideration is the same with both authors: how to enter the izmpresa and the emblem into the appropriate conceptual framework for such analyses, namely the framework that treats corpus and anima as metaphorical equivalents of two of the Aristotelian causes, the causa materialis and the causa formalis. Masen’s answer agrees with

the one given by Petrasancta in that he, too, rejects the suggestion that one of

the medially distinct and materially present parts of the impresa should be considered its soul: As for the symbolum, the lemma, also called inscriptio or subscriptio, does not play the role [is not the ground] of its form, nor does the ἔκανα play the role [is the ground] that of its materia. Rather, it is the coming together of something not understood with something understood, which is its forma. . because that alone constitutes ground of signifying and representing. . . 51 79.

— The locus classicus for that substitution is Aristotle’s discussion of the soul as the form of the living body in book II of De anima: “The soul must be a substance in the sense of the form of a natural body having life potentially within it. But substance is actuality, and thus soul is the actuality of a body.” (Aristotle. De An-

ima I1,1,412a 20-21.) Thomas Aquinas's formulation “anima est forma corporis” from the ninth of his Quaestiones De Anima, his commentary on Aristotle’s De

Bernhard F. Scholz

But in contrast to Petrasancta, Masen apparently did not feel the need to have recourse to a whole battery of analogies in order to be able to make his point about the relational character of the forma of a symbolum. For he had a theoretical term at his disposal for what Petrasancta tried to bring out by means of his analogies: “ratio significandi et repraesentandi; with ratio to be understood as the ground, the reason or the rule that will allow for the meaning of a symbolum to “emerge; namely the intelligible relation, which must hold between its lemma and its figura. Masen’s term for the outcome of this convenientia of lemma and figura is “imago figurata; ®° but he could also have spoken of “imago Jormata’ in the sense of the “informed image” in which the previously unspecific and ambiguous image has become specific and disambiguated by having a forma imposed on it, and in which the convenientia of what is not understood and what is understood, i.e. the convenientia of the as yet undetermined imago and the emma has taken place. Such an imago figurata therefore can now be characterized in terms of a specific ratio significandi et repraesentandi, and hence as possessing a specific figurative meaning. Therefore, despite the fact that Petrasancta’s point of departure of his analysis of the sybolum was indeed the distinction of corpus and anima, and despite the fact that Masen’s point of departure was indeed the distinction of materia and forma, the eventual outcome of both their analyses was the understanding, shared by Balbinus, that both genres should be characterized in terms of their figurative nature. Contrary, then, to what Balbinus tells us, neither Petrasancta nor Masen suggest treating the medially distinct elements of the symbolum as its corpus/ materia and its anima/forma. But they do subscribe to the belief that it not only makes sense but is also necessary to begin one’s analysis of the essence of the symbolum with the distinction between its soul and its body. Petrasancta does this by taking over the paired metaphor of body and soul suggested by Giovio, Masen by employing instead the literal equivalents of

Anima, was to become the mnemonic phrase through which this equation of ‘soul’ and ‘form’ was entered into the staple of medieval and early modern intellectual culture, after the Council of Vienne (1313) had declared it a heresy to hold that the rational or intellective soul is not essentially the form of the human body. On “anima forma corporis” in Thomas’s writings see Bernath; on “anima

forma corporis” as propagated by the Council of Vienne see Schneider; also Pasnau. 80. 81.

| On Masen see Bauer (a.k.a Mahlmann-Bauer). “Lemma, sive inscriptio, subscriptiéve, in symbolis non obtinet rationem formae, neque figura materiae, sed convenientia rei non intelligentis cum intelli-

259

gente est forma... ; quia haec sola est ratio significandi, et repraesentandi . . ” (Masen, 5) (translation from the 3rd ed.).

82. 83.

For a profound discussion of the early modern debates about that relation see

Vuilleumier Laurens. Masen defines such an image as ‘an artifact (res creata), which, thanks to its structure of a rhetorical trope, is capable of ingeniously representing something different from itself? (“imago est res creata; ... per tropum apta ingeniose repraesentare rem a se diversam” (440). For a detailed analysis of Masen’s concept of imago figurata see Dimler.

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those metaphors, “forma” and “materia” which had come into use among Giovio’s Italian successors, and which remained the pivotal terms of the analysis of the impresa and the device for much of the following century. Balbinus thus misrepresents the positions of both of his Jesuit confratres in this on-going debate by identifying their respective positions with an earlier phase of the debate about the anima and the corpus of the impresa and the emblem, a phase when it was indeed still plausible to ask—in close succession to Giovios own formulations—which of the two textually and pictorially manifest parts of the émpresa, its motto and its, was its body and which its soul. What, then, was Balbinus really objecting to in Petrasancta’s and Masen’s approaches to the symbolum and the emblem? What he shared with them, we have seen, was the view that the symbolum and the emblem needed to be characterized in terms of the similarity relation in which the constituent parts of both genres stood to each other. According to Balbinus, we recall, “In omni emblemate est comparatio vel similitudo et necessario requiritur” [In every emblem a comparison or a similarity is obligatory], a formulation both Petrasancta and Masen would undoubtedly have been happy to subscribe to as well. The difference between Balbinus on the one hand and his confratres Petrasancta and Masen on the other would appear to have been a difference in the method—in the sense of the literal meaning of “methodos” as “path, “road” —of arriving at the conceptualization of the emblem and the impresa as figurative, i.e. a difference in the conceptual frameworks, which they would employ to that end. For Balbinus the road to such a conceptualization was, we have seen, a straightforward analysis along rhetorical lines. For Giovio’s early Italian followers like Bargagli or Ammirato, by contrast, it had been an analysis along dialectical lines, ie. an analysis that involved correlating Giovio’s “corpo”—“anima” distinction with the “causa materialis “causa | formalis” distinction, which lies at the heart of the dialectical framework of the

Aristotelian tradition. Petrasancta’s and Masen’s analyses, the targets of Balbi-

nus’ criticism, likewise turn out, on closer inspection, to be rhetorical ones in the end, just as the one offered by Balbinus. But they apparently thought they

had to link up—however briefly—with the older dialectical tradition that

took its cues from Giovio’s distinction, before they could follow their own rhetorical inclinations, continuing the dialogue with tradition, if you wish, for which Balbinus, at least at this point, no longer saw a need.

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Bohuslaus Balbinus’s criticism of Petrasancta’s and Masen’s positions regarding the proper referents of the terms “anima” and “corpus” suggests that he may have believed that a rhetorical analysis could stand on its own feet, needing neither auctorial support by Giovio, nor a dialectical underpinning: “Meum non est tanta componere lites, satis erit praecep-

ta dictasse . . .” [It is not for me to put together great lawsuits. . .]. Was Balbinus, in wanting to stay away from the explication of the body-soul distinction in terms of causae, and preferring to focus on regulae and praecepta instead, expressing just a personal preference, thinking perhaps that such a discussion was out of place in an introductory text? Or was he, in deciding to do without the support of dialectics, aligning himself with an alternative, more “modern,” position of early modern methodological reflection, one that embraced rhetoric as not only a suitable framework for dealing with the arts but as the only suitable one?** Or was he, and that is a possibility that certainly should not be dismissed out of hand, by thus sidestepping the issue of whether or not—and if so, how—Giovio’s body-soul metaphor should be explicated in terms of the concepts of causa materialis and causa formalis, trying to avoid having to tackle the question of the remaining two of the four “Aristotelian” causes of the emblem, namely the question of its causa finalis and its causa efficiens? For if he had dealt with that question, Alciato, the author of the Emblemata, would necessarily have come to the fore as “only” the causa efficiens of the emblem. That, in turn, would have forced Balbinus to deal with the baffling fact that in the one conceptual framework the author is by definition identified with the lowly “external” causa efficiens of a poem, i.e. with the cause that only effectuates the poem by letting its preexisting “interal” causa materialis and causa formalis come together, while in the other conceptual framework, that of Classical rhetoric, the same author had to be given the pivotal place of someone in possession of the “poetic” knowledge of how to produce emblems, the skill to do so, that is, without, however, necessarily being able to cast that knowledge into a set of concepts. There do not appear to be any extant texts by Balbinus’s hand that might allow us to determine whether his apparent decision to avoid even the faint echoes of the dialectical explication of Giovio’s “anima”-“corpo” metaphor 84.

On the pervasive influence of rhetoric during the seventeenth Ueding 113-17; Dekoninck, 105-18; Plett.

century see

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still to be found in Petrasancta and in Masen was prompted by the wish not to overburden an introductory text with weighty theoretical issues, or whether he wished to align himself unambiguously with the contemporary, not to say “fashionable” trend towards “rhetoricizing” poetics. But there is enough textual evidence for reconstructing before the backdrop of the two salient frameworks, dialectics and rhetoric, how Giovio was constituted as a theorist, and, more importantly with an eye to our attempt at understanding the early modern implications precise of Balbinuss “emblematum pater et princeps est Alciato,” how Alciato was constituted as a rhetorician. A number of answers to our questions about Balbinus’s option for rhetoric and his apparent rejection of dialectics will have to remain tentative for reasons having to do with the educational context in which, and the didactic purpose for which Balbinus wrote his Verisimilia. Balbinus, it is important to remember, wrote his Verisimilia humaniorum disciplinarum as an introductory textbook to be used during a particular phase of a course of studies offered by the Jesuit colleges of Bohemia. It was intended as a textbook of which Balbinus said that it was “non magistris, sed discipulis primum haec scripta fuisse” [written not for the masters, but first and foremost for the pupils] (2006, 14), not for those who were already masters in the artes, but for their students. As a textbook of this sort it could afford to sidestep—it almost had to, and it clearly did—virtually all of the methodological debates of the time, with Balbinus’s brief polemics against Petrasancta and Masen serving us as an indication that he was certainly aware of those debates. But besides being intended as a textbook to be used during a specific phase of a fairly rigidly planned course of studies, Balbinus’s Verisimilia was subject to yet another constraint that was bound to affect the way in which it could provide us with all of the answers to our questions. In this case this will be due to the fact that Balbinus had written his textbook in accordance with the educational program of the Jesuits as laid down in the Ratio Studiorum of 1599, which had, so to speak, settled authoritatively some of those methodological debates on behalf of the members of the Je-

suit order beforehand. In the words of Olga Spevak, the editor of the definitive critical edition of the Verisimilia:

Les Verisimilia s'adressent aux élèves de collèges jésuites suivant le

cursus de grammaire. Ce cours, appelé “études des humanités” (studia

humanitatis), était divisé en cing classes: trois classes de grammaire,

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une classe de poésie et une classe de rhétorique . . .. Lenseignement était fondé sur la lecture des auteurs antiques. Sa méthode et son contenu étaient codifiés dans les Institutions de la Compagnie de Jésus par la Ratio Studiorum (1599). Lobjectif de ces études était de parvenir à une éloquence parfaite. Le but était de faire de l'élève un orateur, dont l'excellente élocution et la composition équilibrée du discours, les arguments et les exemples convaincraient et émouvraient l'auditeur (Balbinus 2006, xxx).5

What the Ratio Studiorum of 1599 had in fact codified in terms of method was therefore a classification of the artes in general that was based on a carefully argued position regarding a possible role for the ars dialectica in the context of the studia humanitatis. What it had codified with respect to the content of the courses of the studia humanitatis to be offered by the colleges of the Societas Jesu was a canon of auctores set up in accordance with that classification of the artes, which explicitly excluded authors that represented the paths not taken. Providing Andrea Alciato with the honorific epithet of “Emblematum pater et princeps” was thus in keeping with Bohuslaus Balbinus's adherence to the educational program of the Jesuit Ratio Studiorum, which had unequivocally opted in favor of rhetoric as the most suitable theoretical underpinning for the analysis of a literary genre like the emblem.

IV. Recapitulation: “Emblematum pater et princeps est Andrea Alciatus” in 1666 and “Emblematum Pater & Princeps” after 1964 Andrea Alciato, we have seen, in a sense became the “Emblematum Pater et

Princeps” only after the publication in 1964 of Albrecht Schéne’ Emblema-

tik und Drama im Zeitalter des Barock. Schone had come across the asser-

tion “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus” in Bohuslaus Balbinus’s

Verisimilia humaniorum disciplinarum of 1666. He altered that phrase to

read “Emblematum Pater & Princeps est Alciatus” thereby turning what

85.

“The Verisimilia are intended for students of the Jesuit Colleges following the grammar curriculum. This course, entitled “humanities studies” (studia humani-

tatis) was divided into five classes: three grammar classes, a poetry class, and a

rhetoric class. . . The instruction was based on the reading of ancient authors. Its method and content were codified in the Jesuits’ institutions by the Ratio Studiorum (1599). The aim of these studies was to attain perfect eloquence. The goal was to turn the student into an orator, whose excellent elocution and balanced speech compositions, arguments, and examples would convince and move the listener” (Editor Translation).

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Bernhard F. Scholz

had in the first place been a predication with metaphorically used terms from ordinary language—albeit terms with an illustrious pedigree—into a predication that puts more weight on the terms “Pater” et “Princeps” as metaphorically used names for social ranks. He used that adjusted phrase as a quotation in his discussion of the origins of the emblem, equating it with an expression from the broad stream of the nomenclature of literary scholarship: “Begründer dieser neuen Gattung.” There can be little doubt that if it hadn’t been for that quotation in Schéne’s book on German baroque tragedy, the expression “Emblematum Pater & Princeps” would never have metamorphosed into the ubiquitous proper definite description that can now substitute for the name “Andrea Alciato” and vice versa. Attempting to determine how the phrase “emblematum pater et princeps” was understood when first encountered in the context of Bohuslaus Balbinus's Verisimilia humaniorum disciplinarum in 1666, and again, three centuries later, in the context of Albrecht Schéne’s Emblematik und Drama im Zeitalter des Barock in 1964, brought us ‘face to face’ with two fundamentally different manifestations of the captus lectoris, which, according to Terentianus Maurus, is responsible for the fates of books. The 1666 reading of the phrase “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus” turned out to be a rhetorically informed one that involved reading it as an assertion about Andrea Alciato as the first author who was in command of the art of emblem-writing in the sense of being able to produce the kind of (illustrated) epigrams called “emblemata” that were to serve both as models for subsequent emblem writing, and as the point of departure for formulating the rules of making emblems. But it certainly did not involve the claim that Alciato himself was also the pater et princeps of an ars emblematica in the sense of a theoretically elaborated poetics or rhetoric of the emblem, i.e. of a theoretical reflection on the rules that needed to be followed if one wished to produce emblems. The metaphor ‘pater et princeps as applied to Alciato in 1666 was indeed associated with a number of theoretical meta-level terms like “regula,” “lex” and “praeceptum,’ all of which were explicable within the conceptual framework of rhetoric.

Giovio, by his refusal to adopt Giovio’s paired metaphor of the “corpo” and the “anima” of an impresa, and by his refusal to associate the metaphorical “corpo”—“anima” distinction used by his confratres Petrasancta and Masen with the paired theoretical concepts of causa materialis and causa formalis of Aristotelian hylomorphism.* An endorsement of Giovio’s position on the body and the soul of an impresa and of the tradition of dialectical explication in the wake of Giovio’s distinction, would have obliged him also to identify Alciato as one of the four Aristotelian causes, name as the causa efficiens of the emblem. What makes for the greatest difference between the 1666 and the post1964 manifestations of the captus lectoris regarding the phrase “emblematum pater et princeps” is the fact that in the case of the latter all specific theoretical concepts and all genealogical splendor originally associated with “pater et princeps” in 1666 can apparently be safely ignored by now, but without the phrase “Emblematum Pater & Princeps” losing any of its serviceability as a proper definite description. The same goes for the material inferences a competent seventeenth-century reader would have felt entitled to make on the basis of the salient conceptual framework of rhetoric. Nor is reading the phrase before the backdrop of a specific conceptual framework any longer necessary for making it intelligible. With the modern use of “Emblematum Pater & Princeps” as a proper definite description, one might put it pointedly, Balbinus’s assertion that “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus” has been drained of all of its original conceptual content and freed from all of its original contextual ties, leaving us with an expression that can obtain and change its meaning in accordance with whatever we happen to know about Andrea Alciato at the moment we are using it.*’ Viewed from the vantage point of its first use in 1666, the phrase “Emblematum Pater & Princeps” as used by modern emblem scholars has retained as its inherent meaning little more than that vague and unspecific

But these were Balbinuss and his fellow rhetoricians terms and concepts,

rather than Alciato’s, and they were meant to conceptually articulate the skill Alciato was assumed to possess. That Balbinus wished his assertion “Emblematum pater et princeps est Alciatus” to be given a rhetorical rather than a dialectical reading was underlined by his failure to mention Paolo

265

86.

On Aristotelian hylomorphism see Ainsworth.

87.

The difference between Balbinuss and Schéne’s version of “emblematum pater et princes” is thus just the opposite from that between Cervantes’s and Pierre

Menard’s Quixote as posited by Jorge Luis Borges. While in the case of Quixote,

Menard’s text, Borges suggests, “is almost infinitely richer” than that of Cer-

vantes, in the case of “Emblematum pater et princeps” in Schéne’s text, we have tried to show, is almost infinitely poorer than that of Balbinus. See Borges.

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reference to Alciato’s primacy in matters emblematical.** Compare that with the wealth of material inferences to be drawn from its seventeenthcentury use, and it is difficult to avoid saying that what modern emblem scholarship has gained from resuscitating it in the context of its own conceptual framework is little enough: a proper definite description that could substitute, usually for reasons of style, for Andrea Alciato’s name—Habent sua fata et epitheta pro captu lectoris.

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NOTICES

Applied Emblematics in Lublin, Poland:

Murals Based on Prints from the Emblemata Saecularia EUKASZ KONOPA Independent scholar

Among the examples of applied emblematics preserved in Lublin, Poland, the frescoes from “Under Fortuna,” located in the center of the city’s Old Town, have only recently been recognized as originating from the Emblemata Saecularia by Johann Theodor and Johann Israel de Bry. The paintings were first discovered in 1936 and the sources first came to light in 2018. The announcement here presents the most current state of the research concerning these historic paintings, as the search for their accurate context continues. This emblematic program, its sources, and contexts illuminate the reception of emblematic works in the formerly royal city of Lublin. Our new research offers a more accurate dating of the murals as well as poses a series of questions regarding the use of both emblematic and other imagery in the space of a patrician building. This article shows how the afterlives of emblematic creations are also signaled by the apparently individualized approach to the emblematic program. It also demonstrates how, in some cases, the emblems were employed to serve new purposes as they appeared in specific new contexts.

277 Emblematica: Essays in Word and Image, vol. 3. Copyright © 2020 by Droz & Emblematica. All rights reserved.

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Eukasz Konopa

R= research has revealed that secular emblematic prints served as sources for murals preserved in “Under Fortuna,’ a cellar under a hisoric house in Lublin, Poland. The discovery of the emblematic decorations’ origins and the continuing research into their sources and context are presented below.’ Lublin is a former royal city located in eastern Poland founded in 1317. The legal and functional structures of the city were based on the Magdeburg Law, and the following administrative and political events shaped its history. In 1474 Lublin became the capital of the voivodeship and the seat of the regional administration. In 1569 the Union between the Kingdom of Poland and the Great Duchy of Lithuania was signed in Lublin, thus creating a single state called the Commonwealth of the Two Nations. In 1578 Lublin, together with Piotrkéw, became the seat of the Crown Tribunal, the court of highest instance for several voivodeships. As international commerce flourished in the sixteenth century and the city played an important role along its routes, it was also the time of Lublin’s peak development, its Golden Age. The royal privileges enabled the accumulation of wealth which was reflected in the city’s architecture. Even the epidemics and devastating fires during the period, the most catastrophic in 1575, could not stop the town’s development. Some patricians studied at universities in Poland and abroad, e.g. in Krakow, Leipzig, Heidelberg, Basel, Padua. In 1586 the Jesuit college was established in the city thus creating a regional center of education and of the Counterreformation. During that time Lublin attracted foreign craftsmen and merchants who settled there and became a part of the civic community, often joining the patriciate. They were Italians, Germans, Hungarians, French, Scots, Ruthenians, and Armenians. A large Jewish community lived near the Castle. Lublin’s position among other European cities was reflected with its depiction in Braun and Hogenberg volume six of Civitates Orbis Terrarum in 1617. In the seventeenth century the town experienced however its gradual decay. Changes in the structure of international commerce and the rearrangement of its routes, the insufficient and increasingly diminishing role of the cities in the economy and politics as well as devastating, long lasting wars which affected the Polish-Lithuanian state, especially from the mid-seventeenth

century on, were so disastrous that Lublin started recovering only at the end of the next century. Nevertheless, the city of Lublin gained much of what is now seen as its most significant features during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. As a prerequisite for studies of the emblematic scenes in Under Fortuna, it must be emphasized that they are neither the only preserved examples of applied emblematics in Lublin nor are they exceptional as profane emblems in the city? Two cycles of religious emblems can be found in the Roman Catholic Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary the Victorious. One cycle is based on Pia Desideria by Herman Hugo; the other one takes its emblem motifs from Fillipo Picinelli’s Mundus Symbolicus as well as from other emblem books (fig. 1). They were probably both painted after 1632 (Kwiatkowska-Frejlich, 191-216). Another, a profane emblem cycle, decorates the external walls of the Suchorabski Palace, now the Metropolitan Cleric Seminary (fig. 2). It comprises a frieze of stucco reliefs containing images of Polish rulers accompanied by emblems chosen to describe their personalities or their life achievements. Many of these emblems come from Gabriel Rollenhagen’s Selectorum Emblematum Centuria and the most recent scholarly literature dates the cycle to the 1640s (Kowalczyk). The two sets of religious and profane emblems belong to buildings situated outside medieval city walls. The subterranean Under Fortuna with the murals containing scenes based on prints from the Emblemata Saecularia is nowdays a cellar under one of the historic buildings within the nucleus of the city. The room can only be accessed through a neighboring cellar whose doorway opens to the main square of the Old Town. It is a barrel-vaulted, rectangular room,

1.

The results of this research have been announced Konopa and Konopa 77-112.

in Polish in: Gulbinñska-

2.

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The history of the reception and development of emblematics in the PolishLithuanian Commonwealth has been most comprehensively depicted by Janusz Pelc, who also wrote an English overview. Lidia Kwiatkowska-Frejlich and Jerzy Kowalczyk have researched seventeenth-century applied emblematics in Lublin. A study of literary emblematics related to the Discalced Carmelite Sisters in Lublin was published by Anna Nowicka-Struska. Firmamentum Symbolicum by Sebastianus a Matre Dei, an emblematic book dedicated to Virgin Mary published in Lublin in 1652, still awaits an in-depth study; a bilingual Latin-Polish edition is planned by Tomasz Lawenda and Pawet Madejski.

3.

In the seventeenth century the neighboring area was much lower than it is at present. This means that the access to Under Fortuna was easier. The role of the

cellar and its functional ties to other subterranean interiors have not yet been determined.

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approximately 7.10 meters long, 2.70 meters wide, and 2.45 meters high (fig. 3). The entrance to the interior is situated in the western wall. The window opens to the square through the southern wall. The north-east corner is occupied by an open fireplace with a hood shaped as a section of a cone. The building is still named “Lubomelskis’ house” after its most notable owners.* Adjoining the main square with the former town hall in the middle of it, the building is centrally located right in Lublin’s Old Town. The written history of the house reaches back to the early sixteenth century For over one hundred years it belonged to the Lubomelskis who were magistrates and merchants. Successive owners of the house were city councilors and mayors. Worth mentioning is that seventeenth-century city records provide information that in the seventeenth century some of its residents were pharmacists.f Probably in 1792 the cellar was walled off from the outer world. Despite that, the collective memory of the citizens of Lublin preserved the information of the decorated interior. The city guide published in 1901 mentions a wine cellar which reportedly served the attorneys from the nearby Tribunal and merchants arriving for the fairs (Ronikierowa, 202).

Fig. 1. Three emblematic panels in the church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary the

Victorious in Lublin (after 1632). Photo by Lukasz Konopa.

In 1936 the cellar was rediscovered for the public and researchers by the

head of the local historic heritage conservation bureau, Jozef Edward Dut-

kiewicz, who was also responsible for early conservation of the murals. Even though it is now clear that some misinterpretations were intro4.

The house was named “[domus] lapidea Lubomelska” well into 17th c., see e.g. Archiwum Pañstwowe w Lublinie [The State Archive in Lublin], Akta miasta Lublina, Acta controversiarum et inscriptionum iudicii civilis Lublinensis, sign. 35/22/0/2.1.1.1/32, p. 39r.

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It is worth mentioning that the frescoes in Under Fortuna are not the only murals in the Lubomelskis’ house. A sensational discovery was made in 1996 when a wall painting was uncovered in the debris filling the space between the vault of the ground floor and the floor of the first floor of the building. The surviving decoration consists of a view of a walled city (allegedly a view of gothic Lublin) with a battle scene in the foreground, a scene of Mary with Baby Jesus (possibly part of a larger scene with the Three Magi offering their gifts), and remains of a decorative frieze. The completion of the work on the decoration could have taken place in 1546 or 1576 (Rolska-Boruch).

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The first to mention is Walenty Lang Aptekarz, appearing in sources in the second decade of the seventeenth century. Then Andrzej Zaborowicz, who probably died in 1637, owned the house. After his death, until at least 1654, a tenant of some part of the house was Marcin Cybulski. In 1661 another pharmacist,

Michal Szerer, bought the house from Katarzyna Zaborowiczowa, the widow of

Fig. 2. A fragment of the southern cycle of the emblematic frieze on the former Suchorabski palace

in Lublin (1640-1650). Photo by Lukasz Konopa.

Andrzej Zaborowicz.

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Fig. 4. The inscription above the entrance to Under Fortuna, Lubomelskis’ House, Lublin. Photo

Fig. 3. The interior of Under Fortuna, Lubomelskis House, Lublin. View towards the North. Photo by Eukasz Konopa.

duced during the course of the paintings’ restoration, the ability to en-

joy the polychrome paintings today we indubitably owe to him. Dut-

kiewicz published his observations in 1957 (Dutkiewicz). He assumed that the decoration of the cellar dates to the years 1560-1580. He was

also convinced that the Lublin painter used European prints as sources for the imagery and that they must have come from German-speaking lands. The al secco paintings cover the walls and the vault of the cellar.” The decoration consists of nine image fields whose content is still recognizable. Eight of them are positioned roughly at eye level. Six of these are bordered with rectangular frames with little flowers and stylized foliage, once probably painted gold, at the corners and at the midpoints of the edges. One image is placed on the conically shaped hood of the fireplace, while another has been placed into a circle. The one occupying the vault is surrounded by an oval wreath secured by illusionistically

painted volutes. Eight of the image fields are accompanied by inscrip7.

The lower parts of the walls are no longer decorated but photographs taken shortly after the interior was made accessible to the conservators show that these

surfaces were also covered with paintings.

by Lukasz Konopa.

tions, seven of which are in Latin and one in German, placed in cartouches. Two more cartouches with Latin verses are located above the entrance (fig. 4) and above a niche (fig. 5) in the western wall. The remaining space is filled with foliated scrolls with flowers of various species. The ornamental decoration is of great importance itself and requires a separate in-depth study. In May 2018 it became evident that the source for seven emblematic scenes in the cellar were emblems which first appeared in the Emblemata Saecularia by Johann Theodor and Johann Israel de Bry.’ The 8.

9.

The inscription above the entry starts with Horace’s words Virtus repulsae. . . (Odes, Book III, Ode 2, v. 17-20). It praises unstained Virtue who executes her

office independent of people’s caprices. The inscription above the niche is also from Horace (Carmina, Book I, Carmen XXVII, v. 1-4). It condemns barbarian customs that do not comply with modest Bacchus. In early 2018 a local government cultural institution operating in Lublin, the “Grodzka Gate—NN Theatre,” took charge of the premises. The team of guides working for the Lublin Underground Trail was faced with the task of introducing the interior to the visitors. One of the researchers was Urszula Gulbiñska-Konopa, who meticulously studied the available literature on the subject. She soon realized that since 1957 there were no serious attempts either to answer pending questions about the murals or to solve apparent in-

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Fig. 5. The inscription above the niche in Under Fortuna, Lubomelskis " House, Lublin. Photo by Eukasz Konopa.

remaining two image fields that are still readable contain depictions deriving from prints by Heinrich Ulrich from Nürnberg. One shows the goddess Fortuna as the most prominent figure placed above the heads of viewers (fig. 6), and the other depicts Venus and Cupid bordered by a circular frame (fig. 7).!°

10.

consistencies which arose from the study of the cellar’s unusual content, particularly when compared to other known urban interiors in the area. Urszula asked me to join her in this research, the results of which provide the basis for this article Although not of emblematic origin the two depictions deserve a short mention. Fortuna is a figure of a naked woman holding aloft a sail or a banner with shaft.

She is standing on a sphere placed on a shell. The background is filled with barely

recognizable wavy and cloudy shapes. Above the oval frame there are remains of

a four-line Latin verse inscription in a cartouche. The text is apparently the same

as the textual content placed at the foot of Ulrich’s print. It compares Fortuna to a seething sea and contains a warning against the treacherous goddess whose

trifles shall be rejected. The verse itself was written by Cornelis Schonaeus from

Haarlem and probably first accompanied Hendrick Goltziuss Fortuna in the late 1580s. Ulrich’s print with Venus and Cupid also bears a Latin inscription. It is placed within the circular border and states that Cupid is sending iron and fire towards heaven. Venus sighs that she would not complain too much if her son were to scald her with fire. The painted counterpart of this image in Lublin does

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Fig. 6. Mural after che print Fortuna by H einrich Ulrich in Fo rtuna, Lubomelskis House, Lublin. Photo by Eukasz Konopa.

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The emblems used to decorate Under Fortuna were first published in the polyglot edition of the Emblemata Saecularia in 1596. The successive editions of the emblem book appeared in 1611 in Oppenheim and then in 1627 again in Frankfurt. At least seven prints from the Emblemata Saecularia were chosen as source images for the decoration of Under Fortuna. More of them could have once existed, however the condition of some fragments of the walls does not allow any conclusions about possible former decoration. Those still recognizable are depictions based on the following prints from the de Bry volume: “Democritus et Heracletus,” “Arbor virginifera” “Trutina nupturientium, “Connubia coeca,” “Speculum morosophum,” “Simia rugata, and “Amor vincit omnia.” These emblems from the Lublin cellar represent a selection from the total of fifty emblems included in the book. “Democritus et Heracletus” (fig. 8) shows the two philosophers with

a glass sphere topped with cross and covered with jester’s headgear. Unlike in Emblemata Saecularia, in Under Fortuna the scene has been placed under a sort of coffer ceiling (fig. 9). Despite the poor state of some areas of the mural, thanks to the print, it is now obvious which accessories accompanied the thinkers. At present the full content of the inscription above the scene is known; it was clearly taken from the Latin subscriptio and evokes the most characteristic features of the philosophers and establishes their equal standing. “Arbor Virginifera” (fig. 10) depicts a tree with busts of women in the foliage and young men throwing clubs towards them. Another man standing apart is watching the youngsters. Parts of the Lublin mural are hardly recognizable, but the women are visible and a male figure standing to the left of the tree trunk throwing a stick can also be seen (fig. 11). The lower right side of the image has not been preserved. The cartouche above contains the incomplete Latin subscriptio expressing the longing for such a tree. Only the first word of the lemma survived below the scene. Its full text states that the youths who possess the tree are the fortunate ones. 7

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Fig. 7. Mural after the print Venus and Cupid by Heinrich Ulrich in Under Fortuna, Lubomelskis’ House, Lublin. Photo by Lukasz Konopa.

not contain the above-mentioned inscription. Also, the pose ofVenus is different

11.

from that in the print, which however is a result of inadequate reconstruction. For the 1596 edition see Emblematica Online: http://emblematica library.

illinois.edu/detail/book/359228488.

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Fig. 8. Johann Theodor and Johann Israel de Bry, Emblemata Secularia (Frankfurt am Main, 1596), Emblem 1, “Democritus et Heracletus.”

With the permission of the Staatsgalerie Stuttgart.

Fig. 10. Johann Theodor and Johann Israel de Bry, Emblemata Secularia (Frankfurt am Main, 1596), Emblem

23, “Arbor Virginifera.” Photo courtesy of the Rijksmuseum.

Fig. 9. Mural after the emblem “Democritus et Heracletus” from

Emblemata Secularia (Frankfurt am Main, 1596) by Johann Theodor

and Johann Israel de Bry in Under Fortuna, Lubomelskis’ House, Lublin. Photo by Lukasz Konopa.

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Fig. 11. Mural after the emblem “Arbor Virginifera” from Emblemata Secularia (Frankfurt am

Main, 1596) by Johann Theodor and Johann Israel de Bry in Under Fortuna, Lubomelskis House, Lublin. Photo by Eukasz Konopa.

“Trutina nupturientium” (fig. 12) shows a young man and a young woman seated on scale pans. Apparently, they are accompanied by their families and the scene depicts marriage negotiations. In the foreground Cupid, who is leaving the premises, takes a quick glance at a boxful of coins. In Lublin the emblem has vanished almost completely (fig. 13). Still, above the image the subscriptio survived which sarcastically advises that money can buy anything. “Connubia coeca” (fig. 14) also treats the theme of marriage. A blindfolded man and woman are standing on the opposite sides of a large basket filled

with people, choosing their spouses from among those swarming inside. She says “Ich habe einen,’ while he responds “Auch ich habe eine.” In Under Fortuna the scene differs from that in the print, but this was likely owing to the

poor state of the mural which in turn influenced the less than satisfactory result of the reconstruction (fig. 15). Above the image field is the only German subscriptio which was used in the interior. Its content corresponds to the title of the pictura emphasizing that very few are fortunate in marriage.

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Fig. 12. Johann Theodor and Johann Israel de Bry, Emblemata Secularia (Frankfurt am Main, 1596), Emblem 24, “Trutina Nupturientium.” Photo courtesy of the Rijksmuseum.

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Fig. 14. Johann Theodor dick johann Israel de Bry, Emblemata Secularia (Frankfurt am Main, 1596), Emblem 22, Connubia cæca” Photo courtesy of the Rijksmuseum.

Fig. 13. Mural after the emblem “Trutina Nupturientium” from Emblemata Secularia (Frankfurt am Main, 1596) by Johann Theodor and Johann Israel de Bry in Under Fortuna, Lubomelskis’ House, Lublin. Photo by Lukasz Konopa.

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“Speculum Morosophum” (fig. 16) depicts four men, two of whom are reposing under a tree. One of the two standing holds a mirror reflecting the face of one of the seated men. In Lublin the difference from the print is evident. Namely it depicts a female figure reclining before the mirror (fig. 17). This dissimilarity has also likely been caused by misinterpretation of the poorly preserved polychrome painting. Only the recent discovery of the source prints and close observation of the photographs taken before the initial conservation reveals how closely the mural corresponded to the original source (fig. 18).!* The Latin subscriptio of the emblem was placed in a cartouche above the image. It warns those who are learned to consider their own behavior and lives before they dare instruct anyone else. “Simia rugata” (fig. 19) portrays an ape holding a circular mirror with a reflection of another ape in it. The inscription around it demands that the spectator leave the ruff wearing animal alone. A few notes of music and the tune “Lase fare mj ”accompany the figure of the ape. In Lublin the emblematic image has been placed on the conical hood of the fireplace (fig. 20). The shape of the animal is barely recognizable and the pictura no longer contains either words or the ape’s reflection. The nearly full text of the lemma pertaining to the emblem which runs diagonally above the depiction has been saved, however. Most probably another inscription bordered the image field from below, but it is no longer legible. “Amor vincit omnia” (fig. 21) is the last emblematic scene in Under Fortuna. Its source print shows Amor and Venus above the seated personification of humanity, or Voluptas, surrounded by attributes of earthly professions. Blindfolded Amor aims his arrow towards Earth, while Venus has apparently

already become his prey. The scene in Lublin is badly damaged (fig. 22). Until

the Emblemata Saecularia was linked with the murals, it had been previously often claimed that a phallic shape could be seen between legs of the seated female. This is not the case. From the lemma acknowledging power of Amor and suggesting submission to him, only the first word survives today. According to the present state of research, it seems likely that the 1596 edition of de Bry provided the imagery for the picture. A strong indicator of the 1596 edition of de Bry can be found in the spelling of the words found in the Fig. 15. Mural after the emblem “Connubia cœca” from Emblemata Sacularia (Frankfurt am Main, 1596) by Johann Theodor and Johann Israel de Bry in Under Fortuna, Lubomelskis’ House, Lublin. Photo by Lukasz Konopa.

12.

Despite suggestions and comparative material offered by the author, no corrections to the apparently misinterpreted areas of the murals were made during the latest conservation, which took place in November-December, 2019.

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Fig. 16. Johann Theodor and Johann Israel de Bry, Emblemata Secularia (Frankfurt am Main,

1596), Emblem 19, “Speculum Morosophum.” Photo courtesy of the Rijksmuseum.

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Fig. 17. Mural after the emblem “Speculum Morosophum” from Emblemata Sæcularia (Frankfurt am Main, 1596) by Johann Theodor and Johann Israel de Bry in Under Fortuna, Lubomelskis’ House, Lublin. Photo by Lukasz Konopa.

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