The Exemplary Hercules from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment and Beyond (Metaforms, 20) 2020021985, 2020021986, 9789004434868, 9789004435414, 9004434860

The Exemplary Hercules explores the reception of the ancient Greek hero Herakles the Roman Hercules in European culture

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Table of contents :
‎Contents
‎Preface
‎Acknowledgements
‎Notes on Contributors
‎Introduction. The Transmission of a Classical Tradition in Theory and Practice (Mainz and Stafford)
‎Part 1. Applying the Model of the Princely Ruler
‎Chapter 1. The Choice-Making Hercules as an Exemplary Model for Alessandro and Federico Gonzaga and the Fifteenth-Century Latin Translation of Prodikos’ Tale of Herakles by Sassolo da Prato (Deligiannis)
‎Chapter 2. Macte animis, Caesar, nostros imitare labores: Hercules and the Holy Roman Empire (Gwynne)
‎Chapter 3. Hercules in the Art of Flemish Tapestry (1450–1565) (Laruelle)
‎Chapter 4. Prince Charles Alexander of Lorraine and Hercules: A Political Emblem between Tradition and Innovation (Verbanck-Piérard)
‎Chapter 5. Monstrorum domitori: Emblematic and Allegorical Representations of the Herculean Tasks Performed by José I, King of Portugal (1714–77) (Medeiros Araújo)
‎Part 2. Exploiting the Model
‎Chapter 6. What Identity for Hercules Gaditanus? The Role of the Gaditanian Hercules in the Invention of National History in Late-Medieval and Early-Modern Spain (Fernández Camacho)
‎Chapter 7. Monstrous Masculinity? Hendrick Goltzius’ 1589 Engraving of The Great Hercules (Woodall)
‎Chapter 8. Literary Hard Labour: Lyric and Autobiography in Joachim du Bellay (Bizer)
‎Chapter 9. Voltaire’s Hercules (Goulbourne)
‎Part 3. Challenging the Model in the Later Eighteenth Century
‎Chapter 10. Hercules the Younger: Heroic Allusions in Late Eighteenth-Century British Political Cartoons (Eppinger)
‎Chapter 11. Hercules, His Club and the French Revolution (Mainz)
‎Chapter 12. New Representations of Hercules’ Madness in Modernity: The Depiction of Hercules and Lichas (Caballero González)
‎Chapter 13. How Hercules Lost His Poise: Reason, Youth and Fellowship in the Heroic Neoclassical Body (Macsotay)
‎Index
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The Exemplary Hercules from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment and Beyond

Metaforms Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity

Editors-in-Chief Almut-Barbara Renger (Freie Universität Berlin) Jon Solomon (University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign) John T. Hamilton (Harvard University)

Editorial Board Anastasia Bakogianni (Massey University, New Zealand) Monica Cyrino (University of New Mexico) Kyriakos Demetriou (University of Cyprus) Constanze Güthenke (Oxford University) Yang Huang (Fudan University) Craig Kallendorf (Texas A&M University) Miriam Leonard (University College London) Mira Seo (Yale-NUS College)

volume 20

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/srca

The Exemplary Hercules from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment and Beyond Edited by

Valerie Mainz Emma Stafford

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Cover illustration: Hendrick Goltzius, The Farnese Hercules, engraving 42.1×30.4 cm, c.1592 but dated 1617, British Museum 1854,0513.104. Photo: © British Museum. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Mainz, Valerie, editor. | Stafford, Emma, editor. Title: The exemplary Hercules from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment and beyond / edited by Valerie Mainz, Emma Stafford. Other titles: Metaforms ; v. 20. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2020. | Series: Metaforms, 2212-9405; vol. 20 | Includes index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020021985 (print) | LCCN 2020021986 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004434868 (hardback) | ISBN 9789004435414 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Hercules (Roman mythological character)–In art. | Hercules (Roman mythological character)–In literature. Classification: LCC BL820.H5 E94 2020 (print) | LCC BL820.H5 (ebook) | DDC 292.2/13–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020021985 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020021986

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill‑typeface. ISSN 2212-9405 ISBN 978-90-04-43486-8 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-43541-4 (e-book)

Copyright 2020 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill NV via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Preface vii Acknowledgements xiv Notes on Contributors xvi Introduction: The Transmission of a Classical Tradition in Theory and Practice 1 Valerie Mainz and Emma Stafford

Part 1 Applying the Model of the Princely Ruler 1

The Choice-Making Hercules as an Exemplary Model for Alessandro and Federico Gonzaga and the Fifteenth-Century Latin Translation of Prodikos’ Tale of Herakles by Sassolo da Prato 25 Ioannis Deligiannis

2

Macte animis, Caesar, nostros imitare labores: Hercules and the Holy Roman Empire 47 Paul Gwynne

3

Hercules in the Art of Flemish Tapestry (1450–1565) Anne-Sophie Laruelle

4

Prince Charles Alexander of Lorraine and Hercules: A Political Emblem between Tradition and Innovation 119 Annie Verbanck-Piérard

5

Monstrorum domitori: Emblematic and Allegorical Representations of the Herculean Tasks Performed by José I, King of Portugal (1714–77) 149 Filipa Medeiros Araújo

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Part 2 Exploiting the Model 6

What Identity for Hercules Gaditanus? The Role of the Gaditanian Hercules in the Invention of National History in Late-Medieval and Early-Modern Spain 175 Pamina Fernández Camacho

7

Monstrous Masculinity? Hendrick Goltzius’ 1589 Engraving of The Great Hercules 194 Joanna Woodall

8

Literary Hard Labour: Lyric and Autobiography in Joachim du Bellay 235 Marc Bizer

9

Voltaire’s Hercules 246 Russell Goulbourne

Part 3 Challenging the Model in the Later Eighteenth Century 10

Hercules the Younger: Heroic Allusions in Late Eighteenth-Century British Political Cartoons 265 Alexandra Eppinger

11

Hercules, His Club and the French Revolution Valerie Mainz

12

New Representations of Hercules’ Madness in Modernity: The Depiction of Hercules and Lichas 320 Manuel Caballero González

13

How Hercules Lost His Poise: Reason, Youth and Fellowship in the Heroic Neoclassical Body 346 Tomas Macsotay Index

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Preface Herakles is Greek mythology’s most famous hero, appearing in dozens of episodes of a story told in every genre of ancient literature and in a bewildering variety of visual media. The subject of the volumes within the Metaforms series, however, is not the hero in antiquity, but rather his enduring popularity in later ages, from late antiquity via Byzantium and the Renaissance to the modern world.

1

Naming the Hero

The Greek Herakles was called ‘Hercle’ by the Etruscans, and adopted early on by the Romans as ‘Hercules’. Subsequent cultures have spelt his name in different ways: for example, in modern English the ‘k’ is often rendered as a ‘c’ – ‘Heracles’ – following a long tradition of the Latinisation of Greek names; in German both ‘Herakles’ and ‘Herkules’ are correct, in French both ‘Héraclès’ and ‘Hercule’, while in Italian ‘Ercole’ is the norm. In this series we have tried to be consistent in referring to our hero as ‘Herakles’, a straightforward transliteration of the ancient Greek Ἡρακλῆς, whenever Greek material is under discussion, ‘Hercules’ when dealing with Roman material. ‘Hercules’ is also the default spelling in the Renaissance, when Latin was much more widely understood than Greek, and subsequent centuries have tended to adopt this version of the hero’s name more often than not, though there are exceptions: we have tried always to remain faithful to the primary material under discussion in our choice of spelling. The hero is occasionally referred to as ‘Alcides’ (‘Alkeides’ in Greek), after his paternal grandfather Alcaeus (Alkaios), son of Perseus.

2

The Earliest Sources of the Hero’s Story

In order to appreciate the myriad ways in which Herakles has been put to use in post-classical media, some knowledge of the story conveyed by the ancient sources is necessary. It is important to recognise that there is no single authoritative account of Herakles’ life and deeds to which we can refer: we know of various Herakles epics dating to the seventh century BCE and later, but none survives in more than a few fragments; likewise fragmentary are the works of the early mythographers, who first attempted a systematic presentation of stor-

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ies about Herakles in the fifth century BCE. Our earliest sources for the whole story are Diodorus Siculus, whose Historical Library of c. 30 BCE includes a lengthy account of Herakles as part of a grand history of the world, and Apollodorus, whose Library of the first or second century (all dates are CE, unless otherwise stated) includes a briefer synopsis, as part of a handbook of Greek mythology. Individual episodes, however, can be traced much earlier in Greek literature and visual arts, where there is plenty of experimentation with different ways of telling the story, and sometimes what seems to be a completely different version of the episode in question. The freedom which ancient writers and artists felt in adapting Herakles’ story should be born in mind when we are considering post-classical treatments of the hero: there is no such thing as the ‘right’ story from which any divergence is ‘wrong’. Contemporary scholarship recognises that any search for a definitive version is reductive, and rather seeks to understand the motivations for, and effects of, diversity in the story’s presentation. It is possible, however, to think in terms of more-or-less traditional treatments, and some elements of Herakles’ story are more widely-attested than others. What can, indeed, be so illuminating is to consider why and when certain episodes come to the fore, whilst others are relatively neglected. Arguably the best known episodes are the twelve labours, which include the Heraklean exploits most frequently depicted in antiquity, and are returned to again and again in the literature and art of subsequent centuries. The specific number twelve may only have been established in the first half of the fifth century BCE, when the labours are depicted on the twelve metopes (six at either end) inside the porches of the temple of Zeus at Olympia. The particular set of exploits here agrees with the lists later provided by Diodorus and Apollodorus (with minor differences in their order), so can be regarded as more or less canonical, though some variation is introduced at different periods.

3

Synopsis of Herakles’ Myth

The following synopsis of Herakles’ myth is based on Apollodorus’ account (Library 2.5.7). Names are given in their Greek spelling; the Latin version is only given (in parenthesis) where it differs substantially (regular minor differences are the substitution of ‘c’ for ‘k’, ‘ae’ for ‘ai’, and an ‘-us’ ending for ‘os’). 3.1 Birth and Early Life Herakles was born of the mortal woman Alkmene, fathered by Zeus (Jupiter), who had taken on the form of her husband Amphitryon, king of Thebes;

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Herakles’ twin brother Iphikles was fathered by Amphitryon himself. The one significant event of his childhood occurred in the boys’ infancy, when Herakles strangled a pair of snakes sent by Zeus’ jealous wife Hera (Juno) to kill him. On the verge of adulthood, the young Herakles was presented with a choice between the paths of Virtue and Vice, who appeared to him in the form of beautiful women. His first marriage to Megara, daughter of Kreon (a later king of Thebes), was cut short by the fit of madness, sent by Hera, in which he killed both her and their children. 3.2 The Twelve Labours A period of enslavement to Amphitryon’s cousin Eurystheus, king of Tiryns (or Argos) is often seen as expiation for these murders. In performing the tasks he set, Herakles is often helped by his nephew, Iphikles’ son Iphitos. 1) The Nemean lion: because of its invulnerable skin, Herakles has to use his bare hands to kill the lion, showing off his prowess in wrestling; the lion-skin thereafter becomes his trademark garment. 2) The Lernaian hydra: whenever one of its heads is cut off, two more grow in its place, so that Herakles can only vanquish the monster by cauterising the stumps. 3) The Keryneian (sometimes Kerynitian) hind: usually a gentler creature, sacred to Artemis (Diana), with golden horns, which Herakles must capture alive and present to Eurystheus. 4) The Erymanthian boar: again to be captured and presented to Eurystheus, who is often depicted cowering at the sight of this ferocious beast. 5) The stables of Augeias, king of Elis: Herakles sometimes avoids the demeaning task of shovelling cow-dung by the ingenious device of diverting a local river or two to wash the stables clean. 6) The Stymphalian birds: man-eating or simply numerous, these are shot down by Herakles’ arrows. 7) The Cretan bull: presented to Eurystheus, then released for later capture by Theseus. 8) The mares of Diomedes, king of Thrace: these man-eating horses are usually fed on passers-by, until Herakles feeds their master to them. 9) The Amazons: vanquished by Herakles in battle, who sometimes takes their queen Hippolyta’s belt as a trophy. 10) The cattle of Geryon: brought back by Herakles from the far west, after defeating the triple-bodied monster, Geryon. 11) The apples of the Hesperides: fetched by Atlas from the Hesperides’ garden in the far west while Herakles holds up the heavens, or retrieved by Herakles himself after slaying the serpent Ladon.

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12) Kerberos: the three-headed hound of Hades, brought up from the Underworld for presentation to Eurystheus, then returned to the land of the dead. 3.3 Other Exploits As if twelve labours were insufficient proof of his heroism, Herakles is credited with a host of other successful encounters, sometimes known as the parerga, ‘additional deeds’. Some are associated with one or other of the labours, but many are not securely placed on any mythological timeline. – Pholos and the centaurs of Mount Pholoe: a friendly encounter en route for the Erymanthian boar becomes a brawl when a jar of wine is opened. – Alkestis: en route to tackle the mares of Diomedes, Herakles brings the recently-deceased wife of Admetos back from Hades. – Encounters en route to/from Geryon and the Hesperides’ garden: with the shape-shifting sea-god Nereus or Triton, who is reluctant to provide directions; with the giant Antaios, who can only be conquered if his contact with his mother (Earth) is broken; with the Egyptian king Bousiris, given to sacrificing foreign visitors; with the Roman brigand Cacus, who attempts to steal the cattle Herakles is driving home. – Unplaced encounters: with the giant Alkyoneus, sometimes approached while asleep; with Kyknos, who used the skulls of his victims to build a temple of Apollo; with the Moliones, conjoined twins; with wizened Geras and Thanatos (Old Age and Death personified, respectively). – Participation in the great battle of the gods against the giants, the Gigantomachy, which established Zeus’ supremacy: according to some, the gods could only win with Herakles’ help. – Following the murder of Iphitos, son of Eurytos, king of Oichalia, Herakles seeks purification at Delphi, where he impatiently steals the tripod on which the Pythia sat to deliver her oracles, until Apollo intervenes. The oracle orders a period of enslavement to the Lydian Queen Omphale, with whom Herakles swaps clothes; while in Lydia, he deals with local nuisances Syleus and the Kerkopes. – Herakles rescues Hesione, princess of Troy, from a sea-monster; in return, her father king Laomedon promises Herakles divine horses, but deceitfully sends him away with ordinary ones; Herakles returns with companions to carry out the first sack of Troy. – In the Peloponnese, Herakles founds the Olympic Games, but also sacks both Elis and Pylos in response to various slights. At Tegea he rapes princess Auge, begetting a son Telephos, who goes on to become king of Mysia in Asia Minor.

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3.4 Events Leading Up to Herakles’ Death and Apotheosis Herakles wins the hand of his second wife, Deianeira, daughter of Oineus king of Kalydon, by defeating the river-god Acheloos in a wrestling match; they have a son, Hyllos. At some point the couple encounter the centaur Nessos, who offers to carry Deianeira across a river but tries to rape her halfway across. Herakles shoots him with an arrow, but as he lies dying Nessos persuades Deianeira to take a vial of his blood, to be employed should she ever need a love potion. Some time later, Herakles returns from sacking the city of Oichalia, bringing back king Eurytos’ daughter Iole as a concubine. Deaineira sends Herakles a tunic impregnated with Nessos’ blood, thinking to win him back, only to find that she has unwittingly poisoned him. In agony, Herakles orders a pyre to be built on Mount Oita, near their home in Thebes; as a reward for lighting the pyre, he hands his bow to Philoktetes, which will subsequently be essential to the fall of Troy. Herakles dies on the pyre, but is immediately taken up to the heavens, where he marries the goddess Hebe (Youth personified), and lives amongst the gods on Olympos for all eternity.

4

Classical Sources of Herakles’ Stories and Their Genres/Media

With such a vast range of stories, it is unsurprising that Herakles should be so ubiquitous in ancient literature and art. He is mentioned in our earliest surviving Greek epic poetry c. 750–700BCE, Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey and Hesiod’s Theogony and, later in the archaic period, in the shorter genre of lyric; in the fifth century BCE he is the subject of both tragedy and comedy on the Athenian stage, as well as in the prose genres of history and mythography. At the same time, he is everywhere in the visual arts, especially of the archaic period, adorning temples and other public buildings in sculptural form, and decorating thousands of vases made at Athens and elsewhere; most frequently represented are Herakles’ monster-slaying exploits, though other themes can be found too. Later Greek and Latin literature follows this lead, with Herakles continuing to appear in epic, and being referenced in the less obvious genres of pastoral and elegiac poetry; he likewise has a place in new visual media developed by the Romans, in wall-painting, mosaic and in relief sculpture decorating sarcophagi. From the fourth century BCE onwards Herakles becomes an unlikely hero of philosophy, starting with Prodikos’ tale (reported by Xenophon) of the ‘Choice of Herakles’, which casts him as champion of the life of virtue (Greek aretē, Latin virtus). Both Stoics and Cynics looked to Herakles as an example of endurance, self-control and the rejection of luxury, motivated by the pursuit of virtue

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rather than personal gain. In a similar vein, Herakles’ supposed moral qualities, as well as his physical prowess, made him a role model for political leaders. This idea was particularly exploited in the visual propaganda of Alexander the Great, who is depicted on coins wearing the lion-skin, an image later adopted by Hellenistic kings anxious to associate themselves with both Alexander and Herakles, and later still taken up by a number of Roman emperors.

5

The Post-classical Herakles

All of these aspects of Herakles resurface at various points in the hero’s postclassical career. In the volumes in this series we see the treatment of different episodes of his story in a wide variety of media, be they literary, visual or performative (drama, music, film), from Renaissance poetry to the modern novel, from late Roman Egyptian textiles to twenty-first century New Zealand prints. We see these stories allegorised in philosophical, theological and political discourse. We see examples of Herakles’ image adopted to bolster the legitimacy of political leaders from late Roman and Byzantine emperors via French kings to Vladimir Putin. The one element of the ancient Herakles which does not readily translate into the post-classical world is his active worship by individuals and city-states with prayers, sacrifices and all the trappings of ancient Greek and Roman religion. The advent of Christianity rendered such ritual practices obsolete for Herakles, as for all other ‘pagan’ gods and heroes. Yet, even in the sphere of religious significance, Herakles maintains some purchase in being, for example, a prototype of Christ and role-model for Christian fortitude. Covering such a wide range of material with authority would be impossible for any single scholar: too many different periods, cultures and media are involved, demanding different areas of expertise and a variety of methodological approaches. The work of the Leeds Hercules Project (www.herculespro ject.leeds.ac.uk) has therefore been to bring together scholars from different backgrounds, bringing different disciplinary perspectives to bear on the central question of Herakles’ versatility and significance to so many contexts. The result is a wide-ranging survey of a theme of major ongoing relevance to the modern world, which we hope will inspire further study both of Herakles himself and of the reception of classical myth more broadly.1 1 For more detailed discussion of the ancient material, and all the issues raised here, see Stafford 2012. Galinsky 1972 covers the full spectrum of Herakles’ incarnations in classical and post-classical literature; Blanshard 2005 provides a ‘biography’ of the hero, discussing a selection of ancient and post-classical representations of each episode of the myth.

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Following on from the period covered by Herakles Inside and Outside the Church, this volume focuses on the use of Herakles-Hercules in texts and the visual arts from the end of the Renaissance to the Enlightenment and into the early years of the nineteenth century. All the dates within this volume are CE unless otherwise stated. Emma Stafford Leeds, May 2020

Bibliography Allan, A., Anagnostou-Laoutides, E. and Stafford, E.J. (eds.) (2020) Herakles Inside and Outside the Church: from the first Christian Apologists to the end of the Quattrocento, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 18, Leiden: Brill Blanshard, A.J.L. (2005) Hercules: a heroic life, London: Granta Books Galinsky, K. (1972) The Herakles Theme: the adaptations of the hero in literature from Homer to the twentieth century, Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littlefield Stafford, E.J. (2012) Herakles, Abingdon, Oxon.: Routledge

Acknowledgements This volume follows on from Arlene Allan, Eva Anagnostou-Laoutides and Emma Stafford (eds 2020) Herakles Inside and Outside the Church: from the first Apologists to the End of the Quattrocento (Brill, Metaforms 18). The origins of this volume likewise lie in a conference held at the University of Leeds in 2013, Hercules: a Hero for All Ages, at which 49 papers were delivered, by scholars from a variety of disciplines dealing with receptions of the classical hero over time and in a wide range of media. These contributions were too many, and too diverse, for a single publication. Arlene and Eva developed their idea for a volume on Herakles’ appropriation by the early Church, whilst Valerie Mainz and Russell Goulbourne helped to devise some potential groupings of the remaining papers into three further volumes with the intention of co-editing one on the ‘exemplary Hercules’ of the early modern period. Career moves meant that Russell had to relinquish his editorial role, so we are grateful for his input into the early stages of development of this volume and of the series as a whole, and pleased to be able to include his paper on Voltaire here. An AHRC Networking grant awarded in 2016 facilitated the development of all four volumes, the editors of Brill’s Metaforms series agreed to take them on, and further impetus was provided by another conference at the University of Leeds in 2017, Celebrating Hercules in the Modern World. Details of both conferences and all the volumes can be found on the Hercules Project’s website (https://herculesproject.leeds .ac.uk). We would like to thank all those who participated in helpful discussions at both conferences, as well as those speakers whose papers have ended up in this volume. Thanks are also due to the AHRC for the Network award, and to a number of bodies who provided support for the two conferences, especially in the form of bursaries for postgraduate students and early-career researchers: the Classical Association, the Hellenic Society, the Roman Society, and the Institute of Classical Studies. The University of Leeds sponsored some keynote speakers, and has provided the project with a foundation throughout. As anyone who has ever assembled a multi-authored volume such as this knows, the practical work involved is considerable. Individual contributions have to be collected in, rendered into house style, and missing references and other information pursued; the quality of argument of individual papers and the coherence of the volume as a whole needs then to be reconciled; later, contributors may need help sourcing images and permissions for their reproduction, and checks are required on a host of minor details, like the harmonisation of differing styles of transliteration and spelling of Greek names. For work on

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all of these aspects of book production, and much more besides, we would like to thank Dr Eleanor OKell, who has often gone above and beyond the official remit of her role as the Hercules Project’s research assistant, and has shown exemplary tact and patience in dealing with contributors and editors alike. As co-editors, we are grateful for the opportunities this initiative has prompted in enabling us to engage so collaboratively with so much stimulating scholarship and take forward the reception of Herakles/Hercules into the early modern era, and beyond. Valerie Mainz, Emma Stafford May 2020

Notes on Contributors Filipa Medeiros Araújo is a post-doctoral researcher in the Interuniversitary Center for Camonian Studies at the University of Coimbra (Portugal). In 2014, she presented her PhD thesis entitled ‘“Verba significant, res significantur”: the reception of Alciato’s Emblemata in Portuguese Baroque literature’. Her research interests focus on Portuguese Baroque culture and text/image relations, with specific reference to emblem studies and she is currently working on the project ‘Mute signs and speaking images: the reception of logo-iconic language in Portuguese Baroque culture’, funded by the National Foundation for Science and Technology. She is a member of the Society for Emblem Studies and takes part in the Young Scientists Seminar of the Science Academy of Lisbon as a representative of Languages and Literatures. Marc Bizer is Professor of French Literature at the University of Texas at Austin. He is currently studying the evolution of ancient and early modern theatrical tragedy in the context of the history of emotions. He the author of three books: Homer and the Politics of Authority in Renaissance France (Oxford, 2011), Les Lettres romaines de Du Bellay: Les Regrets et la tradition épistolaire (Montreal, 2001), and La Poésie au Miroir: imitation et conscience de soi dans la poésie latine de la Pléiade (Paris, 1995). Manuel Caballero González was a Researcher at the Ludwig-Maximilians-University of Munich until 2019. His research focuses on Greek mythology, mythological madness and early Christianity. He has recently published a monograph on a prototypical maddened figure (Der Mythos des Athamas in der griechischen und lateinischen Literatur, Classica Monacensia, 2017) and the first translations into Spanish of Lactantius’ The Works of God and On The Wrath of God (Ciudad Nueva, 2014), as well as of Theodoret’s Ten Discourses on Providence (Ciudad Nueva, 2018). Ioannis Deligiannis is Assistant Professor of Latin at the Democritus University of Thrace. He has published several works on the history and reception of classical Greek and Latin texts in the Renaissance, especially on the Latin translations of Greek texts, including the monograph Fifteenth-Century Latin Translations of Lucian’s Essay on Slander (Pisa/Rome: Gruppo Editoriale Internazionale, 2006), and

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the edited volume Investigating the Translation Process in Humanistic Latin Translations of Greek Texts (Corfu: Diavlos, 2017). He is currently co-editing the volume Post-Byzantine Latinitas: Latin in Post-Byzantine Scholarship (15th–19th century) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2020). Alexandra Eppinger is a Research Associate in the Department of Ancient History at Technische Universität Darmstadt. She is the author of Hercules in der Spätantike (Harrassowitz, 2015). Her research interests include late-antique cultural history, ancient discourses on gender and sexuality, and the reception of Hercules in eighteenth-century political caricatures. She is currently in the early stages of a research project on atheism in the Roman Empire. Pamina Fernández Camacho is currently Lecturer in Greek Philology at the University of Cadiz. She is the author of numerous works about the ancient Gades and its cult of Hercules in literary sources from antiquity to the Renaissance, including ‘Gádeira, el décimo trabajo de Heracles y la política de Atenas’ (Euphrosyne 2013), ‘La tumba de Heracles en Gades: una indagación filológico-literaria’ (Europa Renascens 2015), and ‘On the Appropriation of Space Through Myth by Spanish Historians: Interpretation of Toponyms and Ethnonyms in the Footsteps of the Classical Tradition’ (IJCT 2019). She is a member of the research group HUM-251 ‘Elio Antonio de Nebrija’ for the study of Spanish Renaissance Latin texts. Russell Goulbourne is Professor of French and Dean of the Faculty of Arts at the University of Melbourne. He has published widely on eighteenth-century French literature, including the monograph Voltaire Comic Dramatist (Voltaire Foundation, 2006) and translations into English of works by Diderot and Rousseau. Paul Gwynne is Professor of Medieval and Renaissance Studies at The American University of Rome. His areas of research focus on fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Europe, the rise and diffusion of Italian Humanism and the reception of the classical tradition. These subjects are reflected in a number of articles and chapters in books as well as a trilogy of monographs which review the production of neoLatin poetry in Rome from 1480–1600: Poets and Princes: The Panegyric Poetry of Johannes Michael Nagonius (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013); Patterns of Patronage in Renaissance Rome: Francesco Sperulo: Poet, Prelate, Soldier, Spy (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2015); Francesco Benci: Quinque martyres (Leiden: Brill, 2017). With

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Bernhard Schirg he is the editor of the collection of essays entitled The Economics of Poetry: Efficient Production of Neo-Latin Poetry 1400–1720 (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2017). Anne-Sophie Laruelle is a research and teaching assistant at the University of Liège (Belgium). She devoted her doctoral thesis to the figure of Hercules in the art of Renaissance tapestry (University of Liège, 2019). Her research and publications focus on Northern European art in the Middle Ages and early modern Period. Tomas Macsotay is a Research Lecturer at the Universitat Pompeu Fabra in Barcelona. His books include The Profession of Sculpture in the Paris Académie (Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, 2014), the edited collections The Hurt( ful) Body. Performing and Beholding Pain, 1600–1800 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2017), Rome, Travel and the Sculpture Capital (Ashgate/Routledge, 2016), Die bildhauerischen Aufnahmestücke europäischer Kunstakademien im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert (Böhlau, 2016), co-edited with Johannes Myssok. Macsotay is preparing a book-length study entitled Flaxman’s Phantasmagoria. Outline and the Visionary Paradigm in late Enlightenment Rome. As of 2019, he is PI to the Spanish research project Prehistories of the Installation: from ecclesiastical Baroque to modern interiors (PGC2018–098348-A-100; MCIU/AEI/FEDER, UE). Valerie Mainz is a historian of art who published widely on the art and culture of the French Revolution during her time as a Lecturer and then Senior Lecturer in the School of Fine Art, History of Art and Cultural Studies at the University of Leeds. Her monograph Days of Glory? Imaging Recruitment and the French Revolution (Palgrave Macmillan, 2016) examines a wide range of visual imagery to explore the changing nature of glory, or of gloire, during a particularly momentous period in history. Emma Stafford is Professor of Greek Culture at the University of Leeds. She is author of numerous works on Greek myth, religion and iconography, including the monographs Herakles (Routledge, 2012) and Worshipping Virtues: personification and the divine in ancient Greece (Classical Press of Wales/Duckworth, 2000), and a volume co-edited with J.E. Herrin, Personification in the Greek World: from Antiquity to Byzantium (Centre for Hellenic Studies series no. 7, Ashgate,

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2005). She is coordinator of the project Hercules: a Hero for All Ages (https:// herculesproject.leeds.ac.uk/ (accessed 05/01/2019)). Annie Verbanck-Piérard is curator of the Department of Greek and Roman Antiquities, Royal Museum of Mariemont (Belgium). She is author, co-author and editor of books, proceedings of conferences and exhibition catalogues, including Culture et Cité. L’avènement d’Athènes (Brussels: de Boccard, 1995), Au temps d’Hippocrate. Médecine et société en Grèce ancienne (Mariemont: Musée royal de Mariemont, 1998), Le vase grec et ses destins (Munich: Biering et Brinkmann, 2003), Parfums de l’Antiquité (Mariemont: Musée royal de Mariemont, 2008), L’ Antiquité au service de la modernité (Bruxelles: Le Livre Timperman, 2008), La villa romaine de Boscoreale et ses fresques (Arles: Éditions Errance, 2013), Trésors hellénistiques de Mariemont (Mariemont: Musée royal de Mariemont, 2016), Au temps de Galien, un médecin grec dans l’Empire romain (Belgium: Musée royal de Mariemont and Morlanwelz/Somogy éditions d’ Art, 2018). She has also published many articles on ancient Greek religion, Greek vases and iconography (especially Herakles), history of collections, museology and transmission of Classical culture. Joanna Woodall is Professor of Art History at The Courtauld Institute of Art in London. A specialist in the visual and material culture of the Netherlands in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, her research interests focus on the issue of presence in material objects and the different ways in which embodied and situated users at particular historical moments valued and responded to specific works of art and artefacts. She is also concerned with the epistemological value of images and has recently co-edited with Thomas Balfe and Claus Zittel a volume entitled Ad Vivum? Visual materials and the vocabulary of life-likeness in Europe before 1800 (Intersections, Brill, 2019).

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The Transmission of a Classical Tradition in Theory and Practice Valerie Mainz and Emma Stafford

1

Hercules and the Herculean

In A Notion of the Historical Draught or Tablature of the Judgement of Hercules according to Prodicus, lib. II. Xen. De mem. Soc., the moralist Anthony Ashley Cooper, third Earl of Shaftesbury, promoted the history painting of exemplary subject matter so as to instill high moral virtue in the mind of the beholder who would then be spurred on, through the exercise of reason and of taste, to similarly perform heroically and virtuously.1 Whilst his tract focuses on history painting in the grand manner, the advice given therein goes beyond the remit of the practice of the fine artist to encompass a broader range of civic humanist thought from within the masculine public sphere of eighteenth-century Britain. By envisioning the narrative subject of the account of the judgement of Hercules, the short treatise makes larger claims about the choices that need to be made in the lives of elite young men towards the paths of discriminating, noble virtue in preference for, and in opposition to, the mere relish of purely sensual pleasure. Just as the young Hercules resolves for ‘a Life full of Toil and Hardship under the Conduct of Virtue, for the deliverance of Mankind from Tyranny and Oppression’, so should other men, including the creative artist, emulate this model.2 The conceit of using the picturing of a decisive action by the hero Hercules to moralise about the future conduct and lifestyle of men is also, in itself, a performative exercise. In exemplifying and giving advice, as it does, on the exercise of reason and of taste as well as on the arts of imitation, Shaftesbury’s treatise indicates something of the importance of the figure of Hercules within the early modern Western European classical tradition, the 1 Voitle 1984, 352–4 and 417–18. Published initially in French as ‘Raisonnement sur le tableau du jugement d’ Hercule, selon l’ histoire de Prodicus’ in the November 1712 edition of the Journal des sçavans, the English version of this ‘test-case’ text was subsequently included in the 1714 and later editions of Shaftsbury’s substantial Characteristicks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times (first edition published London 1711). 2 Cooper 1713, chapter 1.3, p. 7.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004435414_002

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subject of the present volume. Many of the contributions in this collection deal in depth with the exceptional semi-divine nature of this masculine superhero of antiquity exploring, in the process, the creative potential of the model that has been set up (see, for instance, chapters by Bizer, Goulbourne).3 At the same time and alongside the evident opportunity for self-reflection this prompts, we are constantly reminded that this figure of Hercules also evolves as a hugely protean, ‘Herculean’ vehicle of many, many-sided appearances. Thus the different media, formats and ways of mediating between exemplary models of the present and those of the past, through the intervening processes of the presence of Hercules and/or of narratives grounded in the Herculean myths, frequently come to elude any simply definitive exemplary interpretation. The easily recognizable type, or prototype, of Hercules – usually present with the guises of extraordinarily virile strength, labouring achievements, bulging muscles, lion-skin, club etc. – belies the extraordinarily prolific, diverse and multiform functions to which this figure has been put. It is as if this particular hero offers the creative genius of the artist, as well as that of the beholder, the opportunity to come away with an understanding and insight over and beyond any obvious, immediately identifiable typecasting. The very fluidity of the figure’s exemplariness can also result in a deliberate undermining by the maker of the artwork of the over-determined applications for which the model has been used.4 Changing and contingent religious, social and political contexts in the early modern period are used here to mark out some of the applications served by the superhero, without attempting to force the Herculean trope into any sort of a straitjacket. The setting up of encounters between the demi-god Hercules and the princely ruler within absolutist states during the Renaissance, post Renaissance and Counter Reformation (see chapters by Deligiannis, Gwynne, Laruelle, Fernández Camacho) suggests something about the nature of the political leadership then holding sway. This governmental model is somewhat undone with the coming to the fore of more moralizing choices and approaches in which the personal is differently invested within the political (see chapters by Verbanck-Piérard, Woodall, Medeiros Araújo). With the coming of the French Revolution and the ending of some deep-rooted political institutional structures, forms of civic action change further so that the ennobled and the virtuous acquire connotations that are open to the com3 On the debate about the ancient Herakles’ status as hero and/or god, see Stafford 2010 and 2005a. 4 For more on the complexities of figuring history and myth in history, see Mainz 2016, 2010, 2007, 1996a, 1996b, 1995.

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mon man and without always necessarily fulfilling the exemplary roles of earlier times. From being a figure of gigantic heroic virtue in working to educate and guard monarchic truth and order, the aggressively muscled, hugely straining hyper-virile body of Hercules becomes suffused, during the political upheavals of the 1790s with an almost barbaric, superhuman and negatively strong vigour (see chapters by Eppinger, Mainz, Caballero González, Macsotay).

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The Gallic Herakles/Hercules

Shaftesbury’s essentially ekphrastic exercise in recommending the subject of the Judgement of Hercules and then detailing how this subject should be handled in a grand manner history painting introduced to Britain some of the academic painting theory that had originated in Italy at the time of the Renaissance and that then held sway at the French Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture (see further section 5 below, Rubens’ use of Hercules). It is also possible to suggest that this tract’s mastery of a well-known humanistderived continental rhetoric is, furthermore, a tribute to intimations of the special propensities of the ‘Gallic Hercules’. In a short prefatory piece, the second-century Greek writer Lucian used the classical rhetorical exercise of ekphrasis to describe a painting of Herakles he claimed to have seen in a villa in the Rhône valley. In this description, Herakles is a bald, wrinkled and sunburnt old man, with what had long been the hero’s trademark attributes of lion-skin and club, but also with a bow. Most surprisingly perhaps, Herakles was apparently depicted pulling a crowd of happy people behind him, their ears linked to Herakles’ tongue by gold and amber chains. A local interlocutor, one Ognias, explained that Herakles was here to be identified with a Celtic hero called Ogmios, who had been associated with eloquence. Ognias summed up the significance of the striking image:5

5 Lucian, Herakles 6 (trans. Stafford): τὸ δ’ ὅλον καὶ αὐτὸν ἡμεῖς τὸν Ἡρακλέα λόγῳ τὰ πάντα ἡγούμεθα ἐξεργάσασθαι σοφὸν γενόμενον, καὶ πειθοῖ τὰ πλεῖστα βιάσασθαι. καὶ τά γε βέλη αὐτοῦ οἱ λόγοι εἰσίν, οἶμαι, ὀξεῖς καὶ εὔστοχοι καὶ ταχεῖς καὶ τὰς ψυχὰς τιτρώσκοντες. On Lucian’s exploration of ethnic identity via visual analysis here, see Elsner 2007, 58–66. Lucian is also the author of a variation on the Choice of Hercules theme (below), in which he himself has to choose between the virtuous Education (Paideia) and the less lofty Sculpture (Hermoglyphikē): The Dream, or Lucian’s Life 6–9.

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figure i.1 Andrea Alciato, Emblemata, Augsburg 1531: Eloquentia fortitudine praestantior (‘Eloquence superior to strength’) Photo: Alciato at Glasgow (http://www.emblems.arts .gla.ac.uk/alciato/), courtesy of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections

Altogether we consider the real Herakles to have accomplished everything by eloquence, as a wise man, and to have exerted force principally by persuasion. His arrows, I think, are words, sharp, well-aimed and swift, wounding souls. This conception of the eloquent Herakles-Hercules was popularised by Renaissance emblem books, one of the earliest appearances being the first edition of Andrea Alciato’s Emblematum liber (Figure i.1). The textual explanation is accompanied by a description that ends with the comment: ‘by eloquence the powerful speaker pulls even the hardest heart where he will’ (quamvis durissima corda, / eloquio pollens ad sua vota trahit). The idea spread thence via both visual and literary media to become firmly established in the humanist repertoire as a vehicle for expressing the power of language (for further on the Gallic Hercules, see Bizer, Laruelle).

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The Choice of Hercules

Shaftsbury’s principle point of reference, as his title indicates, is the story of Hercules’ Choice ‘according to Prodicus’ (Greek spelling ‘Prodikos’). The

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ancient sophist reportedly performed his ‘speech on Herakles’ to very large audiences in fifth-century BC Athens, and it is preserved via a re-telling, in the mouth of Sokrates, in Xenophon’s Memorabilia (2.1.21–34):6 They say that when Herakles was setting out from childhood into his prime, a time when the young, now becoming their own masters, show whether they will take the path of virtue (aretē) in life or the path of vice (kakia), he went out to a quiet place and sat not knowing which of the roads to take. There appeared two tall women approaching him … The women turn out to be Virtue and Vice personified, characterised by their appearance – Virtue pretty but modest, clothed in white; Vice plump and overly made up. Each outlines to Herakles a different road he might take in life: the way offered by Vice is one of ease, with ample food, drink, women (and boys), sleep and other pleasures of the flesh; the road of Virtue is one of toil and hardship, with a long list of prerequisites for winning the good opinion of gods and men. In this oldest telling we do not hear Herakles’ reaction to either speech, although the strong implication is that he chose to follow the path of virtue. There are several later antique variations on the theme, including a version by Cicero (De Officiis 1.118), in which the general Vice is rendered as the more particular Pleasure (Voluptas), and is the likely source of the story’s first Renaissance appearances. There are brief references in Petrarch’s Life of Solitude (1.4.2 and 2.9.4, 1346), with a more substantial narration given in Salutati’s monumental De Laboribus Herculis (On Hercules’ Labours 3.7.1–4, 1406).7 The theme’s subsequent popularity in a variety of media is well documented: in this volume, literary usage is exemplified by its treatment in the fifteenth-century Sassolo da Prato’s work (Deligiannis), while a number of parallels can be seen in eighteenth-century musical treatments, discussed in another volume in this series, notably J.S. Bach’s cantata Hercules auf dem Scheidewege (Hercules at the Crossroads, Leipzig 1733).8 The subject’s aptness for visual renditions is amply

6 Xen. Mem. 1.21–2 (trans. Stafford): Φησὶ γὰρ Ἡρακλέα, ἐπεὶ ἐκ παίδων εἰς ἥβην ὡρμᾶτο, ἐν ᾗ οἱ νέοι ἤδη αὐτοκράτορες γιγνόμενοι δηλοῦσιν, εἴτε τὴν δι’ ἀρετῆς ὁδὸν τρέψονται ἐπὶ τὸν βίον εἴτε τὴν διὰ κακίας, ἐξελθόντα εἰς ἡσυχίαν καθῆσθαι ἀποροῦντα, ποτέραν τῶν ὁδῶν τράπηται· καὶ φανῆναι αὐτῷ δύο γυναῖκας προσιέναι μεγάλας … On the ancient tradition of the Choice, see Stafford 2005b. 7 On the use of the story in these texts see respectively Mommsen 1953 and Witt 1981. 8 Chapter by Stafford and Benjamin in Stafford (ed.) forthcoming; see also Stafford 2017 on the theme’s resurgence in the peplum genre of Italian film.

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demonstrated in Panofsky’s seminal study Hercules am Scheidewege, which discusses more than fifty visual examples from the early modern period. The trope is more or less directly referenced in many later works, often to ironically humorous effect.9 Shaftesbury was particularly inspired by Annibale Carracci’s Choice of Hercules (Naples, Capodimonte Gallery), which he had seen in the Farnese Palace Camerino in Rome. To illustrate his treatise, he commissioned Paolo de Matteis to produce a Choice of Hercules (Oxford, Ashmolean Museum), indicating what the visual composition should look like in some detail, as we know from his correspondence. Three months after the painting’s completion in 1712, de Matteis completed a small-scale copy that was bought by Shaftsbury’s friend Sir John Copley and which now hangs in Temple Newsam House, Leeds (Figure i.2).10 The imitative interplay between text and image is taken a step further again when the painting was reproduced as an engraving by Simon Gribelin, for the edition of A Notion of the Historical Draught or Tablature of the Judgement of Hercules published as part of Shaftesbury’s Characteristicks of 1714.11 In this composition, the mostly nude Hercules stands, resting on his club, something in the manner of the antique marble sculpture the Farnese Hercules (Naples, Museo Nazionale). The hero’s nudity had become an accepted convention of the high art of history painting, a genre that used the sources of antiquity so as potentially to ennoble from within the training systems of early modern European academies of art.12 Whilst the two female personifications are both in classical dress, they still accord well with the verbal ekphrasis in that they are strongly differentiated: Virtue is standing, a sword resting along her right arm, pointing with her left hand, perhaps towards the hard path of which she is speaking; Pleasure meanwhile is seated on the ground, with an amphora, plate and goblet behind her suggestive of luxury; she gazes amorously at Hercules, her flowery garland and revealingly loose drapery suggestive of the fleshly pleasures she has to offer. The difficulty of the hero’s choice is vis-

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Panofsky 1930. See Rose 2011, 234–86 for a survey of parodic treatments of the theme in late eighteenth- to twentieth-century art, from Angelica Kaufmann’s The Artist Hesitating Between the Arts of Music and Painting (1791, Nostell Priory) to Martin Maloney’s Hey Good Looking (After Poussin’s The Choice of Hercules) (1998, Saatchi Gallery). Lomax 2000, 27 no. 22. Voitle 1984, 390–2; cf. above n. 1. The engraving is reproduced again at the head of A Notion in Benjamin Rand’s 1914 reconstruction of Shaftsbury’s Second Characters or The Language of Forms (Harvard University Press), a volume left unfinished at the time of Shaftsbury’s death in 1713. See further for history painting, Mainz 2016.

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figure i.2 Paolo di Matteis, The Choice of Hercules, 1712, oil on canvas Photo: Leeds Museums and Art Galleries (Temple Newsam House), Bridgeman Images

ible in his body language: resting on his left hand, his head faces Virtue, but his body leans heavily towards Pleasure – following Shaftsbury’s written description that:13 … in the manner of his turn towards the worthier of these goddesses, he should by no means appear so averse or separate from the other, as not to suffer it to be conceived of him, that he had ever any inclination for her, or had ever hearkened her voice. On the contrary, there ought to be some hopes yet remaining for this latter goddess Pleasure, and some regret apparent in Hercules.

13

Cooper chapter 2.1, p. 14.

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The Monster-Slaying Hercules

Both the Gallic Hercules and the choice-making Hercules, then, have classical roots but were much embellished from the Renaissance on, the multiplicity of their interpretive possibilities being well suited to the philosophical debates of humanism and the Enlightenment. The predominant image of Hercules in antiquity had, however, been that of the monster-slayer, the hero of the twelve labours – this is the subject of hundreds of ancient Greek vase paintings, Roman mosaics and wall paintings, both Greek and Roman sculpture, and is also foregrounded in much Greek and Latin literature.14 Hercules’ propensity for monster-slaying in fact facilitated his subsequent adoption by the early Church, individual encounters being allegorized to represent the Christian’s struggle against various vices, and the victory of Christ himself over sin and death.15 Allegorisation of the labours could be adapted to more humanist concerns, too. Erasmus, for example, often likened his own and his friends’ intellectual work to Hercules’ labours, a conceit elaborated in his early work The Antibarbarians (1520), where he presents Jacob Batt as boasting (trans. Phillips p. 36 ll. 29–35):16 You were a witness of that fight; you saw for yourself how I acted Hercules, how many lions and boars and bulls and Stymphalian birds I slew, how many versions of Antaeus or Geryon or Diomedes or Nessus, how I dragged Cerberus out of his den where he was terrifying the pallid shades, and held him up to the sky; you saw how my Greek fire only just managed to wipe out the Lernaean hydra, fertile with its own deaths, and I rather think that worst of all plagues is still alive and breathing. Erasmus would later devote an entire 5,000-word essay in his Adages (1500–36) to the Greek phrase Herakleioi ponoi (Latin Herculei labores, ‘Labours of Her-

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See the Preface for a listing of the monster-slaying episodes which appear in ancient literary and visual sources, discussed in more detail in Stafford 2012, 23–78. On Herakles-Hercules as an allegorical figure mediating between paganism and Christianity, see the papers gathered in Allan, Anagnostou-Laoutides and Stafford (eds) 2020, the first volume in the Hercules Project’s series. Antibarbari p. 62 ll. 4–9: Vidisti ipse testis in eo tumultu, quantum me Herculem praestiterim, quot leones, quot sues, quot Stymphalidas aues, quot tauros, quot Antaeos, quot Geryones, quot Diomedes, quot Nessos confecerim, ut Cerberum e latebris illis, ubi exsangues umbras territabat, extractum coelo ostenderim, quanta virtute Lernaeam hydram foecumdam suis mortibus igne Graeco vix tandem extinxerim, et haud scio an adhuc spiret pestis illa omnium perniciossisima.

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cules’; on which see Bizer in this volume). The same phrase appears in a portrait by Holbein (London, National Gallery), which depicts Erasmus with his hands resting on a book which has ‘the Herculean labours of Erasmus of Rotterdam’ written in Greek on its gilded page-edges. The hero’s monster-slaying exploits were particularly popularized in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries by their narration, with more or less moralising interpretation, in works such as Enrique de Villena’s Los doze trabajos de Hércules (The Twelve Labours of Hercules, 1417), Pietro Andrea de Bassi’s Le fatiche de Hercule (The Labours of Hercules, 1431) Lilio Gregorio Giraldi’s Herculis vita (Life of Hercules, 1539) and Giambattista Giraldi Cintio’s Dell’ Ercole canti ventisei (Twenty-six Verses On Hercules, 1557). Less obviously, Hercules’ exploits feature largely in Raoul Le Fèvre’s influential Recueil des hystoires de Troyes (Collection of Histories of Troy, 1464), translated by William Caxton as Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye (1473–4), the first book ever printed in English, an abridged version indeed being published as The Book of the Strong Hercules. A further, more practical, spur to the representation of Hercules’ battles, from the mid-fifteenth century on, was provided by the development of the new medium of print. Reproducible and more intimate than large-scale painting, wood-cuts, etchings and engravings helped to popularize images of classical mythology by allowing for their wider circulation, sometimes accompanying texts such as Giovanni Bonsignori’s influential Italian translation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses (1497).17 The place of Hercules in this medium was explored by the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s 2004 exhibition Poets, Lovers, and Heroes in Italian Mythological Prints, which included three early sixteenth-century Herculean images: Cristofano Robetta’s engraving Hercules and the Hydra of Lerna (c. 1500–20) emulates the protagonists from one of the three Herculean works (now lost) painted by Antonio Pollaiuolo for the Medici palace in Florence c. 1460, but places them in a Dürer-esque landscape; Ugo da Carpi’s woodcut Hercules and Antaeus (c. 1516) recreates a drawing by Raphael, itself inspired by a much-copied Roman statue group in the Palazzo Pitti, Florence; Giovanni Jacopo Caraglio’s engraving Hercules and Achelous in the Form of a Bull (c. 1524– 5) is based on a drawing by Rosso Fiorentino, one of a set of six Herculean exploits.18 In other media, too, we find both individual exploits and collections of labours, often following the list of twelve detailed in the sixth-century Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy (book 4 poem 7.13–35), which differs from the twelve 17 18

For discussion of Bonsignori’s treatment of Hercules, see Capriotti 2020. See the catalogue, Thompson 2004; the images mentioned here are illustrated and discussed pp. 47–9.

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identified in antiquity.19 Seven of the canonical labours are included (the lion, hydra, boar, birds, mares, Hesperides, Cerberus), but the remaining five (hind, stables, bull, Amazons, Geryon) are replaced by battles with the centaurs, Achelous, Cacus and Antæus, and holding up heaven. Groups of labours might appear in a single artwork, such as the tapestry The Triumph of Hercules made for Pope Leo X (1513–21, The Royal Collection) featuring seven labours in a central colonnade, or there might be a series of works meant to be displayed together, such as Lucas Cranach the Elder’s series of Labours of Hercules, seven of which survive in Braunschweig. Single labours or other personal battles with which Hercules was engaged feature in many works of sculpture. In exploiting the expressive potentialities of the three-dimensional medium set in space, Giambologna’s marble group of Hercules and Nessus (Florence, Loggia dei Lanzi) brings out the dramatic qualities of a fight, as also the hero’s strength, in that the contorted pose of the centaur has been fittingly caught in the momentary action of being overwhelmed (for further on Hercules in sculpture, see Caballero González, Macsotay). Literary exploitation of Herculean imagery is especially prevalent in the earlier part of our period (Deligiannis, Gwynne). The literary tradition was later ironically inverted by Voltaire’s usage of Hercules to undermine religious authority (see Goulbourne). The visual representation of the figure of Hercules then comes to the fore in this volume that covers the period when the Baroque emerged as a dominant force in Western European culture. In reaction to the iconoclasm of some Protestant reformers and driven by the needs of the Catholic Church for visual imagery to involve the spectator emotionally alongside other forms of communication in, for instance, opera and on the stage, the Baroque emanated outwards from Rome. It was believed that the supposed immediacy of sight would enable a beholder to strive towards a greater glorification through the activation of an emulating, but not exactly matching, bodily experience. Thus, in the aftermath of the Council of Trent (1546–1563), known episodes culled from the life and stories of Hercules lent themselves to the movement, drama, extravagant gestures, grandiloquent emotions, and gigantism of the Baroque, with its stirring searching for balance between passion and reasoned control.

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The ancient canon seems to have been established in the first half of the fifth century BCE, when twelve metopes featuring the labours were carved for the temple of Zeus at Olympia, c. 460 BCE, though the list remains fluid for some time after this: see Stafford 2012, 24–30.

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Rubens’ Use of Hercules

So changeable in nature, the flawed hero and eventual demi-god proliferated to such an extent in the art and visual culture of the period covered by this volume that any attempt to be comprehensive in the coverage of all of these manifestations would either descend to the level of an accounting exercise or fail to do justice to the complexities that have prompted so many of these imaginative recreations. Productive insights about some of the key claims at stake in the use of Hercules in this period can, however, be gleaned from a brief consideration of the importance of this figure to Peter Paul Rubens (1577– 1640). Obtaining commissions from most of the major European courts, the several times ennobled painter, designer of large-scale decorative projects, printmaker, studio manager, collector, dealer, antiquarian and diplomat, Rubens, the most prolific of artists, ran a large and commercially successful studio in Antwerp. Although he left no published theory of art, one of Rubens’ first biographers, Giovanni Pietro Bellori (1613–96), noted that the artist had jotted down erudite aspects of his artistic practice in a pocketbook, then extant.20 The pocketbook was substantially burnt in a fire of 1720 in the Louvre studio of the cabinet maker André-Charles Boulle (1642–1732).21 A short Latin tract, De imitatione statuorum (On the Copying of Statues), from it had, nonetheless, already been published in 1708, alongside its French translation, by the then owner of the pocketbook, the amateur Roger de Piles (1635–1709).22 The tract recommends the painter to take a cautionary approach when imitating antique sculpture. Beginners were not to learn from marbles that were crude, stiff and with harsh anatomies; rather, appropriate models needed to be selected with judicious care, for the painter had to understand antiquity in order to be true to the practice of the different art form of painting, as also to nature. When painted, the motions of the body, the skin’s flexibility, the play of light on flesh required a thorough knowledge of classical sculpture which was not to arise from a mere slavish copying but from a creative adaptation and re-use of known and approved sculptural prototypes.23

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Bellori 1672, 254. For more on this pocketbook, see Jaffé 1966, vol. 1 301–05. De Piles 1708, 139–148. For more on Rubens and art theory, see Muller 1992. Drawing after casts of classical sculptures belonged to the training of fine artists from within the academies of art that were set up during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The sketch of 1746 by the history painter, Charles-Joseph Natoire (1700–1777), Life Class at the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture (London, The Courtauld Gallery)

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The ground-breaking account by Francis Haskell and Nicholas Penny about the creation, diffusion and eventual dissolution of a ‘canon’ of universally admired antique sculptures identifies a set of mostly marble Roman copies of Greek bronze originals.24 These provided the humanist elite of the early modern period with their knowledge of the sculpture of antiquity (see VerbanckPiérard on Charles of Lorraine as an example of knowledgeable rulership). Amongst the ninety-five catalogued examples, the Farnese Hercules (Naples, Museo Nazionale), Hercules and Antaeus (Florence, Palazzo Pitti) and Commodus as Hercules (Rome, Musei Vaticani) loom large. There are many extant drawings by Rubens after some of these sculptures several of which were made between 1600 and 1608 during the artist’s stay in Italy, and more specifically in Rome.25 Under the bilingual heading Vir ΗΡΑΚΛΕΣ (‘The Man HERAKLES’), an extant fragment from Rubens’s lost pocketbook has on its verso notes in Latin and a cubic analysis of the Farnese Hercules. On the recto of the sheet, back and side views of this same marble statue have similarly been reduced to the elemental forms of square, arc and equilateral triangle.26 The colossal figure of the Farnese Hercules seems to have had a special resonance for Rubens, as it had had, in its own way, for Hendrick Goltzius (Woodall). It certainly served as the prototype for a muscle-bound, almost over life-size man of action, and of undoubted physical as well as moral strength. The thickset, fleshy, curly-haired, heavily bearded, moustachioed gigantic appearance of, say, St Christopher from the outside wings of the major Rubens’ altarpiece of The Descent from the Cross (1612–14, Munich, Alte Pinakothek) is clearly one such example. It was not, however, just for the underlying formal qualities of the Farnese Hercules statue that this particular monument was of value to Rubens, for the second half of the short manuscript published by De Piles is concerned with the degeneracy, the decay, the corruption, the weakness and the loss of efficacy of the artist’s own age which he unfavourably compared to a (lost) Golden Age of antiquity, peopled with heroes, giants and Cyclopes. Rubens noted further that nature, in the form of the human body, had been closer to its origins in this Golden Age when it had achieved a more generally

24 25 26

is instructive in this respect. Here, a cast of the Farnese Hercules is shown in rear view looming large over the seated instructor, Natoire, his pupils and other students as they go about their copying and concomitant studying from approved posed and set models. For the practice of academic copying after antique sculpture, see further Macsotay 2014. Haskell and Penny 1981. Meulen 1994. Muller 1992, 237; Jaffé 1966, vol. 1 plates X, XII.

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uniform perfection. Whereas the ancients had exercised their bodies every day, sometimes even to a too great extent of sweat and fatigue, the paunch bellies and weak limbs of his own times arose from sloth, eating and drinking, lack of exercise and idleness. These jottings certainly engaged with ongoing debates that pitted the greatness of the ancients against the endeavours of the moderns. Yet the concerns expressed here also go to the core of some of the problematically complex political as well as moral dimensions that had accrued to histories of and stories about Hercules. Again, so many of the contributions in this book bring out just how much the body of Hercules had acquired difficult significance within the oligarchic autocracies of the day that went beyond discourses on aesthetics (see, for instance, Medeiros Araújo, Fernández Camacho, Eppinger, Mainz). It is, for instance, darkly ironic that on his way to his execution in front of the Whitehall Banqueting House on 30 January 1649, King Charles I had to pass through the hall whose ceiling was adorned with the allegorical series of paintings the King had, in happier times, commissioned from Rubens. The subject of this series of nine large canvases dealt with the apotheosis of James I, the doomed monarch’s father. One of the paintings looming large above this unfortunate sovereign on his own last day on this earth, contained a scene depicting The Triumph of Hercules over Discord (London, Whitehall Banqueting House). So the sought-for analogy between the figure of Hercules and the imaginative ascendancy of King James to the Heavens is, for the viewer today, bound up with the ending of his son and heir’s claims to absolute rulership. The hyper-virility of Hercules, that is so much a feature of Rubens’s Baroque, was, furthermore, frequently not treated in any simple way even by this artist and this despite the fact that so much of the Herculean in heroic size, scope and ambition still accrues to the oeuvre of Rubens. The marble sculpture of the Farnese Hercules is in a peculiarly static, sombre, even lugubrious pose that is, on the whole, quite alien to the exuberant vitality of so much of Rubens’ painterly touch. Lisa Rosenthal has discussed how the undermining of certain gender stereotypes to do with masculinities, concepts of public virtue, state power and the realms of war and of peace played themselves out in several paintings by Rubens.27 In his loss of self-mastery and self-control, in his emasculated, infantilized dependency, in his totteringly, nearly naked inebriated state, Rubens’ Drunken Hercules (Dresden, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Gemäldegalerie) can certainly be understood to serve partly as a contrasting pendant to his

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Rosenthal 2005.

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depiction of The Hero Crowned by Victory (Munich, Alte Pinakothek). Rubens also painted the episode of the mocking of Hercules by Omphale (Figure i.3), perhaps the most obvious of the narratives about Hercules concerned with the unmanning of the hero. The subordination of Hercules to the Lydian Queen Omphale, who holds him ignominiously by the ear, is clearly shown by Rubens to be undermining of the powers of the superhero, of the man’s man. By linking this impotence to notions of courtly love, Rosenthal has argued that the work here serves as a warning to the viewer about the effects of passion, of irrational dispossession, of a world turned upside down.28

6

Gender

Whilst the deeply invested and complex masculinities of Hercules become enduring aspects of this figure’s mythical attributions, the issue of gender identity is of relevance today in ways that were not envisaged in Shaftesbury’s day, when notions of gender equality had not as yet been widely accepted and, generally, only men were institutionally effective within the realms of the public sphere. This can, in part, account for some of the alternative readings that began to accrue to the figure of the hyper-masculine Hercules. Furthermore, the fact that the display of Hercules’ nudity and rippling muscles whilst monster-slaying has invited appreciation at an aesthetic and even at an erotic level needs also to be noted. From the consideration of a range of art works produced in the Renaissance in the diverse media of bronze statuettes, monumental paintings, prints and private sketches, the wrestling match with Antaeus, in which the two strongmen grapple with each other’s naked bodies has, for instance, prompted particular and plausible homoerotic readings.29 The popularity of Renaissance and Baroque visual representations of the gender-inverting story of Hercules’ enslavement to the Lydian Queen Omphale (e.g. Figure i.3), during a period of expiation for the murder of Iphitos ordered by Apollo, also deserves some further explanation. The surviving Greek sources make much of the inversion implied by servitude to a woman, and imply an amorous relationship between the couple, but it is in the Latin love poets that we first find the well-known motif of their cross-dressing. Propertius (4.9.47– 50), for example, has Hercules saying:

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Rosenthal 2005, 122–34. See Simons 2008 for the homoerotic potential of the Renaissance Hercules.

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figure i.3 Peter Paul Rubens, Hercules and Omphale, c. 1602, 2.15m × 2.78m, Louvre (Inv. 854) Photo: © Réunion des Musées nationaux et du Grand Palais des Champs-Elysées (Rmn-Gp)

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I have carried out servile duties in a Sidonian dress and worked my daily weight of wool for the Lydian; her soft breast-band held my hairy chest captive, and I was a proper girl with hard hands.30 Renaissance painters tend to make much of the clothes-swapping motif. There are at least 10 versions of the Hercules and Omphale narrative attributed to Lucas Cranach the Elder, one of which (Braunschweig, Herzog-Anton-Ulrich Museum) has the hero holding a loom-shuttle with servant-girls wrapping his head in a wimple whilst the queen still grasps spindles as she looks on from behind and at the side. With this story in mind, one might also question the relationship between Hercules and the resolutely female allegorical figures between whom he has to choose (e.g. in Figure i.2). There is now a long visual tradition which is predicated on the female nature of such allegorical personifications so that the repeated representation of the hero deciding to do Virtue’s bidding might give the impression of subservience to female direction. Yet it is surely striking that here, too, the necessarily abstract qualities of such female personifications make way for the male dominance of the hero’s bodily performance.31

7

Conclusion

This volume is organised so as to move generally in a trajectory forward from early Renaissance times to the turmoils attendant on the French Revolution. The chapters in Part I consider a selection of texts and visual images which present Hercules as an educative model for the princely ruler, foregrounding either the hero’s philosophical, choice-making persona or the practical application of his virtue in his monster-slaying exploits. In the first of two literary examples from the fifteenth century, Deligiannis examines the dynamics of patronage involved in Sassolo da Prato’s presentation of a Latin version of the Prodikean Choice story to the young Alessandro Gonzaga, and the text’s later recycling by the calligrapher Felice Feliciano for a younger generation of Mantua’s ruling family. Gwynne’s substantial contribution includes previously unpublished poems by Johannes Michael Nagonius, with English translations and commentaries, which imagine Hercules himself exhorting the future Holy 30 31

Trans. Stafford; for more detail on the ancient sources, see Stafford 2012, 132–4. On the feminine form of allegorical figures, see Stafford 1998, much informed by Warner 2000 [1985] (see especially 88–126 on the influence of Athena’s image on representation of the virtues). See also Mainz 1998.

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Roman Emperor Maximilian I to ‘imitate our labours’ – texts which constitute new evidence for an association with the hero which would later become an important part of Maximilian’s image as world emperor. A wider group of princely rulers is implicated in Laruelle’s discussion of Flemish tapestry, a major ‘luxury’ artistic medium of the Renaissance: Herculean themes woven in Flanders adorned courts across Europe, presenting the hero’s exploits as a reflection of the achievements of the resident ruling family and an encouragement to further endeavours. The last two chapters in this section demonstrate the model’s later application, in the eighteenth century, to Prince Charles Alexander of Lorraine (Verbanck-Piérard) and the more or less contemporary King José I of Portugal (Medeiros Araújo). Though geographically far apart, the achievements of each of these Enlightenment rulers were articulated, in a variety of media, through Herculean imagery which both linked them to familiar traditions in the representation of power, and spoke to contemporary concerns. The chapters in Part II focus on examples from across a similar time-scale in which certain artists and writers exploit and, in the process, problematise Hercules’ exemplary role for their own ends. Picking up geographically from the last paper in the previous section, Fernández Comacho’s survey of late medieval and early modern Spanish historiography demonstrates Hercules’ ambivalence as a focal figure in the creation of national identity on the Iberian peninsula. Woodall is likewise concerned with a potentially problematic Hercules, here a single image, Hendrick Goltzius’ engraving The Great Hercules of 1598. Is he straightforwardly the incarnation of virtus, as the inscription suggests and in keeping with the image of ‘heroic virtue’ in contemporary emblem books, or does his excessive musculature indicate comment on the artist’s labour, or even a more complex allegory of the nascent Dutch body politic? In sixteenthcentury France, meanwhile, Bizer argues that poet Joachim du Bellay eschews the exemplary figure of the ‘Gallic Hercules’, used by his contemporaries to glorify the monarchy, in favour of a humanist model of the intellectual’s ‘Herculean labour’ developed a generation earlier in the writings of Erasmus. Goulbourne picks up the thread two centuries later in the work of Voltaire, for whom Hercules is again the champion of the intellectual, the monsters against which he must fight now being fanaticism and the authority of religious tradition. The material discussed in Part III demonstrates the extent to which, by the later eighteenth century, the exemplariness of Hercules was becoming quite undone. In the satirical genre of British political cartoons, for example, Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger might be cast as ‘the modern Hercules’, but, as Eppinger’s survey reveals, the association is not always a positive or heroic one, and the title sometimes passes to the premier’s political rivals. At the same period, Mainz sheds light on the role of Herculean imagery in the French

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Revolution which involves what is, at first sight, an astonishing reversal of the hero’s previous association with the monarchy, his club being now pressed into the service of the People. Two final chapters explore the complete breakdown of Hercules’ role as incarnation par excellence of heroic virtue in neoclassical sculpture. Caballero González surveys the theme of Hercules’ madness in ancient literature and the revival of interest in this darker side of the hero’s character in early modern art, culminating in Canova’s Hercules and Lichas group (1795–1815). Macsotay discusses the same group in the context of a shift in aesthetic towards other, often younger, models of masculine virtue, which leaves Hercules free to occupy a new role as the embodiment of dishevelled violence. The next volume in the series deals with later approaches to Hercules when notions of the superman, whether blessed or cursed with exceptional powers, come to the fore.32 The struggles of the labouring hero will also evolve to take on wider tensions to do with changes in class structure, with the collective ownership of the means of production and with the creativity of processes of industrialization. The notion of Hercules as model of the princely ruler will resurface from time to time, though more often the subject aspiring to heroic virtue will be drawn from a wider demographic. The twentieth and twenty-first centuries will also see a resurgence of interest in simply – or not so simply – telling the story of the monster-slaying superhero. The purpose of the present volume, then, has not merely been to extol the virtue of Hercules, nor is it certainly to bury him dead. Rather, through the generous contributions and hard labour of all those concerned in this enterprise, we hope to have opened up paths of further ascendancy. It is clear that this hero for all ages continues to provide us with ample material for thought, study and contemplation, even in these postmodern times so that we, too, can learn to make appropriate choices whilst toiling, in the process, to overcome adversity through the emulation and adaptation of past models. Morally improving options are, however, at least in theory, open to us all now, rather than being mostly restricted top down to a young, educated, privileged and masculine elite.

32

Blanshard and Stafford (eds) 2020; see especially the chapter by Will Desmond, ‘Hercules among the Germans: from Winkelmann to Höderlin’.

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Bibliography Primary Sources Alciato, A. (1531), see the Alciato at Glasgow Project, online at https://www.emblems .arts.gla.ac.uk (accessed 13/05/2019) Bellori, Giovanni Pietro (1672) ‘Vita di P. Paolo Rubens’, Le Vite de’ pittori, scultori ed architetti moderni, Rome [English translation by A. Wohl available in Giovan Pietro Bellori: The Lives of the Modern Painters, Sculptors and Architects: A New Translation and Critical Edition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press] Cooper, Anthony Ashley (1713) A Notion of the Historical Draught or Tablature of the Judgement of Hercules according to Prodicus, lib. II. Xev. De mem. Soc., London [original 1713 text available digitally via Google Books] De Piles, Roger (1708) Cour de Peinture par Principes, Paris: Jacques Estiennes [anonymous 1743 English translation The Principles of Painting available digitally via Google Books] Erasmus, Desiderius (1520), The Antibarbarians, translation by M.M. Philips available in The Collected Works of Erasmus vol. 23, Literary and Educational Writings 1: Antibarbari, Parabolae, ed. Thompson, C.R. (1978), Toronto: University of Toronto Press Erasmus, Desiderius (1520), Antibarbari, Latin text available in Opera Omnia Desiderii Erasmi Roterodami vol. 1 (1969), Amsterdam: North-Holland Publishing Lucian, A Foreword: Herakles, available in the Loeb bilingual edition: Lucian (volume I) Phalaris, Hippias or The Bat, Dionysus, Heracles, Amber or The Swans, The Fly. Nigrinus. Demonax, The Hall, My Native Land, Octogenarians, A True Story, Slander, The Consonants at Law, The Carousal (Symposium) or The Lapiths, trans. Harmon, A.M. (1913), Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press Xenophon, Memorabilia, available in the Loeb bilingual edition: Xenophon, Memorabilia, Oeconomicus, Symposium, Apology, trans. Henderson, J. (2014), Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press

Modern Scholarship Allan, A., Anagnostou-Laoutides, E. and Stafford, E.J. (eds) (2020) Herakles Inside and Outside the Church: from the first Christian Apologists to the end of the Quattrocento, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 18, Leiden: Brill Blanshard, A.J.L. and Stafford, E.J. (eds) (2020) The Modern Hercules, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 21, Leiden: Brill Bull, M. (2005) The Mirror of the Gods: classical mythology in Renaissance art, London Capriotti, G. (2020) ‘Ovid’s Hercules in 1497: a Greek hero in the translation of the Metamorphoses by Giovanni dei Bonsignori and in his woodcuts’, in Allan, AnagnostouLaoutides and Stafford (eds), 271–90 Elsner, J. (2007) Roman Eyes: visuality and subjectivity in art and text, Princeton NJ

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Galinsky, G.K. (1972) The Herakles Theme: the adaptations of the hero in literature from Homer to the twentieth century, Oxford: Oxford University Press Haskell, F. and Penny, N. (1981) Taste and the Antique: The Lure of Classical Sculpture 1500–1900, New Haven and London Impelluso, L. (2003) Gods and Heroes in Art, Malibu: Getty Publications Jaffé, M. (1966) Van Dyck’s Antwerp Sketchbook, London: Macdonald Lomax, J. (2000) Temple Newsam Paintings, Leeds: Leeds Museums and Galleries Macsotay, T. (2014) The Profession of Sculpture in the Paris Académie, Oxford, Voltaire Foundation Mainz, V. (2016), Days of Glory? Imaging Military Recruitment and the French Revolution, London: Palgrave Macmillan Mainz, V. (2010), ‘The Chevalier d’Eon and his several identities’, in S. Burrows, J. Conlin, R. Goulbourne and V. Mainz (eds) The Chevalier d’Eon and his Worlds: Gender, Espionage and Politics in the Eighteenth Century, London and New York: Continuum, 113–32 Mainz, V. (2007), ‘Bringing the hemlock up: Jacques-Louis David’s Socrates and the inventions of history’, in M. Trapp (ed) Socrates from Antiquity to the Enlightenment, Aldershot and Burlington: Ashgate, 249–267 Mainz, V. (1998), Women at Work, Men in Labour: Work and Image in the French Revolution, Leeds: The University Gallery Mainz, V. (1996a), ‘David’s Les Sabines and the Colouring of History Painting Post Thermidor’, Interfaces: Image Texte Langage 10, 45–59 Mainz, V. (1996b), ‘The Picturing of Jews in History (From Napoleon to Poussin but then not back again)’, Paragraph 19/3, 205–19 Mainz, V. (1995), ‘The Sacrifice of Eleazar: Catholic History of Jewish Law at the time of the French Revolution’, Interfaces: Image Texte Langage 7, 27–46 Meulen, Marjon van der (1994) Rubens: copies after the antique, London: Harvey Miller Mommsen, T.E. (1953), ‘Petrarch and the story of the Choice of Hercules’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 16: 178–92 Muller, J.M. (1992) ‘Rubens’s theory and practice of the imitation of art’, The Art Bulletin, LXIV/2: 229–247 Panofsky, E. (1930) Hercules am Scheidewege und andere antike Bildstoffe in der neueren Kunst (Studien der Bibliothek Warburg 18), Leipzig and Berlin: Teubner Reid, J.D. (1993) The Oxford Guide to Classical Mythology in the Arts, 1300–1990s, Oxford: Oxford University Press Rose, M.A. (2011) Pictorial Irony, Parody, and Pastiche: comic interpictoriality in the arts of the 19th and 20th centuries, Bielefeld: Aisthesis Verlag Rosenthal, L. (2005), Gender, Politics, and Allegory in the Art of Rubens, Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press Simons, P. (2008) ‘Hercules in Italian Renaissance art: masculine labour and homoerotic libido’, Art History 31.5: 632–64

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Stafford, E.J. (2017) ‘Hercules’ Choice: vice, virtue and the hero of the modern screen’, in L. Maurice and E. Almagor (eds) Beauty, Bravery, Blood and Glory: Ancient Virtues and Vices in Modern Popular Culture, Leiden: Brill, 140–66 Stafford, E.J. (2010) ‘Herakles: between gods and heroes’, in J.N. Bremmer and A. Erskine (eds) The Gods of Ancient Greece: Identities and Transformations (Edinburgh Leventis Studies 5), Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 228–44 Stafford, E.J. (2005a) ‘Héraklès: encore et toujours le problème du heros theos’, Kernos 18: 391–406 Stafford, E.J. (2005b) ‘Vice or Virtue?: Herakles and the art of allegory’, in Rawlings, L. (ed.) Herakles and Hercules: exploring a Greco-Roman divinity, Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 71–96 Stafford, E.J. (1998) ‘Masculine values, feminine forms: on the gender of personified abstractions’, in Foxhall, L. and Salmon, J. (eds) Thinking Men: masculinity and its self-representation in the Classical Tradition, London: Routledge, 43–56 Stafford, E.J. (ed.) (forthcoming) Hercules Performed, Leiden: Brill Thompson, W. (2004) ‘Poets, Lovers, and Heroes in Italian Mythological Prints’, The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin vol. 61 Voitle, R. (1984) The Third Earl of Shaftsbury, 1671–1713, Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press Warner, M. (2000 [1985]) Monuments and Maidens, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press Witt, R.G. (1981), Hercules at the Crossroads: the life, works, and thought of Coluccio Salutati, Durham: University of North Carolina Press

part 1 Applying the Model of the Princely Ruler



chapter 1

The Choice-Making Hercules as an Exemplary Model for Alessandro and Federico Gonzaga and the Fifteenth-Century Latin Translation of Prodikos’ Tale of Herakles by Sassolo da Prato Ioannis Deligiannis

After Cicero’s Latin version of the opening paragraph of Prodikos’ tale of Herakles, first related in Xenophon’s Memorabilia, the first complete Latin translation of the entire tale was produced in the early 1440s by Sassolo da Prato (1416/17–1449), a young scholar fluent in both Latin and Greek, a student at the school of Vittorino da Feltre in Mantua, and later an assistant to Vittorino in mathematics and a teacher of music.1 Following a well-established tradition in humanist translations of Greek texts that were carefully chosen for translation and offered to certain individuals of some authority, and in a deliberate attempt to secure Gonzaga family patronage, Sassolo excerpted Prodikos’ tale from Xenophon’s text and dedicated his Latin translation to Alessandro Gonzaga (1427–1466), the youngest son of the ruler of Mantua, Gianfrancesco Gonzaga (1395–1444).2 In spite of the self-evident message of the text itself (that Alessandro, likened to Hercules, should follow the example of Hercules’ choice of Virtue over Pleasure), Sassolo strengthened his message with a prefatory letter to the dedicatee of his translation, in which he justified his selection of the Prodikos text and subtly tried to deter the young Alessandro from getting involved in the domestic events that troubled the House of Gonzaga in the second half of the 1430s.3 1 Cic. Off. 1.118; Xen. Mem. 2.1.21–33: see this volume’s Introduction. For the manuscript tradition of Prodikos’ tale independent of the tradition of Xenophon’s Memorabilia, see Bandini 1993, 39–45. For Sassolo da Prato, see Marsh 1992, 165–6; Guasti 1869, 23–4; de’ Rosmini 1845, 243–51; for Cardinal Bessarion’s concurrent Latin translation of Xenophon’s Memorabilia, see e.g. Bandini 2009, 400; Monfasani 1981 and 1983; Labowsky 1967; Vast 1878, 170; Wegscheider 1960; Woodward 1897, xi, 236 and 240. 2 For similar cases and further bibliography, see e.g. Deligiannis 2006. 3 Sassolo’s translation of Ἀρετὴ (Aretē, lit. ‘Excellence’) as Virtus (‘[Manly] Virtue’) and Κακία (Kakia, lit ‘Evil’) as Voluptas (‘[Bodily] Pleasure’) must be viewed within the framework of a long tradition, started by Cicero (see above n. 1; cf. Cic. Fam. 5.12.3). For a discussion of the

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004435414_003

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Two manuscript copies of Sassolo’s translation, made in the early 1460s by the famous calligrapher Felice Feliciano (1433–1479), reveal that the choicemaking Hercules was also used as an exemplary model for another member of the Gonzaga family, Alessandro’s nephew and future heir to the dynastic rulership of Mantua, Federico Gonzaga (1441–1484). Investigating the conditions under which Sassolo produced his translation of Prodikos’ tale and the allusions to contemporary events made in his dedicatory letter to Alessandro, this chapter addresses the ways in which the imagery of Hercules conversing with Virtue and Pleasure, and choosing the former over the latter, was used for the instruction of princes of the ruling house of Mantua in the two generations between the 1440s and the early 1460s.4

1

Sassolo da Prato and Alessandro Gonzaga

Born probably in Florence between 1416 and 1417, Sassolo must have been accepted at the school of Vittorino da Feltre around 1437 and must have remained there until at least 1443.5 Between 1441 and late 1442 he wrote the treatise De Victorini Feltrensis vita ac disciplina (On Vittorino da Feltre’s Life and Teaching), in which he provides a detailed account of his studies under

translation of Κακία as Voluptas instead of other, perhaps more appropriate terms, such as malitia or vitium, or even vitiositas (a translation that may imply a Stoic-Epicurean contest), and of Voluptas being used to render Κακία by other authors, such as Silius Italicus, Petrarch, Leonardo Bruni, Coluccio Salutati, see Espigares Pinilla 2014, 143–50; cf. also Stafford 2005, 71–6; Berno 2016; Kruck 2008. 4 For the Choice scenario featuring a young person advised to choose between two personified abstractions, usually strongly opposed as in the tale of Hercules between Virtue and Vice/Pleasure, see Stafford 2005, who discusses the reception of the Choice by Xenophon, Cicero, Silius Italicus, Lucian, and Basil of Caesarea, its didactic message often being addressed to young people. See also the case of Johann Sebastian Bach’s Hercules auf dem Scheidewege (Hercules at the Crossroads), composed for the eleventh birthday of the Crown Prince Friedrich Christian of Saxony in September 1733, as discussed by Stafford and Benjamin (forthcoming). 5 Guasti 1869, 8. Woodward 1897, xi and 31; de’ Rosmini 1845, 244. On the evidence of the inscription in the frontispiece of a Greek manuscript of Xenophon, offered to Sassolo by Vittorino, now Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, ms. Plut. 55.21, Guasti (1869, 19) sets February 2, 1446, the date of Vittorino’s death, as the terminus ante quem for Sassolo’s departure from Mantua. For the aforementioned manuscript, see e.g. Bandini 1768, 2 and 285–6; Wilson 1992, 38; d’Agostino, Doda, Harlfinger and Prato 1991, 170; Deuling and Cirignano 1990, 56– 8; Bandini 1988, 271–2; Bandini 2000, CCLXII; Bandini 2008, 93; Harlfinger, Gamillscheg and Hunger 1981, 1A: 180 and 1B: 150; Gamillscheg 1975, 137; Sabbadini 1980, 373, n. 16; Bianca 1986, 228, n. 97; Deligiannis 2012, 134–41.

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Vittorino, and describes his teacher’s character and mode of life.6 The treatise addresses Vittorino’s methods of teaching as he applied them to the offspring of the Gonzaga family and other pupils. About the same time (1441) Sassolo must also have produced the Latin translation of Prodikos’ tale offered to Alessandro, who was about ten years old when he entered Vittorino’s school and would thus have been an adolescent at the time of Sassolo’s dedication.7 de’ Rosmini comments on the bonds of friendship revealed by the way in which Sassolo addresses Alessandro in his prefatory epistle:8 … an epistle in which one can admire, besides its elegance (quite rare for the time at which he was writing), the grand and noble spirit of our author, who, while writing to a prince of the sovereign family, and a sovereign himself, addresses him with the same liberty with which he would write to a friend of his, without showing any signs of that pernicious and cowardly spirit of flattery … In his dedicatory epistle to Alessandro, Sassolo uses the concepts of this ‘pernicious and cowardly spirit of flattery’, usually surrounding leaders, and of virtue, the only protection against it, as the pillars for building a strongly persuasive protreptic in favour of Virtue and against Pleasure. Sassolo begins his dedicatory letter to Alessandro with a reference to a passage from Plato’s Laws (discussed further below) and continues with his praise of Alessandro’s education ‘in Vittorino’s most virtuous instruction’.9 He then justifies his translation of Prodikos’ tale, urging the dedicatee to follow the

6 For the Latin text of this treatise, its English translation and bibliography, see Deligiannis 2013. For the date of its production, see Deligiannis 2012, 144–53. 7 For the date of the translation, see Deligiannis 2012, 132–55. 8 All translations, unless otherwise acknowledged, are my own. de’ Rosmini 1845, 250: “… la lettera che v’ ha premessa il Sassuolo, nella quale si può ammirare, oltre all’ eleganza, assai rara per quel secolo nel quale scrisse, l’ animo grande e generoso del nostro autore, il quale scrivendo ad un principe di casa sovrana, e sovrano egli stesso, parla con quella medesima libertà con cui scriverebbe ad un amico suo pari, senza pur mostrar vestigio di quel pernizioso e vigliacco spirito d’ adulazione …” 9 Sassolo trans. Deligiannis 2012, 181 (Latin 180): Ad quod quidem, etsi te tua sponte satis incitatum arbitror, utpote qui in sanctissima Victorini disciplina perpetuo ab ineunte pueritia sis educatus atque institutus … “For this purpose, even though I believe that you of your own accord have this drive sufficiently, as one who has been educated and nurtured uninterruptedly from your early childhood in Vittorino’s most virtuous instruction …” All passages from the Latin text of the dedicatory letter and its English translation are taken from Deligiannis 2012, 180–3.

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path of virtue, just as his father, his grandfather and all his ancestors had done. Sassolo maintains, furthermore, that Alessandro will find that this piece of literature is to his advantage, because it is common for leaders to be surrounded by, and become victims of, pernicious flatterers, whilst virtue is the only thing that will instruct and protect them, as it has instructed and protected a number of the glorious men of Greece and of Rome, as well as his father, Gianfrancesco Gonzaga. According to Sassolo, Gianfrancesco Gonzaga had been burdened from his early childhood with heavy responsibilities. He was ‘overwhelmed by many vicious criminals, who sought to destroy his life and character’, yet he managed to surmount these obstacles and acquire ‘glory which is very well known to all’ because of his virtuous life and morals.10 The letter concludes with further eulogising of Alessandro’s schooling and Sassolo’s wish that his friend should prefer the arma Palladis (‘weapons of Pallas [Athena/Minerva]’) to the arma Martis (‘weapons of Mars’) – in other words that he will prefer literature and the arts to military glory. The central part of Sassolo’s dedication is concerned with the imagery of Hercules conversing with Virtue and Pleasure:11 I excerpted from Xenophon’s work on Socrates and translated into Latin for you the passage in which that exquisite image of Hercules is portrayed divinely by the great philosopher for the general benefit. If you would like to observe this image with a careful eye, as you ought to, I do not doubt that you will be moulded into a ruler fit to be considered fully worthy of

10

11

Deligiannis 2012, 182 (trans. 183): a pluribus potius sceleratissimis latronibus, qui vitam eius ac mores funditus perdere studebant, oppressus. Deligiannis 2012, 182 (trans. 183): gloriam quae est apud omnes clarissima. Deligiannis 2012, 180 and 182 (trans. 181 and 183): Xenophontis eum de Socraticis suis excerpsi locum tibique latinum feci, in quo Herculis species illa praeclara est a summo philosopho ad hominum utilitatem expressa divinitus. Hanc ipsam si curiosis, ut debes, oculis spectare volueris, huiusmodi te, non dubito, principem informaveris ut patre, avo, maioribusque tuis merito dignissimus iudicere. Cum adulescente Hercule ac tuo fere aequali mulieres duas, Virtutem scilicet ac Voluptatem, colloquentes facit, quarum utriusque sermones arrectis auribus attende, quaeso, ac primum quid venefica illa polliceatur Voluptas considera. Quid enim, non dico homine libero, sed quid omnino homine dignum est? Aut quid non pecudum potius proprium ac beluarum? Quid non paenitentiae plenissimum? Huius ego pertinacissimos patronos, assentatores perniciosos, qui principum aures, non solum domos, obsessas tenent, hos, inquam, scopulos vereri me dico, Alexander, ne praeclarae tuae atque eleganter institutae adulescentiae cursum aliquando nobis interrumpant. Sed si alteram illam hominibus a deo ducem de caelo missam audire ac sequi volueris, incolumem te in portum quem optamus facile deducet; mediam igitur eam complectere.

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your father, grandfather and ancestors. It shows two women, that is Virtue and Pleasure, conversing with the young Hercules at an age close to yours; pay attention, please, with wide-open ears to the arguments of both, and first of all contemplate what that poisonous Pleasure promises. For how much of it is proper, I am not saying for a man of culture, but for man in general? Or what does not rather suit animals and beasts? What is not completely full of remorse? Her most unyielding protectors, the pernicious flatterers, who keep rulers’ ears, and not only their homes, under siege, I tell you, Alessandro, that I fear lest, to my regret, these dangerous obstacles sometime interrupt the course of your noble and finely instructed progress to adulthood. But if you would prefer to listen to and follow the other woman, the one sent as a guide to people from heaven by the God, she will easily guide you safe into the port which we wish for; so embrace her tight. Sassolo’s focus here is not on the traditional heroic figure of Hercules, but on the comparison between Virtue and Pleasure. Hercules simply happened to be in his adulescentia (‘adolescence’), when he was confronted by the two female figures and had the dialogue Prodikos describes. It is the proximity of Alessandro’s age with the supposed age of Hercules that has allowed the writer to build a strongly persuasive case in favour of Virtue and against Pleasure.12 For Sassolo it was, furthermore, important that the selection of Virtue should be a highly motivated choice for the exemplary model to be at all effective. After damning Pleasure as venefica (‘poisonous’), unworthy not only of homo liber (‘a man of culture’) but also of man in general, and suitable only for animals and beasts, Sassolo turns to Virtue, whom he compares to the harbour that will guarantee Alessandro the safety he enjoyed in Vittorino’s tranquilissimus portus (‘most tranquil port’).13 Sassolo calls Virtue a god-sent guide for humankind and an educatrix (‘educator’) of glorious men of the past and the present.14

12 13

14

See Deligiannis 2012, 141–4. Deligiannis 2012, 180 (trans. 181): … tamen cum ex illius sinu nunc primum tamquam e tranquillissimo portu in altum provehare … (‘… nevertheless, as you are now going for the first time from his bosom as if from the most tranquil port into the open sea …’). Deligiannis 2012, 182 (trans. 183): Etenim haec Lycurgum, aurei saeculi exemplar illud unicum, educavit, haec Cyrum instruxit, armavit, haec veteres Athenienses principes illos, Miltiadem, Cononem, Timotheum, Themistoclem ornavit, haec Catones nostros, Paulos, Scipiones, nobilissimos ceteros instituit, erudivit … “For she educated Lycurgus, that unique example of the golden age, she instructed Cyrus, she fortified him, she equipped those Athenian leaders, Miltiades, Conon, Timotheus,

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As far as the present was concerned he needed to look no further than the ruling house of Mantua, the Gonzagas themselves and its paterfamilias, Gianfrancesco Gonzaga, who was still alive at the time of the composition of this epistle.15

2

Gianfrancesco Gonzaga and His Sons

Gianfrancesco’s virtue and how, with its help, he has overcome the malevolent efforts of the sceleratissimi latrones (‘vicious criminals’) who surrounded him, is repeatedly stressed by Sassolo in his letter to Alessandro:16 She, to come to what is closest and familiar to you, has guided Gianfrancesco, your father, to this glory which is very well known to all and must be considered the more admirable because, still a young man and hardly more than a child, he was left to the leadership by his father; without being given any liberal education, without help from anyone, but rather overwhelmed by many vicious criminals, who sought to destroy his life and character, he raised himself up by his own efforts. Discussing the appointment by Gianfrancesco of Vittorino as tutor to his sons in his treatise on the life of Vittorino da Feltre, Sassolo repeats his references to the sceleratissimi latrones (‘vicious criminals’) and to Gianfrancesco’s moral integrity, which he had endeavoured to pass on to his children by providing them with Vittorino’s sanctissima disciplina (‘most virtuous instruction’):17

15

16

17

Themistocles, she educated and instructed our Catos, Pauluses, Scipios, and the rest of our most famous men …” Internal evidence for the date of Sassolo’s dedicatory letter is supplied by his references to Gianfrancesco Gonzaga, Alessandro’s father. The phrases clarissima est and videri debet (in the present tense), and the verb perduxit (in the perfect tense) in the passage discussed below (Haec, ut ad proxima … ipsum nixus erexit), indicate that Gianfrancesco was still alive when the dedication was written, which sets September 1444, the date of Gianfrancesco’s death, as the terminus ante quem for the composition of Sassolo’s dedication and the Prodikos translation. See also Marsh 1992, 165. Deligiannis 2012, 182 (trans. 183): Haec, ut ad proxima ac domestica tua veniam, Iohannem Franciscum patrem ad eam gloriam quae est apud omnes clarissima perduxit, quae quidem eo admirabilior videri debet, quod a patre adulescentulus erat ac paene puer in principatu relictus; nulla liberali institutione imbutus, a nemine adiutus, vel a pluribus potius sceleratissimis latronibus, qui vitam eius ac mores funditus perdere studebant, oppressus, se per se ipsum nixus erexit. Guasti 1869, 46 and Deligiannis 2013, 117 (trans. 122):

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Gianfrancesco Gonzaga, an outstanding leader, not through fortune, but through his virtue … in such dark and thoroughly corrupt times, almost alone among leaders, has observed that virtue is actually the only thing which not only can distinguish a leader and make him famous, but can even solidly establish and fortify a sovereignty; as he had always devoted great effort to following it himself, so he arranged with the greatest care and attentiveness that his sons too should acquire it. Later on in the treatise on Vittorino’s life, Sassolo refers to Gianfrancesco’s elder sons, Ludovico and Carlo:18 … they alone [sc. Ludovico and Carlo] learnt to endure bravely and patiently hardships, difficulties, troubles, and all kinds of military drudgery; these achievements must be considered even more admirable because they have been sustained amidst the faithlessness shown by the most atrocious brigands, amidst the wickedness shown by the filthiest pimps. So, in the Vittorino treatise, Sassolo attests that Gianfrancesco and his sons, thanks to their virtuous character and their moral education, have proved stronger than the sceleratissimi latrones (‘vicious criminals’) and the impurissimi lenones (‘filthiest pimps’), and definitely worthier than their perditissima tempora (‘thoroughly corrupt times’). The similarities in theme and phrasing between the passages from the treatise on Vittorino’s life and the passage from the dedication to Alessandro are not limited to Sassolo’s references to the sceleratissimi latrones (‘vicious criminals’).19 In these works, further contrasts between virtus (‘virtue’) and fortuna (‘fortune’) suggest how the former can fortify both individuals and states against threats, especially during difficult and treacherous times.

18

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Iohannes Franciscus Gonzaga, princeps non tam fortuna quam virtute praestantissimus … in tanta caligine perditissimorum temporum, unus paene e numero principum perspexerit virtutem esse unam vel maxime quae principem non modo ornare atque illustrare, sed imperium etiam egregie stabilire atque munire possit: quam cum ipse consequi magnopere semper studuerit, sic, ut eam quoque filii nanciscerentur, summa cura ac diligentia providit. Guasti 1869, 47–8 and Deligiannis 2013, 118 (trans. 122–3): … soli [sc. Ludovicus et Carolus] incommoda, difficultates, molestias, labores omnes militares fortiter et patienter perferre didicerint: quae eo admirabiliora videri debent quod retineri potuerint in tanta sceleratissimorum latronum perfidia, in tanta impurissimorum lenonum nequitia. For further similarities of this kind, see Deligiannis 2012, 147–52.

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For instance, after raising threats to virtue, the dedication then contrasts Alessandro’s position with that of his father: ‘You, on the other hand, on whom fortune, your parents and your teacher have bestowed every advantage and support, will you not follow in his footsteps?’.20 Gianfrancesco has proved worthy of his fame, having relied only on his virtue, whilst Alessandro has the additional support of both fortune and his family. This point follows on from what Sassolo had written in the treatise on the life of Vittorino about Gianfrancesco: ‘Gianfrancesco Gonzaga, an outstanding leader, not through fortune, but through his virtue’ (Iohannes Franciscus Gonzaga, princeps non tam fortuna quam virtute praestantissimus), an idea which is also repeated in the opening passage of his dedication to Alessandro in the form of an axiom bearing the authority of Plato:21 Plato, who was deemed by wise men the wisest, investigating thoroughly and diligently, like everything else, the cause of the decline and decay of hegemonies, comes to the conclusion, from the soundest evidence and examples, that this is not the one which most people erroneously blame, fortune that is, but the vices and faults of rulers, whereas virtue strengthens and fortifies them eternally against all the arrows of both fortune and enemies. For Sassolo, it is the example of Gianfrancesco that proves the general principle here. Conversely, in the treatise on the life of Vittorino, the author moves from the individual case of Gianfrancesco to the general and widely accepted principle that ‘virtue is actually the only thing … which can even solidly establish and fortify a sovereignty’.22 In proving the observation about Gianfrancesco, Sassolo presents, as particular examples of virtuous education and its results, the cases of Gianfrancesco’s children, Ludovico and Carlo, who had also been schooled by Vittorino. It is parallelisms of this deeper kind which

20 21

22

Deligiannis 2012, 182 (trans. 183): Contra vero tibi cum a fortuna, a parentibus, et a magistro commoda atque adiumenta suppeditata sint omnia, eius vestigia non persequere? Deligiannis 2012, 180 (trans. 181): Plato, sapientissimus ille a sapientibus iudicatus, principatuum occasus atque interitus causam accurate, ut omnia, ac diligenter inquirens, eam tandem non quam plerique falso accusant, fortunam, sed vitia peccataque principum, verissimis argumentis atque exemplis, esse contendit, contraque virtutem eos adversus omnia vel fortunae vel hostium tela firmare ad perpetuitatem atque munire. For the reference, see Plato Leg. 3.695e–696a; see further Deligiannis 2013, esp. 114–16. Deligiannis 2013, 117 (trans. 122): virtutem esse unam … imperium etiam egregie stabilire atque munire possit.

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indicate further that both texts were produced around the same time and under the same circumstances. The circumstances to which Sassolo alludes in his references to Gianfrancesco and the glory Gianfrancesco purportedly achieved thanks to his dedication to virtue, are most probably references to the domestic events that troubled the House of Gonzaga between 1436 and 1441. In 1436 Gianfrancesco’s eldest son and heir, Ludovico Gonzaga (1412–1478), entered, without his father’s knowledge or approval, the service of the Duke of Milan, Filippo Maria Visconti (1392–1447). This demonstration of disloyalty to the Gonzaga line of succession upset the fragile balance of power between Mantua, the independent Republic of Venice and the territories of the North Italian peninsula under the dominion of the Duke of Milan. Ludovico’s decision might have been motivated by the deeply rooted jealousy of his younger brother, Carlo (1415–1456), whom Gianfrancesco preferred as his companion on military excursions to his first-born Ludovico, who was usually left at home.23 Whether this was the real reason, or whether Ludovico’s decision was due to a desire for more autonomy, or whether Ludovico was actually pursuing an opportunity for a future alliance between Mantua and Milan which was, indeed, forged two years later in 1438, Gianfrancesco’s bitter immediate reaction towards his son created a climate of suspicion and hostility amongst the Gonzagas.24 After having been removed from the order of succession, a reconciliation between the Marquis and his eldest son was achieved five years later in 1441 through the intervention of Vittorino and Gianfrancesco’s wife, Paola Malatesta when the order of succession was restored.25 Sassolo, who would have arrived in Mantua in the midst of this (around 1437), must have lived through these events, being a student there and a friend of the young Alessandro. He would have experienced the courtly intrigue of those who would have tried to profit from Gianfrancesco’s bitterness, or from the two brothers’ feelings towards each other. This can, indeed, be inferred from the dedication to Alessandro. The writer was, however, careful first to express his gratitude to Gianfrancesco, and then to turn to Alessandro, whom he invited to study and learn from Prodikos’ tale and follow Virtue, which is the only thing that could make him patre, avo, maioribusque merito dignissimus (‘fully worthy of [his] father, grandfather and ancestors’).26 Sas-

23 24 25 26

See Woodward 1897, 77–8. Cf. Woodward 1897, 78: ‘On his refusal to return to his home and to his allegiance the Marquis disinherited him and even condemned him to death for contumacy and treason’. As discussed by di Lazzarini 2000 and 2006; Woodward 1897, 77–8. Deligiannis 2012, 180 (trans. 181): Hanc ego tibi, Alexander, qui, pro immortalibus beneficentissimi patris meritis in me, tui

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solo was not only concerned for Alessandro’s integrity, but he feared lest Vice’s ‘most unyielding protectors, the pernicious flatterers … sometime interrupt the course of [Alessandro’s] noble and finely instructed progress to adulthood’.27 No less important than the opening of the dedication is its conclusion:28 If nature has denied you the physical strength, it has certainly provided you with the greatest intellectual powers, by which, fitly trained in the study of literature and science, a far more genuine and brilliant glory is achieved. If you do this, as I hope, you will realise, believe me, that the weapons of Pallas are no less conducive to fame and distinction than the weapons of Mars. Alessandro was the youngest and least healthy of Gianfrancesco’s sons: ‘he suffered from congenital deformity and chronic illness, but his intelligence

27 28

nomen familiamque Gonzagam immortalem, si fas esset, optarem, Platonis sententiam vel hominis divini potius oraculum penitus persuaderi magnopere cupio. Ad quod quidem, etsi te tua sponte satis incitatum arbitror, utpote qui in sanctissima Victorini disciplina perpetuo ab ineunte pueritia sis educatus atque institutus, tamen cum ex illius sinu nunc primum tamquam e tranquillissimo portu in altum provehare, ubi scientissimo etiam gubernatori naufragium sit pertimescendum – ista aetate praesertim quae, cum reliquorum omnium tum maxime principum, quibus et fortuna perniciosa complura dederit blandimenta, ad cupiditatibus resistendum imbecilla admodum atque infirma reperitur –, Xenophontis eum de Socraticis suis excerpsi locum tibique latinum feci, in quo Herculis species illa praeclara est a summo philosopho ad hominum utilitatem expressa divinitus. “I, who, for the undying favours of your most generous father towards me, would wish, Alessandro, for your name and for the Gonzaga family to be immortal, if this were proper, earnestly desire that you take to heart this judgment of Plato’s, or rather this prophetic saying of a man divinely inspired. For this purpose, even though I believe that you of your own accord have this drive sufficiently, as one who has been educated and nurtured uninterruptedly from your early childhood in Vittorino’s most virtuous instruction, nevertheless, as you are now going for the first time from his bosom as if from the most tranquil port into the open sea, where even for the most experienced steersman shipwreck is something to be greatly feared – particularly at this age which, for all others, but especially for rulers, to whom disastrous fortune also has given numerous allurements, proves quite weak and powerless in resisting passions –, I excerpted from Xenophon’s work on Socrates and translated into Latin for you the passage in which that exquisite image of Hercules is portrayed divinely by the great philosopher for the general benefit.” See above n. 11. Deligiannis 2012, 182 (trans. 183): Quod si corporis tibi robur natura negavit, at ingenii vires dedit certe maximas, quibus probe in litterarum ac sapientiae studio exercitatis verior longe atque illustrior gloria comparatur. Id si, ut spero, feceris, ad claritatem amplitudinemque apta Palladis, mihi crede, non minus quam Martis arma esse cognosces.

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was such that he was reputedly a favourite of Vittorino’s amongst the Gonzaga pupils’.29 Sassolo’s decision to refer to his delicate health can be linked to the fact that the young prince was under medical care and spent the spring of 1441 (the probable year of the translation) at the hot springs at Acqui Termi, in Piedmont.30 The emphasis placed by Sassolo on the contrast between the arma Palladis (‘weapons of Pallas [Athena/Minerva]’, i.e. literature and the arts) and the arma Martis (‘weapons of Mars’, i.e. the glory of war) may, however, suggest something more because the whole situation with Gianfrancesco’s eldest son, Ludovico, sprang from eldest son’s ambition to be glorified by becoming, as the first-born, his father’s companion on military excursions, which his father had prevented him from doing. By comparing Pallas Athena with Mars and stating that glory can also be obtained by exercising and perfecting the study of literature and the arts, Sassolo is probably trying to deter the young Alessandro from being lured by pertinacissimi patroni (‘unyielding protectors’) and assentatores perniciosi (‘pernicious flatterers’) into focusing on military glory and abandoning his intellectual education. In the same placatory spirit, Sassolo’s dedication hints at Gianfrancesco’s bitter behaviour towards Ludovico and also subtly warns Ludovico, as the legal heir to the rulership of Mantua, how a ruler’s behaviour is intrinsically linked to the fortunes of his state. Vitia peccataque principum (‘the vices and faults of rulers’) may refer as much to Gianfrancesco’s angry decision to disinherit his son and condemn him to death, as to Ludovico’s senseless decision to turn against his father’s will, which put at risk not only his life and future rulership, but also the fate of the newly established title of Marquis (principatuum occasus atque interitus; ‘the decline and decay of hegemonies’). Sassolo approaches this issue with much delicacy because his place at Vittorino’s school, and perhaps the future patronage of Alessandro, would have been at risk had he alluded more obviously to the dynastic problems of the Gonzaga household.

3

Felice Feliciano and Federico Gonzaga

Unfortunately, Sassolo’s attempts to remain in Mantua under Alessandro’s patronage failed. So too did the attempts of another young man of promise, Felice Feliciano of Verona (1433–1479), who tried his own luck at the House

29 30

Chambers 1989, 220; further on Alessandro’s delicate health, see Woodward 1897, 74 and 79. See Chambers 1989, 220.

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of Gonzaga almost twenty years later by making two copies of Sassolo’s work together with its dedicatory letter to Alessandro.31 At some point after 1461, due to conflicts with his brother, a rather hostile environment in Verona against him and serious economic difficulties, Feliciano was forced to resort to the house of the painter Andrea Mantegna (1431– 1506) who, since early 1460, had been the official court painter of the House of Gonzaga in Mantua.32 It could be that once there this young man hoped to obtain a recommendation from, or to be placed under the patronage of, Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga (1444–1483), the second son of the new Marquis of Mantua, Ludovico III Gonzaga, who had by then inherited the title following the death of his father, Gianfrancesco.33 However, in the years 1464–65 Feliciano was to be found in Bologna in the service (as a scribe) of another friend of his, Giovanni Marcanova (1410/18–1467).34 So even though it appears that Feliciano was in Mantua on and off in the period between 1461 and 1463, his attempt at finding patronage under the young Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga or any other member of the Gonzaga family for that matter proved fruitless, partly perhaps on account of the historical conditions of the time (see further below) and partly perhaps on account of rumours about Feliciano’s homosexual preferences, which eventually drove him away from both his patria, Verona, and Mantua.35 Feliciano’s first copy of the Sassolo text now in Rome, siglum V (Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS Reg. lat. 1388), is preceded by a long title (ff. 2v–3v):36 The prologue to Hercules’ vision, the so called ‘Prodicus of Xenophon’, translated from Greek into Latin by a very eloquent man, Sassolo da

31 32 33 34 35

36

For the manuscripts preserving Sassolo’s translation, see Marsh 1992, 165–6; Zamponi 2006, 15, n. 16; Deligiannis 2012, 155–78. Pignatti 1996, see also di Monte 2007. See also Tosetti Grandi 2005, 6; Quaquarelli 1995, 144. Pignatti 1996; Pignatti 1995, 206; Tosetti Grandi 2005, 6. In January 1463, for example, Feliciano dedicated a compilation of epigraphs to Andrea Mantegna (see Maffei 1731, 519–21). See, for instance, Fattori 1995, 38; Quaquarelli 1995, 142–4. Prohemium visionis Herculis, Xenophontis Prodigus [sic] noncupatus, e graeco in latinum traductae per eloquentissimum virum Saxeolum Pratensem ad illustrem principem dominum Alexandrum de Gonzaga, feliciter ac bonis auspiciisque incipit; quapropter omnibus ut illum legant persuadeo. The title is followed by the word Iovi (‘To Jupiter’) in f. 4r, just before the beginning of the dedication. For a full description of the manuscript, see Deligiannis 2012, 156–7.

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Prato, for the illustrious prince and lord Alessandro Gonzaga, begins propitiously and with good auspices; therefore, I urge everyone to read it. It has the autograph inscription (f. 1r):37 Written and decorated by me, Felice Feliciano of Verona, for myself and my needs, and not requested by anyone, with the intention of not lending it except to beloved and very dear friends. In the year of Christ 1463. It is also illustrated (on f. 17v) by a beautifully executed miniature of Hercules, depicted as a mature adult, holding his club, wearing his characteristic lionskin and standing between Virtue and Pleasure (Figure 1.1). Although Prodikos’ tale is about Hercules adulescens (‘Hercules the youth’), the miniaturist’s main concern was apparently not to follow the text of the manuscript by depicting the hero as an adolescent, but rather to render him immediately recognizable by means of the attributes Hercules would acquire as an adult. This copy of the translation is followed by a medallion (f. 29v) bearing the inscription Visionis Herculis Xenophontius feliciter explicit (‘Here ends propitiously Xenophon’s [book of] the vision of Hercules’). The text is entirely written in square capital letters, resembling those of Roman inscriptions, which Feliciano enthusiastically studied, reproduced and became famous for later in his life. Feliciano also used this style of script for his second copy of Sassolo’s epistle and translation, siglum F (Padua, Biblioteca Civica, MS B.P. 1099). This derives from Feliciano’s personal copy, but whereas V is a paper manuscript originally made to include other texts too, F is a coloured parchment manuscript which was made to contain only Sassolo’s epistle to Alessandro Gonzaga and his translation of Prodikos’ tale.38 It is entirely written in square capital letters of various colours, including gold and silver, and the text throughout the manuscript is surrounded by elaborately decorated patterns. The text (prohemium, epistle and translation) covers ff. 4v–25v (f. 26r has a medallion identical to that of V) 37

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Scripto e miniato per mano di me Felice Feliciano da Verona a mio nome e instantia e non pregato d’ alchuno com proponimento di non prestarlo salvo che ad amici dilecti e carissimi. Anno Christi MCCCCLXIII. See Fohlen 1998, 254, 256, and 262; Pellegrin, Fohlen, Jeudy, Riou and Marucchi 1978, 180–1; Montecchi 1994, 76–82; Kristeller 1967, 408; Zamponi 2006, 16 and 21, n. 38. For the relationship of manuscripts V and F, see Deligiannis 2012, 158–70.

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figure 1.1 Hercules (depicted as an adult with his attributes, rather than as a youth, presumably for ease of recognition) between Pleasure (Voluptas) and Virtue (Virtus). A miniature from Felice Feliciano’s first copy of Sassolo’s translation of Hercules’ choice (siglum V), Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS Vat. Reg. lat. 1388, f. 17v © 2017 Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. Photo reproduced by permission of Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, with all rights reserved

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of the thirty-four leaves which now form the codex; it originally consisted of thirty leaves, but two have been lost (one between ff. 4v and 5r, and another between ff. 12v and 13r), ff. 26v–28v have remained blank, while ff. 29r–34v were added later and contain the memoirs of the Carrari family from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Zamponi, who provides a detailed description of the manuscript (described as ‘missing’ in Kristeller’s Iter Italicum and rediscovered only in 1995),39 attributes its production to Feliciano; based on the evidence of its twin manuscript V, Zamponi believes that on the folio missing between ff. 4v (Prohemium visionis … legant persuadeo; ‘The prologue to the vision … I urge everyone to read it’) and 5r (Plato, the opening word of Sassolo’s dedicatory epistle), Feliciano must have included the title of the work on its verso, while on its recto he must have executed a miniature of Hercules between Virtue and Pleasure, similar to the one placed on f. 17v of V (Figure 1.1).40 This manuscript’s format and execution indicate that it was copied for or ordered by someone important,41 while the phrase Duce gratiae (‘Goodwill [shown] by the Duke’)42 on f. 3v ‘perhaps identifies the recipient of the manuscript, at the moment unidentified’, according to Zamponi.43 This phrase gives some credibility to Tosetti Grandi’s assertion that F was destined for a ‘gentiluomo’ (‘gentleman’),44 perhaps a member of the Gonzaga family. Being a copy of V, F must be chronologically placed in or after 1463, and it is worth looking at the historical conditions under which both copies were produced. Feliciano must have experienced some of the intense political activity of Mantua in the early 1460s, where he arrived in the aftermath of the Council of Mantua (June 1459 to January 1460). Called by Pope Pius II and held under the auspices of Ludovico III Gonzaga, the purpose of this Council was to consider common action against the Ottoman Turks who, six years earlier in 1453, had 39 40 41 42

43 44

Kristeller 1967, 22. Zamponi 2006, 16; Marcon 2006, 48. Zamponi 2006, 23. The translation into English of Duce gratiae offered here takes the phrase as Latin and follows its syntax, rendering the ablative Duce as ‘by the Duke’ and referring to possible favours granted to Feliciano by the Duke. However, the phrase could be taken to be written in Renaissance Italian (like the inscription written in Feliciano’s hand in V), so an alternative, freer, translation could be ‘For the Duke’s sake’, which would also fit the context here. There is, in addition, another possible translation, which could be interpreted as a sample of Feliciano’s ostentatious classicism; as he added the word Iovi (‘To Jupiter’) in f. 4r of V, he might well have inserted the Latin phrase Duce gratiae in F, meaning ‘By the Grace’s guidance’ or ‘Having Grace as a guide’. Zamponi 2006, 15, n. 17. Tosetti Grandi 2005, 6.

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conquered Constantinople and the entire former Byzantine Empire. A brief account of the activities of Francesco Gonzaga, second son of Ludovico III, may help to explain Feliciano’s failure to secure future patronage from the Gonzaga family. In 1460 Francesco Gonzaga was destined to follow an ecclesiastical career. At just sixteen years old, he was sent to Pavia to take courses in Canon Law. Created a cardinal deacon on 18 December 1461, he returned to Mantua in 1462. In early March 1462 he travelled to Rome with his uncle, Alessandro Gonzaga, and stayed there until mid-November 1463. After his return to Mantua in 1463, he worked intensively on the organization of the crusade against the Ottoman Turks so that as early as the spring of 1464 he set sail for Ancona to take part in that crusade.45 It could be argued that Feliciano might have produced manuscript F for Francesco Gonzaga in the hope that he could pursue his plan of securing the Cardinal’s patronage. However, the phrase Duce gratiae (‘Goodwill [shown] by the Duke’), noted above, in f. 3v of the manuscript weakens this theory and indicates that it was destined for a political leader rather than a church prelate, such as Francesco. Tosetti Grandi’s suggestion that Feliciano perhaps produced F for Alessandro Gonzaga46 also seems weak, given that Alessandro, though a patron of arts and letters, would still have had his dedicatory copy from Sassolo, not to mention the fact that at the time he was deeply and personally involved in the diplomatic negotiations which led to his nephew’s cardinalship. He even accompanied the young Francesco to Rome in 1461 for his investiture.47 Although Alessandro lived long enough to share the ruling responsibilities of his brother, Marquis Ludovico III, he always remained in a supportive role, and under no circumstances could he be characterized as a dux (‘[military] leader’/‘Duke’). Only one man could bear this title, and that would have been none other than the Marquis himself or his first-born son and heir, Federico (1441–1484). After the Council of Mantua (1459–60) and the election of his second son as a Cardinal, Ludovico III Gonzaga’s political position among the Northern Italian states was not only consolidated, but it had also become influential. The Treaty of Lodi in 1454 inaugurated a period of peace and stability between Mantua and Milan and the surrounding states at a time used by Ludovico to restore the political and institutional structure of Mantua and strengthen its position through a dense network of relationships with German princes north of the Alps. Despite a conflict between the court of Mantua and that of Milan in 1463, due to 45 46 47

di Lazzarini 2006. Tosetti Grandi 2005, 6. Tosetti Grandi 2005, 6, n. 36.

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some problems with the intended marriage of Galeazzo Maria Sforza of Milan and Dorotea Gonzaga, Ludovico’s second daughter, the pact between Mantua and Milan was renewed for another three years. Having thus secured his relationship with Milan, Ludovico achieved, in that same year, a reinforcement of his relationships with the transalpine states through the wedding (7th June 1463) between his eldest son, Federico, and Margaret of Wittelsbach, daughter of Albert III the Pious of Bavaria-Munich (1401–1460), and distantly related to Ludovico’s wife, Barbara of Brandenburg.48 Given the circumstances, it is possible to assume that Feliciano’s luxury manuscript (F) was produced for ‘an illustrious client’, as Zamponi put it,49 in 1463, the same year as the production of his own copy (V). The phrase Duce gratiae (‘Goodwill [shown] by the Duke’) at the beginning of F must refer to the recipient of the manuscript, who could well have been Ludovico himself or even his son, the future Marquis Federico. At the age of fifty-one in 1463 Ludovico had, however, already proved his worth, through his prudent political and personal decisions, so he would have no need of a gift which would remind him of the integrity and character of his father and that would advise him to follow virtue instead of pleasure. On the other hand, Federico was only twentytwo years old in 1463, and he was the rightful heir of Ludovico and therefore the future dux (‘leader’/‘Duke’). It would be plausible, then, for him to be the dux (‘Duke’) to whom the phrase referred and for whom Feliciano produced F. If the approximate date of the production of the translation by Sassolo is correct (1441), then its production would coincide with Federico’s year of birth. Furthermore, the choice of the text of a dedicatory manuscript, and usually the letter that accompanied it, could serve a range of purposes. Federico, was at the starting point of his career and may have needed to be reminded not only of the glory of his grandfather, Gianfrancesco, achieved through virtue, but also of the character that he himself needed to have so as to become a just and virtuous leader. This is the reason why one of the copies could well have been destined for Federico, perhaps as a wedding gift from his uncle, Alessandro, Feliciano simply serving as the vehicle for the realization of this gift, though having also had a chance to make a copy for his own personal use.

48 49

di Lazzarini 2006. Zamponi 2006, 23: ‘un committente illustre’.

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Conclusion

This brief account of the history of a text, from its production in the early 1440s to its reproduction in the early 1460s, reveals something of the way in which Prodikos’ tale of Hercules served in an exemplary manner for the sons of the ruling house of Mantua over two generations. Sassolo da Prato’s choice of this particular text, and especially the dedication to his Latin version, endorse the image of the choice-making Hercules as an exemplary model for the dedicatee, Alessandro Gonzaga. In spite of the subtle allusions made by Sassolo to contemporary events relating to the Gonzagas and his faintly suggestive criticism of the behaviour of certain members of this family, his main purpose was to present Hercules’ choice of Virtue over Pleasure as the only way in which Alessandro would be able to surmount the troubles of his times and of his dynasty. The path of Virtue, chosen by Hercules, becomes the only path to be followed by Alessandro in line with the supposed path followed by his father Gianfrancesco Gonzaga and other members of his family, including his brothers Carlo and Ludovico. Perhaps as a wedding gift from his uncle, and almost twenty years after Alessandro was offered Sassolo’s translation, the very same imagery of the choice-making Hercules appears to have been employed for Federico Gonzaga, Ludovico’s first-born son and heir. The emphasis in Sassolo’s Latin version of Prodikos’ tale is on deterring its dedicatee, Alessandro, from following a military career in favour of choosing to perfect his intellect and become a protector of the arts and of literature. It could be that the writer, Sassolo, with this translation and carefully worded dedication intended to secure for himself future patronage, even if this never materialised. Alessandro may, however, have deemed both the text itself and Sassolo’s prefatory dedication worth reading by his nephew as an instruction and preparation for a virtuous leadership. The figure of Hercules, either because of the hero’s proximity in age in Prodikos’ tale to both Alessandro Gonzaga in the 1440s and Federico Gonzaga in the 1460s, or because he was an easily recognizable figure, was used within the framework of the Choice scenario between Virtue and Pleasure as a symbol of contemplation and instruction, and not as a traditional heroic symbol, despite his depiction in the miniature of Feliciano’s manuscript (Figure 1.1).

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Bibliography Bandini, A.M. (1768) Catalogus Codicum Graecorum Bibliothecae Laurentianae sub auspiciis Petri Leopoldi, Regi principis Hungariae et Boiohemiae, Archiducis Austriae, Magni Etruriae Ducis, Ang. Mar. Bandinius I. V. D., eiusdem Bibliothecae Regius Praefectus, recensuit, illustravit, edidit. Tomus secundus in eo astronomi, mathematici, poetae, philologi, oratores et historici veteris ac recentioris aevi, qui in singulis codicibus continentur quam diligentissime recensentur. Operum Singulorum Notitia datur, Vetustiorum Specimina exhibentur, Edita supplentur et emendantur. Plura accedunt anecdota, vol. 2, Florence: Typis Regiis Bandini, M. (2009) ‘Due note bessarionee’, Studi Medievali e Umanistici 7: 399–406 Bandini, M. (2008) ‘Senofonte alla scuola di Guarino’, in Arrighetti, G. and Tulli, M. (eds) Filologia, Papirologia, Storia dei Testi. Giornate di Studio in onore di Antonio Carlini, Udine, 9–10 dicembre 2005, Pisa and Rome: Fabrizio Serra Editore, 83–109 Bandini, M. (2000) ‘Introduction générale’, in Bandini, M. and Dorion, L.-A. (eds) Xénophon: Mémorables. Tome I. Introduction générale. Livre I, Paris: Les Belles Lettres, I–CCCXXXII Bandini, M. (1993) ‘I manoscritti della fabula Prodici’, in Bandini, M. and Pericoli, F.G. (eds) Scritti in memoria di Dino Pieraccioni, Florence: Istituto Papirologico ‘G. Vitelli’, 39–45 Bandini, M. (1988) ‘Osservazioni sulla storia del testo dei Memorabili di Senofonte in età umanistica’, Studi Classici e Orientali 38: 271–92 Berno, F.R. (2016), ‘Seneca al bivio. Il paradigma di Ercole nelle lettere 66 e 115’, Prometheus 42: 115–22 Bianca, C. (1986) ‘“Auctoritas” e “veritas”: il Filelfo e le dispute tra platonici e aristotelici’, in Avesani, R., Billanovich, G., Ferrari, M. and Pozzi, G. (eds) Francesco Filelfo nel Quinto Centenario della morte. Atti del XVII Convegno di Studi Maceratesi (Tolentino, 27–30 settembre 1981), Padua: Editrice Antenore, 207–47 Chambers, D.S. (1989) ‘An unknown letter by Vittorino da Feltre’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 52: 219–21 d’Agostino, M., Doda, A., Harlfinger, D. and Prato, G. (eds) (1991) Paleografia e codicologia greca. Atti del II Colloquio internazionale (Berlino-Wolfenbüttel, 17–21 ottobre 1983), 2 vols, Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso Deligiannis, I. (2013) ‘The study and reception of Plato at the school of Vittorino da Feltre as revealed from two epistles of Sassolo da Prato’, Humanistica: an International Journal of Early Renaissance Studies 8: 105–29 Deligiannis, I. (2012) ‘The Latin translation of Prodicus’s tale of Hercules from Xenophon’s Memorabilia by Sassolo da Prato’, Studi Medievali e Umanistici 10: 131–210 Deligiannis, I. (2006) Fifteenth-Century Latin Translations of Lucian’s Essay on Slander, Pisa and Rome: Gruppo Editoriale Internazionale

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de’ Rosmini, C. (1845) Idea dell’ottimo precettore nella vita e disciplina di Vittorino da Feltre e de’ suoi discepoli libri quattro, Milan: G. Silvestri Deuling, J.K. and Cirignano, J. (1990) ‘A reappraisal of the later ABS family manuscripts of Xenophon’s Hiero tradition’, Scriptorium 44: 54–68 di Lazzarini, I. (2006) ‘Ludovico III Gonzaga, marchese di Mantova’, Dizionario biografico degli Italiani 66 available online from Treccani at http://www.treccani.it/ enciclopedia/ludovico‑iii‑gonzaga‑marchese‑di‑mantova_(Dizionario‑Biografico) (accessed 17/07/2019) di Lazzarini, I. (2000) ‘Gianfrancesco I Gonzaga, marchese di Mantova’, Dizionario biografico degli Italiani 54 available online from Treccani at http://www.treccani.it/ enciclopedia/gianfrancesco‑i‑gonzaga‑marchese‑di‑mantova_(Dizionario‑Biografi co) (accessed 17/07/2019) di Monte, M. (2007) ‘Mantegna, Andrea’, Dizionario biografico degli Italiani 69 available online from Treccani at http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/andrea‑mantegna _(Dizionario‑Biografico) (accessed 17/07/2019) Espigares Pinilla, A. (2014) ‘Voluptas, Vitium y Virtus junto a Hércules: del texto a la imagen’, Revista de Estudios Latinos 14: 141–64 Fattori, D. (1995) ‘Per la biografia del Feliciano’, in Contò, A. and Quaquarelli, L. (eds) L’“antiquario” Felice Feliciano Veronese tra epigrafia antica, letteratura e arti del libro. Atti del Convegno di Studi, Verona, 3–4 giugno 1993, Padua: Editrice Antenore, 27– 41 Fohlen, J. (1998) ‘Colophons et souscriptions de copistes dans les manuscrits classiques latins de la Bibliothèque Vaticane (XIVe et XVe s.)’, in Hamesse, J. (ed.) Roma, magistra mundi: Itineraria culturae medievalis: Mélanges offerts au Père L. E. Boyle à l’occasion de son 75e anniversaire, 3 vols, Louvain and La Neuve: Brepols, vol. 1, 233–64 Gamillscheg, E. (1975) ‘Beobachtungen zur Kopistentätigkeit des Petros Kreticos’, Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistikz 24: 137–45 Guasti, C. (1869) Sassolo Pratese e la sua apologia di Vittorino da Feltre. Intorno alla Vita e all’ Insegnamento di Vittorino da Feltre. Lettere di Sassolo Pratese volgarizzate, Florence: M. Cellini Harlfinger, D., Gamillscheg, E. and Hunger, H. (eds) (1981a) Repertorium der grieschischen Kopisten 800–1600, vol. 1A: Großbritannien. Verzeichnis der Kopisten, Vienna: Verlag Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften Harlfinger, D., Gamillscheg, E. and Hunger, H. (eds) (1981b) Repertorium der grieschischen Kopisten 800–1600, vol. 1B: Großbritannien. Paläographische Charakteristika, Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften Kristeller, P.O. (1967) Iter Italicum: a finding list of uncatalogued or incompletely catalogued humanistic manuscripts of the Renaissance in Italian and other libraries, vol. 2, Orvieto and Rome: Orvieto to Volterra and Vatican City; London: The Warburg Institute; Leiden: Brill

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Kruck, J. (2008), Cicero as Translator of Greek in his Presentation of the Stoic Theory of Action, M.A. Thesis, Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Labowsky, L. (1967) ‘Bessarione’, Dizionario biografico degli Italiani 9 available online from Treccani at http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/bessarione_(Dizionario‑Bio grafico) (accessed 17/07/2019) Maffei, F.S. (1731) Verona Illustrata. Parte seconda contiene l’istoria letteraria o sia la notizia de’ scrittoti veronesi, Verona: Jacopo Vallarsi e Pierantonio Berno Marcon, S. (2006) ‘Felice, disegnatore eclettico’, in Mantovani, G.P. (ed.) La maestà della lettera antica. L’Ercole Senofontio di Felice Feliciano (Padova, Biblioteca Civica, B.P. 1099), Padua: Il Poligrafo, 29–50 Marsh, D. (1992) ‘Xenophon’, in Brown, V., Kristeller, P.O. and Cranz, F.E. (eds) Catalogus Translationum et Commentariorum: Mediaeval and Renaissance Latin Translations and Commentaries. Annotated Lists and Guides, vol. 7, Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 75–196 Monfasani, J. (1983) ‘Still more on “Bessarion Latinus”’, Rinascimento 2.23: 217–35 (reprinted in Monfasani, J. (ed.) (1995) Byzantine scholars in Renaissance Italy: Cardinal Bessarion and other émigrés: selected essays, Aldershot, Hampshire: Variorum) Monfasani, J. (1981) ‘Bessarion Latinus’, Rinascimento 2.21: 165–209 (reprinted in Monfasani, J. (ed.) (1995) Byzantine scholars in Renaissance Italy: Cardinal Bessarion and other émigrés: selected essays, Aldershot, Hampshire: Variorum) Montecchi, G. (1994) ‘Il libro come monumento e come comunicazione nell’attività di Felice Feliciano da Verona (1433–1480)’, in Montecchi, G. (ed.) Il libro nel Rinascimento. Saggi di bibliologia, Milan: Editrice La Storia, 51–91 Pellegrin, É., Fohlen, J., Jeudy, C., Riou, Y.-F. and Marucchi, A. (eds) (1978) Les manuscrits classiques latins de la Bibliothèque Vaticane, 2.1 Fonds Patetta et fonds de la Reine, Paris: Centre national de la Recherche scientifique Pignatti, F. (1996) ‘Feliciano, Felice (Antiquarius)’, Dizionario biografico degli Italiani 46 available online from Treccani at http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/felice‑felicia no_%28Dizionario‑Biografico%29/ (accessed 17/07/2019) Pignatti, F. (1995) ‘Due sonetti di Giovan Mario Filelfo al Feliciano’, in Contò, A. and Quaquarelli, L. (eds) L’“antiquario” Felice Feliciano Veronese tra epigrafia antica, letteratura e arti del libro. Atti del Convegno di Studi, Verona, 3–4 giugno 1993, Padua: Editrice Antenore, 197–212 Quaquarelli, L. (1995) ‘Felice Feliciano letterato nel suo epistolario’, in Contò, A. and Quaquarelli, L. (eds) L’“antiquario” Felice Feliciano Veronese tra epigrafia antica, letteratura e arti del libro. Atti del Convegno di Studi, Verona, 3–4 giugno 1993, Padua: Editrice Antenore, 141–60 Sabbadini, R. (1980) ‘Die Entdeckung der griechischen Kodizes (15. Jh.)’, in Harlfinger, D. (ed.) Griechische Kodikologie und Textüberlieferung, Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 353–88

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Stafford, E.J. (2005), ‘Vice or Virtue? Herakles and the art of allegory’, in Rawlings, L. and Bowden, H. (eds) Herakles and Hercules: exploring a Graeco-Roman divinity, Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales, 71–96 Stafford, E.J. and Benjamin, T. (forthcoming) ‘“I shall sing of Herakles”: writing a Hercules oratorio for the twenty-first century’, in Stafford, E.J. (ed.) Hercules Performed, Leiden: Brill Tosetti Grandi, P. (2005) ‘Giovanni Marcanova in San Giovanni di Verdara a Padova’, in Bettella, C., Lombello Soffiato, D. and Melchionda, M.G. (eds) Sulle pagine, dentro la storia. Atti delle Giornate di studio LABS: Padova, 3 e 4 marzo 2003, Padua: CLEUP, 175–219 (references are made to the 2003 pre-publication version delivered at the conference, pp. 1–26, available to download from e-LiS at http://eprints.rclis.org/ 4435/1/Verdara_Marcanova.pdf; accessed 17/07/2019) Vast, H. (1878) Le cardinal Bessarion (1403–1472). Étude sur la Chrétienté et la Renaissance vers le milieu du XVe siècle, Paris: Hachette et Cie Wegscheider, E. (1960) Translatio Xenophontis de factis et dictis Socratis memoratu dignis per Bessarionem, Diss., Vienna: University of Vienna Wilson, N.G. (1992) From Byzantium to Italy: Greek studies in the Italian Renaissance, London: Duckworth Woodward, W.H. (1897) Vittorino da Feltre and other Humanist Educators: essays and versions. An introduction to the history of classical education, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Zamponi, S. (2006) ‘Il paradigma e la fine della scrittura: l’Ercole Senofontio del Feliciano’, in Mantovani, G.P. (ed.) La maestà della lettera antica. L’Ercole Senofontio di Felice Feliciano (Padova, Biblioteca Civica, B.P. 1099), Padua: Il Poligrafo, 11–27

chapter 2

Macte animis, Caesar, nostros imitare labores: Hercules and the Holy Roman Empire Paul Gwynne

This chapter introduces and discusses hitherto unpublished panegyric verses to the Emperor Maximilian by the poet Johannes Michael Nagonius. These verses are, furthermore, contextualised within appropriate historical frameworks. This is the first time that these passages from Nagonius’ manuscript have been transcribed, edited and translated into English: they provide important new documentary proof of the Holy Roman Emperor’s close identification with Hercules from the earliest years of his reign. Throughout the Middle Ages and the Renaissance the monumental edifices of ancient Rome provided a quarry of ready building materials for the Christian successors to the pagan emperors. Pope Sixtus IV Della Rovere (r. 1471– 84) was no exception. The expectation of huge crowds for the jubilee in 1475 required the dramatic reconstruction of Rome’s urban infrastructure to connect St Peter’s and the Vatican with the city centre.1 For the timely completion of this (and numerous other building projects), the Pope’s agents scoured the ancient sites for spolia. No stone was left unturned. Even the site of (what was believed to be) the ruined Ara Maxima was picked over.2 The event is recorded 1 See Simoncini 2004 vol. 1, 161–204. More generally Miglio 1986; Benzi 1990; Benzi 2000. 2 The Herculis Invicti Ara Maxima (‘The Greatest Altar of Invincible Hercules’) was the earliest cult-centre of Hercules in Rome and was erected, according to tradition, by Evander or by Hercules himself when he had slain the monster Cacus. According to Platner, ‘it stood in the eastern part of the forum Boarium, […] at the north-east corner of the Piazza di Bocca della Verità, north of S. Maria in Cosmedin’ (1926, 253); also Coarelli 1988, 61–84; 439–42. In the fifteenth century the exact location of the Ara Maxima was disputed as Pomponio Leto notes in his commentary on Ovid’s Fasti: Ara Maxima iuxta portam Trigeminam proxima Foro Boario, ut ait Dionysius ut alii in ea parte Fori Boarii quam tangit Aventinum (‘The Ara Maxima is by the Tregeminam Gate near the Forum Boarium, as Dionysius says that the others are in the area of the Forum Boarium which borders the Aventine’, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vat. lat. 3263, fol. 16r). Barry helpfully lists the four major shrines to Hercules in and around the Forum Boarium (2011, 17): ‘the temples of Hercules Invictus ad Circum Maximum (Pompeianus), Hercules Victor ad portam Trigeminam, and Hercules Victor in Foro Boario as well as a massive altar precinct, the Ara Maxima Herculis.’ The circular temple of Hercules Victor in Foro Boario, convincingly identified by Coarelli as the aedes Aemiliana Herculis, erec-

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in the topographical poem offered by the Roman antiquarian Andrea Fulvio (c. 1470–1527) to Pope Leo X De’ Medici (r. 1513–21):3 A second temple to Hercules the ‘Invincible’, so named because of his victorious labours across the globe, stood near the porta Trigemina. An altar named ‘the greatest’ once renowned with offerings to the same god stood near the Circus, whence dogs and flies were kept at bay by the massive club, which placed atop the doorposts served as a shady lintel. Sixtus IV

ted by Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus (185–120 BCE) in 142 BCE (Coarelli 1988, 164–204) was demolished sometime in the reign of Sixtus IV, presumably in the search for building materials. The temple of Hercules Victor ad portam Trigeminam survived because it had been converted (possibly sometime in the early twelfth century) into the church of Santo Stefano delle Carrozze (St Stephen ‘of the carriages’); see Barry 2011, 18. Pope Sixtus IV restored this ‘church’, added a fresco over the altar and a plaque on the floor; see Simoncini 2004 vol. 2, 114. Although their exact locations were confused and had yet to be identified with precision, four distinct temples had been distinguished by the 1470s; for example, Pomponio Leto had observed (Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vat. lat. 3263, 105v): Erunt Romae aedes IIII sub variis titulis: Ara Maxima, et non longe ab ea in Foro Boario aedes Herculis victoris et ea duorum et in Circo Flaminio Herculis Custodis et Herculis Musagetis “There were four Roman temples under various titles: the Ara Maxima, and not far from it in the Forum Boarium the temple of Hercules Victor and the two in the Circus Flaminius of Hercules the Guardian and Hercules of the Muses.” While in his published notes on the ancient city he wrote (Pomponio Leto, Excerpta, 288): Post muros aedificiorum scolae Graecae statim non longe fuit templum Herculis in foro Boario, rotundum cum multis antiquitatum vestigiis et dirutum tempore Xisti IIII. Non longe ab hoc templo, versus Aventinum montem, fuit alterum templum appellatum Ara Maxima: supra haec templa, ad orientem, circus est Maximus. “Immediately beyond the walls of the Greek Hall, at no great distance, is the temple of Hercules in the Forum Boarium, a rotunda with many ancient ruins collapsed since the fourth century. Not far from this temple, against the Aventine Hill, is another temple called the Ara Maxima: over this temple, to the East, is the Circus Maximus.” 3 Antiquaria Urbis ad Leonem X (Rome, 1513), book two (folios not numbered): Altera tergeminae stabat prope limina portae Herculis invictae ob victricia gesta per orbem. Stabat et ad circum quae maxima dicitur ara numinis eiusdem quondam celeberrima votis, unde canes muscaeque aberant formidine clavae, quae posita ad postes limen servabat opacum. Hanc Sixtus quartus quondam a radicibus imis funditus evertit, qua nudo corpore signum Effossum fuit, et Tarpeio in monte locatum Conservatorum dextra intra limina tectis Aereus Alcides et clava notus ahena. Weiss 1959, 1–44, is still valuable for Fulvio; see also Muecke 2007, 31–56.

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long ago razed this to the ground. A naked statue was unearthed here and placed on the Tarpeian rock on the right within the Conservators’ palace: brazen Hercules famous for his bronze club. As Fulvio notes, during the course of these ‘excavations’ a monumental gilt bronze statue of Hercules was discovered.4 This nude beardless image shows the demi-god holding an inverted club in his right hand and three golden apples in his left.5 Again as Fulvio observes, the statue was removed to the courtyard of the Palazzo dei Conservatori on the Capitol where it was exhibited on a tall plinth and later drawn by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498–1574) surrounded by fragments of the colossal statue of Constantine.6 The discovery of this statue had a tremendous impact on the humanist circles in Rome. While Hercules’ moral dilemma at the crossroads had been a popular theme in Florentine humanism, in fifteenth-century Rome interest in the ancient demigod was primarily visual, inspired by the antique sarcophagi depicting the hero’s labours, such as the tomb of the Roman administrator Giovanni Alberini (d. 1476), in Santa Maria sopra Minerva and by the fragmentary statue of Hercules and Antaeus (presented to Cosimo I by Pius IV in 1560 and now in the courtyard of the Palazzo Pitti, Florence).7 The recovery

4 The statue was discovered in May 1477; see Reeve 1996, 179–94. It is given by the annotation on fol. 49r, 3.29: 1477 de mense Maii reperta est statua Herculis aenea sub ecclesia S. Maria in Scola Greca (‘1477, in the month of May, discovered a bronze statue of Hercules under the Church of St Mary in the Greek School’ [Santa Maria in Cosmedin]); cited by Muecke 2003, 222, n. 48. In his commentary on Ov. Fast. 1.581, Paolo Marsi confirms the discovery of the statue in the vicinity of the Ara Maxima: in ultimo angulo Fori Boarii, ab his qui marmora inquirebant, reperta est ara maxima et effossa aerea Herculis statua (‘In the far corner of the Forum Boarium, by those who were looking for marbles, a great altar was discovered and a bronze statue of Hercules excavated’, Muecke 2003, 222, n. 48). Fulvio’s prose description of Rome’s antiquities provides further information on the location of the statue’s discovery (Fulvio, Antiquitates Urbis, fol. Xlvi): Erat enim subterranea crypta ubi in eius ruinis aetate mea effossum fuit Herculis aeneum auratumque simulacrum, quod nunc est in Capitolio in aedibus Conservatorum (‘For there was an underground vault, from the ruins of which was excavated in my time a statue of Hercules, made of bronze and gilded, which is now in the Conservator’s apartment on the Capitol’). See also the chapter by Woodall in this volume. 5 Bober 2010, 178–9, no. 129. 6 Maarten van Heemskerk Sketchbook, 1, fol. 53v. The idea that the statue is depicted by Mantegna in the fresco decoration of the Camera degli Sposi, Mantua, can be dismissed. Among the many differences Mantegna’s representation is bearded and wearing his lionskin. 7 The classic study by Panofsky 1930, is still useful; see also Ullman 1951 and Witt 1983, 212– 19. For the Roman sarcophagi known in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, see Bober and Rubinstein, no.s 135–6; also the interpretation of the cycle of frescoes in the Orsini castle at Bracciano by Siligato 1981, 95–115. For the Alberini sacrophagus in particular, see Kühlental

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by Poggio Bracciolini (1380–1459) in 1417 at St Gall during the Council of Constance of the seventeen-book epic on the Second Punic War (218–201 BCE) by the Roman poet Silius Italicus (26–101) which contains extended treatment of the cult of Hercules, added a new dimension to the cult of the god.8 Lectures on Silius’ epic were given at the Studium Urbis by Pomponio Leto (1428–98), Domizio Calderini (1446–78) and Pietro Marso (1441–1511), all of whom published commentaries on the poem which emphasized Hercules’ role within the epic narrative.9 A fine example is the deluxe manuscript prepared c. 1470 by Pomponio Leto for the young Viterbese aristocrat Fabio Mazzatosta (c. 1450–c. 1475) (now Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vat. lat. 3302).10 Although the commentary finishes abruptly at folio 25r (Sil. 3.221), this was sufficient to include the description of Theron, the warrior-priest of Hercules (Sil. 2.148–59); the first appearance of the god himself in Silius’ narrative (2.475–93) and the description of the famous temple to Hercules at Gades (3.14–44).11 Moreover, the text is preceeded by a series of fine pen drawings of the main protagonists, including Hercules.12 The derelict site of the Ara Maxima would provide the setting for a dramatic encounter between the demi-god and the Holy Roman Emperor Elect Maximilian I Habsburg (1459–1519) in a Latin epyllion (‘brief epic’) composed by one of Leto’s students, Giovanni Michele Nagonio (Nagonius) (c. 1450–c. 1510), and transcribed into a deluxe presentation manuscript as a diplomatic gift from

8 9 10 11 12

1974, 414–21; for the Hercules and Antaeus sarcophagus, see Bober 2010, no. 137. Codex Escurialensis, fol. 37r contains drawings of a variety of Hercules’ statues trovato in monte chavallo, nela chapella d’ercole (‘found on Mt. Cavallo, in the temple of Hercules’). Bennet 1976, 3, 341–98. See Muecke 2010, 401–24. Zabughin 1909–10, 2. 156–7; 1. 347–8; also Maddalo 1991, 47–86. Further on the Temple of Hercules in Gades, see Fernandez-Comacho in this volume. While the script of the text has been attributed to Leto himself and the headings to Gioacchino de’ Gigantibus (fl. 1460–75), the attribution of the drawings is more problematic, though perhaps the work of the Paduan illuminator and scribe Bartolomeo Sanvito (1433–1511); see De la Mare 2009, 204. The striking resemblance of the portrait bust of an unidentified Roman (Silius Italicus fol. VIr) to the portrait of the emperor Tiberius in the stucco roundels of the first eight Caesars on the ceiling of the Camera Picta, (the so-called Camera degli Sposi), Castello di San Giorgio, Mantua, suggests that these drawings may be associated with the circle of Mantegna (1431–1506). The room took nine years to paint (1464–74), the last section being the meeting between Marchese Ludovico II Gonzaga and his son Cardinal Francesco, left of the entrance door; see Elam 1981, 15–25; also Trevisani 2006. It may also be worth noting the statue of Hercules standing on a plinth in the landscape background of the ‘Meeting’ scene. Although it has been suggested that this is based upon the bronze unearthed near the ruins of the Ara Maxima, the dates and iconography argue against this; see Presicce 2000, 195 and references therein.

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Pope Alexander VI Borgia (r. 1492–1503) designed to encourage Maximilian to hurry to Rome for his immediate coronation. In a passage replete with echoes of Silius Italicus, the poet imagines the Holy Roman Emperor Elect participating with Pomponio Leto and members of the Roman Academy at festivities in honour of Hercules in which the god himself miraculously appears to confirm Maximilian’s role as new world emperor (and papal protector). In order to appreciate the significance of this curious meeting some historical background is necessary.

1

Historical Outline

In 1493 Europe was thrown into turmoil by the decision of King Charles VIII of France to press the Angevin claim upon the kingdom of Naples by force of arms.13 Afraid that the arrival of the French would cause his own deposition, Pope Alexander VI began increasingly desperate diplomatic negotiations in Italy and across Europe to counter the French invasion. To add to the confusion, on 19 August 1493 the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick III (r. 1452–1493) died. It was expected that Frederick’s son Maximilian would succeed to the title and come to Rome in order to solemnise his own de facto position as Holy Roman Emperor with his coronation by the Pope.14 Although it is difficult to extract a single, distinct policy from the complicated web of intrigue that distinguishes Borgia politics, it seems that in late 1493 papal and imperial interests coincided. Armed with a deluxe manuscript of panegyric verse (now Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, MS. 12.750 [suppl. 350]), in early 1494 the poet Nagonius was sent on a diplomatic mission to the Low Countries to encourage Maximilian to set out immediately for Rome to be crowned Holy Roman Emperor, thereby pre-empting the arrival of the French king whom it was rumoured would not only depose the Pope but also usurp the title ‘Emperor’.15 It must

13

14

15

Charles VIII had inherited Angevin claims to the kingdom of Naples through his father Louis XI (r. 1461–1483), the grandson of Yolande of Aragon (1384–1442), queen consort of Naples and Duchess of Anjou. Maximilian had been granted the title rex Romanorum in imperatorem promovendus (‘King of the Romans to be promoted to emperor’) by the Diet of Frankfurt on 16 February 1486 and was crowned two months later in Aachen (9 April) before the emperor, electors and princes; strictly speaking, the title Holy Roman Emperor could only be assumed after coronation by the Pope. For the constitutional terms in the Holy Roman Empire, see Asch 1991, xi. For Maximilian’s anxiety that the French king would usurp the title ‘Emperor’, see Scheller 1981, 5–69.

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be remembered that although the Habsburg dynasty retained control of the imperial title until the end of the First World War, the continuity of Habsburg emperors was anything but assured upon the death of Maximilian’s father, Frederick III. Written amid rumour and speculation about the proposed invasion of Italy by King Charles VIII of France, Nagonius’ manuscript for Maximilian is the earliest example of the poet’s presentation volumes. Although expensively bound and illuminated in the Low Countries the text is written in the poet’s distinctive script, and appears hastily cobbled together from a series of preexistent setpieces.16 Yet it seems that the diplomatic mission was successful. Maximilian promised to support the Pope and his preparations for the visit to Rome increased as Charles VIII moved the French court south to Lyons to prepare for the Italian expedition. It was hoped that Maximilian’s arrival in Rome would at least balance, if not deter, the threatened French invasion and thus allay the Pope’s fears that the advance of the French upon Rome would signal his own deposition. For Maximilian, by protecting his own interests, would, as Holy Roman Emperor, be duty-bound to defend the Pope. While the prospective coronation, restoration of Rome and the associated idea of the Renovatio Imperii provide the main themes of Nagonius’ text, neither would-be Emperor nor prophetic poet foresaw the difficulties that a journey to Rome would entail for in the meantime the Duke of Milan, Ludovico Sforza, had guaranteed the French army safe passage into Italy and in spring 1494 the invasion of the Italian peninsula began.

2

The Poet: Johannes Michael Nagonius

In the two decades that span the end of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth centuries, the poet Johannes Michael Nagonius travelled the length and breadth of Europe presenting deluxe manuscripts of his Latin poetry at most of the major European courts. The recipients of this verse constitute a role call of the major heads of state in this period: the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I; kings Henry VII of England; Vladislav II of Bohemia and Hungary; Louis XII of France; Doge Leonardo Loredan and Pope Julius II as well as an impressive array of European princes and signori of Renaissance Italy. This poet is unrivalled in either the breadth of his travels or the consistent preeminence of the dedicatees of his verse.

16

For efficient verse composition, see Schirg 2015, 11–32.

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Although born near Pavia c. 1450, Nagonius’ career is centred upon Rome. He attended the Roman Academy of Pomponio Leto and, probably under the auspices of this group, was awarded the title of poet laureate sometime in the 1480s. By the 1490s Nagonius was in the service of the Borgia where his poetic gifts were put to an unusual use. It seems that deluxe volumes of his panegyric poetry, expensively bound in cloth of gold, illuminated and written in multi-coloured inks on vellum, were used as diplomatic gifts which formed an essential part of Borgia foreign policy.

3

The Presentation Volume

Nagonius’ manuscript for Maximilian divides into three books: an epyllion of 1,764 hexameters (roughly equivalent in length to two books of Virgil’s Aeneid); eight lyrics in the style of Horace’s so-called ‘Roman odes’; and a book of fortyfive epigrams. It goes without saying that all the verse is laudatory. The panegyric epic of the opening book is contained in a simple narrative that is set within the framework of the type of prognostication based upon celestial readings that were extremely popular across Europe at the end of the fifteenth century.17 The poem opens amid strange celestial activity, which is seen to prefigure portentous events. The poet in his role as vates, or prophetic seer, proffers an explanation and the epic narrative then begins. Alarmed at the portentous signs in the heavens, Venus arrives on Olympus, seeking an explanation: ‘Is it now time,’ she inquires, ‘for Rome to complete the destiny that was only partially fulfilled under the Caesars?’ Jove unrolls the book of Fate and announces the imminent arrival of a new hero:18 The days which Rome long expected have now returned. […] We have decreed: Maximilian will be born from a line of ancestor kings, there will not be another knight more renowned in glorious arms than he. As the name Maximilianus, with an unhelpful succession of short syllables, is impossible to accommodate within the hexameter, the poet refers to the 17 18

For the importance of prophecy in the late-fifteenth century, see Reeves, 1992 and Scheller, 1981, 27–37. ÖNB, MS. 12.750, fol. 11r: Iam rediere dies quos dudum Roma moratur. […] Est placitum nobis. nascetur origine regum Maximianus avum, pulchris quo clarior armis non erit alter eques.

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emperor elect as Maximianus, thereby associating him with the Roman emperor Maximian Augustus (r. 286–305). This is important for our purpose as a third-century panegyrist had repeatedly associated Maximian with Hercules:19 For this reason, if now at Rome all the magistrates, pontiffs, and priests venerate the temples of Hercules just as they venerate the fathers of the City and its supporting deities, because Hercules brought the booty gained at last from his victory from the river Ebro and the Ocean, witness of the setting sun, right to the Tyrrhenian pastures, and left his footprints on the heights of the Palatine for you who were to come, with what enthusiasm, then, is it appropriate for us, who are gazing upon you, a manifest god, victor indeed over the whole world, but now actually in the process of overcoming in that selfsame western quarter, not the hideous shepherd with triple head, but a much more frightful monster, not only to use all that we have of breath and voice in your praises, but even, if the subject calls for it, to exhaust them? In a similar vein, in the Genethliacus of Maximian the panegyrist had also declared:20 And it is the same, Maximian, with your Hercules’ power. I omit the fact that while he was among men he pacified all lands and woods, freed cities from merciless masters, even pulled down from the sky the winged shafts of fearful birds, repressed too the fears of those below by abducting their jailor; surely after his adoption by the gods and marriage to Juventa he has been a no less constant advocate of excellence and promotes all the works of brave men; in every contest he supports the more righteous endeavours. These ideas will be repeated in Nagonius’ narrative and even illustrated in the illuminated frontispiece of the poet’s presentation manuscript. The narrative continues as the god Mars is sent to Rome to announce that a new Caesar has been foretold and to encourage the Romans to welcome him in this time of need:21 19 20 21

Nixon and Rodgers 1994, 55. Nixon and Rodgers 1994, 85. ÖNB, MS. 12.750, fols 16v–17r ‘Iam Mars saevus adest validos volet ire per enses, ac Bellona furens, et iam laetalis Enio

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‘Now savage Mars is at hand and eager to advance through stout swords, Bellona too is raging, and already deadly Enyo is brandishing her spear, beating the light breeze with dread sounding strikes and provoking many enemies. With what slaughter will that fierce man steep the shores. The long desired day is at hand and I warn you that the greater kingdoms of your ancestors are now approaching and the rule of the holy senate has returned and mighty Rome will bind the world to herself.’ He tells that these things must be accomplished and that it is not right to delay continually or tolerate delay, ‘Send for the king elect who is churning the seas and planning to set lands in motion, preparing to exercise long waves in hatred and to bear bloody standards, when an armada has been launched, Caesar will lead the Pope’s golden standards, sacred clarions and hostile battalions against the enemy. Senators, celebrate august Julus whom the Rhine, rich in the vines of Bacchus, honours, and whom, eternally renowned in the long line of his forefathers, proud Germany has produced.’ The machinery of epic has been subsumed by Christian imagery as the promised hero is transformed from a classical warrior into the ideal Christian knight at the head of the papal army.22 Mars urges the Romans to send a delegation to the Sibyl of Cumae to learn more. A certain Ursus, here identified as the condottiere Gentil Virginio Orsini, lord of Bracciano and Great Constable of Naples (ob. 17 January 1497), is chosen to lead the delegation.23 The identification is pertinent, as, in the face of the French advance, Alexander had entrusted

22 23

vibrat tela manu et tenues transverberat auras, ictibus horrisonis, multos ac provocat hostes. Quantis ille ferox satiabit cladibus oras. Exoptata dies veterum maioraque regna vos moneo adventare modo rediere senatus sceptra sacri, Latiumque potens sibi vinciet orbem.’ Haec peragenda docet liceat non usque morari nec tolerare moras. ‘Electum accersite regem aequora turbantem terrasque movere coquentem, classibus in pontum missis freta longa parantem exercere odiis vexillaque ferre cruenta aurea pontificis Caesar vexilla tenebit, hostilesque tubas sacras et in hoste phalanges. Augustum celebrate patres quem Rhenus honorat Palmite Baccheo dives, peperitque superba semper avis atavisque decens Germania Iulum.’ On the Imperial adventus, see MacCormack 1981, 17–61. See Gwynne 2019.

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the defence of Rome to Orsini and his supporters.24 In a trip to the Underworld, the Sibyl reveals that Maximilian is the promised hero and again he is presented as a crusading knight: ‘He will lead the standards of the lands and shifting heavens and powerful Italy and this prince will first invade the cavalry of the East’.25 The Sibyl repeats Jove’s prophecy: ‘These are fates which pertain to the Latin empire’ (Haec sunt Imperio quae spectant fata Latino, fol. 32v) and Ursus and his companions then journey to Naples where they are lavishly entertained by King Ferrante. The appearance of Mars with a gift of divine armour for the promised hero concludes this first section of the narrative. The scene then abruptly switches as the poet imaginatively creates Maximilian’s arrival in Rome. The Holy Roman Emperor Elect is imagined entering Rome from the main road north, the Via Flaminia, perhaps recalling the triumphal entry of Maximilian’s father Frederick III into Rome some twenty-five years earlier on 24 December 1468. Classical and Christian imagery again merge as Nagonius describes the Imperial adventus. The poet exhorts Rome to rejoice at Maximilian’s arrival:26 Meanwhile Caesar was heading towards the seven hills of Rome in a procession drawn out in many columns, to receive the sacred crown from our shepherd and bind his Imperial head with the golden diadem. Now pax Romana restore to our prayers the powerful god indicated by a star; behold the most splendid descendant of ancient Caesar is coming. A Roman embassy greets Maximilian as he enters the city and a reception is held to celebrate his arrival in the Palazzo di San Marco (known today as Palazzo Venezia) built by Cardinal Pietro Barbo (1417–1471; elected Pope Paul II 1464). The setting is appropriate.27 Here, for the first time in Rome for almost a millennium, new construction consciously imitated the designs of Imperial 24 25

26

27

See Allegrezza 2001, 1, 331–44. ÖNB, MS. 12.750, fol. 31v: vexilla tenebit terrarum mundique vagi Latiique potentis, hic primum Eoas princeps invadet habenas. ÖNB, MS. 12.750, fol. 35r: Interea Caesar, diffussus in agmine multo, urbis septenae veniebat Pergama versus, sumat ut a nostro sacram pastore coronam Caesareumque caput cingat diademate fulvo. Redde deum votis iam pax Romana potentem, sydere signatum, veteris ditissima proles Caesaris ecce venit. Modigliani 2003, 125–161; Casanova 1992.

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Roman architecture, such as the Colosseum and the Theatre of Marcellus, both within close proximity to the palace:28 A royal house stands, worthy of the gods, founded by the authority of Paul II, supported on innumerable columns. The august edifice, vast, rather sweetly faces the gentle breezes; you would claim that the huge building surpasses Olympus. More to the point, the antecamera to the main reception room at the heart of the original palace was painted with a decorative frieze celebrating a selection of Hercules’ labours, the lion rampant of the Barbo coat-of arms looking suspiciously like the Nemean Lion.29 This decorative scheme provides the starting point for a matrix of references in a complex epigram in which the poet claims that Maximilian’s deeds surpass those of Hercules (see below 4.2: Ad eundem divum Caesarem Maximilianum semper Augustum de victoriis pictis in pallatio Capitolino epigramma; ‘An epigram to the same divine Maximilian Caesar, eternally August, on the victories painted in the Capitoline palace.’). Just as Aeneas had explored the future site of Rome with King Evander (Verg. Aen. 8.280–369) and Caesar had wandered over the ruins of Troy (Luc. 9.964– 1003), so the following day Maximilian asks to see the sites of ancient Rome (see below, Appendix 4.5).30 An expedition immediately sets out across the city. They visit first the Capitol and Aventine and then journey across the Circus Maximus to the site of the Forum Boarium and the dilapidated Ara Maxima, the earliest cult centre of Hercules in Rome. Lamenting the decline of Rome, neglect of the temples and inattentiveness towards the gods and their worship, Maximilian promises to restore the Ara Maxima to its former glory and is thus seen to fulfil Jupiter’s earlier prophecy (collapsaque templa novabit fol. 17r). Whereas Aeneas’ tour is pregnant with the excitement of the expectation of the future greatness of the city, Maximilian’s tour is replete with the pathos of loss among the ruins of a once great empire. This emphasis on the decline of Rome from its former glory only serves to heighten Maximilian’s role as Renovator Urbis (‘Restorer of the City’). His promise to restore both the city’s fabric and

28

29 30

ÖNB, MS. 12.750, fol. 38v: Auspiciis stat mille domus fundata Secundi regia digna deis Pauli subnixa colunnis. Intendit tenues augustum dulcius auras tectum ingens immane feres excedere Olympum. Hermanin 1948, 103–32. See De Beer 2017, 23–55.

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prestige by repairing public buildings equates him with the Roman Emperor Augustus, who carried out an extensive rebuilding and restoration programme of the temples in Rome and claimed to have found Rome a city of brick and left it a city of marble.31 Maximilian presents a small offering to the god at which Hercules himself appears and encourages Maximilian to imitate his own example: Macte animis, Caesar, nostros imitare labores (‘A blessing on your spirit, Caesar, imitate our labours’, fol. 48r). Hercules’ words are lifted directly from Statius’ celebratory verses on the temple of Hercules built by Pollius Felix on the coast at Surrentum (Silv. 3.1.166), in which the demigod similarly appears to thank his benefactor for his splendid new home. Hercules’ appearance and response heightens the sense of the deity’s protection of Maximilian. Here again Nagonius appears to be echoing the ideas in the late third-century Genethliacus of the emperor Maximian as Hercules’ heir:32 Now first of all, how great is your piety towards the gods, whom you honour with altars, statues, temples, donations, with your own names and your images as well, and have made more sacred by the example of your veneration! Now men truly understand […] what the power of the gods is, since you honour them at such expense. As close analysis of Nagonius’ verse reveals (see below, Appendix 4.5), the panegyric poet has woven together a dense patchwork of quotations from a series of classical texts, some of which (such as Silius Italicus’ epic on the Second Punic War and Statius’ Silvae) had only recently been rediscovered. It is therefore not surprising to find an oblique reference to the eminent classicist and antiquarian Pomponio Leto among the participants at Hercules’ festival:33 Leto brought offerings, quaffed with a rather serious expression, and fulfilled the vows as they deserved. Leto had appeared earlier in the poem together with other members of the Studium Urbis, making supplications to the ancient gods in a passage modelled

31 32 33

Reported by Suet. Aug. 28. 3; cf. Dio, 56. 30. 3. Nixon and Rodgers 1994, 90. ÖNB, MS. 12.750, fol. 47v: Libamenta tulit Letus; gravioreque visu hausit, pro meritis meritorum praemia solvit. The reference is ambiguous; see below, Appendix 4.7 Commentary l. 163.

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upon the religious observancies in Rome after Hannibal’s victory at Lake Trasimene (Sil. 7.64–90):34 Then Pomponio Leto, beloved of the gods, prince of poets and the Latian bands, than whom no-one is held in greater esteem, nor is more brilliant in eloquence or more outstanding with Apollo’s lyre; our speech bathes continually in his pure fountain and lake, and he sprinkles new waters on the plectrum; he was likewise bringing together a learned crowd of young men. These two passages perhaps suggest the celebrations of the ancient festivals that Leto and his circle were supposed to have revived (such as the Parilia), and for which they had earlier been condemned and arrested by Pope Paul II.35 Be that as it may, Nagonius would certainly have learned about Hercules and his cult from Leto’s lectures at the Studium Urbis and his poem provides an important witness to the reception of the ‘Silver Latin’ poets in late fifteenth-century Rome. Maximilian and his companions then take a break from their sightseeing tour for a hunting expedition among the ruins. As Achilles and Aeneas had been presented with divine armour so Gentil Virginio Orsini now presents Maximilian with the gift entrusted to him by Mars. Nagonius, however, associates the fatalia dona of epic with the Pauline armour of God.36 Maximilian is thus presented as the ideal Christian knight who will restore peace to the world: Alter Caesar eris, nostro dabis ocia mundo (‘You will be a second Caesar, and you will bring peace to our world’, fol. 50v). The shield is engraved with images of Maximilian and his son Philip surveying the whole world:37 34

35 36 37

ÖNB, MS. 12.750, fols 20v–21r: Pomponius inde cura deum Letus, vatum qui grandior ore et princeps Latiique chori quo nullus habetur clarior eloquio, et Phoebeo pectine maior. Fonte suo puroque lacu nunc ora perenne nostra natant, spargitque novos in plectra liquores, cogebat iuvenum pubem doctamque catervam. Palermino 1980, 117–155. Eph. VI, 11,16–17. ÖNB, MS. 12.750, fol. 50v: Caelatus in auro Caesar erat clypeo totum qui prospicit orbem. Parte alia natus praefulgens ore Philippus Caesaris, et multum patriis spectatus in armis.

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Chased in gold on the shield there was Caesar who looks over the whole world. On another part was Caesar’s son Philip with a radiant expression and greatly esteemed in his ancestral arms. While Maximilian marvels at the gift, Nagonius concludes the narrative with a prayer for future prosperity in which the poet emphasises the universal peace that will ensue from Maximilian’s coronation in Rome:38 O Caesar, to be remembered for a long time, to be celebrated in triumphs. I believe that without you the Italian kingdoms would appear worthless. You are the very ornament of princes; you have obtained the name of great Caesar. Apollo commands the melodious Muses to make songs for your rule that resound with the plectrum. The association with Hercules seems to have been particularly important to Maximilian, who claimed the demi-god as his ‘ancestor and alter-ego’.39 As McDonald has documented, Maximilian used the image of Hercules to bolster his title as King of the Romans both at home and abroad. Humanists and poets played a key role: Sebastian Brant compared Hercules with Maximilian in laudatory Latin verses, eulogized him in his Narrenschiff (1492), and even wrote a Hercules drama; Paulus Amaltheus mentions Hercules and Maximilian in the same context in his epicedium for Frederick III; the poet laureate Cimbriacus drew an analogy between the feats of Hercules and Habsburg military campaigns; in dedicating a tract on Cicero to Maximilian, Conrad Celtis declared his sovereign an alter Hercules (‘a second Hercules’) and subtly associated the hero with his ruler in his panegyric play, Ludus Diane (1501).40 Maximilian also appeared as Hercules on at least one occasion. In Joseph Grünpeck’s drama Virtus et Fallacicaptrix, staged at court in 1497 (and therefore contemporary with Nagonius’ presentation manuscript), Maximilian took the place of Hercules at the crossroads at a crucial moment in the masque and went on to chose the path of virtue. ‘For this honour’, as McDonald notes, ‘Grün38

39 40

ÖNB, MS. 12.750, fol. 51v: O Caesar memorande diu, celebrande triumphis. Crediderim sine te sorderent Itala regna. Tu flos ille ducum, magni tu nomen adeptus Caesaris. Imperio iussit dare carmina vestro Phoebus et argutas plectro resonare Camenas. McDonald 1976, 140; also Silver 2008, 23–4; 127–8. More generally, see Cox-Rearick 1984, 149–53; and Polleross 1998, 37–62. McDonald 1976, 141.

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peck was crowned poet laureate’.41 Furthermore, an anonymous and undated contemporary woodcut broadsheet Maximilian as Hercules Germanicus shows Hercules with the features of Maximilian and praises him as pacator orbis, salvator mundi (‘the restorer of peace, saviour of the world’).42 According to the Roman historian Tacitus, it was believed that Hercules visited Germany, thus further enabling the association with Maximilian.43 Indeed the appearance of the demi-god inspired the native tribes on the eve of battle: ‘They further record how Hercules appeared among the Germans, and on the eve of battle, the natives hymn “Hercules, the first of brave men”’.44 Nagonius’ verse ties directly into this convention. An epigram in book three systematically compares Hercules’ labours with the deeds of a greater Hercules, Maximilian (see below, Appendix 4.2). This poem is closly modelled upon Martial epigram 9.101, where the original ‘greater Hercules’ was the emperor Domitian. Elsewhere Nagonius associates Maximilian with this Roman emperor, who had been awarded the title GERMANICUS for his victory over the Chatti in 83BCE.45 The point of the original comparison in Martial’s epigram is retained and expanded: Hercules/Domitian made his influence felt over a large area, the new Hercules Germanicus will surpass these local achievements by leading a crusade to recapture the Holy Land; his victories there usher in a new Golden Age and a return of the Pax Romana under a restored empire with Maximilian at its head. As the turn of the century approached, the atmosphere in Rome was rife with apocalyptic anxieties which were compounded by the French invasion and the Ottoman advance across the Mediterranean. Amid such uncertainty the peace and political stability of the age of Augustus and the expanding empire under the Flavian dynasty seemed appealing enough to provide the poet with a model to which the honorand is urgently encouraged to aspire. The combination of the medieval image of the king of peace and classical image of the world emperor is echoed in the illuminated frontispiece where two eagles draw back the curtains of a rich baldachin to reveal Maximilian enthroned in Imperial splendour. It should be noted that Maximilian is seated on an (ivory? marble?) throne that is carved with relief panels, at least one of which may rep-

41 42 43 44 45

McDonald 1976, 142. Silver 2008, 128. The identification of ruler and demigod had a long pedigree; see Stafford 2012, 121–56. Tac. Germ. 3; 9; 34. Fuisse apud eos et Herculem memorant, primumque omnium virorum fortium ituri in proelia canunt. (Tac. Germ. 3, trans. Hutton 2000, 132–4). Fol. 79v–r.

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resent Hercules and Deianira (the others are difficult to identify).46 The throne thus recalls the so-called ‘Throne of Saint Peter’ sent as a gift from the Holy Roman Emperor Charles the Bald to Pope John VIII in 875 and decorated with ivory panels depicting (among other things) the labours of Hercules.47 Beneath the miniature is the inscription: Sic ego su[m] Cesar Maxim[ilianus] orbis herus (‘Thus I am Caesar, Maximilian, lord of the world’) both echoing the panegyrist’s claim for Maximian/Hercules as toto quidem orbe victorem (‘victor over the whole world’) and further emphasizing Maximilian’s role as victorious world ruler.

3

Conclusion

This is, of course, all wishful thinking. In reality, hope of a Roman coronation faded as the situation in Italy worsened. Despite the embassy and the poet’s encouragement, it was not Maximilian, but King Charles VIII of France who entered Rome from the north by torchlight and to applause on 31 December 1494. Charles, not Maximilian, was lodged in Palazzo San Marco and a few days later taken on a tour of the sites of Rome. Far from presenting Maximilian with armour, as the French king moved south, the Orsini deserted both the Pope and the Aragonese kings of Naples, switched their allegiance to France and joined the French descent. French success in Naples, however, was short-lived and, barely three months after they had arrived, on 20 May 1495 the French army began the long haul back up the Italian peninsula. A Holy League was formed against the French and their supporters. The two sides eventually clashed at Fornovo on 6 June 1495. In the same month the Aragonese kings were restored to Naples. With diminishing expectation of Maximilian’s imminent arrival, the poet was called upon to adapt his text for another patron. More useful now for Borgia foreign policy was an alliance with England. Nagonius was dispatched to Westminster to encourage King Henry VII to join the Holy League and thus pose a threat to French security by invasion on another front.48 This change in policy required major revisions to the text. The poet hastily adapted (and abridged) the verses offered to Maximilian to present the English king with a volume of laudatory poems that feature the Tudor monarch, rather than Maximilian, as an epic hero. Although Hercules does not appear to the English monarch 46 47 48

Gwynne 2012, 304. Weitzmann 1973, 1–37; Weitzmann 1974, 248–51. York, Minster Library, MS XVI.N.2; see Gwynne 2012, 101–20.

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in Nagonius’ manuscript for Henry VII (the king never contemplated a visit to Rome), Hercules did appear in contemporary English propaganda aimed against Maximilian. In Les douze triomphes de Henry VII (‘The Twelve Triumphs of Henry VII’, c. 1497) the blind poet laureate Bernard André claims parallels between Hercules’ labours and the the deeds of Henry VII; for instance, the vanquishing of the Nemean lion represents the difficulties the English king had with King Charles VIII after invading France in 1492.49 ‘As if this were not enough,’ McDonald notes, ‘the ever-watchful dragon slain by Henry/Hercules is called ‘Maxille,’ a clear allusion to Maximilian’.50 Despite this initial setback, Maximilian’s determination for a Roman coronation never weakened. After repeated abortive attempts to descend into Italy and having been refused passage through the Venetian territories on his way to Rome in 1508, Maximilian took the title Holy Roman Emperor Elect and was crowned in Trent on 10 February 1508. With problems enough of his own, Pope Julius II accepted the fait accompli and acknowledged Maximilian’s title. By this time, however, Maximilian’s imperial pretensions with regard to Eastern Europe had caused him to clash with King Vladislav II of Bohemia over the vacant throne of Hungary. Some three years after his manuscript was presented to Maximilian, Nagonius also presented Vladislav II with an expanded volume of panegyric poetry, in which Maximilian would appear again, but this time as the villain of the piece.51 Yet that lay in the future. In the wake of the chaos and confusion of the French decision to invade the Italian peninsula, the beleagured papacy used every means at its disposal to muster support. In this, as we have seen, the image of the ancient superhero played a pivotal role. Building upon Habsburg pretensions to empire and the vain-glory of the young monarch, the poet Nagonius contrived an epic narrative in which Maximilian and the ancient god with whom he identified actually meet and exchange words of reciprocal admiration. Hercules acknowledges Maximilian as his natural successor and, in so doing, his own continuing relevance as a role model in Renaissance Europe.

49

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André 1858, 131–53; 307–27: “For the strong old dragon I understand neither more nor less in this place than Maximilian who proclaims and calls himself king of the Romans.” McDonald 1976, 151. Prague, University Library MS VIII.H.76 [1659]; see Gwynne 2012, 121–39.

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Appendix

4.1 Note on the Transcriptions As the text was written by the poet himself, the transcription preserves the original orthography. Thus forms strange to a classical text can be found (for example, Enio for the goddess Enyo; Aethe for Mt Oete; diffussus for diffusus, fol. 35v). All proper names have been capitalised. Humanistic and inconsistent forms (such as quum for cum and thrait for trahit) have also been retained. Medial v has been preferred to u and i to j. The standard palaeographical abbreviations, suspensions (e.g. the horizontal stroke for m and n) and contractions have been written in full. Quotation marks have been added to highlight speeches, as well as line numbers. The diphthong æ, which Nagonius indicates with a cedilla ę, &, and the abbreviation -qz for the conjunction -que, have been silently expanded. Pace Nichols: in the interests of clarity, I have chosen to modernise the punctuation, following the principles laid down by IJsewijn and Sacré.52 Unless otherwise specified, all translations are by me and tend towards the literal rather than elegant. The commentaries, which do not pretend to be exhaustive, have been confined to the more obscure (or problematic) mythological references, and allusions to contemporary events and personages. The references to classical sources are confined to the more obvious echoes. Longer passages, where Nagonius offers a rifacimento of his classical source, have been included for comparison.

52

Nichols 1979, 835–50; IJsewijn and Sacré 1998, 460–78.

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Texts and Commentary

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Text 1: Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, MS. 12.750, Fol. 83r–v Ad eundem divum Caesarem Maximilianum semper Augustum de victoriis pictis in pallatio Capitolino epigramma. Numine quam simili spectatur in Herculis aede Consecrat in Latio quem sua fama foro. Et minor Alcides, et maior uterque domante Ore notat, gestis stat nota quaeque suis. 5 Cum puer elisos manibus sic presserat hydros Stabat et in cunis qui Jove natus erat. Inde tenet levus prefulvi tegmina monstri, Fortius Archadiae commodat ora ferae. Forma Lybis membrumque triplex et Cerberus, anguis 10 Imminet et volucres, agmen equestre, lacus. Aureus hortus erat, superabat Amazona nexu Et crudi pavit cum Diomedis equos. Ista prior domuit. Caesar quae gesserit alter Percipe, Tarpea quem colit aede nurus. 15 Infans asseruit populos gentesque Latinas Pro Jove sacrilegas fudit ab arce faces. Inde togam patribus precellans robore canam Tradidit et centum fecit in urbe viros. Postea Sarmatici dux proelia contudit amnis 20 Et Getico totiens himbre relavit equum. Victor Hyperboreae quot perfida sustulit orae Tela, recusatos duxit ab orbe gradus. Et delubra deis, Latio dedit ocia Caesar Mores et populis, sertaque parta iugo. 25 Nullum igitur numen non actis sufficit istis Alcides, Caesar contulit ora Jovi.

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An epigram to the same divine Maximilian Caesar, eternally August, on the victories painted in the Capitoline palace. With how similar divinity is he seen in the temple of Hercules, whom his own fame deifies in the Roman forum! Each of the two, both the lesser and the greater Hercules represents him in his conquering visage and each note stands over his achievements. When a boy, the son of Jupiter, squeezed and strangled snakes with his bare hands as he lay in his crib. Then the pelt of the tawny monster hangs on his left side and he bravely faces the Arcadian beast. He threatens the Libyan monster, triple-bodied Geryon and Cerberus, snakes, birds, an equine troop, lakes. There was a golden garden; he overpowered the Amazon for her belt and he puts the horses of bloody Diomedes to fright. The first Hercules performed these labours. Now learn the achievements of the second Caesar whom the Tarpeian maid tends in her temple. Still an infant, he redeemed the Latin race and peoples and routed profane firebrands from the Capitol for Jupiter. When pre-eminent in power, he bestowed the white toga on senators and made a hundred men in the city. As general, he then crushed the disputes of the Sarmatian stream and repeatedly bathed his horse in Getic snow. How often the victor endured the perfidious weapons of the Hyperborean shore, and led his resigned steps from the world. Caesar gave the gods shrines; peace to Latium; morals to the people, and placed garlands on the ridge. No Hercules nor any deity produced such deeds; Caesar rivals Jupiter.

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4.3 Commentary This compact epigram is written in close imitation of Mart. 9.101 in which the deeds of Hercules (minor Alcides) are systematically compared with the acta of a greater Hercules (maior) the Roman emperor Domitian. Here, however, Domitian is also associated with the Holy Roman Emperor Elect Maximilian I Habsburg. Maximilian had been compared to Domitian in another epigram which puns upon the title Germanicus which Domitian had assumed for his triumph over the Chatti in 83BCE (ÖNB, MS. 12.750, fol. 79r–v; Gwynne 2012, 85– 7); on Martial’s epigram see Henriksén 2012. Although Nagonius’ primary source is literary, the poet also alludes in the epigram’s title, to the decorative frieze of the labours of Hercules in the Sala dei Paramenti (or Sala delle Fatiche d’Ercole) in the Appartamento Barbo (the ancient nucleus of the palace of Paul II, now the Palazzo Venezia) and generally attributed to the school of Mantegna c. 1467/9.53 Here, the labours are placed on either side of a fountain in which naked cupids sport; on entering this antecamera the labours depicted are: on the back wall, Nemean lion, fountain of youth and Antaeus; on the right wall, cattle of Geryon, fountain of youth and triple-bodied Geryon; on the window wall, the hydra, fountain of youth and Cerynian hind; on the left wall, Stymphalian birds, fountain of youth and Hercules and a centaur. It should be noted, however, that the brief list of Hercules’ labours (ll. 5–12) is a rifacimento of Martial 9.101.4–10 with elements of Ov. Her. 9 (Deianira to Hercules) and does not follow the order of the decorative frieze in Palazzo Venezia. Title

1–2 2

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Caesarem Maximilianum: The title ‘Caesar’ corresponds with Maximilian’s position as Holy Roman Emperor Elect. victoriis pictis: the painted frieze of the labours of Hercules in the Palazzo Venezia (pallatio Capitolino); for the association of victoria and labores, cf. Sall. Jug. 49.3. Cf. Appia, quam simili venerandus in Hercule Caesar | consecrat, Ausoniae maxima fama viae. Mart. 9.101.1–2. in Latio foro: lit. ‘in the Latin Forum’; here with reference to the colossal equestrian statue of the emperor Domitian placed in the centre of the Forum Romanum; cf. stat … Latium forum, Stat. Silv. 1.1.2. Hermanin 1948, 105–6. The image of Hercules seems appropriate for Palazzo San Marco, as the façade of the Basilica of Saint Mark’s in Venice is decorated with a twelfth-century Herculean relief. For a full discussion of both the Basilica’s Herculean reliefs and their relation to both Venice’s other Herculean public art and its self-fashioning, see Kouneni in Allan, Anagnostou-Laoutides and Stafford (eds) 2020.

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4 5–6

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Cf. haec minor Alcides: maior, as a line incipit at Mart. 9.101.11; note also si minor Atrides, as a line incipit at Ov. AA. 3.11. Alcides: patronymic -ides; Hercules, the grandson of Alcaeus. gestis stat nota quaeque suis: perhaps recalling meritis quaeque puella suis, Ov. AA. 3.10. A rifacimento of Tene ferunt geminos pressisse tenaciter angues, | Cum tener in cunis iam Iove dignus eras? Ov. Her. 9.21–2. The snakes were sent by Juno in her anger against Jupiter and Alcmena in order to kill their baby child Hercules; cf. ut prima novercae | monstra manu geminosque premens eliserit anguis, Verg. Aen. 8.288–89. The scene was cast by Antonio Averlino (known as Il Filarete) in the borders of the bronze doors of the Basilica of Old St Peter’s (1433–45). Jove natus erat: a line end at Ov. Fast. 5.390. A rifacimento of unde umerus tegmina laevus habet. Ov. Her. 9.62. prefulvi: not found in classical literature; for fulvus (‘tawny’) used of lions cf. corpora fulva leonum, Lucr. 5.901. tegmina monstri: Hercules performed his first labour by killing an invulnerable lion that was terrifying the countryside of Nemea, a valley in Argolis. He choked the monster in his arms and then flayed the beast with its own claws, by which alone the skin was penetrable; thereafter he clothed himself in its hide with the head and upper jaw on his head and the front paws knotted around his neck. Silius Italicus describes Theron, a priest of Hercules at Saguntum, dressed in a similar fashion: exuviae capiti impositae tegimenque leonis, Sil. 2.156. Pomponio Leto annotates these lines thus: Theron: sacerdos Herculis multum seviebat in penos (saeviebat in Poenos) et erat armatus armis Herculis id est clava et pelle leonis; Exuvie: spolia Herculis id est pellis leonis (BAV, Vat. lat. 3302, fol. 13v). Archadiae … ferae: the ‘Arcadian beast’ is the Erymanthian boar; cf. Mart. 9.101.6. commodat ora: in imitation of Mart. 9.101.24. Forma Lybis: Libys, adj. lit. ‘the African shape’, the giant Antaeus, with whom Hercules wrestled. Whenever he was thrown, he arose stronger than before from contact with his mother Earth. Perceiving this, Hercules lifted him in the air and crushed him to death; cf. Mart. 9.101.4. membrumque triplex et: here with reference to Geryon described as Prodigiumque triplex at Ov. Her. 9.91 and linked, as here, with Cerberus (described as forma triplex at Ov. Met. 9.185). Cerberus: the dog Cerberus, the triple-headed guardian of the Underworld.

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anguis: with reference to the hydra of Lerna; plural as whenever one of its heads was severed, two new ones would sprout. volucres: the Stymphalian birds, which infested the woods around Lake Stymphalus in Arcadia. agmen equestre: found exclusively and in the same metrical position at Ov. Her. 9.100 describing the Centaurs, whom Hercules had driven from Arcadia on his way to capture the Erymanthian boar. lacus: ambiguous, either genitive singular, ‘of the lake’ with reference to the Stymphalian birds; or accusative plural ‘lakes’. The original punctuation suggests a list and therefore the latter, perhaps meaning ‘seas’ or ‘oceans’ and refers to the demi-god’s various voyages. Aureus hortus: the garden of the Hesperides, the daughters of Hesperus who watched over a garden with golden apples. Amazona nexu: cf. Amazona nodo, Mart. 9.101.5. The girdle of Hippolyte, queen of the Amazons. Hercules defeated the Amazons in battle, and either obtained the belt from her dead body or as the price of her freedom. Diomedis equos: the flesh-eating horses of Diomedes, son of Ares and king of the Bistones in Thrace. Ista prior domuit: cf. haec minor Alcides, Mart. 9.101.11; the verb domuit is found in the same metrical position at Mart. 9.101.4. Caesar … alter: Domitian. Percipe: corresponding to audi, Mart. 9.101.11. Tarpea … nurus: the woman who betrayed the citadel of Rome to the Sabines, after whom an area of the Capitoline Hill was named; see Varr. L. 5.41. From the evidence of later manuscripts, where the line is rephrased according to recipient, for example in the manuscript for King Wladislav II of Bohemia and Hungary the phrase becomes: Pannonica … nurus, (Prague, University Library, MS VIII.H.76 [1659], fol. 223), it seems that the Nagonius intends a personfication; so here probably ‘Roma’. aede: here probably with reference to the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus. Infans: corresponding to puer, Mart. 9.101.14. asseruit: repeated from Mart. 9.101.12. As a young man Domitian was besieged in the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus by the supporters of the emperor Vitellius; Suet. Dom. 1. Pro Jove: repeated from Mart. 9.101.14. ab arce: ‘from the citadel’; used specifically of the Arx, the Roman citadel on the Capitoline hill.

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19 20 21

22

22 23–4 24 25

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Tradidit: in the same metrical position at Mart. 9.101.16. By the terms of the Treaty of Senlis (1493) Maximilian relinquished his regency of Burgundy in favour of his son Philip the Fair (1478–1506) who, in an elaborate ceremony, took over the reins of government in the following year, though it seems unlikely that one hundred new senators were created (et centum fecit in urbe viros). Sarmatici … amnis: the Hister, the lower course of the Danube. contudit: in the same metrical position at Mart. 9.101.17. A rifacimento of sudantem Getica ter nive lavit equum, Mart. 9.101.18. Victor Hyperboreae: a line incipit at Mart. 9.101.20. Hyperboreae … orae: ‘the Hyperborean shores’; the Hyperboreans were a legendary people inhabiting the far north; thus ‘northern’, ‘polar’. recusatos: in the same metrical position at Mart. 9.101.19. Domitian had waived a formal triumph, merely dedicating a laurel wreath to Jupiter Capitolinus (see Mart. 8.15; Suet. Dom. 6); cf. serta parta iugo, below, l. 24. ab orbe: in the same metrical position at Mart. 9.101.20. Cf. templa deis, mores populis dedit, otia ferro, | astra suis, caelo sidera, serta Iovi. Mart. 9.101.21–22. iugo: ‘on the ridge’, of the Capitoline hill. Cf. Herculeum tantis numen non actis sufficit istis, Mart. 9.101.23.

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Text 2: Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, MS. 12.750, Fols 43v–48r Mater ut emicuit defleti Memnonis orbe Affatur patres Caesar sermone benigno: ‘Hectoride genus omnipotens, quas solvere dignas Sufficiam grates? mihi enim maiora tulistis Munera quam dignus valeam spondere receptis, Re modo pauca loquar meritis non immemor adsum. Me iuvat antiquas et prisca theatra Quirini Cernere Pergamei proceres urbisque ruinas Si libet et cordi est. nunc indulgete parati.’ Hi cicius dicto properant et grata facessunt Imperia Aeneadae: ‘Iubeas, quocumque petemus’. Hinc abeunt, olimque vident Iovis aurea tecta Disiectam molemque iugi, signumque Monetae. Hinc ad Aventinum migravit Romula collem Pubes mixta duci, lustrant de hinc omnia circum Fundamenta Urbis, monumentaque prima tuentur. Descendunt vallem in mediam, rapidi quoque Circi Proelia, quae domino steterant spectacula calvo. Hic arae forte exquirunt vestigia magnae Herculeosque lares, et maxima sacra domantis, Obstipuit vidisse locum, prostrataque templa, Regia progenies neglectaque thura deorum. Talia dum nectit penitusque in mente revolvit, Visa dei facies pressi velata leonis Tegmine, nodosi gestabat roboris umbram, Aspera canities, stabant oculique minaces, Dura comis et barba situ, rigidisque capillis, Ipsa loqui sic visa fuit, graviore querella, Forma dei: ‘Quid nam potuit fortuna rebellis? Et nostris ingrata focis, et Caesaris urbi, Care nepos? magis ausa nequit foedare supersunt Quae mihi, regna suis quamvis mea saeva ruinis Debellata diu fuerint, tamen improba numquam Erubuit violasse deum, numenque vetusti Herculis, immensae custos sum inglorius arae. Non color a populo nec sum lustratus, harenis Insedeo sparsis, mihi nullus et ignis honestus In templis; reor hoc saevam iussisse novercam.

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As the mother of lamented Memnon shone forth in her orb, Caesar addressed the senators with a friendly speech: ‘Almighty race, descendants of Hector, what power have I to express worthy thanks? For you have given me greater gifts than I could possibly repay. I will speak just a few words on the subject, I am not unmindful of your merits. I would like to see the antiquities and the old theatres of the Romans, if it is agreeable and pleasing to the Trojan fathers to visit the Roman ruins. Readily grant this.’ No sooner had he spoken than the Romans hasten to perform his pleasant commands: ‘We seek to perform whatever you command’. They then set off, and see the once golden rooftops of the temple of Jupiter and its massive structure scattered across the Capitoline ridge and the remains of the temple of Juno Moneta. Thence the Roman youth, stirred up by their leader, moved towards the Aventine hill, from here they survey the very foundations of the city and the earliest monuments. They descend into the midst of the valley where the spectacles and contests of the rushing Circus took place for the bald emperor. Here they search out the traces of the great altar, the Herculean shrines, the conqueror’s great altar. The royal prince is astounded to see the site and the temples in ruins and the rites of the gods neglected. While he was completely absorbed thinking about such matters an image of the god wrapped in the skin of the conquered lion seemed to appear wielding the shadow of his knotty club. His grey hair was unkempt and his glare threatening; his beard neglected and hair matted. This image of the god seemed to speak thus with heavy heart: (29) ‘My dear son, how could Fortune turn against us? Be so unkind both to our hearth and the city of Caesar? This bold woman could not have defiled more all my surviving monuments. Although my savage kingdoms have long collapsed into ruin, yet this impious woman did not hesitate to defile a god and the long-established presence of Hercules. I am the inglorious warden of a great altar. Nobody worships me nor honours me. I sit among the scattered sands and I have no ennobling fire within my temples. I think that my cruel stepmother has ordered this.

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Dives eram Alcides huc omnis turba coibat; Thura dabat supplex adytis, coetusque ministrum Qui dapibus ditesque thoros reddebat honore. Heu periere mei salvo quos orbe labores Gessi mille potens, et victor utraque remansi Parte poli, vindex totiens immanis amoris Coniugis aethereae; superis non hospes habebar, Qui Iove natus eram divumque e stirpe creatus. Et meritus nostris humeris, sine pondere, magnus Haesit Athlas: potuique libens tenuisse labores. Sustinuisse quidem. Quid nunc mea profuit ardens Virtus, igniferum se tollens semper Olympum? Tu Caesar largitor opum de plebe deorum Ni tua me fallor virtus ab origine prisca Venit et in nostram seriem descendit avitam, Solamur veteres te iam renovante dolores Templa, focos, adytus, cumulatis undique donis Instauras propriamque domum communeque sacrum. Qualiter infuso cineres renovantur amomo Scandit odoratos distracto sanguine foenix Ipsa die moritura brevi pietate iugales, Atque vaporato consumit corpora nido. Laudatur pietas diis acceptabile munus.’ Dixit et insignem palmis astrinxit Iulum Oscula deinde tulit subitoque evanuit ultro Ex oculis: dubios animos mentesque reliquit. Sed pius hunc Caesar novit minor Hercule magno, Ora dei pariter; sacrum murmurque supremum Non hominis, mortale sonant mortalia nempe. Tunc humilis numen sanctum dux maximus orat Effigiemque dei vultum formamque precatur. ‘O vetus Alcides, non miror moenia montis Versa Palatini tot saxa imitantia molem Imperii, tot signa ducum dominumque potentum, Collis Aventini deiectaque culmina mirum Tectaque placatae distractis undique muris Sacra simulque faces Hecateias acta Dyanae Perspicere armiferi cessataque gaudia Circi, Grataque clamosi Romanis signa theatri. Nostrum quippe genus doleo, quantumque laboro

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I was once rich Hercules, great crowds assembled in this place; suppliants offered incense at my shrines and there was a band of priests to present couches rich with banquets and honour. Alas! All my many labours which I manfully performed to save the world have been forgotten, I remain a victor in each of the two parts of the sky, the continual champion of my heavenly wife’s great love; I was considered a stranger to the gods, although I was Jupiter’s son, and born from a line of gods. The great and due weight of Atlas clung to our shoulders without any burden. I was easily able to perform my labours. Indeed, I completed them all. What has my blazing worth profited me now, always supporting the fiery heavens? You are Caesar, unless I am mistaken, the lavisher of wealth from the common crowd of the gods, your virtue comes from ancient origins and descends into our ancestral line, we can finally assuage our age-old sorrows as you restore our temples, hearths and shrines and renew our home and comunal sacred rites with offerings heaped on all sides. Just as the Phoenix’s ashes, infused with spices, are rejuvenated and, her life-blood poured out, on the day she would die the Phoenix climbs the fragrant marriage bed in a brief act of piety, and consumes her body in the burning nest. Such piety is a gift worthy of acceptance and praised by the gods.’ (62) He finished speaking and shook renowned Iulus by the hand, then added kisses and of his own accord suddenly disappeared from sight and left their minds and hearts wondering. But pious Caesar, less than great Hercules, immediately recognised him and the appearance of a god and the sacred utterance of those who dwell above not of a human, for naturally mortals sound mortal. Then the greatest leader humbly prays to the revered divinity and worships the image, face and form of the god: (70) ‘Ancient Hercules, I do not marvel at the ruined walls of the Palatine Hill, all the blocks of stone that counterfeit the vastness of empire, all the statues of powerful generals and emperors; I am not surprised to see the houses and rooftops of the Aventine Hill thrown down, the walls of kindly Diana in ruins everywhere, her sacred rites and Hecatean torches spent, nor that the entertainments of the warlike Circus have ceased and nor at the remains of clamorous theatre enjoyed by the Romans. No, I mourn our race; I am sure you

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Conscius es reor, et quantas in pectore Caesar Moestus ago curas, facili potes ipse putare, Et meditari animo, nostris stat iuncta querella Romulidum, lachrymant patres deflentque ruinas Ingentes vultuque premunt et corde dolores. At tu forti animo praesto instaurata capesses Numina permaneas, vivas securus, et almum Tolle genus nostrum, tribuet tibi festa vetustis Progenies celebrata focis, arasque dicabit. Primus ego laudes et gesta, peracta notabo In templis, medioque deus delubra tenebis Aurea, cum foliis ornabit tempora festis Turba nurum, statuamque novis signabo metallis. Herentesque comas sertis et fronde decenti Populea, fingamque tuas testudine ceras Viventes meliore aevo, geniisque nepotum. His pater ethereus fuerit non emulus aris. Huic nil triste loco gaudebunt numina templis Facta tuis vicina modo, nurus rite frequentat Thura preces votisque piis donisque salutat. Externae exiliunt gentes celerantque remotis Partibus et currunt ad voti numinis aram. Quanta fides et quantus amor, mirare nepotis.’ Indulgentque sacris Phrygii, simulacra coronant Hesperidum malo, et proprii certaminis actu Templa vestusta indent, et gaudet Caesar honores In foribus spectare dei formataque monstra Aere superbifico serie. Lernaea reciso Angue iacet primum, non una caede redundans Fertile (mira fides) caput addunt igne peremptum. Robur et immensum, nodis post dura leonis Terga Cleonei speculatur nuda retortis. Iuxta Thracis equos et Thracia signa severi Regis ut albentes saturabat et hospite presso Crudus equos multo. Pavet hinc latratibus umbras, A Stygia cum venit aqua, violenter ab antro Detractus custos. Pestisque Erymanthia terret Dente truci. Et vinctam distinxit Amazona nexu. Aeripedemque feram, et densos superantia ramos Cornua. Nec levior vinci spectavit alumnum

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are aware how upset I am, and can easily understand and contemplate how many cares I, grieving Caesar, have in my heart; the laments of the people of Romulus are joined with ours, the senators weep and mourn the ruins, suppress great sorrows in their expressions and hearts. But ready and resolved, you will eagerly take up the restored divinities, survive, live secure; acknowledge our sweet race, your descendants will honour you with festivals celebrated in the ancient hearths and dedicate altars to you. I will be the first in the temples to observe the praises and deeds performed, as a god you will stand in the midst of the golden shrines. A band of maidens will adorn their brows with festive wreathes, and I will cast a statue in new metals, your hair garlanded and wreathed with becoming poplar leaves, in a better age and with all your descendants’ ingenuity, I will fashion lifelike statues with tortoise-shell. The heavenly father will not rival these altars. Divinities made in your temples now nearby will not delight in a gloomy place, a maiden will duly celebrate and offer prayers and incense with pious vows and gifts. Foreign peoples spring forth and hasten from remote parts and having made vows race to the altar of the god. You will stand amazed at the great faith and love of your descendants.’ (102) The Romans devote themselves to the sacred rites, crown the statues with sprigs of the Hesperides’ apple tree and inlay the ancient temples with images of Hercules in the act of performing his labours and Caesar delights to see the god honoured on the doors and the monsters cast in bronze in a proud series. First lay the Lernaean hydra with snaky head lopped off; but (marvellous, yet true) the fertile head doubles in repeated slaughter and must be cauterized by fire. He sees an immense club of knotted oak and the rough skin stripped from the Nemean lion knotted behind his brawny shoulders. Next to the Thracian horses the Thracian signs of the savage king as the cruel man was filling his white horses to repletion when his guest had been overpowered. Then the watchdog, forcibly dragged from the entrance, terrifies the dead with his barking when he left the waters of the river Styx. The bane of Erymanthus frightens with his sharp tusk. He ungirt the conquered Amazon of her belt. The brazenhoofed stag with antlers that rose above dense branches. Then he saw the

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Inde Lybin. Fugiunt volucres Stymphalidas undas. 120 Occiduaeque boves et dives praeda tyranni

125

47r 130

135

140

145

47v 150

155

In sacro madefacta lacu, seu Tybridis amne, Sparsaque Tarthesi mirum tria colla maligni, Stabant flammiferi Caci monumenta sub arce, Ducere non rectos conantis in antra iuvencos Et poenas durasque cruces in morte luentis. Hinc Erycis, Siculo perfusi pulvere caedes, Hospitibus qui iura negat, mactare solebat Fraude sua, legesque datas violare Tonantis Apparent. Hortis violenter et aurea mala Cum tulit Hesperidum, domini mandata peregit. Centauri quatiunt animos cum fronte bimembres. Sacrati exundant ignes, spoliumque nefandae Coniugis, et fulgens cumulatis flatibus Aethe. Hinc abrupta palus, et pervia limina Tempe. Fregit ut Alcides laceratas fortiter urbes: Remus ut Argous lassavit brachia ponto, Cernitur aurati cum traxit vellera Phryxi. Bis erat Antheus dependens pictus in aere Ut miser innixis periit telluris alumnus Ulnis, incubuit lateri grave pondus adulto. Haec cernens Caesar dixit. ‘Tu suscipe quaeso Amphitryoniades, quamvis sint munera parva, Do tibi dulce manu, mihi credas magna supersunt Tempore venturis nomen famamque relinquam. Et nostris ponam mandata nepotibus heros.’ Vix ea complerat solito cum murmure visa Effigies, et forma dei dilecta subire Corda ducis, paucisque pio contexuit ore Verba deus risitque simul. ‘Gratissime Caesar Emeritusque mihi, qui talia templa domanti Fundabis meliore tholo, numenque replebis Maiestate loci, divinaque sacra remittes Sanctius Herculeis credens hortatibus aris.’ Quam gentile sacrum ponet venerandus Iulus Stirpis honoratae. Magna Tirinthius arce Dives adest populos aspectans ore modesto. Indulsit sacris votis numenque refersit Congestis opibus, dum turba resultat amore

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Libyan offspring, no easy conquest, and the birds flee the waves of Stymphalus. The western cattle and tyrant’s rich booty soaked in the sacred stream, or by the river Tiber, and the spattered triple necks of malignant Tartessus stand in amazement. The monuments beneath the Arx of fiery Cacus trying to lead the heifers backwards into his cave and suffering dire punishments and tortures in death. Next appears the slaughter of Eryx scattered upon the Sicilian sand who denied hospitality to his guests; by a trick of his own devising he used to murder them and violate the laws given by the Thunderer. When he violently seized the golden apples from the gardens of the Hesperides Hercules also broke the rules of a guest. The double-formed centaurs stand trembling. The sacred fires flare; his wife’s wicked spoils and Mt Oete glow as the winds fan across. Then the inaccessible swamp and the penetrable thresholds of Tempe. They see how Hercules bravely smashes the broken cities, how the Argoan oar wearies arms on the sea when he stole the golden fleece of Phryxus. Antaeus was twice depicted in bronze hanging with his arms pressed down, as the wretched son of Earth perished, his great weight having increased when he fell on his side. Gazing upon these scenes Caesar said: ‘Son of Amphitryon, please accept these offerings, although they are small, I give them with a friendly hand. Trust me, greater gifts will come. I will leave a name and reputation for future generations. A hero I will give orders to our descendants.’ (146) He had scarcely finished when the form of the god appeared with a familiar rumble, and his esteemed shape approached the heart of the leader. The god uttered a few words from his pious lips smiling as he spoke, ‘Many thanks Caesar, my worthy successor, you will dedicate great temples with a mightier dome to the conqueror and restore my divinity by the majesty of the place, and trusting our exhortations you will more virtuously perform the sacred rites at the altars of Hercules.’ (154) How revered Iulus of the honoured line will perform the native rite! In the great citadel the Tirynthian is now rich and watching over his people with a kindly expression. He has granted your sacred rites, and has crammed the god with piled-up wealth, while a crowd echoes with love and celebrates Ceasar’s

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Caesaris adventus iubilant et Caesare dextro. 160 Excepit deus et tantum dignatur honorem

165 48r

170

175

180

Sumere, sic hilaris tales intrare penatis Inchoat et dextra pulchrum demulsit Iulum. Libamenta tulit Letus; gravioreque visu Hausit, pro meritis meritorum praemia solvit. Rettulit et grates iterumque novissima verba Addidit, et grato monuit cum murmure Iulum. ‘Macte animis Caesar nostros imitare labores Extendam vitam, et Priami donabimus annos: Nestoreosque dies, fumosaeque alitis aevum. Sed si opus id fuerit Piseas ire per oras, Fortibus aut ausis Lybicas temptare palestras, Isthmiacosque sinus, et duram vincere mortem. Vel quod ad Euboicos velles penetrare recessus, Aut super Hesperiae migrare tot humida Thyles Regna per aut gelidas annis vergentibus Arctos Currere, vel septem vada caligantia Nili Prendere, et Argoas audax inferre Micenas. Hortor iter durasque vias superare labore. Non datur emeritis nisi gloria maxime Caesar.’ Illico prosiliit confessus se esse domantem. Tunc redeunt patres votis tamen ante peractis Confestim nemorum properant invadere saltus Et sylvas Triviae lustris nudare ferarum.

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arrival and his pledge. The god accepted and considered such honour worthy, thus happy begins to enter these shrines and caresses handsome Iulus with his right hand. Leto brought offerings, quaffed with a rather serious expression, and fulfilled the vows as they deserved. Hercules gave thanks and again added a few words, and gave Iulus this pleasant advice: (167) ‘Gird yourself, Caesar, imitate our labours. I will prolong your life, grant you Priam’s years and Nestor’s days, the lifetime of the smoky Phoenix, if you should cross the shores of Greece, test Libya’s desert sands in brave undertakings and Isthmian bays and overcome harsh death. Whether you desire to go as far as the Euboean coves or travel beyond the wet realms of western Thule or race beyond the frozen north in your declining years, or tread the misty waves of the sevenfold Nile or boldly enter Mycene of the Argo, I shall encourage you on your journey to beat the hard roads in your efforts. Greatest Caesar, glory is not given unless to the deserving.’ (180) At that point he disappeared, having admitted that he was overcome. When their vows were finished, the senators return and immediately hasten to invade the forest groves and strip Diana’s thickets of the dens of wild beasts.

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4.5 Commentary These dense (and often opaque) lines form a compact mosaic of passages gleaned from various classical authors: Verg. Aen. 8.184–279 (Hercules and Cacus); Silius Italicus, 3.32–44 (the doors of the temple of Hercules at Gades); Stat. Silv. 3.1 (the temple of Hercules rebuilt and enriched by Pollius Felix at Surrentum); Lucan 4.593–660 (Hercules and Antaeus). Many of these texts are mediated through the contemporary commentaries of Domizio Calderini, Pomponio Leto and Pietro Marso (see below). For the labours of Hercules in Roman poetry see Lucr. 5.24–36; Ov. Her. 9 (Deianira to Hercules); Met. 9.182– 204; Stat. Silv. 4.6.99–105; Mart. 9.101; Sen. Herc. Fur. 216–48; Claud. De Raptu Proserpinae, 2.29–48. 1

2 3–6 3

6 7

8

Mater … Memnonis: Memnon’s mother was Aurora, the goddess of the Dawn. defleti … orbe: lit. ‘with tearful eye’; Memnon, leader of the Aethiopians who fought against the Greeks at Troy, was killed by Achilles. sermone benigno: cf. Hor. Epist. 1.5.11. For the formula of thanks cf. quae tibi nunc meritorum praemia solvam? | quas referam grates? Stat. Silv. 3.1.170–1. Hectoride: Greek vocative; obviously there was no direct line from Hector and Andromache as their son Astyanax had been thrown from the battlements of Troy by the victorious Greeks; however, according to poetic usage the Hectoridae are any peoples of Trojan descent, here the Romans, as descendants of Aeneas (see below, l. 11) solvere dignas: a line end at Verg. Aen. 1.600 (Aeneas to Dido); cf. quas solvere grates | sufficiam, Stat. Silv. 4.2.6–7; also dignasque rependere grates | sufficiam, Stat. Theb. 7.379–80. Re modo pauca loquar: cf. Verg. Aen. 4.227 (Aeneas to Dido). meritis non immemor: cf. Verg. Aen. 9.256. theatra: in the same metrical position at Sil. 14.644 (the sights of Syracuse). Perhaps here with reference to the theatre of Marcellus, built according to Suetonius by Caesar (Suet. Caes. 44.2); or the remains of the theatre of Pompey in and around Campo de’ Fiori (see Flavio Biondo, Roma Instaurata, 2.108). Quirini: Quirinus, a god worshipped on the Quirinal hill, commonly identified with the deified Romulus; here used of the Roman people. Regular hexameter line-end, cf. Ov. Met. 14.828, 834, 836. Pergamei: adj. ‘of or belonging to the citadel of Troy’; according to poetic usage Trojan or Roman.

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10 11 12

13

14 15 16 17

18

19 20 21 22 24–9

26 27

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indulgete: in the same metrical position at Stat. Theb. 5.670; 9.317; cf. below, l. 102. parati: as a line end at Verg. Ecl. 7.5; Aen. 5.108. cicius dicto: cf. Verg. Aen. 1.142. Aeneadae: lit. ‘descendants of Aeneas’; here, the Roman people. aurea tecta: a line end at Verg. Aen. 6.13 (the roof of the temple of Apollo). Here perhaps also recalling the famous description of the Capitol Hill: Aurea nunc, olim silvestribus horrida dumis (Verg. Aen. 8.348). For the classical sources on the temples of Jupiter Capitolinus and Juno Moneta conveniently gathered together see Flavio Biondo, Roma Instaurata, 1.74. Note that Flavio similarly continues with a description of the Aventine. signumque Monetae: either ‘the remains of the temple of Juno Moneta’; or possibly ‘a statue of Juno Moneta’; Biondo, Roma Instaurata, 2.75. Aventinum … collem: the southernmost of the seven hills of Rome extending from the Palatine to the Caelian. omnia circum: formulaic line end; cf. Verg. Aen. 1.32, 667; 8.310; 11.824. Fundamenta: regular hexameter incipit: cf. Verg. Aen. 1.428; 2.611; 4.266; with urbis (though not Rome) at Sil. 13.811. rapidi … Circi | Proelia: the phrase is lifted from Stat. Silv. 3.5.15; cf. below, ll. 174–6. The Circus Maximus was Rome’s first circus intended for chariot races built in the valley between the Palatine and the Aventine hills. domino … calvo: the emperor Domitian was famously bald; see Suet. Dom. 18. The palace of Domitian on the Palatine overlooks the Circus Maximus; for the emperor’s interest in the games, see Suet. Dom. 4. arae … magnae: the Ara Maxima, founded by Evander or Hercules himself; cf. Ov. Fast. 1.581. Herculeosque lares: cf. Sen. Her. Oet. 245. domantis: regularly applied to Hercules, cf. Sil. 15.78. Obstipuit: always at the beginning of the line in Virgil; cf. Aen. 1.513, 613; 2.378; 5.90; 8.121; 9.197; 12.665; also Vegio, Suppl. 543. Regia progenies: as a hexameter incipit at Ov. Met. 11.754; Pont. 2.9.1. While the unkempt Hercules echoes the description of the demigod at Prop. 4.9.31, his appearance is perhaps also intended to recall the ghost of Hector at Verg. Aen. 2.277. oculique minaces: cf. Luc. 7.291. rigidisque capillis: cf. Ov. Met. 10.425.

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Forma dei: at the beginning of the line at Sil. 13.643; Stat. Theb. 12.494; cf. also Verg. Aen. 4.556. fortuna: either good or bad, here personified. 31 Care nepos: as a hexameter incipit at Ov. Fast. 1.521. 33 improba numquam: line-ending at Claud. 26 (De bello Gothico), 72. 34 Erubuit violasse deum: cf. Ov. Met. 4.613–14. 35 The line is a rifacimento of liminis et parvae custos inglorius arae, Stat. Silv. 3.1.9. 36 harenis … sparsis: cf. steriles hic nuper harenas | adsparsum Stat. Silv. 3.1.12–13; harenis is perhaps also a subtle reference to the Via Arenula running from the Tiber, so-named from the sand deposited by the river floods. 37 ignis honestus: the phrase is found at Stat. Silv. 3.1.6–7. 38 reor hoc saevam iussisse novercam: a rifacimento of immitem credas iussisse novercam, Stat. Silv. 3.1.22. The stepmother is Juno. Her antipathy towards Hercules was famous; cf. Stat. Silv. 3.1.47–8; also called saeva by Hercules at Sil. 2.478; cf. also Verg. Geo. 2.128; Ov. Met. 9.199. 39 Dives eram: the loss of wealth is recompensed by Caesar’s revival of the sacred rites at l. 156. Alcides: patronymic -ides; Hercules, the grandson of Alceus. huc omnis turba coibat: a rifacimento of the half-line huc omnis turba coimus, Stat. Silv. 3.1.85. 40 Thura dabat: a hexameter incipit at Verg. Aen. 8.106 (the festival in honour of Hercules). coetusque ministrum: a line end at Stat. Silv. 3.1.86. 41 Qui dapibus ditesque thoros: cf. huc epulae ditesque tori, Stat. Silv. 3.1.86. 42–50 Cf. Hercules’s similar lament at Ov. Met. 9.176–204; Sen. Herc. Fur. 205– 49. 44 Parte poli: as a hexameter incipit at Stat. Theb. 1.30; also Luc. 9.873. 45 Coniugis aethereae: Hebe, the daughter of Juno and Jupiter, cupbearer to the gods, given in marriage to Hercules after his ascent to Olympus and reconciliation with Juno and by whom he had twin boys Alexiares and Anicetus (Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, 2.77). Here she is compared to the nefandae | coniugis, Deianira, at l. 132–33. non hospes habebar: a rifacimento of non hospes habebam, Hercules’ complaint at Stat. Silv. 3.1.65 (line-end repeated at Theb. 1.407). 46 Iove natus: of Hercules at Ov. Met. 9.104. 46 stirpe creatus: a common hexameter line-end; cf. Lucr. 1.733; Verg. Aen. 10.543; Ov. Met. 1.760.

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Athlas: a king of Mauritania, a son of the Titan Japetus and Clymene. For his part in the revolt of the Titans he was employed to support the heavens, somewhere in the extreme west of the earth. Hercules persuaded him to fetch the apples of the Hesperides, holding up the sky in his place while he did this; Atlas then refused to resume his burden and had to be beguiled into doing so. With the aid of Medusa’s head Perseus changed him into Mt Atlas because he refused him a hospitable reception. 49 ardens | Virtus: the phrase is found at Verg. Aen. 6.130. 51 largitor opum: the phrase is used by Hercules of Pollius Felix at Stat. Silv. 3.1.91. plebe deorum: a line-end at Mart. 8.50.3. 52 ab origine prisca: cf. Sil. 17.33; 4.719. 55 Templa, focos, adytus: echoing (and parodying?) the monumental verse inscription cataloging the achievements of Pope Sixtus IV found on the fresco by Melozzo da Forlì (1438–94) painted for the new Latin library in the Vatican Palace (1475–77) and repeated in the fresco decoration of Santo Spirito in Sassia: TEMPLA DOMVM EXPOSITIS VICOS FORA MOENIA PONTES; see Niutta, 1986, 381–408. cumulatis undique donis: cf. cumulatque altaria donis, Verg. Aen. 11.50. 56 communeque sacrum: the phrase is found at Ov. Trist. 5.5.33. 57–60 The simile of the Phoenix is a rifacimento of the conclusion of Statius’ lines of consolation to Atedius Melior on the loss of his pet parrot (Stat. Silv. 2.4.34–7): Assyrio cineres adolentur amomo et tenues Arabum respirant gramine plumae Sicaniisque crocis; senio nec fessus inerti scandet odoratos phoenix felicior ignes. 57 amomo: amomum, an aromatic shrub from which the Romans prepared a costly fragrant balsam. 58 foenix: the Phoenix (Lactantius, 1933, 16): According to the ancient customs the bird was sacred to the Sun. She differed from the other feathered folk in the form of the head and the colour of her plumage. Common tradition set the span of her life at five hundred years; and when this period drew to a close the bird built a pyre and deposited there the principles of life from which a new Phoenix rose. The first duty of the young bird was to bury her parent. With this end in view, the Phoenix collected a great quantity of myrrh, put the parent’s remains within it, and then took trial flights each day with the load on her back. After gaining suffi-

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62

64 65–7

66 70 71

73 75

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cient confidence in her powers the bird took the body to Heliopolis in Egypt, and left it there to be consumed on the altar of the Sun. acceptabile munus: the phrase appears Biblical; cf. Lev. 22:27. An epic trope is here reversed. Aeneas regularly attempts to embrace the visions of his divine parents; cf his lament Cur dextrae iungere dextram | Non datur? Verg. Aen. 1.408–9, also 6.700–1; Hercules here grasps Maximilian by the hand and plants a kiss on his cheek. Iulum: the poet refers to the emperor elect by a variety of names: as Maximianus (thereby associating him with the third-century Roman emperor Maximian Augustus); or more frequently as Iulus (thereby creating him an honorary member of the Julian dynasty). Ex oculis: for the construction with evanuit cf. Verg. Aen. 4.278; 9.658. Epic trope: the vision is recognized as divine; cf. Aen. 4.276–82 (Mercury); 9.656–60 (Apollo). The address to the deity is an expansion on the following: tum maximus heros | maternas agnouit auis laetusque precatur, Verg. Aen. 6.192–3. Ora dei: as a hexameter incipit at Verg. Aen. 2.247. supremum: genitive plural; cf. Verg. Aen. 1.4. vetus Alcides: as opposed to the ‘contemporary Hercules’ present. Palatini: the ruins of the palace of the emperor Domitian on the Palatine hill. imitantia molem | Imperii: for a similar idea cf. Stat. Silv. 3.5.76–77. Collis Aventini: the temple of Diana stood on the Aventine (cf. Biondo, Roma Instaurata, 1.67, 75). sacra simulque faces: probably suggested by Calderini’s note to pudicis focis (Stat. Silv. 3.1.59): Virgineis facibus et sacris and the following note: Hecateias (Stat. Silv. 3.1.60): Dianae quae Hecate quoque dicta est. Hecateias: adj ‘of Hecate’; in the same metrical position at Stat. Silv. 3.1.60. Dyanae: the Roman goddess Diana, also identified with Hecate, see above. clamosi … theatri: the phrase is lifted from Stat. Silv. 3.5.16. Nostrum … genus: Maximilian claimed descent from Hercules; see above, Introduction. iuncta querella: cf. Ov. Her. 1.70; also Am. 2.5.60. Romulidum: gen. pl. for Romulidarum (Romulidae, m. pl. ‘the people of Romulus’). corde dolores: a line end at Sil. 8.288. forti animo: cf. forti pectore, Verg. Aen. 4.11. genus nostrum: see above, l. 78.

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88 93

87

Primus ego: hexameter incipit at Verg. Geo. 3.10; Aen. 11.364. Populea: as a hexameter incipit at Stat. Silv. 3.1.185; for the association of poplar with Hercules see Ov. Her. 9.64. 94 Perhaps here with reference to recent developments in the plastic arts, especially sculpture. meliore aevo: the Christian age rather than the pagan world. 95 pater ethereus: found at Stat. Silv. 3.1.108, ‘the heavenly father’; a title of Zeus/Jupiter (rather than the Christian deity); cf. Mart. 9.35.10. non aemulus aris: perhaps with reference to hos nec Piseaeus honores | Iuppiter aut Cirrhae pater aspernetur opacae, Stat. Silv. 3.1.140–1. 102 Indulgentque sacris: cf. indulge sacris, a hexameter incipit at Stat. Silv. 3.1.157. Phrygii: adj. ‘Trojan’; the Romans as descendants of the Trojans; used as a noun at Verg. Aen. 6.518. simulacra coronant: cf. simulacra coronae, in the same metrical position at Stat. Silv. 3.1.153. 103 Hesperidum malo: cf. poma supersunt | Hesperidum, Stat. Silv. 3.1.158– 9. proprii certaminis actu: cf. proprii certaminis actus, a half-line at Stat. Silv. 3.1.154. 104–40 A traditional epic ekphrasis on the doors of a temple (cf. the description of the paintings of the Trojan War on the walls of Juno’s temple at Carthage, Verg. Aen. 1.441–93; the pictures on the doors of the Apollo’s temple at Cumae, Verg. Aen. 6.20–33); here in imitation of the description of the doors of the temple of Hercules at Gades, Sil. 3.32–44 (bold indicates direct verbal echoes in Nagonius’ text): In foribus labor Alcidae: Lernaea recisis anguibus hydra iacet, nexuque elisa leonis ora Cleonaei patulo caelantur hiatu. at Stygius saeuis terrens latratibus umbras ianitor, aeterno tum primum tractus ab antro, uincla indignatur, metuitque Megaera catenas. iuxta Thraces equi pestisque Erymanthia et altos aeripedis ramos superantia cornua cerui. nec leuior uinci Libycae telluris alumnus matre super stratique genus deforme bimembres Centauri frontemque minor nunc amnis Acarnan. inter quae fulget sacratis ignibus Oete, ingentemque animam rapiunt ad sidera flammae. 105 In foribus: also an hexameter incipit at Verg. Aen. 6.20.

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superbifico: rare adj. found only at Sen. Her. F. 58. Lernaea: Hercules’ second labour was the killing of the hydra of Lerna, a water serpent that dwelt in the forest and marsh of Lerna near Argos; as soon as one head was cut off, two would spring up in its stead. Hercules was helped in this encounter by Iolaus, who, as Hercules cut off the heads, seared the stumps with burning brands. Calderini’s commentary on Silius is pertinent here: hydra serpens erat, quae erat in Lernaea palude habebatque centum capita, ut scribit Diodorus. cui totiens unum amputabatur duo renascebantur. quare opus fuit difficillimum Herculi ut eum interficeret. sed usus est ope et auxilio Iolai filii. nam Iolas monitus est ut cum primum unum e capitibus esset incisum vulnus inureret candenti ferro ne scilicet sanguis flueret. Calderini, 2011, 203; also 153. The note is repeated almost verbatim by Pietro Marso in his commentary on Sil. 3.427. 108 mira fides: found at Stat. Silv. 3.3.21. 109–10 A difficult and dense couplet. The ambiguities were somewhat removed in later renditions; cf. for example: nodis post dura leonis | Terga Cleonei spectant nudata retortis, Prague, University Library, 2.18–19, fol. 66. Robur: Calderini’s note to Stat. Silv. 3.1.35 explains the origin of the weapon: clavam quam a Vulcano accepit ut Dyodorus scribit. For Hercules’ club of knotted oak, cf. Verg. Aen. 8.220–21; also Aen. 11.553. nodis: could define the club ‘immense with knots’, or agree with retortis, ‘in twisted knots’. 110 Terga: similarly ambiguous; either with reference to the lionskin or Hercules’ shoulders. Cleonei: adj. of or belonging to Cleonae, a little town in Argolis near Nemea; cf. Cleonaei terga leonis, Luc. 4.612. 111 The horses of Diomedes, son of Ares and king of the Bistones in Thrace, who fed his horses on human flesh. Hercules killed Diomedes and threw his body to the horses to eat. Thereupon they became tame and he brought them to Mycenae. Again Calderini’s commentary on Silius is pertinent here (Calderini 2011, 205): nam Diomedes rex Thraciae equos habuit immanissimos quorum pabulum fuit Tirida oppidum Thraciae, ut scribit Plinius, alebanturque a Diomede carne humana. eos Hercules iussus ab Eurystheo mansuescit. nam primum Diomedem interfecit et deinde epulandum equis dedit. quorum praesepia erant aenea et ferrea. Hercules eos postea mansuescit et adduxit. qui durarunt usque ad Alexandrum Macedonem. Thracis equos: in the same metrical position at Ov. Met. 9.194.

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117

119

120 122 122

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custos: the dog Cerberus, the triple-headed guardian of the Underworld, whom Hercules chained and brought up from Hades. Pestisque Erymanthia: the Erymanthian boar named after a chain of mountains in Arcadia. Again Calderini’s commentary on Silius is pertinent here (Calderini 2011, 205): aprum Erymanthium intelligit. nam hic aper omnes agros Arcadiae vastabat versabaturque in Erymantho monte. Erystheus Herculi imperavit ut eum aprum ad se adduceret. quodque quamvis fuerit difficillimum propter apri magnitudinem, tamen Hercules effecit. sed Eurytheus, cum vidisset vivum aprum, timore in vaso aeneo se abscondit. Aeripedemque feram: a stag (or hind) sacred to Diana, which Hercules hunted for a whole year in Arcadia. Again Calderini’s commentary on Silius is pertinent here (Calderini 2011, 205): Hercules velocissimam cervam quae cornua aurata habebat retibus cepit vel ut alii tradiderunt cursu superavit et habebat pedes aeneos. Lybin: Libyan, with reference to Antaeus; see below, ll. 138. Again Calderini’s commentary on Silius is pertinent here (Calderini 2011, 206): Antaeum intelligit, qui filius fuit Terrae et in Libya habitabat palaestra fortissimus. nam omnes palaestra superabat. quotiens enim terram tangebat vires resumebat. hic superatus est ab Hercule in palaestra sublatus in aerem. Stymphalidas undas: in the same metrical position at Ov. Met. 9.187. Stymphalus was a district in Arcadia with a town, mountain and lake of the same name, celebrated as the haunt of a species of odious birds of prey. Busiris, who sacrificed strangers and was killed by Hercules. Tybridis amne: the River Tiber; cf. Thybridis undis, Ov. Met. 15.432. Tarthesi: Tartessus, an ancient harbour city on the south coast of the Iberian peninsula; poetic for Spanish; used in conjunction with Geryon at Sen. Herc. Fur. 232; cf. Ov. Met. 14.416. Flammiferi Caci: Cacus, son of Vulcan, contemporary with Evander, a giant of immense physical strength who dwelt in a cave on the Aventine and who troubled the whole region around with his robberies; he robbed Hercules of the cattle of Geryon and was on that account slain by him; see Verg. Aen. 8.190–279; Ov. Fast. 1.543–86; Prop. 4.9.1–20. monumenta: either ‘images’ as at Caes. B Civ. 2.21; or ‘funerary monuments’ because Cacus’ vast cavern bcame his sepulchre. sub arce: ‘below the Arx’, The Arx was the ancient citadel of Rome and one of the peaks of the Capitolium; perhaps more generally, ‘below the

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mountain’ as Cacus’ cave dwelling was traditionally situated below the Aventine. Ducere non rectos: Cacus dragged his booty backwards by their tails into his cavern in order to leave a trail of misleading footprints; cf. Verg. Aen. 8.209–12. Erycis: Eryx, the legendary king of a high mountain in the northwestern angle of Sicily, so named. He challenged all his guests to a wrestling (or boxing) match and killed them. Hercules fought with him on his return from Spain; see Verg. Aen. 5.387–484. Hesperidum: the daughters of Hesperus (or Erebus and Nox) who, on an island beyond Mt Atlas, watched a garden with golden apples. Centauri … bimembres: Calderini’s commentary on Silius reveals the story (Calderini 2011, 206): Pholus unus ex Centauris hospitio recepit Herculem, cui vetustissimum vinum dedit, quod acceperat dono a Baccho, a quo monitus fuerat, ut tunc vinum proferret, cum Herculem hospitem haberet. ex odore reliqui Centauri inebriati sunt et impetum fecerunt in Pholum. quibus non modo Hercules restitit verum etiam superavit. permultos interfeci, ut scribit Diodorus. Centauri filii fuerunt terrae, quae opem tulit pugnantibus cum Hercule. Coniugis: Deianira, the wife of Hercules, who involuntarily caused his death when she gave him a shirt smeared with the blood of the hydra which she believed to be a love potion. This clung to his flesh and burnt him. In order to escape the pain he built a funeral pyre on the summit of Mt Oeta and threw himself upon it; cf. Ov. Met. 9.9–272; Sen. Herc. Oet. Aethe: Mt Oeta separating southern Thessay from central Greece, Hercules burnt himself alive on its summit. Again Calderini’s notes on Silius are pertinent here (Calderini 2011, 208): Aete mons est Thessaliae, in quo Hercules ubi advertit totum corpus ardere veneno pyram sibi erexit et rogum, in qua combustus est post mortem. Sed rogum succendit Philoctetes, cui Hercules relinquit sagittas et arcum et ex rogo anima Herculis relata est in caelum inter deos. Also Oeta mons est inter Thessaliam et Macedoniam in quo Hercules se combussit totusque mons ille dicatus est Herculi (Calderini 2011, 404). abrupta palus: cf. Luc. 6.360; also Ov. Met. 1.568. Tempe: the Vale of Tempe, a narow gorge between Mts Olympus and Ossa in northern Thessaly; cf. Est nemus Haemoniae, praerupta quod undique claudit |silva: vocant Tempe, Ov. Met. 1.568–9. Perhaps with reference to Hercules’ exploits around Troy.

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138 138

141 142

143 145 146

151 152 154 155

156 157 158 163

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Argous: adj. pertaining to the Argo. Hercules accompanied the Argonauts on the early part of their expedition. Phryxi: Phryxus, son of Athamas and Nephele and the brother of Helle, with whom he fled to Colchis on a ram with a golden fleece. He then sacrificed the golden ram and hung up its fleece in the grove of Ares, whence it was afterwards brought back to Greece by Jason and the Argonauts. Bis: Antaeus had been depicted earlier; see above, l. 119. Antheus: Antaeus: a giant who gained fresh strength every time that he touched his mother, Earth; for Calderini’s pertinent commentary see above l. 119. suscipe quaeso: although the phrase is generic, cf. munera parva nimis pia, suscipe quaeso libenter, Venantius Fortunatus, Carm. 1.17.1. Amphitryoniades: cf. Verg. Aen. 8.104, 214; Prop. 4.9.1; Ov. Met. 9.140; Stat. Silv. 4.6.33 where the resounding patronymic similarly occupies the first half of the line. munera parva: a common phrase (cf. Ov. AA. 2. 256; [Tib] 3.1.24; Pan. Mess. 7; above, l. 141), here equivalent to munusculum (little gift). tibi dulce manu: in the same metrical position at Stat. Silv. 3.1.157. magna supersunt: cf. poma supersunt as a line end at Stat. Silv. 3.1.158. heros: regular epithet of epic warriors; of Aeneas (Verg. Aen. 6.103); Odysseus (Ov. Tr. 5.5.3); Ajax (Hor. S. 2.3.193). Vix ea complerat: a variation upon the regular Virgilian connective formula vix ea fatus erat found at Aen. 1.586 and elsewhere; complerat syncopated as at Aen. 5.107; 9.108 and elsewhere. solito cum murmure: found at Claud. 8 (IV cos. Hon.) 65; cf. also Aen. 1.55, 245. Fundabis meliore tholo: cf. coleris maiore tholo, Stat. Silv. 3.1.3. Maiestate loci: a hexameter incipit at Luc. 3.430 (the sacred grove outside Massilia). gentile sacrum: the phrase is found at Stat. Silv. 3.1.152. Tirinthius: Hercules is called Tirynthian either because he was born at Tiryns, or because he served Eurystheus there; in the same metrical position at Sil. 2.475; cf. also Stat. Silv. 3.1.125, 136. Dives adest: cf. above, l. 39. Indulsit sacris: cf. Indulge sacris, Stat. Silv. 3.1.158. Congestis opibus: in the same metrical position at Sil. 5.266; also with refersit. Libamenta tulit: a rifacimento of libamenta tuli in the same metrical position at Stat. Silv. 3.1.164 together with the adj. laetus.

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Letus: ambiguous: either in close imitation of Stat. Silv. 3.1.163 ‘he happily brought offerings’, or with reference to the permanently cheerful classicist Pomponio Leto, hence the in-joke gravioreque visu; see above, Introduction. 166 Note the alliteration of the repeated m. cum murmure: in the same metrical position above at l. 146. 167 The line is lifted almost verbatim from Stat. Silv. 3.1.166: macte animis opibusque meos imitate labores. 168–9 Hercules similarly closes his speech by promising longevity to Pollius Felix (Stat. Silv. 3.1.171–9), but without the proviso to lead a crusade. 168 Priami … annos: Priam, aged king of Troy; in the same position at Mart. 5.58.5. The poet presents him as an example of longevity, together with Nestor and the Phoenix. 169 Nestoreosque dies: lit. ‘Nestorian days’; Nestor, king of Pylos.; cf. Mart. 5.58.5; 11.56.13. He is said to have lived through three generations. Nestoris aetas: ‘the age of Nestor’, proverbial for long life. fumosaeque alitis: lit. ‘the smoky winged creature’, the Phoenix; see above, ll. 57–60. 170 Piseas … oras: lit. ‘Pisaean shores’. Pisa: not the Italian city, but a Greek city near which the Olympic games were held. The reference is pertinent to Hercules’ biography as Pietro Marso’s commentary on Silius Italicus makes clear (Marso 1483, pages not numbered): fulget Ethe: Ethe mons est Thessaliae ad mare Aegeum in quo Hercules accepta tunica missa a Deianira furore correptus Lycam qui attulerat in mare deiecit et illic Pisa extructa se combussit. 171 Lybicas … palestras: ‘Libyan sands’; trans. for ‘African’; cf. Ov. Met. 4.617; here with reference to Hercules’ wrestling match with Anteus; see above, l. 119. Both Greece and parts of north Africa were under Ottoman rule; so here the poet intends a crusade. Maximilian’s grandson, Charles V, eventually waged a rather desultory campaign in north Africa; see Gwynne 2012, 235–6. 172 Isthmiacosque sinus: lit. ‘the Isthmian bay’; the Isthmus of Corinth is intended. 173 Euboicos … recessus: lit. ‘Euboean recesses’; Euboea, an island in the Aegean. 174–6 Nagonius’ lines are a rifacimento of Statius’ words to his wife (Stat. Silv. 3.5.18–21): quamquam, et si gelidas irem mansurus ad Arctos vel super Hesperiae vada caligantia Thyles,

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aut septemgemini caput impenetrabile Nili, hortarere vias. Hesperiae: adj. ‘situated towards the west’ from Hesperus the evening star. Thyles: Thule, an island in the extreme north of Europe, often identified as Iceland. gelidas … Arctos: arctos lit. the constellations of the Great and the Lesser Bear; called ‘frozen’ because of the vicinity of the north pole; cf. Ov. Met. 4.625; Verg. Aen. 6.16. annis vergentibus: cf. Luc. 1.129; 2.105; Sen. De clem. 11.1. septem vada caligantia Nili: the seven deltas of the river Nile. Argoas … Micenas: lit. ‘Mycenae of the Argo’; Mycene, a celebrated city in the Argolis, of which Agamemnon was king. Nagonius’ geography of Greece seems a little confused. See Gwynne 2012, 365–71. Triviae: Diana, so-called because her statues were three-formed and set up at crossroads.

Bibliography Manuscripts Austria, Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, MS. 12.750 [suppl. 350] The Czech Republic, Prague, University Library, MS VIII.H.76 [1659] United Kingdom, York, Minster Library, MS XVI.N.2 Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vat. lat. 3302; Vat. lat. 3263

Primary Sources André, Bernard (1858) Les douze triomphes de Henry VII in Memorials of King Henry VII, Gairdner, J. (ed.), London: Longman Calderini, Domizio (2011), Commentary on Silius Italicus, Muecke, F. and Dunston, J. (eds), Geneva: Droz Fulvio, Andrea (1527) Antiquitates Urbis, Rome: s.n. Fulvio, Andrea (1513) Antiquaria Urbis ad Leonem X, Rome: Mazochi Lactantius (1933), De Ave Phoenice, Fitzpatrick, M.C. (ed.) Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Leto, Pomponio (n.d) Excerpta, Rome: s.n.; Excerpta a Pomponio dum inter ambulandum cuidam domino ultramontano reliquias ac ruinas Urbis ostenderet, in Valentini, R. and Zucchetti, G. (eds) (1953) Codice topographico della città di Roma, vol. 4, Rome: Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo, 421–36

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Marso, Pietro (1483) Commentary, Venice: Baptista de Tortis Salutati, Coluccio (1951) De laboribus Herculis, ed. by Ullman, B.L. Padua: Antenore Tacitus (2000) Germania, Hutton, M. (trans.), Warminton, E.H. (rev.) in Tacitus: Agricola, Germania, Dialogus, London and Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press

Secondary Sources Allan, A., Anagnostou-Laoutides, E. and Stafford, E.J. (eds) (2020) Hercules Inside and Outside the Church: from the first apologists to the Quattrocentro, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 18, Leiden: Brill Allegrezza, F. (2001), ‘Alessandro VI e le famiglie romane di antica nobilità: gli Orsini’, in Chiabò, M. (ed) Roma di fronte all’Europa al tempo di Alessandro VI, 3 vols, Rome: Roma nel Rinascimento, vol. 1: 331–44 Asch, R.G. and Birke, A.M. (eds) (1991) Princes, Patronage, and the Nobility: the Court at the beginning of the modern age c. 1450–1650, Oxford: Oxford University Press Barry, F. (2011) ‘The Mouth of Truth and the Forum Boarium: Oceanus, Hercules, and Hadrian’, The Art Bulletin, 93: 1–37 Bennet, E.L., Delz, J. and Dunston, A.J. (1976) ‘Silius Italicus’, in Cranz, F.E. and Kristeller, P.O. (eds) Catalogus Translationum Commentariorum: Medieval and Renaissance Latin translations and commentaries, vol. 3: 341–98 Benzi, F. (2000) Sisto IV: le arti a Roma nel primo Rinascimento, Rome: Shakespeare and Company 2 Benzi, F. (1990) Sisto IV, renovator urbis: architettura a Roma 1471–1484, Rome: Officina Bober, P.P. (2010) Renaissance Artists and Antique Sculpture: a handbook of sources, Turnhout: Harvey Miller Casanova, M.L. (1992) Palazzo Venezia, Rome: Editalia Coarelli, F. (1988) Il Foro Boario: dalle origini alla fine della Repubblica, Rome: Quasar Cox-Rearick, J. (1984) Dynasty and Destiny in Medici Art: Pontormo, Leo X and the two Cosimos, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press de Beer, S. (2017), ‘In the footsteps of Aeneas: Humanist appropriation of the Virgilian walk through Rome in Aeneid 8’, Humanistica Louvaniensia 66: 23–55 de la Mare, A.C. and Nuvoloni, L. (2009) Bartolomeo Sanvito: the life and work of a Renaissance scribe, Paris: Association Internationale de Bibliophilie Elam, C. (1981) ‘Mantegna and Mantua’ in Chambers, D. and Martineau, J. (eds) The Splendours of the Gonzaga, London: Victoria and Albert Museum, 15–25 Gwynne, P. (2019) ‘The Poets and the Prince: Silius Italicus, Johannes Michael Nagonius and Gentil Virginio Orsini, Lord of Bracciano’, in Alei, P. and Grossman, M. (eds), Building Family Identity: The Orsini Castle of Bracciano from Fiefdom to Duchy (1470– 1698), Oxford: Peter Lang Gwynne, P. (2012) Poets and Princes: the Panegyric poetry of Johannes Michael Nagonius c. 1450–c. 1510, Turnhout: Brepols

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Henriksén, C. (2012) A Commentary on Martial Epigrams Book 9, Oxford: Oxford University Press Hermanin, F. (1948) Il Palazzo Venezia, Rome: La Libreria dello Stato IJsewijn, J. and Sacré, D. (1998) Companion to Neo-Latin Studies. Part II: Literary, Linguistic, Philological and Editorial Questions, 2nd entirely rewritten edition, Supplementa Humanistica Lovaniensia 14, Leuven: Leuven University Press Kühlental, M. (1974) ‘The Alberini Sarcophagus: Renaissance copy or antique?’, The Art Bulletin, 56: 414–21 MacCormack, S.G. (1981) Art and Ceremony in Late Antiquity, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press Maddalo, S. (1991) ‘I manoscritti Mazzatosta’, in Sampieri, T. and Lombardi, G. (eds) Cultura umanistica a Viterbo, Viterbo: Università degli studi della Tuscia, 47–86 McDonald, W.C. (1976) ‘Maximilian I of Habsburg and the veneration of Hercules: on the revival of myth and the German Renaissance’, The Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 6: 139–54 Miglio, M. (1986) Un pontificato ed una città: Sisto IV (1471–1484), Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo Modigliani, A. (2003) ‘Paolo II e il sogno abbandonato di un piazza imperiale’, in Miglio, M. (ed) Antiquario a Roma. Intorno a Pomponio Leto e Paolo II, Rome: Roma nel Rinascimento, 125–161 Muecke, F. (2010) ‘Silius Italicus in the Italian Renaissance’, in Augoustakis, A. (ed) Brill’s Companion to Silius Italicus, Leiden: Brill, 401–24 Muecke, F. (2007) ‘Poetry on Rome from the ambience of Pomponio Leto’, L’Ellisse, 2: 31–56 Muecke, F. (2003) ‘Humanists in the Roman Forum’, Papers of the British School at Rome, 71: 207–33 Nichols, F.J. (1979) ‘Conventions of Punctuation in Renaissance Latin Poetry’, in Tuynman, P. (ed.) Acta conventus neo-latini Amstelodamensis, Munich: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 835–50 Niutta, F. (1986) ‘Temi e personaggi nell’epigrafia sistina’, in Miglio, M. (ed) Un pontificato ed una città: Sisto IV (1471–1484), Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 381–408 Nixon, C.E.V. and Rodgers, B.S. (1994) In Praise of later Roman emperors: the Panegyrici Latini: introduction, translation, and historical commentary, with the Latin text of R.A.B. Mynors, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press Palermino, R.J. (1980) ‘The Roman Academy, the catacombs and the conspiracy of 1468’, Archivium historiae pontificiae, 18: 117–155 Panofsky, E. (1930) Hercules am Scheidewege, Leipzig: Studien der Bibliothek Warburg 18 Parisi Presicce, C. (2000) ‘I grandi bronzi di Sisto IV dal Laterano in Campidoglio’, in

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Benzi, F. and Crescenti, C. (eds) Sisto IV: lLe arti a Roma nel primo Rinascimento. Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi (Roma 1997), Rome: Associazione Culturale Shakespeare and Company 2, 188–200 Platner, S.B. (1926) A Topographical Dictionary of Rome, Oxford: Oxford University Press Polleross, F. (1998) ‘From the exemplum virtutis to the apotheosis. Hercules as an identification figure in portraiture: an example of the adoption of classical forms of representation’ in Ellenius, A. (ed) Iconography, Propaganda, and Legitimation, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 37–62 Reeve, M.D. (1996) ‘An annotator of the Roma instaurata’, in Studi latini in ricordo di Rita Cappelletto. Ludus Philologicae 7, Urbino: QuattroVenti, 179–94 Reeves, M. (ed. 1992) Prophetic Rome in the High Renaissance Period, Oxford: Oxford University Press Scheller, R.W. (1981) ‘Imperial themes in art and literature of the early French Renaissance: the period of Charles VIII’, Simiolus, 12: 5–69 Schirg, B. and Gwynne, P. (2015) ‘The economics of poetry’, Studi Rinascimentali, 13: 11– 32 Siligato, R. (1981) ‘Ciclo di Ercole’, in Cavallaro, A., Mignosi Tantillo, A. and Siligato, R. (eds) Bracciano e gli Orsini. Tramonto di un progetto feudale. Il Quattrocento a Roma e Lazio, Rome: De Luca Editore, 95–115 Silver, L. (2008) Marketing Maximilian: the visual ideology of a Holy Roman Emperor, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press Simoncini, G. (2004) Roma. Le transformazioni urbane nel Quattrocento, 2 vols, Florence: Leo S. Olschki Stafford, E.J. (2012) Herakles, Abingdon, Oxon.: Routledge Trevisani, F. (2006) Andrea Mantegna e i Gonzaga. Rinascimento nel Castello di San Giorgio, Milan: Electa Weiss, R. (1959) ‘Andrea Fulvio antiquario romano (c.1470–1527)’, Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, 28: 1–44 Weitzmann, K. (1974) ‘An Addendum to “The Hercules Plaques of St. Peter’s Cathedra”’, The Art Bulletin, 56: 248–51 Weitzmann, K. (1973) ‘The Herculean Plaques of St. Peter’s Cathedra’, The Art Bulletin, 55: 1–37 Witt, R.G. (1983) Hercules at the Crossroads: the life, works, and thought of Coluccio Salutati, Durham NC: Duke University Press Zabughin, V. (1909–10) Giulio Pomponio Leto. Saggio Critico, 2 vols, Rome: Grottaferrata, Tipografia Italo-Orientale ‘S. Nilo’

chapter 3

Hercules in the Art of Flemish Tapestry (1450–1565) Anne-Sophie Laruelle

From the end of the fourteenth century, large-scale figurative tapestries counted amongst a dignitary’s most costly possessions.1 They were considered an expression of ‘magnificence’, one of a prince’s primary virtues, and they became an essential belonging of princely treasure.2 They are listed in inventories far above paintings and alongside jewellery, silver and gold plate, and illuminated manuscripts. Tapestries were one of the most expensive types of figurative art, especially those which were woven with a large proportion of silk, silver and gilt-metal thread.3 Such movable wall hangings were an elite, although also ephemeral, form of interior decoration. Flemish tapestries have, indeed, rightly been described as the ‘mobile frescoes of the North’.4 On a daily basis, and especially on noteworthy occasions such as those celebrating weddings, dynastic events, tournaments and official receptions, the tapestries that adorned the rooms and halls of residences conveyed multiple meanings. Series of tapestries depicting narrative cycles might, additionally, offer up certain more specific messages about the social standing of hosts and also of their guests. Tapestry was, furthermore, a major and monumental figurative medium which could be used by patrons for the parade of imagery – of ancestors, of military conquests, or of the historical and mythological heroes with whom they wished to be associated. The Labours of Hercules, one of the most popular literary and artistic themes of the Renaissance, were exploited as particularly prolific motifs in series of

1 I wish to express my gratitude to Dr Valerie Mainz for her careful readings and valuable suggestions. I also wish to thank Professor Dominique Allart for her kind interest in the preparation of this paper. 2 The concept of ‘magnificence’ can be defined as ‘the public demonstration of power and wealth through lavish and tasteful expenditure and generosity’ (Campbell 2002c, 15). 3 For example, Pope Leo X’s Acts of the Apostles tapestries were reputed to have cost between 1600 and 2000 ducats each, so the entire series must have cost some 16,000 ducats or more (more than five times the amount that Michelangelo was paid for painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel). See Delmarcel 1999, 17; Campbell 2002b, 10. 4 Les fresques mobiles du Nord was the title of an exhibition at Hessenhuis Anvers in 1994 and its associated publication, which contains the article of van Tichelen 1994.

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tapestries.5 Why was Hercules repeatedly shown in tapestry, if not because of the special meaning princes, the privileged recipients of the tapestries, bestowed on this figure? As other contributions to this volume demonstrate, Hercules, more than any other hero, served as a model for the princes because he embodied the virtus heroica, the ‘active virtue’ of courage, intrepid deeds and erudition.6 This chapter is based on a few examples and will focus on the period between the middle of the fifteenth century, when the story of Hercules first appeared in tapestry, and the year 1565, just before the revolts of the Eighty Years’ War. During this period, several quality tapestry series were produced on this subject in the best weaving workshops of the Franco-Flemish Netherlands: Tournai, Brussels, Oudenaarde, Enghien, Bruges and Antwerp. An exceptional quantity of around 100 pieces and fragments of tapestry have been preserved.7 In addition to this, numerous references to Hercules in inventories and descriptions confirm the importance attached to this figure and suggest, furthermore, that the iconography of this hero was far more complex than has been previously thought.

1

Hercules’ First Appearance in the Fifteenth Century

The first tapestries to show Hercules were woven by workshops from the socalled ‘Franco-Flemish’ territories at the beginning of the fifteenth century with the earliest mention to be found in an inventory of tapestries belonging to Charles VI, the Valois King of France.8 Listing several hundred tapestries with gold, this inventory, drawn up in March 1422, shortly before the death of Charles VI in October of that year, attests to the size and splendour of the French royal collection. Unfortunately, no tapestries showing Hercules and dating back to this time are preserved. Over the next ten years, the tapestries of

5 This subject forms the focus of the author’s doctoral thesis: Laruelle 2019. 6 See chapters by Deligiannis, Gwynne, Verbanck-Piérard and Medeiros Araújo. 7 This is a huge number, considering that only a very small proportion of tapestries have survived due to bad storage conditions, wars, fires, distributions among heirs, etc, which led to the material loss of thousands of tapestry series. See Campbell 2002b, 6–10. 8 The so-called ‘Franco-Flemish’ category enables us to list fifteenth- and early sixteenthcentury tapestries for which the production place is unknown. Marks on tapestries only became compulsory in 1528 in Brussels and in 1544 for the other Flemish centres, in order to fight against fraud. On these questions and methodology, see Bertrand and Delmarcel 2008, 227–50. For Charles VI’s tapestry ‘Ung grant tappiz de Herculez […]’ (‘a great tapestry of Hercules’), see Guiffrey 1887, 91.

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Charles VI were largely dispersed through gifts and appropriations, as a result of the orders of John Duke of Bedford, English regent in France for the young King Henry VI.9 Around 1450, some princes had tapestries depicting the figure of Hercules in their possession, including the Este family at Ferrara, Juan II of Castile, and William de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk.10 Inventories indicate that several pieces decorated a bedroom being, for instance, hangings for the walls and the bed. One of the features of these series is the association of the story of Hercules with that of the Amazons. Today two preserved pieces might be correlated with these series, one illustrating Hercules Establishing the Games on Mount Olympus (Glasgow, Burrell Collection) and the other the Tournament of the Amazons (Boston, MA, Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum).11 Hercules founding the Olympic games was a well-known subject in the mid-fifteenth century, possibly inspired by the rediscovery of Diodorus Siculus’ Library of History and its account of the event. This Greek text of the first-century BCE was translated into Latin by the humanist Poggio Bracciolini, around this time.12 The inclusion of Orithya, queen of the Amazons, and her sisters Menalippe and Hippolyta in such a scene is, however, unusual. There is no literary precedent for the presence of all three Amazons at Hercules’ initiation of the games and they are identified in the tapestry by the use of inscriptions on their garments. As Campbell has suggested, the inspiration behind this set of Hercules and the Amazons is most likely to have been Christine de Pizan’s text, Le Livre de la Cité des Dames (Book of the City of Ladies) of 1405, a moral treatise containing female exempla.13 This popular book, a firm favourite amongst princesses in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, recounts the deeds of virtuous women of the past and present, whether historical and/or mythological in origin with the Amazons, being female warriors, serving as exemplars for contemporary noble women.14 It is worth noting that the tapestries were displayed in the great chamber: both husband and wife could equally recognize themselves in the prestigious figures of Hercules and the Amazon queen, respectively. 9 10

11 12 13 14

See Stratford 1993, 86–9. For the Este tapestries, see Forti Grazzini 1991, 53–62. Juan II acquired some tapestries of ‘la estoria de Hercoles e de las amazonas’ (‘the story of Hercules and the Amazons’) in Tordesillas around 1453; this set was then probably inherited first by Enrique IV of Castile, and then by Isabella of Castile. On Isabella, see Delmarcel 2005. For William de La Pole, see Campbell 2007a, 35–40. Cavallo 1986, 20–5, no. 1; Bulst 1993, 206–16. For a recent overview, see Cleland and Karafel 2017, no. 90. See Cohen-Skalli and Marcotte 2015, 63–107. Campbell 2007a, 40. See especially Bell 2004.

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The Perfect Knight of the Burgundian Period

The depiction of Hercules in tapestries found favour at the court of the Dukes of Burgundy, at the same time as the publication in 1464 of the Recueil des histoires de Troie (Account of the Histories of Troy, hereafter the Recueil) by Raoul Le Fèvre, chaplain to Philip the Good.15 As mentioned in the introduction to this volume, although the title relates to the Trojan narrative, Le Fèvre gives an important place to Hercules in his account. This book, in three volumes, was a real best-seller; there are no fewer than twenty manuscripts and a dozen printed versions preserved, all of which appeared before the middle of the sixteenth century with William Caxton’s English translation of 1471 reprinted many times as The Ancient History of the Destruction of Troy or just The Destruction of Troy. The Recueil was, furthermore, promoted by the publication of excerpts with titles which emphasise Hercules’ role: Les hystoires d’ Hercules (The Stories of Hercules) or Les proesses et vaillances du preux Hercules (The Prowess and Valour of Hercules), and when published in English, The Book of the Strong Hercules.16 At the court of Burgundy, the life of Hercules had already been illustrated on tapestries during the ‘Feast of the Pheasant’ given by Philippe the Good in Lille in 1454; according to the chronicler Mathieu d’ Escouchy, ‘the room was large and spacious, lined with very fine tapestries, on which was shown the life and mystery of Hercules, richly woven and well made’.17 In addition, in July 1468, the hero’s life was performed on stage in Bruges, on the occasion of Charles the Bold’s wedding to Margaret of York.18 In the nine days of jousting and banqueting that comprised the festivities presented in honour of the married couple, the guests were treated to a dramatized version of the principle events of the life of Hercules.19 This ‘pantomime’ was extensively documented in the accounts of the court chronicler, Olivier de la Marche (c. 1425–1502). For that special occasion, Hercules embodied the model of the ideal ruler for, in addition to being the perfect knight, the hero demonstrated moral force since, due to his exceptional attributes, he had succeeded in overcoming monsters and tyrants.

15 16 17

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For the Recueil des histoires de Troie, see Jung 1966, 16–30; Jung 2002, 9–69 (Recueil, 58– 9). Jung 1966, 27. “[L]a salle fut grande et spacieuse qui fut tendue de tapisserie moult belle, en laquelle estoit la vie et mistère d’ Herculez, moult richement et bien parée”; see du Fresne de Beaucourt 1863–1864, 131. All translations are my own, unless otherwise acknowledged. For a detailed discussion of both events, see Jung 1966, 30–6. See Cheyns-Condé 1994; Ross 2012.

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The success of the Hercules motif at the court of Burgundy can also be explained by a desire to legitimize the dynastic claims of the Dukes of Burgundy with regard to the claims of other rulers. The ancient hero was considered by the Dukes to be their mythical ancestor, as claimed by Olivier de la Marche, who noted that Hercules, on his way to Spain, passed through the region of Burgundy and, when there, married a noblewoman named Alise. Their union had produced a number of children from whom the earliest Burgundian kings were descended. As proof, the chronicler cited the existence of an ancient city named ‘Alesia’, after lady Alise, although this city had long ago been destroyed by war:20 But I take courage and fearlessly recount what Diodorus says, who in fact supposes that the aforesaid Hercules, in making his voyages, and even going to Spain, passed through the country which is now called Burgundy, and there took in marriage, according to the law, one of his wives called Alise […] And he says that from this Alise he had offspring, from whom came and descended the first kings of Burgundy. Le Fèvre’s Recueil was the inspiration for numerous tapestries on the Herculean theme that date to the last third of the fifteenth century. A few surviving pieces, probably woven in Tournai between 1470 and 1500, were inspired by this text: Hercules’ Birth and Youth (Brussels, Musées royaux d’ art et d’ histoire); the Conquest of Sheep Island (Tournai, TAMAT); and Hercules Saving Hippodamia from the Centaurs (Paris, Mobilier National).21 On the Conquest of Sheep Island (Figure 3.1), one interesting detail appears: Hercules wears the necklace of the chivalric Order of the Golden Fleece, established by Philip the Good in 1430. Hence, the hero introduces himself as a knight of the Order, whose task was the defence of the Christian faith.22 So the first tapestry set was probably woven for the Dukes of Burgundy or a member of their close entourage. 20

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Beaune and d’ Arbaumont 1883, 43 (see also Millar 2001): “Mais je prens courage et hardement de reciter ce que dist Dyodore, qui met en effect que ledit Hercules, en faisant ses voyages, et mesmes en allant en Espaigne, passa par le pays que l’ on nomme à present Bourgoingne, et [y] print en mariage, selon la loy, l’une de ses femmes nommée Alise […] Et dit que de ceste Alise il eut generation, dont sont venus et yssus les premiers Roys de Bourgoingne.” Asselberghs 1967, 19–21; Dudant 1985, 39–46. The order’s remit is described by Le Fèvre as: ‘La deffence de la saincte foy crestienne, ou pout deffendre, maintenir ou restablir la dignité, estat et liberté de nostre mère saincte Église et du saint siège apostolicque de Romme […]’ (‘The defence of the Christian Faith, or the ability to uphold, maintain, or restore the dignity, status, and liberty of our Holy Mother Church and the Holy Apostolic See of Rome’) (1881, 214).

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figure 3.1 Conquest of Sheep Island; tapestry woven in the Southern Netherlands, probably Tournai, c. 1480. Wool and silk, 296 cm × 296 cm. Musée de la tapisserie de Tournai Photo © KIK-IRPA, Brussels

Another tapestry from the same period illustrating Hercules’ Youth is now divided into three fragments: Hercules Strangles Two Serpents in his Cradle, Juno Suckling Hercules and The Arming of Hercules (Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum).23 The fragment with Juno nursing an infant Hercules in the presence of Minerva (Figure 3.2) is one of the few preserved tapestries inspired by the narrative elaborated by Diodorus (book 4, 9.6–7). Diodorus relates that the goddess herself, while she was in the company of Minerva, accidentally found the child. Both were much impressed by the beauty of Hercules with Minerva suggesting that Juno should suckle him. The boy received the nourishment, but

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Inv. BK-17251-A/B/C. See Hartkamp-Jonxis and Smit 2004, 37–41, no. 6a–c.

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figure 3.2 Juno Suckling Hercules (fragment) from The Youth of Hercules; tapestry woven in the Southern Netherlands, c. 1480. Wool and silk, 195 cm × 107 cm. Rijksmuseum (Inv. BK-17251-B) Photo © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, released into the public domain

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the task was not easy, and smarting under the pain which she suffered from the pressure of his lips, Juno threw him hastily from her arms. Minerva then picked him up, carried him away and delivered him to Alcmena. The drinking of Juno’s milk would make Hercules immortal.24

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The Growing Significance of the Hercules Theme

Demand for tapestries increased at the end of the fifteenth century, probably prompted by a competitive spirit of emulation amongst the princely rulers of the courts of Western Europe. With the publication of Annius of Viterbo’s Antiquitatum Variarum (Commentaries on Antiquity) in 1498, the princes had the opportunity to compete in constructing their personal ancestries that were to be traced back to the figure of Hercules. For this publication, Annius of Viterbo claimed to have discovered ancient texts and inscriptions that were, in fact, his own fabrications; he invented royal genealogies under the name of the ancient author Berosus and distinguished three separate figures of Hercules: the Hercules of Libya, ancestor of the Gallic, Spanish and Italian kings; the Greek Hercules, destroyer of Troy; and a Hercules ‘Alemannus’, ancestor of the Germanic kings.25 Annius’ false claims enabled rulers to appropriate for themselves lineages, which were potentially prestigious on account of the associations that might be inferred from the heroic precedents set by the exploits of Hercules. Preserved inventories attest to the fact that the Kings of France, Spain and England all bought tapestry series on the theme of Hercules. Unfortunately, none of the surviving pieces can be attributed to any of these rulers but archival evidence still provides us with information as to the prevalence of such a tapestry theme within the court culture of the period. For example, in 1513, when Tournai was under English rule, the new governor of the city, Sir Edward Poynings, was offered a set of Hercules tapestries. There can be little doubt that the theme perfectly suited the remit of the governor of the region with a goal being also to promote the town’s products to the new English overlords. The contract stipulated that the series had to be woven in the workshop of a famous weaver from Tournai, Clément Sarrasin, with the best materials. The best wool was to be used and the garments of all the principal figures were to be in

24 25

The scene is only rarely depicted in antiquity, too: see Stafford 2012, 174. On Annius of Viterbo (born Giovanni Nanni), see Fernández Camacho in this volume. See also Jung 1966, 50.

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silk; whilst yellow silk was to be used to depict the highlights in gowns of cloth of gold, green and blue silks were to show up the highlights in gowns of velvet.26

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A Personification of Christian Virtues

A fragment entitled The Death of Hercules on Mount Oeta (London, Hampton Court Palace), woven probably in Tournai around 1515, may have belonged to the English cardinal Thomas Wolsey, a major political force during the reign of Henry VIII.27 Although it has not been possible to establish this fragment’s provenance, finding tapestries on ancient subjects in the dwellings of rich prelates should not come as a surprise. The Cardinal and Prince-Bishop of Liège, Érard de la Marck, also owned a seven-piece set on the theme of Hercules.28 Indeed, the hero perfectly embodied the Christian virtues of the Renaissance for his labours could provide parallels with the struggles of the Christian soul to attain salvation.29 Some of Hercules’ exploits were even integrated into the borders of the famous set of the Acts of the Apostles, commissioned by Pope Leo X in 1515 and woven in Brussels from cartoons designed and painted by Raphael.30 26

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All the early Tournai archives and library materials were destroyed in the bombing of the city during the Second World War. The contract is now lost, but it was published by Soil 1892, 398–9: “Le samedy xviie jour de decembre l an mil ve et treize messieurs les quatre chiefs de la loy de ceste ville et cité de Tournay […] pour fournir et accomplir la promesse faicte à hault et noble M. de Ponnichs […] de lui faire présent de par icelle ville d’une chambre de tapisserie, marchanderent à Clement Sarasin tappissier de faire et composer une chambre de tapisserie ystoriée de la vie de Hercules […] esté devisé que lad. tapisserie sera faicte de moyenne sayette de bonne layne et de bonne soye de venise gaune verde et bleue.” “On Saturday 17th December 1513, the four gentlemen who are chief justices of this town and city of Tournai […] in order to provide and fulfil the promise made to the high and noble M. de Ponnichs […] to make him a gift from this same city of a full suite of tapestries, they negotiated with Clement Sarasin, weaver, to make and put together tapestries telling the story of the life of Hercules […] it was agreed that said tapestry suite would be made of regular sayette, of good wool and good Venetian silk of yellow, green and blue.” Royal Collection Trust/ Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, inv. RCIN 1268. One other piece from the same suite, depicting Hercules at the Gates of Calydon, survives in the Glasgow Museums collection, see Cleland and Karafel 2017, no. 91. The fragment in question is mentioned in the collection of Henry VIII in 1547. The inventory of Cardinal Wolsey mentions at least four pieces on this subject. See Campbell 1996, 73–136. The suite has disappeared, but it was described in the Cardinal’s inventories, see Steppe and Delmarcel 1974, 35–54 (Hercules, 39–40). The history of Christian appropriations of the labours is explored in Allan, AnagnostouLaoutides and Stafford (eds) 2020. Campbell 2002d.

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In fact, two Hercules figures, Hercules Holding up the Heavens and Hercules Killing the Centaur Eurytion, appeared originally in the border of Raphael’s Paul Preaching at Athens. As John Shearman has demonstrated, Hercules was included because of parallels drawn by contemporary commentators between the hero and Leo X, and because the labours were interpreted as a demonstration of Leo’s devotion to religion.31 Leo was, moreover, born Giovanni di Lorenzo de’ Medici, the second son of Lorenzo the Magnificent, ruler of the Florentine republic and member of the Medici family, who had their own links with the mythic hero.32 Hercules was also shown on the borders of two reeditions of the series of the Acts of the Apostles (c. 1550), preserved in Mantua and Madrid.33 An example of the proliferation of the Hercules theme in tapestries falling within the remit of Renaissance courtly patronage is the tapestry of the Triumph of Hercules, from the set of the Triumphs of the Gods, also called the Antiques.34 The designs of this series, dated between 1517 and 1520, are attributed to Giovanni Francesco Penni and Giovanni da Udine, who followed on from the precedents set by Raphael.35 The Triumph of Hercules survives, as does the Triumph of Bacchus, from the seven-piece set purchased by Henry VIII, which is a slightly modified re-edition of the series that once belonged to Leo X.36 The original set served both to celebrate Leo and the Medici family, and to deliver a Christian message of struggle, redemption, and resurrection to eternal life.

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32 33

34 35 36

See Shearman 1972, 89. The lion-skin as insignia leonis was discussed by Bishop Giles of Viterbo with reference to Leo X (see Historia viginti saeculorum. Ms. Lat. 351, fol. 6v, 36r and 316r). This idea was mentioned by Brandolini in the preface to his Dialogus Leo nuncupatus printed in 1513, see Brandolini 1753, 69. Moreover, in his Herculis Vita (1539), the famous scholar and poet Lilio Gregorio Giraldi established a relationship between Hercules and Leo, and interpreted the labours in parallel with Christian religion, especially Paul’s sermon (see Giraldi 1580, 1.555). On Florentine political usage of Hercules, see Stafford 2012, 218–19, and also Sienkewicz in Allan, Anagnostou-Laoutides and Stafford (eds) 2020. Campbell 2002d, 187–218; Delmarcel and Brown 2010, 66–77. Delmarcel noticed that the first re-edition, now lost, must have belonged to King Francis I. Indeed, one recognises ‘eloquent’ Hercules, the prototype of the ‘Hercules gallicus’ (the ‘Gallic Hercules’), and therefore the King of France, on which, see Brown and Delmarcel 1996, 155–6; Delmarcel 1999, 146. For the ‘Gallic Hercules’ see the introduction to this volume and the chapter by Bizer. Royal Collection Trust / Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, inv. RCIN 1363. Campbell 2002e, 246–52. See also Karafel 2016. This series, called in 1608 ‘Grottesce di Leone Xmo’ (‘Leo X’s Grotesques’), disappeared in the eighteenth century. See Campbell 2002e, 225–9; Karafel 2016.

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Mary of Hungary’s Series and Related Tapestries

During the second quarter of the sixteenth century, the desire of the European princes to be assimilated symbolically to the figure of Hercules became even more evident. Francis I, Henry VIII, and Charles V were in constant rivalry, competing for the title of ‘the new Hercules’, with particular reference to the ‘Libyan’ Hercules of Annius of Viterbo and to the ‘Egyptian’ Hercules of Diodorus.37 According to Annius of Viterbo, followed later by the historiographer Jean Lemaire de Belges, the ‘Libyan Hercules’ symbolized the prince’s physical potency of masculine military might.38 Over time the ‘Libyan Hercules’ became associated with the Emperor Charles V, while King Francis I embodied the ‘Hercules Gallicus’, an image of Hercules consonant with the humanist ideals of eloquence and prudence.39 As might be expected, the tapestry series devoted to this theme multiply around this time. It is in this context that the most famous tapestries of Hercules were purchased from a Brussels workshop in 1535 by Mary of Hungary, Governor of the Habsburg Netherlands and sister of the Emperor Charles V. Woven in wool and silk, the tapestries originally illustrated twelve of the hero’s exploits. It is worth noting that the ancient canon of the twelve labours was not reproduced in the medium of tapestry during the Middle Ages or the Renaissance. Hercules was the demi-god who embodied the ideals of strength, fortitude and bravery and the six pieces of the set which currently survive in the Spanish royal collections (Patrimonio Nacional, series 23), are of Hercules fighting the Stymphalian birds; the Cretan bull; the mares of Diomedes; the giant Antaeus; the dragon of the Hesperides; and the three-headed dog Cerberus.40 As noted in the volume’s introduction, this choice of subject matter reflects the influence of the medieval Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy (book 4 poem 7.13–35), in which five of the canonical labours (Geryon, the Augean stables, the Amazons, the bull and the Cerynian hind) are replaced with other exploits (Acheloos, Antaeus,

37

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Diodorus speaks of three heroes of the name of Hercules, the most ancient of whom was the Egyptian, a son of Zeus. The second hero was a Cretan, and one of the Idaean Dactyls, and the third or youngest was Hercules the son of Zeus with Alcmena, who lived shortly before the Trojan war (book 3, 74.4–5). Annius of Viterbo 1498, book 15, fol. 141–143; Lemaire de Belges 1510, book 1, chap. 7–11. See Jung 1966, 52–4. On the affiliation of Francis I with the figure of Hercules and on the rivalries between these monarchs, see Laruelle 2017c and n. 33. For Charles V, see Checa Cremades 1999. Junquera de Vega and Herrero Carretero 1986, 155–162. On the collections of Mary of Hungary and Charles V, see Buchanan 2015.

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Cacus, the centaurs and Hercules carrying the heavens).41 The Consolation of Philosophy was widely translated and reproduced in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Unfortunately, very little information concerning the use of this Hercules series has come down to us but it is likely that Mary of Hungary’s purchase from the Dermoyen workshop was made, as on many other occasions, to serve the interests of her brother.42 Conscious of the need to articulate a specific image of power linked to the House of Austria, the new series on the subject of Hercules was probably used to consolidate and propagate a mythic, heroic persona for an absent Charles V.43 The series was so successful that it was reproduced in Brussels and other centres known for specialised quality weaving, particularly in Oudenaarde and Enghien. The best preserved of these is the eight-piece set woven in Oudenaarde around 1550.44 Campbell has speculated that Henry VIII would have acquired a version of that series, because the King owned nine sets (comprising about 55 tapestries) on his death in 1547.45 The expenditure that the rulers and other contemporary patrons lavished on tapestry during the sixteenth century encouraged the Flemish manufactories, especially Brussels, to heights of artistic achievement that have never been surpassed. The workshops were more and more inventive and found alternative formulae to seduce the princes. This stimulated an unprecedented number of narrative tapestries on the theme of Hercules, of which the finest were of great material richness and iconographic complexity. A further distinction needs briefly now to be made here between the tapestries where Hercules is surrounded by decorative grotesques and the tapestries exclusively dedicated to his labours.

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43 44 45

On Boethius’ De Consolatione Philosophiae and posterity, see Gibson 1981. An interest in the labours is also present in several influential books of the fourteenth century: Boccaccio’s Genealogia Deorum Gentilium of 1360–74, in which the author quotes no fewer than thirty-one labours; Le Fèvre’s Recueil (see above); as well as the anonymous Ovide moralisé (1340). Because of his absences Charles had only limited contact with the Flemish weavers in Brussels and he acted through his sister. It was Mary who arranged and supervised his important tapestry acquisitions such as The Story of Joshua (1544) and The Conquest of Tunis (1546–1554), see further Buchanan 2015. For Hercules and the House of Austria, see Checa 1999. Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna, inv. Cl/1–9. For an overview, see van Tichelen 1994, 53–60. Campbell 2007a, 310; Campbell 2012, 56.

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Grotesque Tapestries

The Flemish weavers specialized in the production of decorative grotesque tapestries. The French word grotesque, derived from the Italian word grottesco, was a style of tapestry was inspired by ancient designs discovered at the end of the fifteenth century in the underground rooms, or grottoes, of the Domus Aurea (Golden House) of the Emperor Nero in Rome.46 It is also the name given to the decorative formula that Raphael and his assistants developed in Cardinal Bibbiena’s Loggetta and Stufetta, the Vatican Loggia, and the Villa Madama in Rome between 1515 and 1530. So-called grotesque ornament appeared in France a short time later in the paintings made for the palace at Fontainebleau. In the Low Countries, the first tapestry series that marked the introduction of such grotesque work was the set ordered by Pope Leo X from Pieter van Aelst of Brussels around 1520.47 In the middle of the sixteenth century, the artists Cornelis Bos, Cornelis Floris and Hans Vredeman de Vries produced many ornamental engravings in the grotesque idiom which were used for the closely related ornamentation of many Flemish tapestries during the second half of the century, which were sophisticated, complex and refined in handling and design. Unfortunately, only a few Hercules-themed pieces in this style have survived; all are dated to the period 1550–60 and they include Hercules Fighting the Nemean Lion (Miami Vizcaya and Gardens Museums, inv. D TAP 009), Hercules with Cacus, Atlas, Cerberus (Philadelphia Art Museum, inv. 1930-1205/206/207), Deianira (formerly Vic, Museu Episcopal), and Hercules with the Lernean Hydra (Vic, Museu Episcopal, inv. MEV 56).48 The last bears the mark of the town of Oudenaarde. Here Hercules’ exploits are depicted in large medallions inserted within a fantastic, grotesque decoration, made of imaginary beings, volutes, masks and draperies. That the Oudenaarde grotesque tapestries, inspired by Italian models, were highly appreciated by Renaissance sovereigns, is demonstrated, for example, by their inclusion in the collections of Margaret of Parma, Governor of the former Low Countries (r. 1559–1567), the natural daughter of Charles V and of Jeanne van der Gheynst (herself the daughter of a weaver from Oudenaarde), who owned a series of eight such tapestries.49

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See Dacos 1969. See above and n. 36. See further de Meûter and Vanwelden 1999, 124–6. Now lost, but recorded in inventories of the Farnese family, see Forti Grazzini 1999, 143–72 (Hercules, 158).

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Series with the Labours

There were many widely spread and much appreciated series of tapestries that were entirely dedicated to the Labours of Hercules. The tapestry collection of Margaret of Parma deserves special mention in this respect because it helps us to understand the collection practices of contemporary monarchs. Like other rulers, she owned several series of Hercules-themed tapestries.50 The principal account of her collection is the description of the rooms that were dedicated to the wedding festivities of her son, Alessandro Farnese, at the Coudenberg Palace in Brussels, in November 1565. The Italian chronicler Francesco de Marchi described a fourteen-piece set of the Labours of Hercules with ‘forest landscapes’ and stated that these tapestries were displayed in the guardroom of her private apartment.51 De Marchi’s description conforms to the content of numerous tapestries produced by the workshop of Frans Schavaert in Brussels, between 1550 and 1560 (Figure 3.3), in which the Labours are indeed located in a northern forest inhabited by exotic animals. The tapestries illustrate the deeds as described by Le Fèvre in his Recueil.52 This book was, indeed, still very popular during the middle of the sixteenth century. The border includes medallions and cartouches, which evoke the satirical works of Hieronymus Bosch and Pieter Bruegel the Elder. Another exceptional five-piece set depicting the Labours of Hercules is kept in Paris and Ghent.53 Surrounded by a decoration of large acanthus leaves, Hercules’ exploits (with the Nemean lion, the Lernaean hydra, the horses of Diomedes, the Stymphalian birds, and the serpent of the Hesperides) are placed under upper medallions that have allegorical figures of the Liberal Arts (Rhetoric, Geometry, Music, Dialectic, and Grammar). The programme is completed in the lower medallions by a parallel account of the life of King David, taken from the Bible. On the tapestry depicting Hercules Fighting the Stymphalian Birds (Figure 3.4), the top section, for example, includes the personification of Dialectic, the art of reasoning, with the imagery below being of David playing the harp and being threatened with a spear by King Saul (1 Samuel 18.11; 19.9–10). 50 51 52

53

See, for example, the case of Henry VIII (cited above, n. 45). de Marchi 1566, fol. 15r. See further Bertini 1999, 133. Four tapestries are currently preserved in Musées royaux d’Art et d’Histoire, Brussels (inv. 8867–8870) and many isolated pieces still survive. For a recent overview, see Laruelle 2017a, 785–91. Four pieces are preserved in Musée du Louvre, Paris (inv. OAR 4–7) and one piece in the Provinciaal paleis van Oost-Vlaanderen, Ghent. See Delmarcel 1982; Delmarcel 1999, 203– 7; de Meûter and Vanwelden 1999, 127–31; de Meûter 2012, 46–59.

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figure 3.3 Hercules and Antaeus; tapestry woven in the workshop of Frans Schavaert, Brussels, c. 1560. Wool and silk, 425 cm × 410 cm. Musées royaux d’Art et d’Histoire, Brussels (inv. 8868) Photo © KIK-IRPA, Brussels

The figure of David was also a favoured model for Renaissance rulers so the iconographic complexity here suggests that the set must have belonged to a sovereign.54 Delmarcel sums up its meaning as follows: ‘One can only accomplish heroic and virtuous acts when one was has had a serious intellectual education’.55 Le Fèvre, in his Recueil, had already written ‘how Hercules, with King

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Campbell 2007a, 177–87. Delmarcel 1999, 204.

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figure 3.4 Hercules fighting the Stymphalian Birds; tapestry woven in Oudenaarde, c. 1550– 60. Wool and silk, 345 cm × 320 cm. Provinciaal Paleis van Oost-Vlaanderen, Ghent Photo © KIK-IRPA, Brussels

Atlas, began to study the science of astronomy and the seven liberal arts’.56 The combination of these two themes, Hercules and the Liberal Arts, was, indeed, common in the Renaissance, the best-known example being the dual cycle of paintings painted by Frans Floris for the merchant Nicolas Jonghelinck (1555– 1556), one of which represents Hercules and the other the Liberal Arts.57 56 57

Le Fèvre 1495, fol. 144r–147r: ‘Comment Hercules print le roy Athlas et commencha a estudier la science dastronomie et les sept ars liberaulx’. See van de Velde 1965, 123.

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Hercules also held a particular significance for Bavarian dukes. Indeed, in his Bavarian Chronicle of 1533, the historian Aventinus (or Johannes Thurmair) explained that the founder of the Bavarian dynasty was ‘Hercules Germanicus’.58 The theme is exemplified by another fine series, likely to be from an Antwerp workshop, which is remarkable for its vivid and complex iconography.59 This thirteen-piece set was commissioned by Duke Albrecht V of Bavaria for his palace at Dachau around 1565, using the intermediary of the Antwerp merchant Michiel de Bos.60 The series, woven in blue and white, the heraldic colours of Bavaria, was accompanied by other pieces incorporating the Duke’s arms. The designs were based on the engravings made by Cornelis Cort, themselves inspired by the paintings of the Flemish artist Frans Floris.61 The new tapestry series was an intrinsic part of the genealogical decorative programme of the Festsaal (banqueting hall) at Dachau.

8

Conclusion

The popularity and the importance of Hercules is thus demonstrated by the existence of numerous distinct series of tapestries, woven between 1450 and 1565, which survive in complete and fragmentary sets. The illustrious hero provided an attractive model for rulers and the nobility to emulate with contemporary interest in this figure being further stimulated by the humanism that was flourishing in Western Europe and that was bringing with it a growing awareness of the classical world. The set produced in the 1560s for Albrecht V, Duke of Bavaria, is the last great series of tapestries on the subject of Hercules and furnishes an epilogue to this chapter. The Low Countries were at this point enmeshed in an era of violent turmoil with economic disruption, religious strife, social unrest and civil wars resulting in the breaking up of the United Provinces. These events had a devastating impact on the tapestry industry, for the zealotry of some of the Reformers encouraged the skilled weavers to migrate to foreign countries.62 Various testimonials confirm that it became difficult to acquire new series on the subject of Hercules.63 It was not until the beginning of the seventeenth century, when a

58 59 60 61 62 63

Buchanan 1994, 56. Munich, Schloss und Park Nymphenburg, Hauptverwaltung, inv. BSV.WA0065-0077. See Buchanan 1994, 37–62; Heym and Sauerländer 2006. On Cort’s engravings, see Sellink 2000, 31–59, no. 172–81. For an overview, see Campbell 2007b, 17–27. The correspondence between Cardinal Antoine Perrenot de Granvelle and Viron, his

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new Golden Age was ushered in under the joint governorship of the Habsburg Archduke Albert and of his wife, Duchess Isabella Clara Eugenia, the daughter of Philip II of Spain, that Hercules reappeared on tapestries in Flemish workshops.

Bibliography Allan, A., Anagnostou-Laoutides, E. and Stafford, E.J. (eds) (2020) Herakles Inside and Outside the Church: from the first apologists to the end of the Quattrocento, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 18, Leiden: Brill Annius of Viterbo (1498) Antiquitatum variarum, vol. 17, Rome: Eucharius Silber Asselberghs, J.-P. (1967) ‘Le cycle d’Hercule’, in Asselberghs, J.-P. La tapisserie tournaisienne au XVe siècle, Tournai: Artistes du Hainaut, 19–21 Beaune, H. and d’Arbaumont, J. (1883) Mémoires d’Olivier de la Marche, vol. 1, Paris: Renouard Bell, S.G. (2004) The Lost Tapestries of the City of Ladies: Christine de Pizan’s Renaissance legacy, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press Bertini, G. (1999) ‘La collection Farnèse d’après les archives’, in Arminjon, C. and Reyniès, N. (eds) La tapisserie au XVIIe siècle et les collections européennes. Actes du colloque international de Chambord, 18 et 19 octobre 1996, Paris: Editions du patrimoine, 127–142 Bertrand, P. and Delmarcel, G. (2008) ‘L’histoire de la tapisserie, 1500–1700. Trente-cinq ans de recherche’, Perspectives 2: 227–50 Brandolini, R. (1753) Dialogus Leo nuncupatus, Fogliazzi, F. (ed.), Venice: Simonem Occhi Brown, C.M. and Delmarcel, G. (1996) Tapestries for the Courts of Federico II, Ercole, and Ferrante Gonzaga, 1522–63, Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press Buchanan, I. (2015) Habsburg Tapestries, Turnhout: Brepols Buchanan, I. (1994) ‘Michiel de Bos and the tapestries of the “Labours of Hercules” after Frans Floris (c. 1565). New documentation on the tapestry maker and the commission’, Revue belge d’archéologie et d’histoire de l’art 63: 37–62 Bulst, W.A. (1993) ‘Das Olympische Turnier des Hercules mit den Amazonen. Flämische Tapisserien am Hofe der Este in Ferrara’, in Poeschke, J. (ed.) Italienische Frührenaissance und nordeuropäisches Spätmittelalter. Kunst der frühen Neuzeit im europäischen Zusammenhang, Munich: Hirmer, 206–16

‘maître des comptes’, is informative in this respect. See Picquard 1950, 111–126; for Hercules, see a letter dated 16th August 1566.

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Campbell, T.P. (2012) ‘The art and splendour of Henry VIII’s tapestry collection’, in Hayward, M. and Ward, P. (eds) The Inventory of King Henry VIII: textiles and dress, Turnhout: Brepols, 9–65 Campbell, T.P. (2007a) Henry VIII and the Art of Majesty. Tapestries at the Tudor Court, New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press Campbell, T.P. (2007b) Tapestry in the Baroque: threads and splendor, New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press Campbell, T.P. (ed.) (2002a) Tapestry in the Renaissance: art and magnificence, New York and New Haven, CT & London: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York and Yale University Press, available online courtesy of The Met at https://www.metmuse um.org/art/metpublications/Tapestry_in_the_Renaissance_Art_and_Magnificence (accessed 04/02/2019) Campbell, T.P. (2002b) ‘The art and magnificence of Renaissance tapestries: introduction’ in Campbell, T.P. (ed.) (2002a): 3–12 Campbell, T.P. (2002c) ‘Tapestry patronage in Northern Europe, 1380–1500’ in Campbell, T.P. (ed.) (2002a): 13–28 Campbell, T.P. (2002d) ‘The Acts of the Apostles tapestries and Raphael’s cartoons’ in Campbell, T.P. (ed.) (2002a): 187–224 Campbell, T.P. (2002e) ‘Designs for the Papacy by the Raphael workshop, 1517–30’ in Campbell, T.P. (ed.) (2002a): 225–62 Campbell, T. (1996) ‘Cardinal Wolsey’s tapestry collection’, The Antiquaries Journal 76: 73–136 Cavallo, A.S. (1993) Medieval Tapestries in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art Cavallo, A.S. (1986) Textiles, Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston, MA: Trustees of the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum Checa Cremades, F. (1999) Carlos V. La imagen del poder en el Renacimiento, Madrid: El Viso Cheyns-Condé, M. (1994) ‘L’adaptation des “Travaux d’Hercule” pour les fêtes du marriage de Marguerite d’York et de Charles le Hardi à Bruges en 1468’, Publications du Centre Européen d’Etudes Bourguignonnes 34: 71–85 Cleland, E. and Karafel, L. (2017) Tapestries from the Burrell Collection, London: I.B. Tauris Cohen-Skalli, A. and Marcotte, D. (2015) ‘Poggio Bracciolini, la traduction de Diodore et ses sources manuscrites’, Medioevo Greco 15: 63–107 Dacos, N. (1969) La découverte de la Domus Aurea et la formation des grotesques à la Renaissance, London: Warburg Institute de Marchi, F. (1566) Narratione particolare delle gran feste e trionfi fatte in Portogallo, et in Fiandra nello sposalitio dell’illustrissimo sig. Alessandro Farnese e la serenissima donna Maria di Portogallo, Bologna: Alessandro Benacci

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Delmarcel, G. (2005) ‘La collection de tapisseries de la reine Isabelle de Castille (1451– 1504). Quelques réflexions critiques’, in Checa Cremades, F. and Garcia Garcia, B. (eds) El arte en la Corte de los Reyes Católicos. Rutas artísticas a principios de la Edad Moderna, Madrid: Fundación Carlos de Amberes, 287–304 Delmarcel, G. (1999) Flemish Tapestry from the 15th to the 18th Century, Tielt: Lannoo Delmarcel, G. (1982) ‘Hercules en de Stymfalische vogels. Een belangrijk Oudenaards wandtapijt van de zestiende eeuw voor de provincie Oost-Vlaanderen’, Kultureel Jaarboek Oost-Vlaanderen. Bijdragen 18: 1–16 Delmarcel, G. and Brown, C.M. (2010) Gli arazzi dei Gonzaga nel Rinascimento, Milan: Skira de Meûter, I. (2012) Wandtapijten in Oost-Vlaams provinciaal bezit, Ghent: Provincie Oost-Vlaanderen de Meûter, I. and Vanwelden, M. (1999) Tapisseries d’Audenarde du XVIe au XVIIIe siècle, Tielt: Lannoo Dudant, A. (1985) ‘Histoire d’Hercule’, in Dudant, A. Les tapisseries tournaisiennes de la seconde moitié du XVème siècle au musée d’Histoire et d’Archéologie de la ville de Tournai, Mons: Fédération du tourisme du Hainaut, 39–46 du Fresne de Beaucourt, G. (1863–1864) Chronique de Mathieu d’Escouchy, vol. 2, Paris: Renouard Forti Grazzini, N. (1999) ‘Les œuvres retrouvées de la collection Farnèse’, in Arminjon, C. and Reyniès, N. (eds) La tapisserie au XVIIe siècle et les collections européennes. Actes du colloque international de Chambord, 18 et 19 octobre 1996, Paris: Editions du patrimoine, 143–72 Forti Grazzini, N. (1991) ‘Leonello d’Este nell’autunno del Medioevo. Gli arazzi delle “storie di Ercole”’, in Natale, M. and Mottola Molfino, A. Le muse e il principe. Arti di corte nel Rinascimento padano. Saggi, Modena: Franco Cosimo Panini Editore, 53–62 Gibson, M.T. (1981) Boethius: his life, thought and influence, Oxford: Blackwell Giraldi, L.G. (1580) Opera quae extant omnium, 2 vols., Giraldi Cinzio, G.B. (ed.), Basle: T. Guarinum Guiffrey, J. (1887) ‘Inventaire des tapisseries du roi Charles VI vendues par les anglais en 1422 [premier article]’, Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes 48: 91 Hartkamp-Jonxis, E. and Smit, H. (2004) European Tapestries in the Rijksmuseum, Zwolle: Waanders Heym, S. and Sauerländer, W. (2006) Herkules besiegt die Lernäische Hydra. Der Herkules-Teppich im Vortragssaal der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Munich: Verlag der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften Jung, M.-R. (2002) ‘Hercule dans les textes du Moyen Âge: essai d’une typologie’, in Babbi, A.M. (ed.) Rinascite di Ercole. Convegno internazionale. Verona, 29 maggio– 1 giugno 2002. Atti, Verona: Fiorini, 9–69

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Jung, M.-R. (1966) Hercule dans la littérature française du XVIe siècle. De l’Hercule courtois à l’Hercule baroque, Geneva: Droz Junquera de Vega, P. and Herrero Carretero, C. (1986) Catálogo de Tapices del Patrimonio Nacional. Volumen I: Siglo XVI. Madrid: Patrimonio Nacional Karafel, L. (2016) Raphael’s Tapestries: the grotesques of Leo X, New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press Laruelle, A.-S. (forthcoming) ‘A new perspective on Mary of Hungary’s Labours of Hercules tapestries (Patrimonio Nacional, series 23)’, in Garcia Pérez, N. (ed.) Art, Power and Gender. Mary of Hungary and Female Patronage in the Renaissance, Turnhout: Brepols Laruelle, A.-S. (2019) La figure d’Hercule dans l’art de la tapisserie à la Renaissance (ca. 1450–1565). Fortune iconographique et usages politiques, University of Liège, abstract and table of contents available online at https://orbi.uliege.be/handle/ 2268/232402 (accessed 27/12/2019) Laruelle, A.-S. (2017a) ‘Quelques observations sur la tenture de l’Histoire d’Hercule des Musées royaux d’Art et d’Histoire de Bruxelles’, in Xhayet, G. (ed.) Actes du neuvième congrès de l’Association des Cercles francophones d’Histoire et d’Archéologie de Belgique (Liège, 24–26 août 2012), Liège: l’Association des Cercles francophones d’Histoire et d’Archéologie de Belgique, 785–91 Laruelle, A.-S. (2017b) ‘Le thème d’Hercule dans l’art de la tapisserie’, in Delmarcel, G., de Meûter, I., Dudant, A., Laruelle, A.-S., Michel, J., Montignie, A., Peeters, P., Penet, P.-H., Pennant, B. and Vrand, C., L’art de la Tapisserie. Tournai-Enghien-Audenarde, Tournai: Wapica, 141–59 Laruelle, A.-S. (2017c) ‘Des modèles héroïques et bibliques pour François Ier. Le cas d’Hercule’, in Fagnart, L. and Lecocq, I. (eds) Arts et Artistes du Nord à la cour de François Ier, Paris: Picard, 147–59 Le Fèvre, J. (1881) Chronique de Jean Lefèvre, seigneur de Saint-Rémy, vol. 2, Paris: Renouard Le Fèvre, R. (1495) Recueil des Histoires de Troie. Manuscript preserved in Paris, BnF, ms. fr. 22552, available online courtesy of the BnF at https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/ btv1b10536284w.r=raoul%20lefèvre?rk=214593;2 (accessed 04/02/2019) Lemaire de Belges, J. (1510) Illustrations de Gaule et singularitez de Troye, Lyon: Etienne Baland Millar, A. (2001) ‘Olivier de La Marche and the Herculean origins of the Burgundians’, Publications du Centre Européen d’Etudes Bourguignonnes 41: 67–75 Picquard, M. (1950) ‘Le cardinal de Granvelle, amateur de tapisseries’, Revue belge d’archéologie et d’histoire de l’art 19: 111–26 Ross, L.B. (2012) ‘Mémoires sélectives: les travaux d’Hercule aux festivités de Bruges en 1468’, Publications du Centre Européen d’Etudes Bourguignonnes 52: 99–109 Sellink, M. (comp.) (2000) Cornelis Cort, 3 vols., in Leeflang, H. (ed.) The New Hollstein:

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Dutch and Flemish etchings, engravings and woodcuts 1450–1700, Rotterdam: Sound and Vision Shearman, J. (1972) Raphael’s Cartoons in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen and the Tapestries for the Sistine Chapel, London: Phaidon Soil, E. (1892) Les tapisseries de Tournai: les tapissiers et les hautelisseurs de cette ville. Recherches et documents sur l’histoire, la fabrication et les produits des ateliers de Tournai, Tournai: Casterman Steppe, J.-K. and Delmarcel, G. (1974) ‘Les tapisseries du Cardinal Érard de la Marck prince-évêque de Liège’, Revue de l’Art 25: 35–54 Stafford, E.J. (2012) Herakles, Abingdon, Oxon.: Routledge Stratford, J. (1993) The Bedford Inventories: the worldly goods of John, Duke of Bedford, Regent of France (1389–1435), London: Society of Antiquaries van de Velde, C. (1965) ‘The Labours of Hercules, a lost series of paintings by Frans Floris’, The Burlington Magazine 107: 114–23 van Tichelen, I. (1994) ‘Les Travaux d’Hercule’, in Delmarcel, G. and Janssen, E. (eds) Les fresques mobiles du Nord. Tapisseries de nos régions, XVIe–XXe siècle: ouvrage édité à l’occasion de l’exposition du même nom tenue à la Hessenhuis Anvers, Falconrui 53, 5.3.94/5.6.94, Ghent: Martial & Snoeck, 53–60

chapter 4

Prince Charles Alexander of Lorraine and Hercules: A Political Emblem between Tradition and Innovation Annie Verbanck-Piérard

From 1713, after the War of the Spanish Succession, the Southern Netherlands (or ‘Low Countries’, i.e. most of the future Belgian territories) were transferred from the Spanish Habsburgs to the Austrian Habsburgs. In 1744 Empress Maria Theresa of Austria (1740–1780) appointed Prince Charles Alexander of Lorraine (Figure 4.1), her brother-in-law, as Governor of the Austrian Netherlands (§ 1). Under his leadership (1744–1780), these provinces enjoyed a period of prosperity, peace and stability.1 Charles Alexander of Lorraine (1712–1780) was a well-born patron of the arts and sciences. The son of Leopold Joseph, Duke of Lorraine (1679–1729), cousin and friend of Emperor Charles VI of Austria, and of Elisabeth Charlotte d’Orléans (1676–1744), niece of the King of France, Louis XIV, he was related on the paternal side to the Habsburg imperial family and on the maternal side to the French royal family. He often used references to antiquity to legitimize his authority. It is in this context that this chapter will examine three instances in which he is associated with Hercules: his acquisition of the Altar of Hercules Saxanus, the allegorical use of his portrait by Pieter (or Pierre Norbert) van Reysschoot (or van Reijsschoot) (1738–1795) and his commission of a statue of Hercules by Laurent Delvaux (1696–1778). This final example will offer a number of interpretations to do with virtue, alchemy and politics.

1 I want to thank Prof. Emma Stafford for her invitation to the 2013 conference in Leeds, Dr Eleanor OKell (Leeds) and Dr Valerie Mainz (Leeds), Annemie Breugelmans (Tervuren), Alex Mitchell (Expressum Ltd), Gilles Docquier (Mariemont). For the photographs thanks are also due to: Casper De Koker (Ghent, City Archives), Cécile Evers (Brussels, Royal Museums of Art and History), Catherine Adam and Sébastien Regniers (Brussels, Royal Library), and Claire Haquet (Nancy Libraries). The principal references for Charles Alexander of Lorraine are: Lemaire 1987, Duerloo 1987, Quairiaux 1987, Galand 1993, Sorgeloos (ed) 2000. See also Hasquin 1987.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004435414_006

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figure 4.1 Portrait of Charles Alexander of Lorraine. Etching by François Harrewijn, c. 1750. Bibliothèque royale de Belgique, Brussels (Estampes inv. S.I.23106 plano) Photo © Bibliothèque royale de Belgique

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Charles Alexander of Lorraine, Governor of the Austrian Netherlands

Always a contested territory between France and the Holy Roman Empire, from the sixteenth century onwards Lorraine was an independent Duchy which corresponded roughly to the present-day region of Lorraine in north-eastern France. Its capital was Nancy. Under Leopold of Lorraine’s rule (1679–1729), the Duchy was safe and prosperous. Leopold rebuilt the Castle of Lunéville, near Nancy, as the ‘Versailles of Lorraine’. The many children of Leopold and Elisabeth Charlotte received an excellent education that included learning in literature, foreign languages, mathematics, history, law and, especially, science and technology because their father Leopold was passionate about these subjects. Thanks to this broad education, based on informed and quite progressive ideas, the children were brought up within a culture both of courtly rulership and of Enlightenment with, as was usual, the study of ancient history and of classical texts being an important part of the curriculum.2 Learning in the fine arts was not forgotten. Duke Leopold was known to be a patron of artists, many of them working to celebrate the court of Lorraine. In 1702 he founded an Academy of Painting and Sculpture in Nancy, inspired by those of Paris and Rome. Its first director was the painter Claude Charles (1661– 1747). Four paintings attributed to this artist, dated around 1700, were recently sold in Paris.3 These allegorical works (Architecture, Choreography, Mathematics, and Sculpture) recall the lost decoration that Claude Charles created for Duke Leopold at the Castle of Lunéville. The composition of the Allegory of Sculpture has in its background a conspicuous simulacrum of the Farnese Hercules, one of the most celebrated and canonical of sculptures that had survived from antiquity.4 Claude Charles also designed an Allégorie de l’ Histoire écrivant sous le regard du Temps et d’Hercule (Allegory of History writing under the gaze of Time and Hercules) for the frontispiece to Dom Calmet’s planned first edition of his 2 See for example Guyon 2012, especially the beautiful portrait of Anne-Charlotte, Charles Alexander’s sister, as a young Vestal (p. 13). Charles Alexander’s name is probably inspired by Alexander the Great, who took iconographic inspiration from Herakles: for instance, Herakles’ head with his lion-skin appears as a device on Alexander’s coinage. A desire to sustain such a continuing relevance may well also have influenced Charles Alexander’s own iconographic choices. 3 The Galerie Alexis Bordes retains photographs on its website, see Anon 2017. Thanks to fundraising and to sponsorship, these four paintings are now in the Castle-Museum of Lunéville. 4 See the Introduction to this volume for the importance of this sculpture to the art of Rubens and to the pursuance of the academic tradition.

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Histoire de Lorraine (Figure 4.2).5 In celebrating what was then the autonomous Duchy of Lorraine, the scene of this frontispiece fuses the allegorical figures of Time, Fame and History with fictively enduring commemorative relief profile-portraits of some of the Duchy’s past rulers. Hercules, again with some of the formal qualities of the boldly-muscled Farnese Hercules, here rejuvenated, appears standing in rear view and pointing upwards, thereby giving prominence to a fictively painted framed oval portrait of the then reigning Duke Leopold, held aloft by Fame. Such celebratory imagery, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, makes clear that the symbolism of Hercules was of some significance for the life and after-life of Duke Leopold and of his family. Amongst his children, François (born in 1708) was sent to the imperial court of Vienna in Austria at the age of fifteen in order to perfect his education and was brought up with Maria Theresa, daughter of Emperor Charles VI, on the understanding that they were to be married; the marriage was then, indeed, celebrated in 1736. Most of their children later sat on European thrones. The most notable example of this family’s continuing dynastic alliances was the marriage of their youngest daughter, Maria Antonia to the heir to the French throne, that resulted in her name change to Marie-Antoinette and to her later becoming Queen of France. Charles Alexander (born in 1712), François’ younger brother, was also sent to Vienna in 1736 and entered the Imperial service in 1737 as a general and field marshal. During the War of the Austrian Succession (1740–1748) and the Seven Years’ War (1756–1763), he had to face difficult situations, winning few victories and losing several important battles. His most important success was the crossing of the Rhine on 30th June 1744. This inspired a portrait of the Prince as Constantine the Great, that forged a meaningful analogy with the victory of 312 by the Roman emperor at the Milvian bridge.6 In 1741, Charles, as the successor of Archduchess Marie-Elisabeth, became Governor-General of the Southern Low Countries, a function that, due to the ongoing conflicts, he was not able to assume before 1744. Fortunately for him, on 7 January 1744, he married Maria Theresa’s only sister, Archduchess Maria Anna of Austria, thus making him Maria Theresa’s brother-in-law twice over. Soon after, Maria Theresa appointed both husband and wife as joint Governors of the Austrian Netherlands, an inspired and clever decision. The couple left

5 The drawing was published much later for the first time, in La Lorraine-Artiste 8/16, 1890, 245 and pl. 1. The first printed edition of Dom Calmet’s Histoire ecclésiastique et civile de Lorraine is of 1728 and is without the frontispiece. 6 Guyon 2012, 34.

prince charles alexander of lorraine and hercules

figure 4.2 Allegory of History writing under the gaze of Time and Hercules. Preliminary drawing (brown ink, pen and pierre noire pencil) by Claude Charles for the frontispiece of Dom Calmet’s planned Histoire de Lorraine, c. 1710; location of the original unpublished drawing unknown, formerly in the Eugène Langlard collection (1890) Scan of the drawing published in La LorraineArtiste 8/16, 1890, pl. 1, courtesy Bibliothèques de Nancy

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Vienna on 3 February 1744 and arrived in Brussels on 26 March after their Joyeuses Entrées in important cities such as Antwerp and Mechelen.7 Sadly, Maria Anna died in labour later the same year, whilst her husband had to return to the front lines of the war against Prussia. Charles Alexander never remarried. With the permission of the Empress, and taking into consideration Charles Alexander’s popularity and the lack of a clear replacement, the Prince continued as Governor and de facto ‘sovereign’ of the Austrian Netherlands until his own death in 1780. From 1755, Charles Alexander’s sister Anne Charlotte (1714–1773), to whom he was very close, acted as co-ruler. In 1738, she was made Abbess of the wealthy and prestigious Remiremont Abbey in Lorraine and, in 1754, Secular Abbess of the chapter of the Noble Ladies of Saint Waltrude of Mons, in the Southern Low Countries, near the Castle of Mariemont where she often spent several weeks with her brother in the spring and during the autumn hunting season. In 1729, at the age of seventeen, Charles Alexander was made a Knight of the Golden Fleece and, in 1761, Grand Master of the Teutonic Order (a significant diplomatic and financial function within the Germanic Empire).8 He was probably initiated as a Freemason since he was clearly inspired by the ideas discussed in those circles. Charles Alexander proved to be a good and devoted ruler, very proud of ‘his’ provinces, and deeply influenced by the achievements of the Enlightenment. He was assisted in his leadership tasks by efficient plenipotentiary ministers such as, from 1753 to 1770, Count Charles of Cobenzl. Respecting the interests of the Austrian monarchy, he managed to develop the territories under his rule as well as to enforce their political privileges and their borders. He mediated between the people of the Southern Netherlands, the nobility and the Empress and her government in Vienna.9 With ambition and pragmatism, and relying on the government in Brussels, Charles Alexander developed the economy, trade, roads, science and new ‘technologies’. He was, for instance, involved in the making of fine porcelain, promoting the creation and development of the manufacture of Tournai ware, which soon became a local ‘rival’ to the Royal Sèvres porcelain in France. He

7 d’ Hainaut-Zveny in Lemaire 1987, 115–36. Joyeuses Entrées designates the occasion upon which a reigning monarch, Prince, Duke, or Governor enters a city in the Estates of Brabant or County of Flanders for the first time on an official, ceremonial and festive visit, during which local privileges are recognized. See, for instance, Medeiros Araújo in this volume on the royal entries of Henri II and IV and Felipe III, with associated bibliography. 8 For a discussion of these orders and their iconography, see Laruelle in this volume. 9 See Galand 2013.

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also promoted the production of wallpaper, especially in the places of manufacture that he built in the park of his castle in Tervueren.10 Moreover, he tried to develop coal mining in the region of Mariemont, in a ‘proto-industrial’ way, but with a clear premonition of the outstanding potential of this future source of energy.11

2

Charles Alexander of Lorraine, Patron of the Arts and Sciences, Builder Prince and Collector

Charles Alexander’s sponsoring of the arts resulted in the creation of the Theresian Academy in Brussels, the origin of the current Royal Academy there. Moreover, to enhance his prestige, as well as for his own comfort, he decided to build new residences as well as rebuilding old castles which had served as headquarters for previous Governors. His three architectural ventures included the main palace in Brussels, where the Governor entertained his guests and handled state affairs.12 Built in 1757, in a neoclassical style, it replaced his former residence of the old gothic palace of Orange-Nassau. The new palace had a large curved façade recalling the tradition of Baroque architecture, the main entrance (Figure 4.3) decorated with a sculptural scheme devised by Laurent Delvaux. This very large building was mostly wrecked by French armies in 1795 so that only the south wing is still extant. Mariemont was an ancient hunting estate and castle, dating back to the midsixteenth century and the rule of Mary of Hungary, sister of Emperor Charles V and another great patron of the arts.13 In 1754, Charles Alexander decided to replace this residence too with a new neoclassical castle where he hosted receptions and hunting parties.14 Like the palace in Brussels, it was largely destroyed during the French Revolution and its ruins remain in the park that surrounds the current museum of Mariemont. An old castle in Tervueren near Brussels was also renovated.15 A whole area nearby was dedicated to the Prince’s laboratories and, from 1777, to a new neoclassical summer residence called the Hermitage or Belvedere.16 This complex, including the workshops, was eventually sold off by Joseph II (1741–1790), and unfortunately destroyed soon after, in 1782. 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

See further Dumortier and Habets 2007. See Quairiaux 1987. On the palace and its contents, see Lemaire 1981 and Dumortier and Sorgeloos 2000. See Laruelle on Mary of Hungary’s Hercules tapestry in this volume. See Quairiaux 1987. See Derveaux and Breugelmans 2012. Duquenne 2008.

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figure 4.3 Palace of Charles Alexander of Lorraine in Brussels, built from 1757: preserved wing with entrance, decorated with sculptures by Laurent Delvaux Photo © Bibliothèque royale de Belgique

Charles Alexander was an avid collector of luxury items: porcelain, works in gold, fine furniture, artwork, paintings, prints, books, medals, silverware, minerals and scientific instruments (Figure 4.1).17 He was especially fond of clocks and interested in new technical and scientific experiments.18 He also 17

18

For his important collection of minerals (esp. precious stones), note the salon à l’italienne in his palace in Brussels, where the centre of the rotunda floor is decorated with a star of twenty-eight different samples of Belgian marbles: Jacobs 1997. Lemaire 1988 and 2006; Rasquin 2002.

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collected antiquities and ancient coins. His libraries were particularly rich and encyclopaedic.19 His many books and bindings included the famous Encyclopédie edited in Paris by Diderot and d’Alembert between 1751 and 1772, and the Descriptions des arts et métiers, faites ou approuvées par l’ Académie royale des sciences (Descriptions of the arts and crafts, made under the direction of the Royal Academy of Sciences) fostered by Colbert but published later (from 1761) in Paris. Hunting was one of Charles Alexander’s passions; life at his court was festive and resplendent.20 Costly, lavish banquets and entertainments helped to forge the image of the generous bon vivant ruler, an image that endures to this day. The affection of the people for the Prince was displayed during his dangerous illness in 1766–1767 with feasts and fireworks celebrating his convalescence.21 In 1775 the Estates of Brabant erected in his honour a bronze standing statue of Charles Alexander in the guise of a Roman emperor. It was placed in the centre of the new Place Royale in Brussels, a major urban planning project, built from 1775 in the up and coming neoclassical style, during the last years of Charles Alexander’s life.22 The initial design for the statue was by Laurent Delvaux and dates back to 1769, as it was intended to celebrate and commemorate the twenty-five year jubilee of the Governor’s rule. The statue was eventually forged by Pierre-Antoine Verschaffelt in 1774–1775 and offered to the Governor in January 1775.23 Charles Alexander died in 1780 in his castle in Tervuren, a few months before the death of Empress Maria Theresa. Although his leadership in the Southern Netherlands was characterized by a spirit of innovation, progress and development, Charles was also a very traditional Ancien Régime Governor. To legitimize his authority, he often used references to antiquity, which is where we finally meet ‘his’ Hercules.

19 20 21 22 23

For the contents of the libraries, see Sorgeloos 1982 and Lemaire 1987, 96–105. Lemaire 1987, 115–36. See Galand 1993, 35. On the Place Royale project, see Loir 2007 and 2017 and d’Hainaut-Zveny 2007 and 2012. On the statue project, see further Lemaire 1987, 267–73, IV/17–28 and Jacobs 2013. This statue was melted down in 1794 by the French armies. A later bronze statue of Charles Alexander, dating back to 1848, was subsequently placed in front of the palace.

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Charles Alexander of Lorraine and Hercules

In order to explore how the figure of Hercules contributed to the ideological programme of Charles Alexander which, it is argued, is in a position between tradition and innovation, this chapter will focus on one artefact and two significant representations of the hero, both intentionally associated with the Governor. These examples demonstrate something of the complexities that accrued to the ancient hero in the context of an early modern, still courtly, but also enlightened rulership. 3.1 The Altar of Hercules Saxanus In 1749, Charles Alexander acquired (or received) archaeological evidence for a privileged link between Hercules and the history of Lorraine: a Roman altar with a dedication to Hercules Saxanus (Figure 4.4).24 This had recently been found in Norroy-lès-Pont-à-Mousson, a city situated between Nancy and Metz and famous since antiquity for its quarries of ‘Norroy stone’, a fine white limestone. During the Roman imperial period, Norroy’s stone quarries were exploited intensively by the Roman state. The Roman army, when not at war, supervised the work and provided the necessary manpower. At the end of their work extracting the stone, centurions and legionaries used to honour Hercules on the site as Saxanus, god of quarries and rocks.25 It is worth mentioning that the first known example of these inscribed altars had been found locally in 1721 and handed over to Duke Leopold. The Duke sent the altar to Paris to enrich the French King’s collection. This was essentially a family affair, since the royal collections were temporarily under the authority of the Regent, Philippe II of Orléans, brother of the Duke’s wife, Elisabeth Charlotte of Lorraine! From 1724, this altar was published, reproduced and commented on by Bernard de Montfaucon, in a volume on Le culte des Grecs et des Romains (The Religion of the Greeks and Romans) in his Supplément au livre de l’Antiquité expliquée et représentée en figures (Supplement to the Book of Antiquity Explained and Represented in Images):26

24 25 26

Royal Museums of Art and History, Brussels (inv. B 466); inscription published as CIL XIII, 4624. See Bedon 1984: on Norroy, 45; on Hercules Saxanus, 184–8. de Montfaucon 1724, III chapter 2 and pl. X, 50–51: ‘On déterra l’an 1721 un autel dont on donne ici le dessin tel que l’ a envoyé Madame la Duchesse de Lorraine à feue Madame sa mère, qui eut la bonté de me le communiquer.’ All translations, unless otherwise specified, are my own. The altar has been moved since 1862 to the Musée d’Archéologie nationale in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, inv. 1219. CIL XIII, 4625.

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figure 4.4 Inscribed altar to Hercules Saxanus found in Norroy, Lorraine, in 1749. Marble, first century. Musées royaux d’ Art et d’Histoire, Brussels (inv. B466) Photo © Musées royaux d’ Art et d’ Histoire, Brussels

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In the year 1721 an altar was excavated, a drawing of which is given here as sent by Madame la Duchesse de Lorraine to her late mother, who had the kindness to communicate it to me.27 However, by the time a second altar of this type was discovered in 1749, the European political landscape had changed. Since 1737, following diplomatic negotiations – and to the disappointment of Elisabeth Charlotte and her son Charles Alexander – the Duchy of Lorraine had lost its independence. It was attached to France and was run until 1766 by the former King of Poland, Stanislas Leszczyński, the father-in-law of Louis XV. For the people of Lorraine, who had discovered the new altar of Hercules, which they saw as a symbol of the former Duchy’s Roman past, it ought to have been legitimately handed over to ‘their’ Prince Charles Alexander, a true connoisseur, even though he had long since left his beloved Lorraine. According to Count Anne Claude de Caylus, who published the stone in the fifth volume of his Recueil d’antiquités égyptiennes, étrusques, grecques, romaines et gauloises (Collection of Egyptian, Etruscan, Greek, Roman and Gallic Antiquities, 1752–1767), the altar had been removed at night and against the order of the incumbent Duke of Lorraine, Stanislas Leszczyński:28 A small event concerning this last altar does too much honour to ancient monuments to pass over in silence. The discovery of this antiquity made 27

28

The drawing had, therefore, been sent by Charles Alexander’s mother, Elisabeth Charlotte of Lorraine, to her mother, Princess Elisabeth Charlotte of Bavaria (1652–1722), wife of Philippe I, Duke of Orléans (the younger brother of Louis XIV of France). Better known as ‘Madame Palatine’, Elisabeth Charlotte of Bavaria is also famous for her outspoken letters describing life at the French court. As a grandmother, she appreciated the perfect education of her Lorraine grandchildren and emphasized the ten-year-old Charles-Alexander’s good mood and humour: Guyon 2012, 12. de Caylus 1762, 330–31: “Un petit évènement, arrivé au sujet de ce dernier Autel, fait trop d’honneur aux Monuments antiques, pour le passer sous silence. La découverte de cette Antiquité fit une sorte de bruit. Le Roi de Pologne Stanislas ordonna que cet Autel fût porté à Nancy. Ceux qui vinrent pour exécuter ses ordres, ne trouvèrent plus le Monument. Il avait été enlevé la nuit précédente par les soins du Prince Charles de Lorraine, ou par des gens qui voulaient en faire leur cour à ce Prince, dont le goût pour les objets curieux est prouvé par le beau Cabinet qu’ il a formé; et cet Autel se trouve aujourd’hui à Bruxelles, où j’ai fait verifier l’ Inscription, que l’ on m’ avait envoyée de Metz avec le dessin.” The altar is further discussed by de Caylus 1762, 328–32 with pl. 119, I–III. On Count de Caylus and his Recueil, see BnF, INHA, ANHIMA 2012 and the digital collections of the INHA (National Institute of Art History) Library online at https://www.inha.fr/en/index .html (accessed 10/01/2020).

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some noise [sc. in political circles]. Stanislas, the King of Poland, commanded that this altar should be taken to Nancy. Those who came to carry out his command, however, were no longer able to find the monument. It had been carried off the previous night through the intervention of Prince Charles [Alexander] of Lorraine, or by people who wished to please this Prince, whose taste for curious objects is proved by the handsome Cabinet which he has assembled; and this Altar is now in Brussels, where I had the Inscription, which I had been sent from Metz with the drawing, verified. This outstanding marker of Lorraine’s ancient economic activity finally and hazardously made its way to Brussels and then entered the Governor’s collection.29 As a result, Hercules Saxanus, intimately linked to Lorraine’s land and quarries, was symbolically involved in the more recent political history of the Duchy. In addition, the publication of two known altars to Hercules Saxanus by the greatest French scholars of the eighteenth century, Bernard de Montfaucon and Count de Caylus, ensured their renown in scholarly circles. 3.2

The Frontispiece of Le Livre d’Or de l’Académie royale de Peinture, Sculpture et Architecture de Gand (The Guestbook of the Royal Academy of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture of Ghent): An Allegorical Portrait by Pieter van Reysschoot, 1771, Watercolour Drawing One of the most important contributions of Charles Alexander of Lorraine to the cultural life of the Low Countries was the creation, organization and patronage of different learned institutions in many cities: schools, libraries, literary societies and, above all, modern Academies of Fine Arts. In Antwerp, Brussels, and Bruges, the older Royal Academies were promoted and in Ghent, Courtrai, Tournai and elsewhere new ones were founded or supported.30 Most of these academies are still active today. The Prince was following his father’s activit-

29

30

After Charles Alexander of Lorraine passed away, part of his collection was sold and dispersed; the altar of Hercules was eventually bequeathed to the Musée d’armes anciennes, d’ armures, d’objets d’art et de numismatique in Brussels, today’s Musées royaux d’Art et d’ Histoire (inv. B 466), by M. de By, in 1846. See Cumont 1913, 231–32, no. 193. Later, three other altars dedicated to Hercules Saxanus were discovered in the Norroy area: an altar and an inscribed tabula, found in 1827, with the inscription published in CIL XIII, 4623, and a second altar, found in 1916, are preserved in the Lorraine Museum, Nancy; and a third, found in 1994, is in the Museum in Pont-à-Mousson. See Lemaire 1987, 84–95.

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ies in Lorraine (see above §1), encouraging the education and training of fine artists and, thereby, counteracting the prevailing influence of the ancient guild corporations. At his home in Ghent in 1748, the painter Philippe Charles Marissal (1698– 1770) founded the first Academy of Ghent as a school for drawing. With the support of Charles Alexander of Lorraine, this local Academy was reorganized in 1770 and was granted a royal charter by Empress Maria Theresa in 1771. The painter Pieter (or Pierre Norbert) van Reysschoot (or van Reijschoot) (1738– 1795), one of the first directors of the Royal Academy, was appointed to create the frontispiece of the prestigious Guestbook (Livre d’ Or).31 Van Reysschoot’s watercolour drawing (Figure 4.5) shows Charles Alexander as patron of the arts and as a warrior. Portrayed at the centre of the composition and dressed as a Roman emperor, he tramples a personification of the Rhine (in the traditional mature-male form of a river god), with reference to one of the Prince’s few military victories.32 This depiction is reminiscent of the statue of the Prince later erected in the Place Royale in Brussels (discussed above § 2). The painter’s knowledge of Delvaux’s initial project makes this an obvious allusion to the making of the Prince into a hero. Charles Alexander is crowned by Minerva (symbolising Wisdom) and a personification of Truth.33 Behind the latter, the presence of the sun symbolises the power of Empress Maria Theresa, as well as the light of Reason and Wisdom. At the top of the composition, an eagle holds a banner on which is written Rheni Domitori (‘to Him who defeated the Rhine’). Along with this warrior theme there are, lower down, allusions to the Prince’s interest in the fine arts: two putti personifying painting and architecture, with appropriate attributes, are positioned under the protective wing of an eagle. Even if this imperial bird is single-headed, it recalls, combined with the eagle in the upper register, the double-headed Habsburg eagle. On the left, Hercules with his mighty club (symbolising Strength), strikes down Ignorance (blindfolded and with donkey ears) and Envy (the head with snakes). On the right, sun rays, passing through a mirror held by a young woman, an incarnation of the Natural Sciences (here Chemistry and Botany), light the torch of a

31

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Stadsarchiev Gent (previously the Library of the Academy of Fine Arts in Ghent, IV 97, f°). See Lemaire 1987, 217–18, II/34, with the beautiful preparatory drawings, Lemaire 1987, 214–16, II/32–33. On the painter, see Fredericq-Lilar 2005. The crossing of the Rhine in 1744, see above (§ 1). The depiction of Truth here is typical, following Cesare Ripa’s Iconologia, in which Truth is a young woman, nude or semi-nude, with a palm and a book (of religious or of classical texts); see further below on Ripa.

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figure 4.5 Allegorical portrait of Charles Alexander of Lorraine, frontispiece of Le Livre d’ Or de l’ Académie royale de Peinture, Sculpture et Architecture de Gand. Watercolour by Pieter (or Pierre Norbert) van Reysschoot (or van Reijschoot), 1771. Archief Gent, Stad Gent, Ghent; previously Bibliotheek, Academie voor Schone Kunsten, Ghent (inv. IV 97 f°) Photo © City of Ghent, City Archives, ASK 300

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multi-breasted allegory of Nature and Abundance, reminiscent of the Artemis of Ephesus. There is a special relationship here between Charles Alexander and Hercules, whose upraised club seems to continue the gesture of the Prince’s reaching down. Similarly, the theme of apotheosis can of course be understood with reference to the fate of Hercules. In this design, still in the manner of the late Baroque, the Prince too is thus shown as becoming one of the gods, as well as one of the forces that rule over nature and men. The theme of ‘Hercules slaying Discord’ is derived from the fight against the Lernaean hydra, with Discord or Envy personified by a woman with snakes for hair (like a Gorgon), and holding snakes (like a Fury). This was a recognised theme in the art of the Baroque, a notable example being a painting from Peter Paul Rubens’ workshop entitled Hercules as Heroic Virtue Overcoming Discord (1632–1633).34 An important later painting, entitled Hercule protégeant la Peinture contre l’Attaque de l’Ignorance et de la Jalousie (Hercules Protects Painting from Ignorance and Envy), by Andries Cornelis Lens (1739–1822), provides us with further apt links to the city of Antwerp, the fine-art academic tradition, the patronage of Charles Alexander and the figure of Hercules. In 1763, Lens became the Director of the Antwerp Academy of Fine Arts, and to show his gratitude, he donated this particular allegory to that institution.35 No doubt Charles Alexander knew the work well, insofar as he was a strong supporter of the Antwerp Royal Academy of Fine Arts and, in the following year (1764), he appointed Lens as Court painter; he also subsidized the artist’s journey to Italy, where Lens came into contact with the theories of Winckelmann, that became the source of Lens’ neoclassicism and which were then more fully developed in Antwerp.36 An etching published in Antwerp in 1773, a little later than the Ghent Guestbook’s frontispiece, shows another version of Charles Alexander’s glorification: a medallion portrait is mounted on the front of an obelisk flanked by two personifications, with the obelisk itself crushing a figure of Discord with snakes.37

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35 36

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The title has been given to a preliminary oil on panel sketch for the ceiling of the Banqueting Hall, Whitehall in London, commissioned by King Charles I; this sketch is now in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (inv. 47.1543). For further on the significance of the Banqueting Hall ceiling, see the Introduction to this volume. Oil on canvas, now in the Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp (inv. 1092). For Lens’ career, patrons and artistic development, see Jacobs 1989. A.C. Lens was well known for his book on dress in antiquity, with its many etchings in the neoclassical style: Le Costume, Essai sur les habillements et les usages de plusieurs peuples de l’antiquité prouvés par les monuments, Liège 1776. Etching by C. De Smets in Collection des desseins des figures colossales et des groupes qui ont été faits de neige le mois de janvier 1772. Anvers 1773, pl. 15.

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3.3

The Most Significant Emblem: The Statue of Hercules (1768–1770) by Laurent Delvaux In the palace of Charles Alexander of Lorraine in Brussels stands an over lifesize marble statue of Hercules; at a total height of almost three metres (Figure 4.6a).38 The Governor commissioned it in 1768 from the renowned sculptor Laurent Delvaux to take the place of the newel post of the ceremonial staircase in the hallway of his new Brussels residence where it is still in situ.39 The statue presents the naked Hercules as a strongly muscled man with a club and the skin of the Nemean lion draped over his left arm. The influence of the Farnese Hercules is obvious, but we have here a younger version of the hero, who appears more vigorous and stands much straighter. On the marble statue’s club, directly in front of the entrance, two crosses of Lorraine can be discerned, as well as the sign of the Teutonic Order and the monogram C. On the front of the base, beneath Hercules’ feet, is a salamander, an animal which has since antiquity symbolised fire and immortality, as well as the soul’s power to withstand suffering.40 The base also features a cornucopia. On the left, at Hercules’ feet, lies the chained Erymanthian boar (Figure 4.6b). At the back, a twin-bodied snake is hidden in the rock, a reference to Ladon, the guardian serpent in the garden of the Hesperides, or to the Lernean hydra. Hercules holds three golden apples in his right hand, which rests on his hip. The massive base is designed as a rock, covered with foliage and plants (oak, ivy, laurel). The date ‘1770’ and the signature ‘Laur. Delvaux’ are inscribed on the base of the statue, under Hercules’ left foot, and a second time, on a cartouche over the wild boar’s front right leg: Laur. Delvaux invenit et sculpsit. Anno 1770 (‘Laurent Delvaux invented and sculpted [this]. In the year 1770’). The sculptor insists here on his act of creation by using the term invenit. The figure of Hercules appears to have been of particular significance for the sculptor Delvaux and the statue allows him to ensure a successful transition between Baroque art and neoclassicism. Indeed, Hercules was almost a Baroque hero per se because of his strength, his excesses, the way he crossed boundaries and on account of the complex issues raised by some of the nar-

38 39 40

The statue belongs to the collections of the Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Brussels (inv. 9830). Height 288 cm. White Carrara marble. Main reference: Jacobs 1999, 456–467, S 267. See, for instance, Pliny the Elder 10.86, 29.23; Dioscorides 2.67. In medieval and Renaissance lore, the real and legendary salamander is usually ascribed an affinity with fire ‘in which it constantly renews its scaly skin – for Virtue’, as suggested by Leonardo da Vinci Notebooks 1236, Richter (ed) 1883.

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Hercules and the Erymanthian Boar. Statue (height 288cm) in white Carrara marble by Laurent Delvaux, 1770, in situ in the Hall of the palace of Charles Alexander of Lorraine in Brussels (Musées royaux des Beaux-Arts, Brussels, inv. 9830) Photo © Bibliothèque royale de Belgique

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Detail of Figure 4.6a, the Erymanthian boar and the salamander Photo © P. Verbanck

ratives in which he figures. Whether in sculpture, painting or the decorative arts, the imagery of Hercules became somewhat ubiquitous in many European countries during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and this imagery was invariably loaded with significance.41 Artists like Peter Paul Rubens, his workshop, and his pupil, the sculptor Lucas Faydherbe, were, for instance, able to make the most of this imagery on many occasions. The statue of Hercules in Brussels should, therefore, also be considered as a late emanation of the Baroque in the Southern Netherlands, where such art had flourished in the wake of the Counter-Reformation. Yet through its majesty, its peaceful attitude and its new sense of naturalism, despite some mannerism in the details, the sculpture expresses new artistic trends and suggests a harmonious transition towards neoclassicism. It is a very balanced and successful work of art, both imposing and welcoming.42 For this tour de force, the selection of the sculptor was decisive.

41 42

Dumortier and Sorgeloos 2000, 27. Sobieski and Loze 1985, 44–5.

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Laurent Delvaux was one of the most prolific artists in the Southern Netherlands in the eighteenth century.43 He had already been appointed as court sculptor in 1733 by Archduchess Maria Elisabeth of Austria, predecessor to Charles Alexander as Governor of this region. Delvaux knew the Prince well and produced many statues for him, such as the allegories decorating the façade of the palace in Brussels (Figure 4.3 and further below § 4). In 1768, he was seventy-two years old, so for the impressive statue of Hercules in the palace of Brussels he was most probably helped by one of his pupils, Gilles-Lambert Godecharle (1750–1835), who later became an outstanding representative of Belgian neoclassical sculpture. Delvaux had always had a certain penchant for the figure of Hercules, and especially for the monumental Farnese Hercules which he had admired during his stay in Rome (1728–1732).44 In the early years of his career as a sculptor in England, Delvaux had fashioned a large marble statue of Hercules holding a distaff and a tambourine, originally coupled with a statue of Omphale, for Richard Child, first Viscount Castlemaine, at Wanstead House.45 By the time Charles Alexander commissioned his sumptuous statue Delvaux had produced many other representations of Hercules throughout a long and distinguished career.46 There is no doubt Charles Alexander’s artistic, if not symbolic, choice matched the Delvaux repertoire; it might even have been directly inspired by it.47 In any case, once commissioned, Delvaux produced a masterpiece that surpassed all his previous creations on the subject of Hercules. Several preparatory sketches and modelli attest to the extent of the research he carried out for this project in order to match the Prince’s expectations.48

4

Interpretation(s): Virtues, Alchemy and Politics

The Hercules statue provided a highly symbolic and well-known vehicle through which Delvaux could subtly allude to his patron’s moral virtues, philosophical insights, courage and protective strength. Since antiquity, Hercules 43 44 45 46 47 48

See Jacobs 1999 and 2016. See Jacobs 1999, S 29 for a reduced copy in terracotta of the Farnese Hercules, which Delvaux kept with him in his workshop. Jacobs 1999, S 2; 1721–1722, now in Waddesdon Manor (de Rothschild collection). On Hercules and Omphale, see the Introduction to this volume. Jacobs 1999, S 53, S 54–55, S 168, S 216–217; for further examples see the Index. For Delvaux’ previous depiction of a boar, a copy of the Porcellino, see Jacobs 1999, S 34. Jacobs 1999, S 269–S 274 (modelli in terracotta of the standing statue, of the head, of the boar, etc); see also Jacobs 1999, S 53.

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had embodied the highest standards of the great heroes. In early Christian art, he is compared with Jesus the Saviour.49 Later, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, ‘Heroic Virtue’ is explicitly represented by Hercules in the woodcuts illustrating the second edition of Cesare Ripa’s Iconologia (1603), the highly influential emblem book which was widely used as a reference book by orators, artists, poets and writers. Furthermore, the ancient moral, literary and figurative theme of the ‘Choice of Hercules’, dating back to Prodikos in the fifth-century BCE, was a widespread theme of many Renaissance and Baroque paintings and drawings with political implications as discussed elsewhere in this volume.50 The positioning of the statue at the bottom of the staircase might be considered to be a reference to Hercules’ choice of the harder path leading to glory and perfection through pain and adversity with all of this then being an allusion to Charles Alexander’s personal success and model perseverance. Moreover, some specific details of the sculpture remind us that at this period Hercules could also be thought of as the embodiment of the alchemist.51 There may therefore be an inference that Charles Alexander’s interest in esoteric knowledge might have further inspired the choice of Hercules as a subject. Through his harsh labours, the hero symbolized the seeker’s quest, wrestling with matter to obtain the philosopher’s stone and the Magnum Opus. Here too Hercules led the way to self-improvement. Van Lennep’s study entitled ‘L’Hercule chymiste’ has outlined the extreme complexity of the presumed occult and alchemical references which could be found not only in the Prince’s libraries at Mariemont, but also in the decoration of the Brussels palace hall, with its monumental statue of Hercules.52 According to such an analysis of the statue and of the decorative parts of the ceremonial staircase, every detail could be systematically ‘translated’ into alchemical terms. The banister with (no longer extant) reliefs depicting the labours of Hercules, the ceiling of the hall with a (no longer extant) painting of Helios’ chariot and the four Seasons inside the constellations of the Zodiac and the walls of the stairwell with (the still extant) stucco reliefs of the Four Elements, the ‘Quintessence’ and the ‘Enigma’ could be considered as illustrations of alchemical teaching.

49 50 51 52

On Christian appropriations of Hercules, see the papers collected in Allan, AnagnostouLaoutides and Stafford (eds) 2020. See especially Deligiannis and Medeiros Araújo in this volume. On the tradition of ‘the Choice’, see the Introduction to this volume. Bonnefoy 1981, 498–9: ‘Hercule dans l’ alchimie’, 8–9: ‘Alchimie et mythologie’. Van Lennep in Lemaire 1987, 147–71, 176–81. See also Lemaire 1981, 13.

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It is in the context of alchemy that we might interpret what appears to be the most unusual element in the iconography of the Hercules statue: the salamander, which does not belong to the traditional repertoire of Herculean symbolism. As already noted (§3.3), the salamander is closely related to the element of fire. In alchemical practices, fire was necessary for chrysopoeia, the transmutation of base metals (such as lead) into the noble metal gold and for the creation of an elixir of immortality. The image of a wild boar, here the Erymanthian boar, might in this alchemical context, refer to primordial earth. One may wonder, however, whether Charles Alexander, aware of alchemical research as he undoubtedly was, would truly have wished to assign such a complex, enigmatic, sometimes incomprehensible and little-known meaning to each element of the statue and the staircase.53 The very notion of ‘secret’ knowledge must be understood within the broader contexts of the eighteenth century.54 Even if there were books on alchemy in the Governor’s extensive libraries, and even if their quantity seems to suggest they were relatively important in Mariemont, their presence was not at all exceptional in the libraries of the intelligentsia of the time.55 Moreover, some of the books and manuscripts could have been bought for their bibliophile or historical interest, as well as, or rather than, for their esotericism. In the catalogues of the Prince’s libraries, books on the study of natural phenomena via other sciences, such as chemistry, physics, mechanics, natural sciences, electricity, etc., predominate. What interested Charles Alexander, whether as a result of his education, or due to fascination or for entertainment, was understanding the world that surrounded him and how to improve it, by developing concrete practical applications based on new scientific knowledge.56 In the palace hall, Charles Alexander could have thought of a continuum, rather than a contrast, between his mythological references downstairs and his passionate study of natural phenomena in the staircase. For this reason, we should be cautious about over-interpreting the alchemical content of the statue’s iconography. The general composition and many details of the hall’s beautiful stucco reliefs, attributed to Carlo Giuseppe Spinedi (fl. 1750) and to Bartholomew Cramillon (fl. 1755–1772) and dating back to 1765 (pre-dating the statue), could be read with a more general and broader symbolism, like many other contemporary images and works of art referring to 53 54 55 56

As noted by Jacobs 1999, 462. See, for example, Galand 2000. Charles Alexander’s Journal Secret is mostly a datebook in which he noted his main activities (and an interesting liste de galanteries). Lemaire 1987, 150–7. These books were generally listed with those on ‘Chemistry’. Lemaire 1988 and 2006 (with references, 56).

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Science, Triumph, Virtue, Peace, Victory, Prosperity, the Arts, etc. The Four Elements, too, their canonical attributes and tutelary gods, and the Four Seasons, quite commonly feature in the decorative schemes of European palaces and castles. Some specific examples of the polysemy arising from symbolic interpretations deserve attention, although there are many others: 1) The salamander on the base of the statue might denote alchemical fire but it could alternatively be an historical allusion to the emblem of the French King, François I, godfather of Charles’ ancestor, François I of Lorraine. One interpretation does not necessarily exclude the other although it is unlikely that both interpretations would have had equal validity. It would not be unusual in a prominent celebratory monument, such as this statue undoubtedly is, to refer to dynastic precedent, particularly given the historic and geographic straddling of what had until recently been the autonomous Duchy of Lorraine between France and the lands of the Habsburgs. 2) The three pomegranates with flames on the stucco relief with the allegory of Fire could be seen – with difficulty – as ‘a symbol of the philosopher’s stone composed of sulfur, mercury and salt’.57 But they can also be interpreted in a simpler way as a military reference to the ensign of the grenadiers, elite and powerful soldiers who lead assaults in the field of battle, representing the need for fire to light the grenade’s fuse. 3) The beehive on the top of another stucco relief, the Quintessence (Figure 4.7), is frequently associated with peaceful human activity and prosperity: indeed, it is also represented outside, on the façade of the palace, with the allegory of Peace. On several coins and medals of the early modern period it represents respect for social order and a sense of collective work. 4) In the centre of the ‘Enigma’ stucco relief, the putto with a finger over his mouth sitting on a sphinx symbolizes the silent and careful initiate, whether of freemasonry or alchemy, but could also represent the scientist who was able to understand the mysteries of Nature. The viewer must remain open to these other readings because the interpretative prism of alchemical mystique, in all of its obscurantist detail, is too often applied without criticism in descriptions of the Hercules statue and of the staircase stucco reliefs.58 Such a specific analysis fails, for instance, to address the full symbolic importance of the work in terms of its location. The placing of 57 58

Van Lennep in Lemaire 1987, 181: ‘Un symbole de la pierre philosophale composée de soufre, de mercure et de sel’. Dumortier and Sorgeloos 2000, 27.

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figure 4.7 Detail of Figure 4.6a, the head of Hercules with the stucco reliefs in the background, here the Quintessence and, on the right, the Water Element Photo © P. Verbanck

the gigantic Hercules statue, at the very entrance of the new palace, welcoming members of the court and other visitors, whether prestigious or not, serves as a constant reminder of the public and political nature of this masterpiece. Further, since antiquity, the iconography of Hercules has always been associated with royal or imperial power. The hero has long been regarded as the mythical founder of Gaul, and is linked to several European dynasties, amongst which are the Austrian and Spanish Habsburgs, the French kings (Valois and Bourbons) and the house of Lorraine.59 And Charles Alexander, as we have seen, was personally related to these important dynasties. Hence, he could bring together in a single sculpture all these glorious Herculean references. In this process the Governor of the Southern Netherlands would, too, achieve a certain immortality as a ruler in his own right. French influence on Charles Alexander’s taste, mostly from the decoration of the Palace and Gardens of Versailles where the hero Hercules is ubiquit59

Dumortier and Sorgeloos 2000, 27; on the Habsburg Hercules, see Bruck 1953. See also Goulbourne and Medeiros Araújo in this volume.

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ous, both in paintings and in sculpture, has often been emphasized.60 But Charles Alexander was certainly inspired (and much more in my opinion) by the ‘Herculean’ ideology of the Habsburgs displayed in Vienna, where he spent important periods of his life and where he could have admired significant representations of the hero. Pertinent examples include the Renaissance Hercules of the Reichskanzleitrakt (Chancellery),61 the frescoes (1730) on the ceiling of the magnificent National Library of Vienna by Daniel Gran (1694–1757), with the Apotheosis of the Emperor Charles VI between Hercules and Apollo, and, in the centre of the Prunksaal (State Hall), the statue of Charles VI as Hercules Musarum (‘Hercules of the Muses’, 1735) by Antonio Corradini (1688–1752).62 These impressive works of art are contemporary with (and even pre-date) the Salon d’Hercule at Versailles. This mainly political interpretation of the statue of Hercules as a guise for Charles Alexander himself, the legitimate heir of glorious dynasties and an inspired Governor, is, moreover, commensurate with the iconographic program of the palace as a whole, as outlined by d’Hainaut-Zveny:63 The palace façade is adorned with a series of sculpted elements which comment grandiloquently on the qualities of good government. […] Four figures evoke civic virtues: Humanity and Bravery, Politics and Religion, whilst four sculptures of children represent the cardinal virtues: Justice 60

61

62

63

The most famous painting concerning Hercules is the ceiling of the Salon d’Hercule, with its Apotheosis, painted by François Lemoyne and finished in 1736; see Mainz in this volume. There are four Herculean groups by Lorenzo Mattielli, dated 1729, on the inner side of the Michaelertor in the Hofburg, in addition to the other four famed neo-baroque Herculean groups on the outer side of the Michaelertor, which are dated 1893. Matsche 1981, 1, 24–272 and Weber 2005. The larger-than-life marble statue has Charles VI as a Roman emperor but the inscription on the base names him Hercules Musarum. Hercules also defends the Pietas Austriaca: Duerloo 1987, 106, III/5. d’ Hainaut-Zveny 2007, 67 (trans. this volume’s editors): “La façade du palais est parée d’ une série d’ éléments sculptés qui glosent, avec grandiloquence, sur les qualités d’ un bon gouvernement. […] Quatre figures évoquent des vertus civiques: l’ Humanité et la Bravoure, la Politique et la Religion, tandis que quatre sculptures d’ enfants figurent les vertus cardinales: la Justice et la Tempérance, la Force et la Prudence. Deux bas-reliefs figurant la Paix et la Guerre complètent l’ensemble. Toutes ces statues, dont les modèles furent réalisés entre 1764 et 1766 par Laurent Delvaux, déclinent donc un programme qui légitime le pouvoir et associe ces vertus morales et civiques à la personne du prince. La Magnanimité qui surmonte l’ ensemble de ce dispositif symbolique se fait le blason du prince, elle se pose comme le principe garantissant l’émergence d’un ensemble de vertus, considérées comme nécessaires à la vie en société.” For the decorative scheme in general, see Jacobs 1997 and 1999, 330–7.

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and Temperance, Strength and Prudence. Two bas-reliefs representing Peace and War complete the ensemble. All these statues, the models for which were made between 1764 and 1766 by Laurent Delvaux, therefore make up a programme which legitimates the power of, and associates these moral and civic virtues with, the person of the Prince. The Magnanimity which tops this symbolic arrangement constitutes the Prince’s coat of arms, presented as the principle guaranteeing the emergence of an ensemble of virtues considered to be necessary to life in society. Hence, the Prince is presented as a saviour and as a perfect and generous leader: optimus princeps et patriae delicium (‘first among equals and delight of the fatherland’) as was inscribed on the base of his statue in the Place Royale. Inside, the statue of Hercules is an integral part of the staircase showing guests their way to the upper floor, that is to say, to Olympus, where Hercules was welcomed among the gods after his labours. The apotheosis itself will be performed on the first floor of the palace, in the salons and beautiful reception rooms, where Charles Alexander of Lorraine could display his court luxury, his magnificent collections, and his wisdom.64

5

Conclusion

According to the three examples briefly presented here, the ideological relationship between Charles Alexander of Lorraine and the Greco-Roman hero can be explained in different ways because the Prince consciously developed multiple aspects of Hercules’ polysemic figure. For the Prince, representations of Hercules were not simple or vague allusions to the antique. They were major components of his rule’s iconography and reflected his personal vision of the world. His distinctive choice of the Herculean theme allowed him to express his artistic, political and philosophical values all at once. Artistically the physical features of Hercules lent themselves to Renaissance and Baroque forms of expression in the Southern Netherlands but they could also be adapted to the restraints of neoclassicism. Politically, Hercules could legitimize the power of Ancien Régime dynasties, and in the case of Charles Alexander might have had

64

The first-floor rotunda (the salon à l’ italienne) with its inlaid marble floor, had a painted ceiling by Bernard Verschoot, which was supposed to represent the apotheosis of Charles Alexander: Lemaire 1981, 23.

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special significance with reference to his direct descent from the House of Lorraine and to the visual ‘codes’ of Habsburg power, which the Prince physically and symbolically embodied in the Low Countries. Philosophically, Hercules’ path was laborious, but it might eventually lead to enlightenment. He could thus symbolise the triumph of order over chaos and demonstrate that the excellence of virtue and of strength was necessary for achieving a higher destiny.

Bibliography Primary Sources BnF, INHA, ANHIMA = Bibilothèque nationale de France, Institut National d’Histoire de l’Art, UMR 8210 – ANHIMA (Anthropologie et Histoire des Mondes Antiques) (eds) (2012) Comte de Caylus. Recueil d’antiquités égyptiennes, étrusques, grecques, romaines et gaulois, Édition numérique et commentée, Paris: website online at http:// caylus‑recueil.tge‑adonis.fr/ (accessed 06/02/2020) de Caylus, Cte A.-C.-P., (1762) Recueil d’antiquités égyptiennes, étrusques, grecques, romaines et gauloises, vol. 5, Paris: N.M. Tilliard de Montfaucon, B. (1724) Supplément au livre de l’Antiquité expliquée et représentée en figures. Tome second, Le culte des Grecs et des Romains, Paris: F. Delaulne Galand, M. (2000), Journal secret de Charles de Lorraine (1766–1779), édition critique, Brussels: Hayez Leonardo da Vinci Notebooks = Richter, J.P. (ed.) (1883) The Literary Works of Leonardo da Vinci, 2 vols, Bell, R.C. and Poynter, E.J. (trans.), London: S. Low, Marston, Searle & Rivington, available online at https://www.fromoldbooks.org/Richter‑Notebooks OfLeonardo.html, accessed 17/07/2019

Secondary Sources Anon (2017) ‘Claude Charles (Nancy, 1661–1747) Quatre Allégories: L’Architecture tenant le plan de la citadelle de Nancy avec la Chapelle Ronde à l’arrière-plan, l’Astronomie, la Géométrie, la Sculpture avec le buste de Charles V de Lorraine’ Alexis Bordes online at http://www.alexis‑bordes.com/fr/oeuvres/nouvelles‑acquis itions/peinture/article/quatre‑allegories (accessed 26/02/2019) Allan, A., Anagnostou-Laoutides, E. and Stafford, E.J. (eds) (2020) Herakles Inside and Outside the Church: from the first Christian Apologists to the end of the Quattrocento, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 18, Leiden: Brill Bedon, R. (1984) Les carrières et les carriers de la Gaule romaine, Paris: Picard Bethume, K. and Huys, J.-P. (eds) (2007) Espaces et parcours dans la ville, Bruxelles au XVIIIe siècle [Études sur le XVIIIe siècle 35], Brussels: Éditions de l’Université de Bruxelles

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Bonnefoy, Y. (1981) Dictionnaire des mythologies, Paris: Flammarion Bruck, G. (1953) ‘Habsburger als Herculier’, Jahrbuch der kunsthistorischen Sammlungen Wien 50: 191–8 CIL (Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum) XIII = Hirschfeld, O. and Zangemeister, C. (eds) (1888–1933) Inscriptiones trium Galliarum et Germaniarum Latinae, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum vol. XIII (in 6 parts), Berlin: Berlin-Brandenburg Academy of Sciences and Humanities, also available online through the Berlin-Brandenburg Academy of Sciences and Humanities at https://cil.bbaw.de/index.php?id=10 (accessed 26/02/2019) Cumont, F. (1913) Catalogue des sculptures et inscriptions antiques, 2nd edition, Brussels: Vromant et Cie d’ Hainaut-Zveny, B. (2012) ‘La Place royale de Bruxelles: une place dans la ville, une allégorie des pouvoirs et un dispositif symbolique’, Koregos 38, online at http://www.ko regos.org/fr/brigitte‑d‑hainaut‑zveny‑la‑place‑royale‑de‑bruxelles/1729/ (accessed 26/02/2019) d’Hainaut-Zveny, B. (2007) ‘Des parcours dans un dispositif symbolique’, in Bethume, K. and Huys, J.-P. (eds) 59–76 Derveaux, E. and Breugelmans, A. (2012) Karel van Lorreinen en Tervuren. Catalogus van de tentoonstelling, Tervuren, Museum Hof van Melijn, 19/10/2012–20/01/2013, Tervuren: Koninklijke Heemkundige Kring Sint-Hubertus Duerloo, L. (ed.) (1987) Charles-Alexandre de Lorraine, l’homme, le maréchal, le Grand Maître. Exposition organisée par le Centre Culturel de la Communauté Flamande – Alden Biesen avec la collaboration de la Générale de Banque au Cultureel Centrum van de Vlaamse Gemeenschap – Alden Biesen, Bilzen-Rijkhoven, 19/09–16/12/1987, Europalia 87 Ősterreich, Brussels: Générale de Banque Dumortier, C. and Habets, P. (2007) Bruxelles-Tervueren: les ateliers et manufactures de Charles de Lorraine, Brussels: CFC Éditions Dumortier, C. and Sorgeloos, C. (2000) Le XVIIIe siècle dans le palais de Charles de Lorraine, Turnhout: Brepols Duquenne, X. (2008) ‘Le nouveau château de Charles de Lorraine à Tervuren’, Revue belge d’archéologie et d’histoire de l’art 77: 101–31 Fredericq-Lilar, M. (2005) ‘Pieter van Reijsschoot (1738–1795), peintre, professeur d’architecture et collectionneur à Gand’, in Raux, S. (ed.) Collectionner dans les Flandres et la France au XVIIIe siècle. Actes du colloque international organisé les 13 et 14 mars 2003 à l’Université Charles-de-Gaulle-Lille 3, Villeneuve-d’ Ascq: Éditions de l’Université de Lille 3, 97–105 Galand, M. (2013) ‘Les gouverneurs généraux, souverains des Pays-Bas?’ in de Moreau de Gerbehaye, C., Dubois, S. and Yante, J.-M. (eds) Gouvernance et Administration dans les Provinces belgiques (XVIe–XVIIIe siècles): Ouvrage publié en l’honneur du Professeur Claude Bruneel, Brussels: Archives et Bibliothèques de Belgique, N.S. 99, 109–29

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Galand, M. (1993) Charles de Lorraine, gouverneur général des Pays-Bas autrichiens (1744–1780) [Études sur le XVIIIe siècle 20], Brussels: Éditions de l’Université de Bruxelles Guyon, C. (ed.) (with Franz, Th., Petiot, A., Galand, M., Zedinger, R., de Ren, L. and Derveaux, E.) (2012) Charles-Alexandre de Lorraine, prince de l’Europe des Lumières. Catalogue de l’exposition, Lunéville, Château des Lumières-Musée du Château de Lunéville, 09/06–16/09/2012, Ars-sur-Moselle: Serge Domini Éditeur Hasquin, H. (1987) La Belgique autrichienne, 1713–1794: les Pays-Bas méridionaux sous les Habsbourg d’Autriche, Brussels: Crédit communal Jacobs, A. (2016) ‘Laurent Delvaux. Addenda au catalogue raisonné’, Annales de la Société royale d’Archéologie, d’Histoire et de Folklore de Nivelles et du Brabant wallon 33: 17–59 Jacobs, A. (2013) ‘Les portraits sculptés de Charles-Alexandre de Lorraine’, Revue belge d’Archéologie et d’Histoire de l’Art 82: 79–103 Jacobs, A. (1999) Laurent Delvaux: Gand, 1696 – Nivelles, 1778, Paris: Arthena Jacobs, A. (1997) ‘La rotonde du palais de Charles-Alexandre de Lorraine à Bruxelles’, Annales d’Histoire de l’Art et d’Archéologie 19: 129–39 Jacobs, A. (1989) A.C. Lens: 1739–1822. Musée royal des Beaux-Arts/Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten, Anvers/Antwerpen, 15/10–17/12/1989, Antwerp: Musée royal des Beaux-Arts/Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten Lemaire, C. (2006) ‘Les collections scientifiques de Charles de Lorraine’, La Vie des Musées 20: 50–57 Lemaire, C. (1988) ‘Les intérêts scientifiques de Charles-Alexandre de Lorraine’, Nouvelles Annales du Prince de Ligne 3: 103–46 Lemaire, C. (ed.) (1987) Charles-Alexandre de Lorraine, Gouverneur général des PaysBas autrichiens. Exposition organisée en collaboration avec la Générale de Banque au Palais de Charles de Lorraine, Bibliothèque royale Albert Ier, Bruxelles, 18/9–16/12/1987, Europalia 87 Ősterreich, Brussels: Générale de Banque Lemaire, C. (1981) Le palais de Charles de Lorraine: 1750–1980, Brussels: Crédit Communal Loir, C. (2017) Bruxelles néoclassique. Mutation d’un espace urbain, 1775–1840, Brussels: CFC Éditions Loir, C. (2007) ‘Un espace urbain d’une étonnante modernité: le Quartier Royal’, in Bethume, K. and Huys, J.-P.: 31–58 Matsche, F. (1981) Die Kunst im Dienst der Staatsidee Kaiser Karls VI. Ikonographie, Ikonologie und Programmatik des “Kaiserstils”, Berlin: de Gruyter Quairiaux, Y. (ed.) (1987) Charles de Lorraine à Mariemont: le domaine royal de Mariemont au temps des gouverneurs autrichiens. Catalogue de l’exposition organisée au Musée royal de Mariemont, 16/10/1987–14/02/1988, Europalia 87 Ősterreich, Morlanwelz: Musée royal de Mariemont

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Rasquin, V. (2002) Les Instruments scientifiques dans les collections de Charles de Lorraine, Brussels: Archives et bibliothèques de Belgique, N.S. 66 Sobieski, C. and Loze, P. (1985) ‘Laurent Delvaux’, in Coekelberghs, D. and Loze, P. (eds) Autour du néo-classicisme en Belgique, Brussels: Crédit communal, 44–8 Sorgeloos, C. (ed) (2000) Autour de Charles-Alexandre de Lorraine, gouverneur général des Pays-Bas autrichiens, 1744–1780. Culture et Société, Brussels: Dexia Banque Sorgeloos, C. (1982) ‘La Bibliothèque de Charles de Lorraine, gouverneur-général des Pays-Bas autrichiens’, Revue belge de Philologie et d’Histoire 60: 809–38 Weber, M. (2005) ‘Das Standbild Kaiser Karl VI. im Prunksaal der Nationalbibliothek in Wien: ein neuendecktes Werk des Venetianers Antonio Corradini’, Zbornik za umetnostno povijest nv 41: 98–134, available online through the Slovene Art History Society at http://www.suzd.si/zbornik/arhiv/35‑zbornik‑za‑umetnostno‑zgodovino ‑xli‑2005 (accessed 26/02/2019) Zedinger, R. (2007) ‘Espaces et parcours à Vienne au XVIIIe siècle’, in Bethume, K. and Huys, J.-P. (eds) 181–6

chapter 5

Monstrorum domitori: Emblematic and Allegorical Representations of the Herculean Tasks Performed by José I, King of Portugal (1714–77) Filipa Medeiros Araújo

Hercules features significantly in Hispanic foundational fictions.1 Geryon’s victor became intimately associated with the Habsburg monarchy in the early sixteenth century and that mythical connection was often staged by the hybrid oral and written genre of poetic Spanish theatre.2 Some Portuguese historians, too, have traced the nation’s ancestors back to Hercules, adjusting narratives associated with this mythical figure in order to divinise the origins of Portugal and thereby enhance the country’s reputation. Bernardo de Brito (1569–1617), for instance, in his Monarquia Lusitana, presents Geryon as a terrible invader who attacked Lusitania and tells of how Hercules expelled this enemy, protecting the people.3 There are further testimonies of the reception of the Hercules’ myth in Portuguese literature, too when, for example, Diogo do Couto (1542– 1616) published a biography of Paulo de Lima Pereira in 1765, and endowed him with the title of the ‘Portuguese Hercules’, because he represented a typical sixteenth-century warrior who served his King in India. Similarly, Friar António da Assunção drew a comparison between Hercules and Saint Domingo de Guzmán. This chapter sets the particular example of José I of Portugal, ‘the Reformer’ (reigned 1750–1777), against the background of Herculean imagery in Renaissance emblem books and the political propaganda of other European monarchs, especially those of the Spanish Habsburg dynasty, to explore how, after the earthquake in Lisbon of 1755, the figure of Hercules served a monarch of the Enlightenment. 1 This chapter benefits from the post-doctoral project Mute Signs and Speaking Images: the reception of logo-iconic language in Portuguese Baroque culture, SFRH/BPD/107747/2015, supported by the Portuguese Foundation for Science and Technology, funded by POCH, ESF and by the National budget of the MCTES. 2 See Fox 2019. The author discusses the way in which representations of masculinity figure in the fashioning of Spanish national identity, focusing on two early modern icons, Hercules and King Sebastian of Portugal (1554–78), whose biographical narratives were adapted to promote Spanish power. 3 See discussion by Fernandes 2007, 119–50.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004435414_007

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Hercules in Emblem Books and Ephemeral Art

A fundamental source for political imagery in modern Europe, as recent research on ephemeral art and royal entries has shown, was offered by emblem books, which provided inspiration for the iconographic programmes of many court festivals.4 These books attained great success throughout continental Europe, especially in France, Spain, Germany and the Low Countries with the figure of Hercules being one of the frequently recurring mythological motifs used to illustrate the books’ mottos.5 Alciato’s Emblematum liber (Book of Emblems) is the foundational work in this literary category and was probably one of the most widely read in the genre. First published in 1531 and reprinted in subsequent editions, it included five entries to do with Hercules, including the one illustrated in this volume’s Introduction (Figure i.1) with the motto Eloquentia fortitudine praestantior (‘Eloquence superior to strength’).6 The emphasis on the hero’s powers of speech rather than physical might made this ‘Gallic Hercules’ a topic ‘ideal for application to monarchs bent on subduing their subjects by the civilizing powers of persuasion’.7 Hercules’ myth provided inspiration for promotional iconography and encomiastic literature in the cultures of several different early modern courts. Tradition identified Hercules as the progenitor of many princely lines, from Burgundy to Navarre and particularly in respect of the Valois dynasty.8 According to legendary accounts, after the capture of the herds stolen by Geryon in Spain, the hero lingered in Gaul on his return journey, where his union with the daughter of a local king founded an indigenous dynasty which was destined to rule a vast empire.9 Zeus’ son was, then, the perfect choice for an apologist’s representation of an ideal ruler in Spain as in France. In 1549, Paris staged the royal entry of Henri II

4 See, among others, Mulryne and Goldring 2002, Mulryne and Watanabe-O’Kelly 2004, and Cholcman 2015. 5 See Daly 1998. 6 Alciatio 1531 = Alciato 1621, no. 181. The other emblems are: In eos qui supra vires quicquam audent (‘Those who venture on what is beyond their powers’), Alciato 1621, no. 58, Duodecim certamina Herculis (‘The twelve labours of Hercules’), Alciato 1621, no. 138, In nothos (‘Bastards’), Alciato 1621, no. 139, and Populus alba (‘The white poplar’), Alciatio 1621, no. 212. See the Alciato at Glasgow Project https://www.emblems.arts.gla.ac.uk (accessed 06/02/2020). 7 Strong 1984, 24. 8 For the exploitation of a supposed Herculean lineage by European royalty, see also the chapters by Laruelle and Verbanck-Piérard in this volume. 9 On the ancient sources for this episode, see Fernández Camacho in this volume. A useful collection of translated literary passages is provided by the online Theoi Project.

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(1519–1559) and the itinerary opened with an arch surmounted by an image of Hercules.10 From his mouth extended golden chains to human figures representing the four estates of the realm, just like the Lucianic image of the Gallic Hercules linked to his followers by gold and amber chains, reproduced in Alciato’s emblem. Many years later, the same theme was displayed in the royal entry of Henri IV into Lyons and Rouen, again celebrating the monarch as Hercules Gallicus (see further below).11 The editorial success of the Emblemata certainly contributed to the wide circulation of this iconographic representation of Hercules’ eloquence, which also decorates the walls of the library of the Escorial, near Madrid.12 The welldocumented reception of Alciato’s emblem book in sixteenth-century Spain and its influence as a source for artistic invention suggest that it could have provided inspiration for the frescoes painted by Tibaldi and Carducci, even though the most famous model for Baroque allegorical representation was certainly Cesare Ripa’s Iconologia.13 Achieving the exultant purpose of the decorative programme sponsored by Philip II (1527–1598), this motif recalls the ancient connection between Hercules and the Iberian people. At the same time, the luxurious collection of books and the monumental space obviously reflect both imperial traditions and the Spanish cultural contribution to Science and the Arts.14 Emblematic representations of Hercules also paid significant attention to the monstrous serpent that inhabited the swamps of Lerna, near Argos.15 This motif inspired the portrait of Henri IV which represents the French king crush-

10

11 12 13

14 15

The extensive use made of emblematic language by religious and political powers in earlymodern European festivals is a widespread and well-known phenomenon. Though the forms of political and spiritual propaganda to which this language was applied were often ephemeral, some have been preserved through textual descriptions and visual copies printed in festival books. For discussion, see for example Mulryne 2004 and Watanabe-O’Kelly 2000; see also Martin 1972. For Henri II as Hercules Gallicus in a literary context, see Bizer in this volume. Strong 1984, 24. Von Barghahn 1985 includes a lengthy discussion of the decoration of the royal library, linking it to the iconography of Spanish imperial power. For the reception of Alciato in Spain, see Selig 2018. Cesare Ripa’s Iconologia, very influential from the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries, went through many editions all over Europe. Based on Egyptian, Greek and Roman emblematical representations, it drew many personifications of the virtues, vices, passions, arts and sciences, and was widely used as a reference book by orators, artists, poets and writers. See Stratton-Pruitt 2007. On the utilization of the hydra specifically in the picturae of several emblems, see López 2011, 63–72.

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ing the Catholic League.16 Similar imagery, also engraved on medals, had previously appeared on the temporary structures prepared in Lyon for the royal entry of 1595 and, five years later, on the arches raised in Avignon to honour Henri and his wife, Maria de Medici. The Jesuit André Valladier devised a complete programme, later published as Labyrinthe Royal de l’ Hercule Gaulois triumphant (Royal Labyrinth of the Triumphant Gallic Hercules, 1601), which includes a description of the arches and reveals how they represented Hercules, in order to praise the royal couple.17 In this specific circumstance, the hydra served to reinforce the idea that the sovereign was stronger than the Catholic League in terms of his military power and political ability.18 This propagandistic strategy seems to have been successful in that other rulers imitated the same model, with the hydra representing a variety of evils.19 The Portuguese monarchy would follow the same tradition.

2

Portugal under Spanish Habsburg Rule

The Spanish House of Habsburg ruled over Portugal from 1581 to 1640 and during this period, under the influence of Hispanic models, the imagery of Hercules became more prominent in history writing. From medieval chronicles to Baroque treatises, Spanish records reinforced the legendary link which included Hercules in their ancient genealogy.20 Based on the story of the recovery of the herds stolen by the monster Geryon in Hispanic territory, the inhabitants cultivated a special bond with the Herculean legend, believing (and making believe) that the Iberian people was descended from the son of Jupiter and Alcmene.21 To accomplish his tenth labour, Hercules went to Erythia, near 16

17 18

19 20 21

Attributed to the Circle of Toussaint Dubreuil, c. 1600, the painting is entitled Henry IV as Hercules crushing the hydra (Paris, Grand Palais Musée du Louvre). It is available online through Wikimedia Commons at: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Henry_IV_e n_Herculeus_terrassant_l_Hydre_de_Lerne_cad_La_ligue_Catholique_Atelier_Toussaint_ Dubreuil_circa_1600.jpg (accessed 17/07/2019). Valladier 1601. André Valladier clearly wanted to impress the King and chose the programme on the subject of Hercules so to praise His Majesty. On December 27, 1594, the Jesuit student Jean Chastel had attempted to murder Henri IV whereupon the parlement of Paris banished the Society of Jesus. The situation of the Jesuits remained precarious until the Edict of Rouen of 1603. See Vivanti 1967, 184–186. See Baxter 1992, 95–106 on William III of England (1650–1702). For an overview of Hercules in Spanish sources of this period, see Fernández Comacho in this volume. As identified by Galinsky 1972, 20.

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Gibraltar, and left there a conspicuous mark of his passage, the gateway from the Mediterranean Sea to the Atlantic Ocean, known as the Gates or Pillars of Hercules.22 Emblem books supported this traditional heritage, associating Hercules with the origins of the Habsburgs.23 Saavedra Fajardo, one of the best-known Spanish authors of political emblem books, depicted the episode of the young Hercules killing the snakes as the first device in his Idea de um Principe Politico Christiano representada em cien Empresas (Idea of a Christian Political Prince in One Hundred Devices).24 The opening device bears the motto Hinc labor et virtus (‘From here, work and virtue’), claiming that the ideal ruler must show his natural strength from childhood onwards, imitating in this the Greek hero. It is also significant that Juan Francisco Fernandez de Heredia would later compose the emblematic work Trabajos y afanes de Hercules (Hercules’ Works and Labours, 1682) and dedicate it to Carlos II, last Habsburg ruler of the Spanish empire (1665–1700).25 The dedication to this collection of fifty-four emblems made the claim that it aimed to put the best hero of the entire world in front of the best monarch.26 It stated, furthermore, that Hercules had once ruled over Spain so, accordingly, the hero’s tasks had a pedagogic message for the education of an ideal ruler, according to the principles of the speculum principis (‘mirror for a prince’).27 The accompanying visual image invokes the destruction of the Lernaean hydra and bears the motto Vt non pullulet flamma resecat malum (‘cut back evil lest the flame spread’) demonstrating that conflicts amongst the

22

23 24 25

26 27

In antiquity the two Pillars of Hercules marked the end of the known world. After the discovery of both Americas, they became the symbolic gateway to the New World. Luigi Marliani, who designed the famous heraldic device for the Holy Roman Emperor, depicted the Pillars of Hercules with the Latin motto Plus ultra (‘Even Further’), which suggests that Charles V, the new Hercules, was destined to expand his power beyond the legendary pillars: see Kagan 2010, 61. The contemporary Spanish coat of arms, featured on the national flag, still carries this symbolic heritage. For the Pillars of Hercules in ancient sources, Spanish historians and the context of the development of contemporary local/national identity, see Seijo-Richart 2020. Moreno Cuadro 1985, 17–26. Saavedra Fajardo 1640, 4. Hercules’ labours had provided inspiration for other illustrated works totally devoted to the purpose of making the Greek hero’s twelve tasks known, for instance Enrique de Villena’s illustrated Los doze trabajos de Hercules (The Twelve Labours of Hercules), first published in 1499. The original text was written in 1417. Heredia 1682, 1: ‘he dedicado siempre al seruicio de V. Magestad. Señor, el poner à los ojos del Mayor Monarca, el mayor Heroe del Mundo’. Speculum principis is the name given to a genre of political writing which flourished during the Renaissance, the origins of which go back to antiquity: see Khoury 2010.

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figure 5.1 Emblem Vt non pullulet flamma resecat malum. Engraving in Juan Heredia, Trabajos y afanes de Hercules, floresta de sentencias, y exemplos, 1682, 158 Photo © Filipa Medeiros Araújo, 2019

people can create a serious threat to political harmony, because internal dissent weakens the king’s power (Figure 5.1).28 It is not surprising, therefore, that the figure of Hercules appeared as a meaningful political emblem on the magnificent arches raised in Lisbon on the occasion of the royal entry of the Spanish monarch in 1619. The organizers of these public festivals were well acquainted with the principles of repraesentatio maiestatis (‘the representation of royal power’), so their promotional strategies resulted in a very complex iconographic programme celebrating the ruler’s governing qualities and pious virtues.29 Amazing ephemeral structures embellished the main streets, squares and fountains, following an itinerary which passed through the most important points representing local, religious and political power: the city chambers, the cathedral and the palace. João Baptista Lavanha wrote an official record of this spectacular parade, which shows significant evidence of the use of Herculean myth. This publication, entitled Viagem da Catholica Real Magestade del Rey D. Filipe II N. S. ao Reyno de Portvgal e rellaçao do solene recebimento (The Journey of the Catholic Royal Majesty, the King Our Lord Filipe II, to the Kingdom of Portugal and an Account of his Solemn Reception, 1622), carefully describes the journey of Filipe III of Spain (II of Portugal) from Madrid to Lisbon. Considering the iconographic elements of this programme, it is not difficult to find Hercules imagery recalling his legendary association with ancient Hispania in symbolizing the King’s mission against political and religious ene-

28 29

Heredia 1682, 158. The representation of royal power in early modern court festivals followed strict protocols: see e.g. Straub 1969.

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figure 5.2 Arch of the Merchants. Engraving in Lavanha, Viagem da Catholica Real Magestade del Rey D. Filipe II N.S. ao Reyno de Portvgal, 1622 Photo © National Library of Portugal (http://purl.pt/28507), released into the Public Domain

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mies.30 The Arch of the Merchants, for example, displayed a portrait of Zeus’ son among other heroes – showing him with Jason, Theseus and Ulysses (Figure 5.2). Hercules participated in the royal festival so as to express his total support for the King: MONSTRORVM ALCIDES DOMITOR TIBI DICO PHILIPPE OBRVE VITRICI PERFIDA MONSTRA MANV.31 On 10 May, the King was received in Elvas, close to the border between the two countries, and one of the arches bore a painted hydra with the motto HAERESIS (‘Heresy’).32 On the arch erected by Italian merchants in Lisbon appeared a panel with Hercules defeating Cerberus, symbolizing three vices: gluttony, lust and greed.33 In addition, the arch sponsored by the Familiars of the Holy Office of Lisbon, which covered the major entrance of the royal palace, bore a painting of their patron, Saint Peter of Verona, pointing to the defeated hydra.34

3

José I and Portugal under the House of Braganza

The legendary association with the Habsburg House may justify the fact that, after the Restoration of Portuguese Independence in 1640, the new dynasty of Braganza, established by King João IV, seems not to have ascribed particular significance to Hercules’ political symbolism. Even so, the imagery of Hercules killing the lion was painted on the ceiling of one of the luxurious rooms of the royal palace in Vila Viçosa. Built in the sixteenth century, this was the former family home of João IV, Duke of Braganza, who led the rebellion against the Spanish ruler Filipe IV and claimed the Portuguese throne, putting forward his rights as a descendent of king Manuel I. Coincidentally, or not, in 1669, Carlo Francesco Palazzi composed a musical work entitled L’Ercole Lusitano (The Lusitanian Hercules), produced in Rome by Francesco Tizzoni, which was dedicated to Francisco de Sousa, the brave ambassador sent to Pope Clement IX on behalf of King João IV, in order to obtain official recognition of Portuguese Independence from Spain.

30 31

32 33 34

See e.g. Pacheco 2015. ‘I, Alcides, vanquisher of monsters, tell you, Filipe, to destroy the heretic monsters with your victorious hand’, Lavanha 1622, f. 19v; Hadrianus Iunius 1652, 104, uses the same title to evoke Hercules. Lavanha 1622, 3. Lavanha 1622, 33. To become a ‘familiar’ was considered a great honour, since it was a public recognition of someone’s status as an Old Christian, i.e. being of ‘clean-blooded’ Christian stock rather than a descendant of Jewish or Muslim converts.

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figure 5.3 Hercules offers the golden apples to the city of Lisbon on a commemorative medal dedicated to the Marquis of Pombal (inscription: Haec meta laborum). Silver, unknown artist, 1772 (private collection of José Lamas, nº 35) Line drawing by A. Lamas 1916; Photo © Filipa Medeiros Araújo, 2019

Despite being only occasionally seen during the reign of the first Braganza monarchs, the figure of Hercules seems to have recovered its popularity in terms of its potential for political promotion in eighteenth-century Portugal, where it inspired some iconographic devices specifically drawn up in order to pay public respect to King José I (1714–1777) and his Prime Minister, Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo (1699–1782), the famous Marquis of Pombal.35 In 1758, there was an attempt on the King’s life and consequently he promised to build the Church of Memory, devoted to Saint Joseph and Our Lady of Deliverance, expressing his gratitude for their divine protection. To mark this moment, three commemorative medals were struck in 1760, one of them representing the royal bust crowned with a laurel wreath and wearing a lion-skin.36 Twelve years later, Hercules appeared on another medal, this time offering the golden apples to the city of Lisbon, seated below an allegorical figure of Fame (Figure 5.3).37 Looking at the engraved hero, crushing the hydra, surrounded by the inscription Haec meta laborum (‘This is the end of my toils’), one might think that it represented King José I and his Herculean task of reconstructing Lisbon after the 1755 earthquake, but it is, in fact, the reverse of a medal dedicated in 1772 to the Prime Minister, the Marquis of Pombal, by the

35 36 37

See Cheke 1969 and Maxwell 1995. For an image of this medal, see Fernandes 1861, 32. For an image of this medal, see Fernandes 1861, 38.

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general accountant of the Royal Treasury.38 The image of the hydra may have alluded to the battle against the monster of ignorance for, in the same year, the enlightened Marquis of Pombal brought about the reform of the University of Coimbra and ordered the creation of its Chemistry Laboratory. These events marked the revival of the Sciences in Portugal. The inclusion of the hydra on the medal might, nevertheless, still symbolise the many difficulties the Prime Minister had had to face during the rebuilding (and recreating) of Lisbon out of the ashes of the 1755 earthquake. The iconography of the Prime Minister’s medal of 1772 is very similar to the allegorical imagery produced three years later to celebrate the inauguration of a major royal equestrian statue. The inauguration of this monument in 1775 was carefully organized, with attention paid to all the details of a huge social and political event, including the production of engravings for widespread dissemination. The engraving entitled Allegory of the Equestrian Statue of José I (Figure 5.4) was executed by Eleutério Manuel de Barros (1754–c. 1812?), after the design of Joaquim Carneiro da Silva (1727–1818), one of the greatest engravers of the Portuguese school, responsible for the major royal portraits.39 The print shows Immortality, represented by an enormous angel holding an ouroboros (the symbol of a serpent eating its own tail). He places a laurel crown on the head of an athletic man, who is crushing snakes under his club and takes the hand of a female figure, symbolizing Lisbon, emerging from ruins and carrying a prototype of the equestrian statue. The engraving opened the commemorative volume entitled Academia celebrada, published by the Franciscan friars of a convent located in Lisbon, that also celebrated the inauguration of the equestrian statue in 1775. This heterogeneous collection of texts includes a speech delivered by Friar Francisco Nunes

38

39

The source of this motto is not identified, but it recalls a verse from Maffeo Vegio’s Libri XII Aeneidos Supplementum, v. 260: Afflicto toties, haec meta optata laborum (‘Of all our sustained toils so long, is this the desired end?’). This was not, however, struck to commemorate the first version of a motto featuring the Latin expression Haec meta laborum (‘This is the end of my toils’) and the figure of Hercules. The same elements made up the printer’s mark used by the Parisian editor Pierre-Jean Mariette (1694–1774), who inherited the family business and expanded it to an international level. His commercial network included King João V (‘the Magnanimous’) of Portugal (1706–1750), who had acquired a large collection of drawings, the catalogue of which was published by Mariette. This indicates that the printer’s device was known in the Portuguese court, even if there is no way to ascertain whether it influenced the design of the commemorative medal, see Lamas 1916, 44–5. For detailed accounts of these artists’ careers, see Soares 1971, 97–100 (Eleutério Manuel de Barros) and 575–87 (Carneiro da Silva).

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figure 5.4 Allegory of the equestrian statue of King José I. Engraving by Eleutério Manuel de Barros, from an original design by Joaquim Carneiro da Silva, 1775 Photo © National Library of Portugal (http:// purl.pt/4979), released into the Public Domain

da Costa, who compares King José I to Hercules, claiming that while the noble sovereign did not cut the heads off the terrible hydra, he had destroyed every obstacle threatening the safe and complete recovery of social happiness in Lisbon.40 The image appears amongst honorific texts written in Portuguese,

40

See Academia 1775, 19.

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figure 5.5 View of the Terreiro do Paço (Palace Courtyard) in Lisbon, where the equestrian statue of José I was placed in 1775 Photo © Filipa Medeiros Araújo, 2019

Latin, French, Greek and Arabic, providing evidence of the symbolic and historical meaning of the royal monument, intentionally placed in the centre of Terreiro do Paço (the Palace Courtyard), the noblest square of the capital (Figure 5.5). This urban region had been severely damaged by the devastating earthquake which occurred on Saturday, 1 November 1755. Subsequent fires and a tsunami almost totally destroyed Lisbon and adjoining areas. Consequently, the city had to be hastily rebuilt and this large Herculean project was entrusted to the architect Eugénio dos Santos (1711–1760), who organized the city-plan on a modernizing principle that necessitated the replacement of the straight streets with large avenues. The new urban arrangement was designed to make the main streets converge centrally on Terreiro do Paço, also known as Praça do Comércio (Commerce Square). This area was then carefully reconfigured to accommodate the memorial dedicated to King José, in order to create a spectacular demonstration of political power. A scheme was therefore settled upon exploring the visual and symbolic connection between the statue and its architectural framework, which included the triumphal arch, the magnificent square and the splendid riverside.

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figure 5.6 View of the equestrian statue of José I Photo © Filipa Medeiros Araújo, 2019

The foundation of the pedestal was put in place at once, but the commissioned equestrian statue languished under construction for years. In 1770, the famous artist Joaquim Machado de Castro (1732–1822) finally accepted the commission of finishing the project left incomplete by Eugénio dos Santos, whose proposal had been approved by the Marquis of Pombal in 1759. Machado de Castro had, inventively, to include the already extant pedestal of the monument but he changed the King’s accoutrements, such as the cape. In the sculptural groups displayed on either side of the pedestal, the artist also modified the drapery and attitudes of the human figures (Figure 5.6). This was the first equestrian sculpture to be cast in bronze in Portugal and one of the earliest modern statues of a living person in the country. Such

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was the statue’s artistic importance that Machado de Castro wrote a Descripção Analytica da execução da Real estatua equestre (Analytical Description of the Execution of the Royal Equestrian Statue, 1810), not only to explain his artistic options but also to divulge the new techniques which were especially developed for its construction. In spite of the statue’s artistic and historical importance, the monarch refused to pose for it. This forced the sculptor to come up with the more imaginative design of the royal figure riding the horse and crushing snakes in his path. The decoration on the pedestal displays expressive allegories of the four continents whose territories the Portuguese empire had explored.41 On the left, a horse stands for Europe and steps on a vanquished warrior from America. On the right, an elephant representing Asia, tramples on an African slave. Personifications of Triumph and of Fame accompany this allegorical set of the four continents. On the front of the pedestal there appears the royal coat of arms positioned over a bronze portrait of the Marquis of Pombal. At the rear, Machado de Castro incorporated a complex set of allegorical scenes: one of them represents the City in ruins being rescued by Royal Generosity with the aid of the Republican Government inspired by Love of Virtue; next to it, Commerce offers its riches, Architecture shows the new plan of Lisbon and Human Providence appears crowned with ears of wheat, firmly holding a rudder and two keys. For the statue itself, Machado de Castro diverged from the draft designs for the previous project, which showed a lion being trampled on by the King. The sculptor did not approve of this option, claiming that the combination of elements were not in proportion nor even in appropriately natural positions.42 The sculptor decided to portray the horse performing, instead, the piaffe, a courtly exercise in dressage, because he believed that dancing on the spot was the most graceful movement to symbolize the government led by José I, which had internal affairs and administrative reorganization for focus. The inscription placed on the front of the monument also retained the most crucial information about the profound restructuring of the city being implemented during the reign of this Portuguese king known as ‘the Reformer’. Benefiting from the enlightened vision of his ambitious Prime Minister, it should be remembered that José I accomplished much more than the reconstruction of Lisbon after the earthquake. During his reign commerce, the military including the navy, 41 42

Machado de Castro 1810, 11. Machado de Castro includes the previous designs in his published reflection upon the process of realising the statue. For his aesthetic considerations here, see Machado de Castro 1810, 10.

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the sciences and the arts were revitalized. The inscription on the pedestal still reminds the reader of these achievements:43 To José I, divine, pious and blessed Father of Our Country, thanks to whom, by protective royal duties and improved laws, Trade was fostered, the Army was restored, the Arts revived and the city totally destroyed by the earthquake became even more elegant. In memory of all these benefits, his Prime Minister, the Marquis of Pombal, the Society of Commerce, the Senate and the People supported this monument. Such important changes involved an enormous effort and the overcoming of countless obstacles which Machado de Castro commemorated by having the horse prance through the jumble of snakes and foliage beneath it. The sculptor explained that the serpents embodied specifically, the ‘vicious abuses which the sovereign had stepped on to re-establish his metropolis, not only in its material aspects, but also in its civil, political and state affairs’.44 The artist openly admitted that the Iconologia of Cesare Ripa taught him the symbolic meaning of the snakes as a ‘universal figure of sin and vice’.45 Taking into account the influence of this compendium on the arts of Europe, as has been discussed above, it seems possible that the motif assumed a similar meaning in the allegorical engraving by Carneiro da Silva (Figure 5.4). Even the presence of the lion can be easily explained by calling on the authority of Cesare Ripa, who followed the suggestion, taken from Pierio Valeriano, for the image of ‘Wordly Monarchy’ being a figure of Abundance accompan-

43

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45

IOSEPHO I AVGVSTO PIO FELICI PATRI PATRIAE QUOD REGIIS IVRIBVS ADSERTIS LEGIBVS EMENDATIS COMMERCIO PROPAGATO MILITIA ET BONIS ARTIBVS RESTITVTIS VRBEM FVNDITVS EVERSAM TERRAEMOTV ELEGANTIOREM RESTAVRAVERIT AVSPICE ADMINISTRO EIVS MARCHIONE POMBALIO ET COLLEGIO NEGOTIATORVM CVRANTE SPQR BENEFICIORVM MEMOR. ‘viciosos abusos que o Soberano pisou para restabelecer a sua metrópole, não só no material, mas até mesmo no Civil, e Político, em todo o Estado’, Machado de Castro 1810, 272. In addition, the substitution of the hydra for the lion solved a practical problem related to the structural stability of the statue, since the artist wanted to hide an iron beam and the new option allowed a much more satisfying aesthetic effect, Machado de Castro 1810, 272. Machado de Castro 1810, 272. On the hydra as the specific sin of heresy, see the spectacular festival organized by the Jesuit College of La Flèche to celebrate the canonization of Saint Ignatius Loyola and Saint Francis Xavier; a description of the event reports magnificent decoration, enriched with emblems including Hercules and the hydra, the slaying of which, according to the explanatory text represented the extirpation of heresy, The Jesuit College of La Flèche 1622, 37.

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ied by a ‘very fierce lion’ and a ‘huge serpent’; this was thus intended to be a symbol of ‘worldwide dominance’, which was surely very flattering to royal pride.46 But the question remains: why did Carneiro da Silva depict the King as Hercules? The engraving bears an inscription very similar to the one carved on the base of the equestrian statue, making clear that His Highness had performed a heroic task.47 Although it does not obviously reference Hercules, such a superhuman mission could easily be compared to Hercules’ famous labours, carrying on the use of the figure during the early modern period in order to praise absolute rulers, according to the laudatory principles of the repraesentatio maiestatis, as mentioned above. Carneiro da Silva was probably acquainted with this tradition and it is therefore not surprising that imagery of Hercules was associated with José I and the Marquis of Pombal, the most prominent Portuguese political figures in the second half of the eighteenth century. Whether the earlier commemorative medal directly influenced the engraving of the celebratory texts to José I from the time of the statue’s inauguration remains an open question for there may be a common source for both of these images. In seeking an answer to this question, we point to the potential contribution of a popular work published in Amsterdam under the title Recueil de figures historiques, symboliques, et tragiques pour servir à l’ histoire du XVIII siècle (Collection of Historical, Symbolic and Tragic Figures to Serve the History of the Eighteenth Century, 1762).48 This publication appears to be a collection of individual prints that had been previously published independently in many

46 47

48

Ripa 1645, 416. AD MONVMENTVM AETERNVM DIVI IOSEPHI I PARENTIS PATRIAE OB LVSITANVM NOMEN RESTITVTVM ET PROPAGATVM VRBEM PRINCIPEM E RVINIS RENOVATAM ET ELEGANTISSIME CONSTITVTAM REGNI FAMAM ET SECVRITATEM LEGIBVS LITTERIS MILITE ARTIBVS COMMERCIO AERARIO COMMODIS OMNIBVS STABILITAM ET CONFIRMATAM IN AVLA ACADEMICA VOTORVM NUNCVPANDORVM CAVSSA CONVENIENTES SODALES TERTII ORDINIS SANCTI FRANCISCI OLISIPONENSIS NATALI EIVS DIE POSITA STATVA SOLEMNITER CELEBRATO S.P.Q.R. ANNO MDCCLXXV. “For the eternal monument of divine José I, Father of Our Country, because he brought back and increased the Lusitanian name. Thanks to him, the capital city was rebuilt from ruin and became even more elegant. Thanks to him, laws, Letters, military forces, arts and trade established and reinforced the fame and the safety of our kingdom, suitable to all of us. This cause was approved in the academic session of the religious order with the agreement of the brothers of the third order of Saint Francis from Lisbon, on the day of the solemn inauguration of the royal statue, celebrated by the Senate and by the people in 1775.” Montalais 1762.

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different countries and which were all to do with the campaigns against the Jesuits.49 Comparing these images, the ways in which the Jesuits had been condemned and then expelled from many countries are shown to be very similar, suggesting that the expulsions were a contagious phenomenon.50 The sustained attacks on the Jesuits dominated the political and cultural contexts of the Catholic courts of Europe during the eighteenth Century and put pressure on the Pope to approve the expulsions and even to instigate them. In Portugal, the Marquis of Pombal sponsored a tremendous campaign against the Jesuits and, in 1759, the Jesuits were thrown out of all territories under the dominion of the Portuguese monarchy. Increasing the vast number of anti-Jesuit texts produced, many of which were collected by Sylva, the Recueil includes six engravings that illustrate the procedures of the Jesuit banishment from Portugal and one of these has an emblematic representation of José I as Hercules (Figure 5.7).51 The inscription has significant information indicating that the work’s provenance is from Lisbon, for it includes the name of the printseller in Lisbon: ‘chez Bonnardel’.52 This means that the mysterious engraver Montalais (fl. 1750–1800) probably worked for or had connections with this French printseller. When the engraver depicted the heroic figure of José/Hercules crushing the multiple heads of the hydra, each of them wearing a Jesuit cap, he produced a creative reading of the Portuguese social context.53 The added motto Cunarum labor est angues superare mearum (‘the task of my cradle days is to conquer snakes’), taken from Ovid, Metamorphoses 9.67, expresses the royal ability to fight against terrible enemies

49

50 51 52

53

Comparing various editions of this work, it becomes clear that they include different prints in different sequences. Many of the prints are inscribed De Montalais invenit, although there is no further information about this artist. The name is probably a pseudonym, perhaps alluding to Louis de Montale, the fictional author of the Lettres Provinciales, written by Pascal. Roehner 1997, 165–81. Sylva 1768. Probably Lourenço Antonio Bonnardel, one of the many booksellers who settled in Lisbon. This was, however, a common surname among the families of librarians working in the city, taking advantage of the privileged conditions guaranteed by King João V (1689– 1750), who exempted all foreigners from the inspections and tight rules imposed on local merchants. See further, Domingos 2000. In similar terms, Théodore de Bèze’s Emblem 28, from the Icones (1580), depicts entwined serpents, wearing mitres and even a papal crown. They obviously represent the Roman Catholic Church and are being struck by a sword held in the hand of God. This motif was later adapted by a Dutch engraver to serve a different agenda, which confirms the plasticity of the semantic potential of the emblematic language, easily fitted to new contexts, as discussed by Adams 2010.

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figure 5.7 Hercules representing the Portuguese king José I, crushing the hydra. Emblematic engraving, MONTALAIS, 1758–1759 Source gallica.bnf.fr / National Library of France

as part of his character since his childhood, exactly as was the case with Hercules. The title of Monstrorum domitori (‘tamer of monsters’) inscribed below the visual image was reasonably familiar, can be easily understood, and reinforces the idea of the fight against evil, led by the Greek hero/Portuguese ruler.54 It suggests that the two had similar power.

54

This epithet was also used by Lavanha and Iunius, as mentioned above. Following classical tradition, Valeriano, in his widely distributed Hieroglyphica, also refers to Hercules as monstrorum domitor, 1604, 284.

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The explanatory description which accompanies the emblematic composition provides the detail that the King not only crushed the heads of the Jesuits in Portugal but also neutralized the Jesuit ministers who worked abroad. That useful service is the reason why Montalais drew, on the right, the allegorical figure of the Portuguese Nation kissing the royal hand, in a grateful attitude (Figure 5.7). Many such allegorical illustrations relating to the expulsion of the Jesuits were being widely circulated during the eighteenth century which suggests that such imagery was being received positively.55 The resemblance between the allegory published by Bonnardel in Lisbon and the work of Carneiro da Silva suggests that these two images are, in some way, linked.56 The design by the Portuguese artist also has a female representation of Portugal, whose hand José I kindly takes, in trying to raise her from the ruins caused by the earthquake. The snakes substituted for the Lernaean hydra and the miniature of the equestrian statue can still evoke some of the particular circumstances of the statue’s inauguration, although the changes to the monument’s initial design do not significantly alter the notion of combat present in the extant statue, as also in the print attributed to Montalais. The intimations of a Herculean struggle clearly structure all these combinations of the verbal and the visual by the use of persuasive points of comparison for the communication of a political message.

4

Conclusion

Just as the Gallic Hercules myth was adapted to suit the ideals of renewal arising in the France of Henri IV,57 so the enlightened eighteenth-century Portuguese used allegorical and emblematic representations of the hero Hercules as a convenient vehicle for their ideological campaign. Comparing the two compositions (Figures 5.4 and 5.7), it appears that both aimed to illustrate the Herculean task taken on by the national government after the tragedy of 1755. This strategy assumes, however, two different perspectives. On the one hand, the link to the strongest hero of antiquity associates José I with a traditional image

55 56

57

See, for example Guasti 2019. Carneiro da Silva also engraved an allegorical representation, known as ‘the lost work’, which depicts some Jesuits friars cutting down the genealogical tree of the Catholic Church which Soares (1971, 58) links, based on their thematic affinities, to two prints attributed to Montalais. Two other works were made by Carneiro da Silva in respect of the anti-Jesuit campaign: see further Soares 1971, 582–3. Vivanti 1967, 197.

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of power and reinforces, in this process, the legendary roots of the Iberian people. The rebuilding of the capital could be seen as a predestined mission for an outstanding ruler, who had been chosen to continue the glorious path of his ancestors. On the other hand, the emblematic representation of Hercules crushing the hydra perfectly fits the anti-Jesuit campaign led by José I and his Prime Minister. In this context, the destruction of the Lernaean hydra and its multiple heads gained quite specific meaning. With this in mind, the comparative reading of these allegorical devices sheds new light on their symbolic meaning and stimulates a more complex interpretation of the snakes represented under the equestrian statue. All in all, the image of Hercules killing the hydra represents victory against sin, ignorance, heresy, evil and, indeed, any type of difficulty. Yet, defeating the hydra was such a difficult task that even Hercules had to ask for help, which he received from Iolaos. According to this reading of the hydra labour, the heir of João V, José I counted on his Prime Minister in order to accomplish his Herculean labour, as Hercules had upon Iolaos. José I was not alone in completing his labour, but neither was Hercules, so his claim to the title of Monstrorum domitor was, thereby, validated.

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Lavanha, J. (1622) Viagem da Catholica Real Magestade del Rey D. Filipe II N.S. ao Reyno de Portvgal e rellaçao do solene recebimento, Madrid: Tomás Junta Machado de Castro, J. (1810) Descripção Analytica da execução da Real estatua equestre do Senhor Rei Fidelíssimo D. José I, Lisbon: na Impressam Regia Montalais (1762) Recueil de figures historiques, symboliques, et tragiques pour servir à l’Histoire du XVIIIe siècle, Amsterdam: Chez Ray Libraire, chez Iver graveur Ripa, C. (1645) Iconologia, Venice: presso Cristoforo Tomasini Saavedra Fajardo, D. (1640) Idea de um Principe Politico Christiano representada em cien Empresas, Monaco: Nicolao Enrico Silva, J. (1775) Ad monvmentvm aeternvm divi Iosepho I, Lisbon: na Regia Officina, available online at http://purl.pt/4979 (accessed 10/06/2019) Sylva, J. (1768) Deducção Chronologica e Analytica Parte Primeira, na qual se manifestão pela successiva serie de cada hum dos Reynados da Monarquia Portugueza, que decorrêrão desde o Governo do Senhor Rey D. João III até o presente, os horrorosos estragos, que a Companhia denominada de Jesus fez em Portugal, e todos seus Dominios por hum Plano, e Systema por ella inalteravelmente seguido desde que entrou neste Reyno, até que foi delle proscripta, e expulsa pela justa, sabia, e providente Ley de 3 de Setembro de 1759, Lisbon: na Officina de Miguel Manescal da Costa The Jesuit College of La Flèche (1622) Le triomphe des Saincts Ignace e François Xavier, La Flèche: Chez Louis Hebert Theoi Project (2000–2017) ‘Geryon’, Atsma, A.J. (ed.), online at https://www.theoi.com/ Gigante/GiganteGeryon.html (accessed 17/07/2019) Valeriano, P. (1604) Hieroglyphica seu de sacris aegyptiorum aliarumque gentium literis Commentarii, Venetiis: apud Io. Antonium et Iacobum de Franciscis Valladier, A. (1601) Labyrinthe Royal de l’Hercule Gaulois triumphant, Avignon: Chez Jaques Bramereau Villena, E. (1499) Los doze trabajos de Hércules, Burgos: Juan de Burgos

Secondary Sources Adams, A. (2010) ‘Interpreting Bèze: a Hondius engraving and its source’, Reformation & Renaissance Review, 12: 3–18 Baxter, S. (1992) ‘William III as Hercules: the political implications of court culture’, in Schwoerer, L. (ed) The Revolution of 1688–89: changing perspectives, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 95–106 Cheke, M. (1969) Dictator of Portugal: a life of the Marquês of Pombal 1699–1782, New York: Books for Libraries Press Cholcman, T. (2015) ‘The reading of triumphal entries’ emblems: emblems as footnotes’, Word & Image, 31(3): 350–61, available online at https://doi.org/10.1080/02666286 .2015.1057431 (accessed 17/07/2019) Daly, P. (1998) Literature in the Light of the Emblem: structural parallels between the

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emblem and literature in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Toronto: University of Toronto Press Domingos, M. (2000) Livreiros de Setecentos, Lisbon: Biblioteca Nacional Fernandes, J. (2007) ‘Estrutura e função do mito de Hércules na Monarquia Lusitana de Bernardo de Brito’, Ágora: Estudos Clássicos em Debate 9: 119–50 Fernandes, M. (1861) Memória das Medalhas e Condecorações Portuguesas, Lisbon: Academia Real das Ciências Fox, D. (2019) Hercules and the King of Portugal, Nebraska: University of Nebraska Press Galinsky, G. (1972) The Herakles Theme: the adaptations of the hero in literature from Homer to the twentieth century, Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littlefield Guasti, N. (2019) ‘The age of suppression: from the Expulsions to the Restoration of the Society of Jesus (1759–1820)’, in Županov, I.G. (ed.) The Oxford Handbook of Jesuits, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 918–52 Kagan, R. (2010), Clio and the Crown: the politics of history in Medieval and early modern Spain, Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press Khoury, J. (2010) ‘Machiavelli’s Prince: the speculum principis genre turned upside down’, in Lavery, J. and Groarke, L. (eds) Literary Form, Philosophical Content: historical studies of philosophical genres, Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 126–41 Lamas, A. (1916) Medalhas Portuguesas e estrangeiras referentes a Portugal, Lisbon: Tipografia de Adolpho de Mendonça López, F. (2011) ‘Retórica monstruosa: el motivo de la hidra en la tradición emblemática’, Imago 3: 63–72 Martin, J.R. (1972) The Decorations for the Pompa Introitus Ferdinandi (Corpus Rubenianum Ludwig Burchard, HMCRLB 16), Turnhout: Brepols Maxwell, K. (1995) Pombal, Paradox of the Enlightenment, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Moreno Cuadro, F. (1985) ‘La visión emblemática del gobernante virtuoso’, Goya 187–8: 17–26 Mulryne, J.R. and Watanabe-O’Kelly, H. (2004) Europa Triumphans: court and civic festivals in early-modern Europe, Aldershot, Hants and Burlington, VT: Ashgate Mulryne, J.R. and Goldring, E. (2002) Court Festivals of the European Renaissance: arts, politics and performance, Aldershot, Hants: Ashgate Pacheco, M. (2015) ‘Greek mythology at the service of the Portuguese Inquisition: the case of Hercules and the Hydra of Lerna’, Athens Journal of Mediterranean Studies 1.1: 25–44, available online at https://www.atiner.gr/journals/mediterranean/2015‑1 ‑1‑2‑Pacheco.pdf (accessed 17/07/2019) Roehner, B. (1997) ‘Jesuits and the State: a comparative study of their expulsions (1590– 1990)’, Religion 27: 165–82

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Seijo-Richart, M. (2020) ‘A Coruña, cidade herculina: Hercules as founder of cities’, in Blanshard, A.J.L. and Stafford, E.J. (eds) The Modern Hercules, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 21, Leiden: Brill Selig, K. (2018) Studies on Alciato in Spain, Kassel: Edition Reichenberger Soares, E. (1971) História da Gravura Artística em Portugal, vol. I, Lisbon: Livraria Sam Carlos Stafford, E.J. (2012) Herakles, Abingdon, Oxon.: Routledge Stratton-Pruitt, S. (2007) ‘Imperial designs: the decoration of the library of the Escorial’, Hispanic Research Journal 8.5: 389–408, available online at https://doi.org/10.1179/ 174582007X245276 (accessed 17/07/2019) Straub, E. (1969) Repraesentatio Maiestatis oder churbayerische Freudenfeste. Die höfischen Feste in der Münchner Residenz vom 16. bis zum Ende des Jahrhunderts, Munich: Miscellanea Bavarica Monacensia Strong, R. (1984) Art and Power: Renaissance festivals, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press Vivanti, C. (1967) ‘Henry IV, the Gallic Hercules’, Courtauld Institute 30: 176–97 von Barghahn, B. (1985) Age of Gold, Age of Iron: Renaissance Spain and symbols of monarchy: the Imperial legacy of Charles V and Philip II, royal castles, palace-monasteries, princely houses, Lanham, MD: University Press of America Watanabe-O’Kelly, H. (2000) Festivals and Ceremonies: a bibliography of works relating to court, civic and religious festivals in Europe 1500–1800, London: Cassell

part 2 Exploiting the Model



chapter 6

What Identity for Hercules Gaditanus? The Role of the Gaditanian Hercules in the Invention of National History in Late-Medieval and Early-Modern Spain Pamina Fernández Camacho

1

Introduction: Hercules and Syncretism in the Iberian Peninsula

Hercules often figured in both national and local histories during the late Middle Ages and early modern period in the search for legitimacy by emerging nations in Europe, and in the pride of growing cities.1 In the Iberian peninsula, syncretism of the Phoenician god Melqart with the Greco-Roman hero had created the entity Hercules Gaditanus, who was famously worshipped in the temple of Gades (modern-day Cadiz) until the fall of the Roman Empire. Even though primary sources dealing with the ancient history of the region are scarce, he still became a central character within the narratives of history, creating a toehold that allowed for the elaboration of, and even the fabrication of, a prestigious past.2 This manoeuvring, however, posed several important problems. First, most of the ancient sources had associated this Spanish Hercules with the tenth labour, in which the hero had travelled all the way from Greece to Erytheia, located near the Ocean, so as to fight the three-bodied king Geryon and steal his cattle.3 This created an image of a foreign invader that not all authors found

1 I wish to thank Prof. Emma Stafford and the conference team of Celebrating Hercules in the Modern World, for creating a wonderful platform to share research and ideas with people who are likewise interested in the subject of Hercules, and whose contributions and conversation were so enriching in every aspect. 2 See Tate 1970, 16–32 and Caballero López 1997. On the Roman roots for the cult of Hercules in Spanish cities, see Oria Segura 1996, 51–3. 3 The first attested source for this story is Hesiod, Theogony 287–94. The first source which associates this story with the west of the Iberian peninsula is Stesichorus fr. 7 SLG (= Str. 3.2.11). The first source identifying the location with Gades itself was probably Pherekydes, according to Strabo 3.5.4, though Erytheia had already been located nearby by a tradition mentioned in Herodotus 4.8.2. For an overview of sources for the labour, see Stafford 2012, 42–5. For a gen-

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palatable, and that many found it necessary to correct or explain. The first problem became, in turn, part of a second, larger problem: the moral ambiguity of the hero, which had sometimes been pinpointed by early Christian authors in their crusade to discredit pagan gods, became even more problematic if Hercules was to be understood as having been an unlawful conqueror or, worse, a pirate.4 A third problem was the exact identification of this Hercules: the syncretic nature of his configuration meant that, merged within this one Spanish Hercules were elements from both Eastern (Phoenician Melqart, endowed in turn with Egyptian traits), and Western (Greco-Roman Hercules) deities.5 The characteristics sometimes clashed with each other, leaving traces in the sources of at least two different Herculeses. Combinations of traits increased further with the addition of other syncretic elements from, for instance, the Biblical figure Samson. This chapter demonstrates, nevertheless, that this last problem might provide the solution to the first two problems identified above. It will examine the evolution of the imagery of Hercules on the Iberian peninsula from the syncretisms of antiquity to the proliferation of a series of heroes with the same name in medieval and early modern times, manoeuvres which can be used to show how different versions of the past contributed to the shaping of histories in the present. Source material from antiquity will be surveyed (§2) before an analysis of the work of Spanish historians of the medieval period (§3) and those of the early modern period (§4).

2

The Ancient Sources on Hercules Gaditanus: Background for a Duality

As mentioned above, Hercules appears in many Classical sources related to the Iberian Peninsula.6 In these, he is very often traced to the Phoenician eral study of the Western exploits of Hercules, see Jourdain-Annequin 1982, 1989a, 1989b, 1992, and Mastrocinque 1993. 4 Lactantius, Div. inst. 1.9 (trans. Fletcher 1871, cf. n. 6): “Did not Hercules, who is most renowned for his valour, and who is regarded as an Africanus among the gods, by his debaucheries, lusts, and adulteries, pollute the world, which he is related to have traversed and purified? And no wonder, since he was born from an adulterous intercourse with Alcmena.” 5 See Bonnet 1988 for a complete overview of the Melqart figure, its traits, myths and rituals in the ancient world, especially 103–4 for the Egyptian connection. 6 The various texts quoted in this chapter have been translated from Latin and Spanish. Unless otherwise stated the translations provided are those of the author; where a text has been translated from a published critical edition rather than from a scanned manuscript or facsimile, the name of the editor has been included.

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island colony of Gades, becoming an element in a larger symbolical landscape. Through a syncretic relationship with the Phoenician god Melqart, who presided over the Phoenician attempt at colonization and the foundation of the Oceanic trade port near the mouth of the Strait, Hercules was located right at the point of intersection between the presence of merchants, conquerors and explorers and the myths connected to the end of the world and the Ocean.7 Such was the weight of this remote colony in the Greek and Roman imagination, that it became associated with various mythical narratives. Gadeira, as it was known in Greek, was the point of geographical reference for Plato’s Atlantis myth. According to Plato, one of the regions of that imaginary continent was ruled by king Gadeiros, who gave his name to the ‘Gadeiric region’, which was nearest to Atlantis (Critias 114b). Gadeira was also identified with the end of the world as a cosmic frontier, and the mythical kiones (‘columns’), once related to various primordial deities such as Atlas, Kronos or Briareus were substituted with the ‘Pillars of Hercules’, located either at Gades or at the Strait (or both) by Greek and Roman authors.8 Most important of all, it was identified with the mythical landscape of the tenth labour of Hercules, as the island Erytheia, where the three-bodied Geryon was killed and his cattle stolen. The temple of the Phoenician god Melqart in Gades became known as the Herakleion, further anchoring the legends of the Greek hero to the area. In time, this came to be seen as evidence that he had been there even before the Phoenicians who had brought him and built the temple.9 Various Greco-Roman landmarks made reference to Hercules and his deeds, such as the Pillars of Hercules, the Islands of Hercules, or the Road of Hercules.10 The ideology behind this substi7

8

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For a comprehensive review of the archaeological evidence for Hercules/Melqart syncretism in the Iberian Peninsula, see Oria Segura 1996. For the far West as symbolical scenery for certain labours of Hercules, see Jourdain-Annequin 1989b. For Hercules as an element of mediation and acculturation between the Greeks and other peoples of the West, see Malkin 2011. For an exploration of Western myths connected with Hercules and the possible non-Greek origin of some of them, see Fernández Camacho 2017. For instance PEG Fr. 3 (= Sch. A.R., 1. 1165c) and Fr. 16 (= Sch. Pi., N. 3. 40). See also Mangas and Plácido 1998, 53–5 and Antonelli 1998, 191–3. Strabo 3.5.5–6 provides an account of all the proposed locations for the Pillars of Hercules and the controversy surrounding them, contrasting Greek geographers with locals. See the interesting anecdote (told by Clearchus and preserved in a collection of proverbs, Zen. 5.48 = Clearch. Fr. 67 Wehrli) about the consultation of the oracle of Delphi by both Herculeses, from which it follows that the Phoenician Hercules was the last to arrive. On the controversies surrounding the subject, see above n. 8. On the Pillars of Hercules, see above n. 8. On the Islands of Hercules, Avienus (Ora Maritima 352–61) and Strabo 3.5.3–5 both quote previous authors on the subject. The Road of Hercules is linked to the myth of Geryon in Avienus (Ora Maritima 320–24). See also Plácido 1993.

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tution is not hard to discern: by identifying the Phoenician god with the Greek one, and assigning the former’s temple and landmarks to the latter, the Greeks could symbolically claim the region as part of their own world. Hercules, as a wandering hero and bringer of civilization to previously unknown lands, was often used for this purpose. It is therefore not surprising that Pherekydes, the first author explicitly to connect Erytheia with Gades, lived in democratic Athens at a time when dominating the Western trade routes and defeating the Carthaginians became cherished projects – that is until they came to a rather abrupt end after the failure of the expedition to Sicily.11 The Gaditani themselves, however, did not totally agree with this mythical narrative. Although the Greek worldview became hegemonic after Alexander’s conquest of the East and the Roman conquest of the West, the temple of Gades kept its own traditions, even managing to have these surface in certain sources, due to the visits made by some famous intellectuals.12 During the reign of Augustus, Posidonius, for instance, visited Gades in search of scientific truths about phenomena linked to sunset and the tides. He learned of an alternative identity, rooted in Judaism, for the Pillars of Hercules being the two betyls (sacred stones) that had been worshipped in the temple. Later, Strabo reported Posidonius’ findings in his Geography.13 By this time, Pomponius Mela, a local geographer, had written of the temple of Gades as a place famous for its antiquity, because the god worshipped there was the Egyptian Hercules, brought by the Tyrians.14 This designation of ‘Egyptian’ is already found in Herodotus, who distinguishes between two Herculeses: an ancient god, who was well-known in both Egypt and Tyre, and the hero who once lived in Greece.15 The correspondence would have been greatly helped by the iconography of the Gaditanian god, who is often depicted with Egyptian attributes.16 In addition, Mela rejected the identification of Erytheia with Gades, relocating the mythical island of the tenth labour to the coast of Portugal, effectively dissociating the Greek Hercules and his exploits from the Phoenician god he knew and possibly worshipped.17

11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Fernández Camacho 2013b provides a study of the ideology of the appropriation of the West through the tenth labour. Marín Ceballos and Jiménez Flores 2011, Fernández Camacho 2013a. Strabo 3.5.5. On the signification of these betyls and the origins of their cult, see López Melero 1988. Mela 3.46. Herodotus 2.43–4. Corzo Sánchez 2005, 93–107. Mela 3.47.

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The idea of the Gaditanian Hercules being different from the Greek Hercules slowly became widespread in the Empire. Arrian, Appian, Silius Italicus and Philostratus all described the Hercules in the temple of Gades as an Eastern god with his own forms of cult.18 The latter went further, and described a parallel worship taking place in the temple, with a different altar for each Hercules. Even outside the intellectual milieu where those texts were written, the god of Gades was known in the Empire with the distinctive designation of Hercules Gaditanus, as shown by inscriptions and by coinage from the reign of Hadrian, whose mother was of Gaditanian origin.19 This, however, had no effect on the mythical narrative, which had taken on a life of its own. From the time of Pherekydes, the tenth labour of the Greek Hercules was located, with very few exceptions, in Gades or its immediate surroundings. Even in sources where his exploit was euhemerized as part of a quasi-historical narrative in which he was turned into a great commander who fought against either a single tyrant or three tyrannical brothers, Gades was still part of the story, the place where the hero set the Pillars commemorating his expedition.20 This complex and often contradictory make up, best synthetized in Philostratus’ description of a temple with two separate altars, was the legacy of antiquity. It would become the basis for the role (or roles) which this mythical figure would play in the work of the Spanish historians of the medieval and early modern period, as a tool for the construction of a legendary past for the new nation.

3

Medieval Sources: The Good and Bad Hercules

The first medieval historian of the Iberian Peninsula to make an active use of these traditions, inserting them into his version of the origins of the Spanish people, was Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada, archbishop of Toledo in the early thirteenth century. As a Christian, he followed the Euhemeristic tradition of Hercules the mortal military commander, who came to Spain to fight the local king Geryon. According to Jiménez de Rada’s Historia de rebus Hispanie, known in English as General History of Spain, Gades was founded by Hercules, not figuratively, as in the ancient sources (where he was the oracle god who presided

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Arrian, An. 2.16.4; Appian, Hisp. 1.2; Silius Italicus 3.14–31; Philostratus, VA 5.4. Garzón Blanco 1988. Diodorus Siculus 4.18.2.

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over the colonizing enterprise), but in a very real way: Hercules himself had the city built, as a harbour with fortified towers, to act as a military base for his campaign.21 This notion would be exploited by all later traditions, and not only national histories, like that of Florián de Ocampo, but local histories as well, like that of Juan Bautista Suárez de Salazar.22 Even today, the city’s coat of arms shows the figure of Hercules as a founder.23 With the introduction of the Greek hero as an important character into Spain’s early history, however, problems arose about his moral character and the legitimacy of his campaign. From the perspectives of newly inaugurated Spanish national histories, Geryon was the native king, and Hercules an invading foreigner. In Jimenez de Rada’s text, we witness the beginning of a confrontation between the worldview implied in most of the original sources of the legend, the exploits of the hero as an example of Greek civilisation conquering barbarism, and the worldview of the Spanish historians, who would often prefer to stress the independence and continuing national character of a native people with remote Biblical origins, and who decried mythical and historical invasions alike as evils befalling their territory from the beginning of time.24 For this reason, this author can celebrate the hero’s exploits against Geryon and Cacus, but end the episode with these ominous words:25 And, after conquering or, as should rather be said, devastating Spain, which had been a peaceful and prosperous country since its origins when it was settled by the Cetubals, the sword of Hercules put under the yoke of the Greeks its unfortunate people, whom a long period of calm had made peaceful and indolent, and naturally hostile to slavery. And he gave them 21 22 23 24 25

Jiménez de Rada, Historia 1.4–5. These are significant examples of both genres. Hercules’ foundation of Gades appears in de Ocampo 1553, 1.13 and in Suárez de Salazar 1610, 1.3. For a discussion of Hercules as the (enduring) founder of Gades into the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, see Seijo-Richart 2020. Justin 44.4 is an exception, which would inspire alternative views of the traditional legend, see below. Jiménez de Rada, Historia 1.5: Et optenta Hispania, immo verius desolata, que a sui principio, quam primo Cetubeles habitarunt, satis prospera felicitate gaudebat, infelices populos, quos longa quies inhermes fecerat et ignavos, Grecorum iugo, qui naturaliter subditis sunt infesti, gladius Herculis subiugavit, dimissoque eis Hispan quodam nobili qui secum ad adolescencia fuerat conversatus, ab eius nomine Hesperiam Hispaniam nominavit. Jiménez de Rada’s accounts of these labours are based on classical sources where Hercules was depicted positively, especially the Cacus exploit (1.6), which is based on the version of Virgil’s Aeneid.

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Hispan as ruler, a nobleman whom he had raised since adolescence, and named Hesperia Hispania after him. The ethnic differences between Phoenicians and Greeks did not interest Jiménez de Rada, but his Hercules is definitely a foreign invader, the first of many.26 And yet, Hercules is said to have bequeathed the throne to Hispan, the eponymous king of the country, who appears here for the first time in a written history. This led Tate to claim that Jiménez de Rada had chosen Hercules as the ancestor of the Spanish monarchy.27 Fernández Valverde is of a different opinion, proposing that the real connection established here by Jiménez de Rada is between the Spanish monarchy and the original population (descendants of Tubal, grandson of Noah), from whom Ferdinand III is said to be descended.28 It is, however, not easy to dismiss the impact of Hispan (and his relationship with Hercules) in all the later chronicles. Jiménez de Rada had left room for both positive and negative interpretations of the mythical narrative. In subsequent histories, this ambiguity would find a natural way of expressing itself via the building up of Herculean characteristics into several figures, using the ancient sources that spoke of more than one Hercules as materials for these constructions. The first of these, the Estoria de España (c. 1270–1274) or History of Spain, compiled under king Alfonso X aka Alfonso ‘the Wise’, was not ambiguous in giving a positive interpretation of the figure of Hercules, even though the idea of several Herculeses is already present in this text, if only for the sake of erudition. The first of them was ‘a contemporary of Moses’ and lived ‘in a region of Greece facing Persia’; the second, who also lived in the time of Moses, was from the Greek city of ‘Fenis’, founded by Fenis, son of Agenor, a place full of vice ‘that was said to have no equal in the world, as the bird Phoenix is alone of its kind’. The third, and most famous of all, was the Hercules who came to Spain, and therefore the only one to have a part in the story.29 All three are vaguely defined as ‘Greek’, but from the descriptions we can ascertain that the first two are supposed to be Eastern (the second clearly Phoenician), and the third the traditional Greek Hercules. This almost corresponds to the original distinction first made by Herodotus, except for the fact that the Greek historian considered the Egyptian and the Phoenician gods to

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See Fernández Valverde 1989, 45–6. Tate 1970, 16–17. Fernández Valverde 1989, 46. Estoria de España 1.4: ‘On the three Herculeses who lived in this world, and why they were so named’.

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be one and the same, only different from the more recent Greek hero.30 Those who used the term ‘Egyptian’ to refer to Hercules Gaditanus also shared this same view.31 Augustine provided further confusion when he linked one of them to the Biblical character Samson.32 The Estoria de España seems to have taken its interpretation from Augustine. Of the two Eastern Herculeses nothing of note is said in the Estoria de España. It is the Greek hero who came to Spain who is given absolute preeminence over the others, even to the point of claiming that, despite being born before him, they were named after him, following prophecies which anticipated the future fame and glory of the name. This Hercules, coming from Africa, set foot on an island ‘between the Mediterranean and the Ocean’, the island of Gades (or Cadiz/Caliz, as it had become known by now in the Castilian language), where he left the first of his ships and built a tower with a statue of a man with a key in his hand.33 This tower and statue are described by early medieval sources as the most notorious monument remaining in the city from ancient times, and since various ancient sources mention the Pillars of Hercules as being located in the city, the identification of one monument with the other became a widespread notion.34 Then the hero goes on to fight Geryon, not as an invader, but, as in the classical version, to free the land from a tyrant.35 Finally, in following Jiménez de Rada’s account, the Estoria tells its reader

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Herodotus, Histories 2.43–44. This is in spite of the fact that Plutarch, when refuting Herodotus, had already made the Egyptian Hercules and Phoenician Hercules into two distinct and different entities, see Herod. Mal. 13–14 (Mor. 854E). De civ. 18.19. Estoria de España 1.5. For the conflation of the monuments see Martínez Montávez 1974, 52–64 and Abellán Pérez 1996, 67–9. Further on the tower of Gades, see Seijo-Richart forthcoming. Estoria de España 1.7: “E cuando Hercules llego a aquel logar (Lisboa), sopo como un rey muy poderoso avie en Esperia que tenie la tierra desde Taio fasta en Duero (…) y este fue Gerion, y era gigante muy fuerte e muy liger, de guisa que por fuerça derecha avie conquista la tierra e avien le por fuerça a dar los omnes la meatad de quanto avien, tan bien de los fijos e de las fijas cuemo de lo al, e a los que no lo querien fazer matavalos. E por esto era muy mal quisto de todas las gentes, mas no osavan yr contra el por que no avie y qui los defender; et cuando sopieron que Hercules vinie, enviaron le dezir, que el, que tantos buenos fechos fiziera e tantos omnes sacara de premia e de mal sennorio, que acorriesse a ellos, e quell darien toda la tierra. (…) Hercules envio dezir a Gerion que las yentes no avien por que matarse ni por que lazrar, mas que lidiassen ellos amos un por otro; y el que venciesse, que fuesse toda la tierra suya. E Gerion atreviendose en su valentia, e demas que era mayor que el, dixo quel plazie. E lidiaron tres dias que nos podien vencer; en cabo vencio Hercules, e cortol la cabeça.”

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that Hercules left in pursuit of further exploits, and bequeathed the throne to Hispan, who is here referred to as his nephew (making him a probable corruption of the classical figure of Iolaos). Hispan, in building a prosperous city and arranging to be buried there, establishes his capital on the island in commemoration of Hercules, who has, for all intents and purposes, become fully identified with the place.36 This story is, in part, an adaptation of the ancient idea of ‘the tomb of Hercules in Gades’, which can be found in authors such as Arnobius and Mela.37 The succession of Hispan is, for the most part, a political projection. King Alfonso X, under whose name the chronicle was compiled, had reconquered Cadiz, had introduced measures to bring it back to its former splendour and had made plans to be buried there, which he confided in his letters to Pope Urban IV.38 Under the name of the mythical king Hispan, a precedent for the ‘Wise King’ might well have been deliberately set up. The Hercules of Cadiz has surely acquired here a mythical exemplary status so as to be a model for the Spanish monarchy to exploit.

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“And, once Hercules came to that place (Lisbon), he learnt that a powerful King lived in Hesperia, who owned the lands from the Tagus to the Douro (…) and he was Geryon, a very strong but lithe giant, who had conquered the land by his might. And he forced all men to give him half of their possessions, including their children, and killed those who refused to do so. And for this reason he was greatly disliked by all, but no one dared oppose him since they had no champion, so when they heard that Hercules had arrived, they sent him an embassy. They said that if he, who had performed such great deeds and freed so many men from unjust governance, consented to help them with this, they, in exchange, would let him rule the land. (…) Hercules sent word to Geryon, claiming that other people should not have to fight or be killed over this, for they could fight one another in single combat, and then the land would belong to the victor. And Geryon, confident in his valour and greater stature, agreed to this proposal. And they fought for three days, and, in the end, Hercules won, cutting off his enemy’s head.” Estoria de España 1.9–10: “E desque toda la ovo poblada e assessegada, escoio pora su morada Caliz, la ysla de Hercules, y esto fizo el menbrandosse de la criança e del bien que Hercules le fiziera. (…) En esta manera fue poblada la villa de Caliz y la ysla, que fue una de las mas nobles cosas que ovo en Espanna; e tanto la amava el rey Espan que alli puso su siella e se corono, e fizo la cabeça de toda su tierra, e assi lo fue en su vida. (…) E fue soterrado en Caliz.” “And, once it was entirely populated and pacified, he chose Caliz, the island of Hercules, for his dwelling place. And this he did because he remembered how Hercules had raised him and done him so much good. (…) And so, the city of Caliz was inhabited, and the island, one of the most illustrious locations in all of Spain, and it was so well loved by king Espan that he made it the seat of his power and crowned himself there, and it became the capital of the country, and it remained so while he lived. (…) And he was buried in Caliz.” Arnobius, Nat. 1.36; Mela 3.46. Castro 1858, 248.

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Early Modern Sources: Eastern Hercules and the Anti-classical Reaction

A reaction to this mythologizing of the pre-history of Spain came in the fifteenth century, after a long time in which there was no significant Spanish history that dealt with antiquity.39 Fabricio de Vagad, Rui Sánchez, and especially Joan Margarit i Pau, cardinal and archbishop of Gerona, piled invectives onto the figure of Hercules and his successor Hispan, reverting to the idea that they had been foreign invaders.40 This change of attitude was prompted by the spirit of the times, as the now unified and expanding Spanish kingdoms wished to assert their importance in antiquity, but against the evidence of classical authors; this anti-classical rebellion of sorts had its roots in the perceived contempt for Spanish barbarism displayed by Italian Renaissance intellectuals.41 So Geryon and his people were depicted positively again, as the original, peaceful inhabitants of Spain, who suffered an unjust invasion by the Greeks. In the archbishop’s Paralipomenon Hispaniae, or ‘Appendices on the history of Spain’, written at the end of the fifteenth century, the version of Geryon merely reacting to an unprovoked attack and the theft of his cattle, as found in Justin’s Epitome of Pompeius Trogus’ Philippic History, is given pre-eminence over all other versions.42 The Paralipomenon also mentions the division of the legendary Hercules into three, characterising these as Phoenician (natione Syrum, ex Phoenicia), Greek (Graecus filiusque Iouis Cretensis regis), and Egyptian or African (Aegyptius siue Afer). The Phoenician Hercules is considered the first and most important of them all; to him are attributed the twelve labours and, following Augustine, he is identified with the Biblical Samson. The ‘Egyp39

40 41 42

Hercules received some mention in the works of A. García de Santa María (1456) and Rodrigo Sánchez de Arévalo (1470), but he was given much less importance than in the work of their predecessors, see Caballero López 1997, 90–3 and Tate 1970, 20. Tate 1970, 23–4, Álvarez Junco & De la Fuente Monge 2017, 63. Tate 1970, 123–50, Álvarez Junco & De la Fuente Monge 2017, 60–61. Paralipomenon Hispaniae 2.1.1: Vastata igitur Troia sub Laomedonte, rege infelicissimo, traditaque ab Hercule Hesiona, praefati Laomedontis filia, Telamoni, Salaminorum regi, in concubinam, is utique omni sceleratissimo sceleratior, cum nihil in Asia praedandum conspexisset, audita Geryonis Hispaniarum regis fama quod ditissimus esset, ut refert Iustinus libro ultimo, ad illum praedandum animum flexit. “After devastating Troy during the reign of Laomedon, unhappiest of kings, and giving Hesione, daughter of Laomedon, to Telamon king of Salamis as his concubine, this most evil of all evil men, since he saw nothing else in Asia he could pillage, and he had heard about the great riches of King Geryon of Spain – so Justin says in the last of his books – decided to go and pillage them.”

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tian or African Hercules’, whom Margarit found in Boccaccio’s Genealogies of the Gods, was allotted the African exploits of Hercules, the original Pillars, and the death on Mount Oeta.43 The Greek Hercules was left with no exploit of note, and yet, being a prince and the son of King Jupiter of Crete, he was still too good to be identified with the evil pirate who sacked Spain.44 In Margarit’s opinion, the latter was an imposter, a bastard who pretended to be the Greek Hercules, who pretended to build the real Pillars, who re-populated, rather than founded, Gades and, worst of all, who pretended to be a god.45 This negative view 43 44

45

Boccaccio, De Geneal. Deor. 7.30–32. See Paralipomenon Hispaniae 2.3. The chapter is aptly named De pluribus aliis Herculibus (‘On several other Herculeses’): Margarit names seven in total, though the latter ones are well-known historical characters who cultivated an identification with the hero for political purposes. Paralipomenon Hispaniae 2.2.7–15: Hic autem de quo dicturi sumus natus est in ea Italiae ora quae Magna olim Graecia dicebatur, ciuitate Tarenti. Ipsius enim pater ignoratur. Erat in ea uir priuatus nomine Amphitryo, cui erat uxor nomine Alcmena, quae hunc Herculem, absente uiro, peperit ex adulterio et Alcidem appellauit. (…) Non ergo quisquam putet hunc Herculem nostrum illum esse qui illa xii pericula superauit nec illum qui Antaeum in Oeta monte peremit neque illum alium quem Graeci deum putauerunt; hic enim noster sceleratissimorum scelestissimus et omnium sui nominis deterrimus fuit. (…) Collectaque magna manu Tyriorum ac Sidoniorum Italicorumque, classe instructa, in Hispaniam uenit, ubi cum alterum Hispaniae regem seu tres fratres Geryones etiam armis uictos peremisset, falso mentitus est se deum Iouisque filium nouamque in Hispania ac falsam introduxit religionem atque omnia quae ad priscos sui nominis Hercules pertinebant laudanda occupauit. “The one we will speak about was born on the coast of Italy known in the past as Magna Graecia, in the city of Tarentum. His father was unknown. There was a private citizen named Amphitryon, whose wife was Alcmena, who bore this Hercules in her husband’s absence, as a fruit of adultery, and named him Alkides. (…) Therefore, nobody should believe that this Hercules is the same as the one who performed the twelve labours, or the one who killed Antaeus and died on Mount Oeta, or that other one believed by the Greeks to be a god: our Hercules was the most wicked of men and the worst of all who bore the name. (…) Having raised a great contingent of Tyrians, Sidonians and Italians, and prepared a fleet, he came to Spain, where, after defeating in combat and killing either another king or three brothers named Geryon, he pretended to be a god and the son of Jupiter, and he introduced in Spain a new and false religion, attributing to himself all the worthy deeds belonging to past Herculeses.” On his (non-)foundation of Gades (Paralipomenon Hispaniae 2.1): Tartessum autem urbem in Gades mutato nomine ex Tyriis et Sidonis ampliauit (‘And changing the name of the city of Tartessus to Gades, he increased its population with Tyrians and Sidonians’). Speaking of a different Hercules, the Archbishop later states (Paralipomenon Hispaniae 2.3.9): Hic enim Hercules Aegyptius siue Afer totam peragrauit Libyam et cum peruenisset in Oceanum ibi columnas fixit ad Libyae partem, ad cuius aemulationem noster Hercules, cum in Hispaniam uenisset, fixit alias ad partem Europae in Gaditano, ut meminit Diodorus libro quarto.

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seemed corroborated by the authority of Lactantius, who had condemned the figure of the classical hero in his Divine Institutions.46 This reaction was anti-classical in nature, for the importance of the Greek Hercules was severely minimized in favour of the non-Greek ones. Eastern origins in general, and Egyptian or Semitic origins in particular, especially if there was a Bible connection, were employed as a guarantor of antiquity over and beyond the claims of the Graeco-Roman world. In line with this, the African/Egyptian Hercules became the predecessor of the Greek hero in the Strait, incorporating the main traits of Hercules Gaditanus from the ancient sources including traces of the old polemical comparisons that had made distinctions between the Gaditanian and the Greek Hercules. The latter is explicitly said to have travelled to the end of the world after the former, and to have copied him by building a second set of Pillars.47 He was not a real founder, but an imposter who merely repopulated a city which existed already (that it could have originally been founded by the former Hercules is left implicit) and changed its name. This seems to bring us back to the ancient debate, and, though the context is very different, the purpose remains oddly similar: to argue for the pre-eminence of the non-Greek ethnical element over the Greek. Also, the reaction against the Estoria de España is left incomplete, since the Greek Hercules is attacked in the Paralipomenon only at the expense of rehabilitating the other Hercules and arguing for his earlier arrival at the Strait. However, the author who made the best use of the concept of the different Herculeses was the infamous Dominican friar Giovanni Nanni (1437–1502), or Annius of Viterbo, as he preferred to call himself.48 His chronicle of Spanish antiquities was written, as was the Paralipomenon Hispaniae, for the Catholic Monarchs, Isabel and Ferdinand. Known by its expansive title De primis temporibus et quattuor ac viginti regibus Hispaniae et eius antiquitate (On the Earliest Hostory and on Twenty-four Kings of Spain and Their Time), it was a masterpiece of historical forgery, attributing to Spain a detailed list of twentyfour mythical kings, who finally gave the Spanish monarchy the much-desired boost in terms of legitimacy and antiquity that the classical sources had failed to provide. Annius of Viterbo pretended to base his work on a mixture of known authors, invented ones, and authors who had been mentioned by other authors,

46 47 48

“This Hercules, the Egyptian, or African, travelled across the entire region of Libya. When he arrived at the Ocean, he erected Pillars on the Libyan coast, and, trying to emulate them, our own Hercules, when he came to Spain, set other Pillars on the European coast, in Gades, as remembered by Diodorus in his fourth book.” Lactantius, Divin. Inst. 5.9. Cf. n. 8. For more on Annius of Viterbo, see the chapters by Deligiannis and Laruelle in this volume.

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and whose work he pretended to have discovered, all of it supported by archaeological evidence he had forged.49 The level of chronological detail and coherence of the ensemble bedazzled readers into believing the author’s every claim, a true prefiguration of what we, over four hundred years later, would call ‘fake news’. However, all kings between Tubal, grandson of Noah, and Gargoris and Habis, who were mentioned in Justin’s Epitome, were inventions of Annius of Viterbo – except for Hercules. The writer narrowed down the list of Herculeses to just two. He did not need more to solve the dichotomy between the good ancestor and the evil invader. The older Hercules was, of course, the African-Egyptian Hercules, a positive figure who defeated three evil brothers, sons of the original tyrant Geryon, who was, crucially, not a native any more, but a Mauritanian invader.50 This Hercules left his eponymous descendants Hispal and Hispan to inherit the throne he had conquered, and, after their deaths, came back to reign himself. To integrate Hercules more completely with the Egyptian sources he claimed to be using, Annius of Viterbo identified Hercules with Horus, the son of Osiris, using elements of real Egyptian myth as they were transmitted in Greek sources. In his version of events:51 Hercules the Libyan, son of Osiris, having declared a worldwide war on criminals in order to avenge the death of his father, slew his uncle Typhoeus in Egypt, destroyed Busiris in Phoenicia, killed the younger Typhoeus in Phrygia, slaughtered Milynus, Prefect of the seas, in Crete, left Antaeus lying on the sands of Libya, and fought the three Geryons in single combat in Spain; after which, intending to leave for Italy to fight the Laestrygo49 50

51

Caballero López 2002, Caro Baroja 1992, 49–96. De primis temporibus etc. 10: Dictus est autem Gerion a vocabulo Aphro, et propie Hebraeo Gera, id est advena, quod teste Beroso ex Mauritania Hispaniam invasit atque advenit. (‘He was called Geryon in the African language, and Gera in Hebraic, which means foreigner, as according to Berosus he arrived and invaded Spain from Mauritania.’) Annius of Viterbo, De primis temporibus etc. 11–14: Lybius Hercules Osiridis filius, in ultionem paternae caedis, bello facinorosis per totum orbem indicto, patruum suum Typhoeum in Aegypto iugulavit, Busiridem in Phoenicia delevit, iuniorem Typhoeum in Phrygia enecavit, Mylinum maris praefectum in Creta obtruncavit, Antheum Libycis harenis stravit, et in Hispania tres Geriones singulari provocatos certamine sustulit, et contra Lestrigones in Italiam profecturus, ut ait Berosus, creavit Hispaniae regis Hispalum. (…) Postquam Hercules Italia composita functus est omnibus laboribus, teste Beroso, ab Italia anno decimonono Altadis in Hispanias rediit, ubi eius nepos Hispanus regnabat. Quumque Hispanus naturae concessiset ultimo anno Altadis, ipse Hercules senex admodum regnum Hispaniae iniit anno primo Mamiti. (…) Cuius ossibus opulentum sepulchrum atque templum condidere Hispani apud Gades.

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nians, as told by Berosus, made Hispal king of Spain. (…) After Hercules had unified Italy and finished all his labours, Berosus says, he returned to Spain in the nineteenth year of Altadis, where his grandson Hispan was now king. As Hispan reached the last year of his life on the last year of Altadis, Hercules himself took up the crown as an old man, becoming king of Spain in the first year of Mamiti. (…) The Spaniards built a magnificent tomb for his remains and a temple in Gades. Geryon’s three sons, in this version, are part of an international conspiracy to have Osiris murdered through his brother Typhon, so Hercules/Horus’s expedition to Spain becomes one of revenge against those who had killed his father. After his death, this Hercules is, of course, buried in the temple of Gades. According to the later historian Florián de Ocampo, who developed the material of Annius of Viterbo further in his attempt to write the first early-modern national history under the reign of Charles I, this Egyptian Hercules was the same as the Tyrian (or Phoenician) Hercules, in accordance with the original assessment of Herodotus.52 Ocampo even explained that Hercules received this second identity because of an alleged historical confusion which developed in the sources:53 That historian, Arrian (…) suspects, as he does not seem certain of it, that Hercules, the one who came to Spain and spent many years there, was born in Tyre; since at the time of this Arrian there was a temple in the city of Tartessus, near Tarifa, where this god Hercules was worshipped with sacrifices and ceremonies following Tyrian custom. However (…) the sacrifices in Tarifa cannot prove what Arrian claims, for, as we will see in the following books, that temple was renewed and embellished in Spain 52

53

Caballero López 2004. Ocampo’s work, known as Crónica General de España was never finished, but its first five books were published in Medina del Campo in 1553 and it was later continued by Ambrosio de Morales. Crónica General de España 1.13: “Aquel historiador Arriano (…) sospecha, dado que no se determina en ello, que Hercoles, el que dizen aver venido en España, y estado muchos años en ella, seria natural de Tyro: movido solamente porque en el tiempo desde Arriano durava en el pueblo de Tarteso, cerca de Tarifa, un templo, donde reverenciavan este dios Hercoles con sacrificios y cerimonias a la costumbre de Tyro. Pero (…) los sacrificios del tenplo de Tarifa no hazen al caso para confirmar lo que el historiador Arriano pretende, porque tanbien veremos en alguna parte de los libros siguientes que aquel tenplo fue renovado y engrandecido en España muchos años despues por cierta gente Cartaginesa, que señorearon el Andaluzia: y estos conservaron sienpre las cerimonias mismas y plegarias de los de Tyro, como descendientes que dellos eran (…).”

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much later, by the Carthaginian people who conquered Andalusia: and they always kept Tyrian custom for sacrifices and prayers, since they were their descendants (…). This issue becomes embroiled with others which deserve their own discussion. As someone who was trying to write a general history of Spain beyond royal genealogies and mythical founders, Ocampo also had to deal with actual colonisation and invasions by other peoples from the Mediterranean. In his colourful version of later historical events, the Egyptian Hercules enjoys a ‘second life’ as a figure of worship, with the battle for dominance over his cult becoming inextricably linked to changes in the balance of power in the local area. For Ocampo’s worldview, it is crucial that the Phoenician and Carthaginian colonisers are depicted as latecomers who appropriate the cult of the ancientEgyptian Hercules for their own nefarious ends. This, inadvertently, causes the whole story of Hercules in the West to turn around on itself: the Phoenician Hercules, once appropriated by the Greeks, is now claimed to have been appropriated by none other than those same Phoenicians who had first brought him to the peninsula. The Greek Hercules fares, however, even worse. For Annius of Viterbo he is not only much less ancient than his Egyptian counterpart, but also a mere adventurer, a pirate who made incursions across the coast, and who was mistakenly attributed the identity of the older Hercules.54 This reduced role made subsequent historians such as Ocampo deny, or at least express heavy doubts about, his presence in the peninsula in ancient times.55

5

Conclusions: The Importance of ‘the Other Hercules’ in Spanish History

Though aspersions were cast very soon over the authenticity of his sources, the work of Annius of Viterbo was used, or at least cited, by the very historians who claimed not to believe him, like Florián de Ocampo (see above), Pedro de Medina, Esteban de Garibay or even the extremely critical Juan de Mariana.56 Through him, and through them, the Hercules Gaditanus of antiquity, charac54

55 56

De primis temporibus etc. 26: Erat enim Alcides Hercules pirate maximus non iusti belli et ordinatae militiae dux. (‘Hercules Alcides was the greatest of pirates, not a general engaging in just wars and leading a regular army.’) Crónica General de España 2.2. Caballero López 1997, 98–9.

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terised by an amalgamation of Egyptian and Phoenician traits, became established as an important mythical ancestor of the Spanish monarchy, to the detriment of the Greek hero featured in most ancient sources. The sources which stressed the Eastern identity of the Hercules worshipped in Gades became the cornerstone of an ideological construction which allowed the Spanish intellectuals of the early-modern and Baroque periods to boast of a prestigious antiquity, pre-dating the arrival of Greek and Italian invaders. This preference for Eastern origins culminated, in the final years of the seventeenth century, in Cadiz Phenicia, a work where Gaspar Ibáñez de Segovia, Marquis of Mondéjar, tried to use Cadiz and its Phoenician identity as the basis for a more modern historical vision of Spain’s remote national past.57 Mondéjar’s critical attitude towards his predecessors and his philological approach to ancient sources, far ahead of his time, went hand in hand with his admiration for the Phoenicians as a nation of merchants and entrepreneurs, who kindled the first embers of civilization on the Iberian Peninsula. The first and most important Phoenician colony, with a strong tradition in the sources, was Cadiz, so it was there that Mondéjar went in order to discover the remote origins of the Spanish nation, eschewing all the previous mythical genealogies. An entire chapter of his work (‘Disquisición Quarta’, ‘Fourth Disquisition’) was consequently dedicated to the traditions regarding the tenth labour and the coming of the Greek Hercules to the West. There, after a critical comparison of all the classical sources pertaining to this episode, Mondéjar reaches the firm (and, by now, familiar) conclusion that the Greek Hercules never set foot on the island, conquered anyone or founded anything before the Phoenicians arrived, the story being merely an attempt at cultural appropriation by deceitful Greek authors.58 The only Hercules who reached Spanish shores was the Phoenician god, the ancient lord of Tyre, brought there by the people who worshipped him. And so it was that ‘the other Hercules’ remained as an anti-classical argument in Spanish history even beyond the era of deliberate falsification and of argument inducing seekers after antiquity. The Greeks would have to wait until the beginning of the twentieth century to be rehabilitated as the bringers of civilisation to the Iberian peninsula, but by that time Hercules had been removed from the new historical perspectives shaping the historical narrative of Spain.

57

58

The complete title is Cadiz Phenicia, con el examen de varias noticias antiguas de España, que conservan los escritores hebreos, phenicios, griegos, romanos y árabes (Phoenician Cadiz, with an examination of ancient data about Spain preserved by Jewish, Phoenician, Greek, Roman and Arabic authors). Cádiz Phenicia 5.1.

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Bibliography Primary Sources Annius of Viterbo (1498) De primis temporibus et quattuor ac viginti regibus Hispaniae et eius antiquitate, included in Berosus sacerdotis Chaldaici, antiquitatum Italiae ac totius orbis libri quinque, Commentariis Ioannis Annii Viterbensis (ed. 1552) Antwerp: Johan Steelfi [text available digitally via Google Books] Anonymous (c. 1270–1274) Estoria de España, available in Menéndez Pidal, R. (ed. 1906) Primera Crónica General de España – Estoria de España que mandó componer Alfonso el Sabio y se continuaba bajo Sancho IV en 1289, Madrid: Bailly-Bailliere [text available digitally via Biblioteca Digital de Castilla y León] Jiménez de Rada, Rodrigo (1243) De rebus Hispaniae, available in Valverde, J. (ed. 1987) Roderici Ximenii de Rada opera Omnia (Corpus Christianorum, 72), Turnhout: Brepols Margarit, Joan (circa 1464–1484), Paralipomenon Hispaniae, available in Lucero, L. (ed. 1994) El llibre segon del ‘Paralipomenon Hispaniae’ de Joan Margarit. Edició crítica, traducció i estudi, treball de recerca inèdit, Girona: Universitat de Girona Mondéjar, Gaspar Ibáñez de Segovia, Marquis of (1687), Cadiz Phenicia, con el examen de varias noticias antiguas de España, que conservan los escritores hebreos, phenicios, griegos, romanos y árabes, available in D. José del Collado (ed. 1805), Madrid [text available digitally via Google Books] Ocampo, Florián de (1553) Los cinco libros primeros de la Crónica General de España, Medina del Campo: Guillermo de Millis [text available digitally via Fondo Antiguo de la Universitat de València] Suárez de Salazar, Juan Bautista (1610) Grandezas y antigüedades de la isla y ciudad de Cádiz. Cádiz: Clemente Hidalgo [text available digitally via Biblioteca Virtual Andalucía]

Secondary Sources Abellán Pérez, J. (1996) El Cádiz islámico a través de sus textos, Cádiz: University of Cádiz Antonelli, L. (1997) I Greci oltre Gibilterra, Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider Álvarez Junco, J. and De la Fuente Monge, G. (2017) El relato nacional. Historia de la historia de España, Madrid: Taurus Historia Bonnet, C. (1988) Studia Phoenicia VIII: Melqart. Cultes et mythes de l’Héraklès tyrien en Méditerranée, Namur, Leuven: Peeters Caballero López, J.A. (2004) ‘Mito e historia en la “Crónica General de España” de Florián de Ocampo’, in Domínguez Matito, F. and Lobato López, M.L. (eds.), Memoria de la palabra: acta del VI congreso de la Asociación Internacional de Siglo de Oro, vol. 1, Burgos/La Rioja: Iberoamericana, 397–406 Caballero López, J.A. (2002) ‘Annio de Viterbo y la historiografía española del siglo XVI’,

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in Nieto Ibáñez, J.M. (ed.), Humanismo y tradición clásica en España y América, León: University de León, 101–20 Caballero López. J.A. (1997) ‘El mito en las historias de la España primitiva’, Excerpta Philologica 7–8: 83–100 Caro Baroja, J. (1992) Las falsificaciones de la historia, Barcelona: Seix Barral Castro, A. (1858) Historia de Cádiz y su provincia desde los remotos tiempos hasta 1814, Cádiz: Imprenta de la Revista Médica Corzo Sánchez, R. (2005) ‘Sobre las primeras imágenes y la personalidad originaria de Hercules Gaditanus’, Spal 14: 91–122 Fernández Camacho, P. (2017) ‘Tuna fish across the strait of Gibraltar: traces of a lost fishing myth?’, Euphrosyne 45: 41–57 Fernández Camacho, P. (2013a) ‘La fuente del Heracleo en la ciencia antigua’, Cuadernos de Filología Clásica: Estudios griegos e indoeuropeos 23: 277–93 Fernández Camacho, P. (2013b) ‘Gádeira, el décimo trabajo de Heracles y la política de Atenas’, Euphrosyne 41: 9–30 Garzón Blanco, J.A. (1988) ‘La propaganda imperial en las monedas de Hércules, “Hercules Gaditanus”, Minerva y “Minerva Gaditana” emitidas desde Trajano, a Antonino Pío’, Baetica 11: 257–65 Jourdain-Annequin, C. (1992) ‘Heracles en Occident’ in Bonnet, C. and Jourdain-Annequin, C. (eds.) Héraclès: d’une rive à l’autre de la Méditerranée. Bilan et perspectives. Actes de la Table Ronde de Rome, Academia Belgica-École française de Rome (15–16 septembre 1989), Brussels/Rome: Études de Philologie, d’Archéologie et d’Histoire Anciennes, 263–91 Jourdain-Annequin, C. (1989a) ‘De l’espace de la cite à l’espace symbolique. Heracles en Occident’, Dialogues d’Histoire Ancienne 15: 31–48 Jourdain-Annequin, C. (1989b) Héraclès aux portes du soir. Mythe et histoire, Paris: Annales littéraires de l’Université de Besançon Jourdain-Annequin, C. (1982) ‘Heracles en Occident. Mythe et histoire’, Dialogues d’Histoire Ancienne 8: 227–82 López Melero, R. (1988) ‘El mito de las Columnas de Hercules y el estrecho de Gibraltar’, in Ripoll Perelló, E. (ed.), Actas del I Congreso Internacional ‘El Estrecho de Gibraltar’, Ceuta 1987, Tomo I, Madrid: Universidad Nacional de Educación a Distancia, 615–42 Malkin, I. (2011) ‘Herakles and Melqart: networking heroes’, in Malkin, I. (ed.) A Small Greek World: networks in the ancient Mediterranean. Greeks Overseas, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 119–42 Mangas, P. and Plácido, D. (1998) Testimonia Hispaniae Antiqua II A. La Península Ibérica en los autores griegos: de Homero a Platón, Madrid: Editorial Complutense Marín Ceballos, Mª.C. and Jiménez Flores, A.Mª. (2011) ‘Los santuarios fenicio-púnicos como centros de sabiduría: el templo de Melqart en Gadir’, in Marín Ceballos, Mª.C. (ed.) Cultos y ritos de la Gadir fenicia, Cádiz: University of Cádiz, 77–104

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Martínez Montávez, P. (1974) Perfil del Cádiz hispano-árabe, Cádiz: Caja de Ahorros de Cádiz Oria Segura, M. (1996) Hércules en Hispania: una aproximación, Barcelona: PPU/Littera/ Departament de Filologia Latina de l’Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona Plácido, D. (1993) ‘Le vie di Ercole nell’Estremo Occidente’, in Mastrocinque, A. (ed) Ercole in Occidente, Atti del Colloquio (Trento 1990), Trento: Dipartimento di Scienze Filologiche e Storiche dell’Università degli Studi di Trento, 63–80 Seijo-Richart, M. (2020) ‘A Coruña, cidade herculina: Hercules as founder of cities’ in Blanshard, A.J.L. and Stafford, E.J. The Modern Hercules, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 21, Leiden: Brill Stafford, E.J. (2012) Herakles, Abbingdon, Oxon.: Routledge Tate, R.B. (1970) Ensayos sobre la historiografía peninsular del siglo XV, Madrid: Gredos

chapter 7

Monstrous Masculinity? Hendrick Goltzius’ 1589 Engraving of The Great Hercules Joanna Woodall

Amphitryoniadae virtus terraque marique Quem latet? Et tanti saevanoverca mali? Ille tot expositus monstris, Hydraeque, tricopor Geryon atque tibi, flammivomque Caco. Ille hic Antaeum, et superatte Acheloe bicornem; Naiades at truncum fruge ferace beant. Has anyone not noticed the virtue of the son of Amphitryon [Hercules], on land and sea? And the great evil of his cruel stepmother [Hera/Juno]? He who was exposed to so many monsters, the hydra, and you, three bodied Geryon, and fiery Cacus. Here he overcomes Antaeus and you, twohorned Achelous. But the Naiads enrich the stump with prolific fruits.1 This is the legend engraved beneath the image of The Great Hercules, the focus of this chapter (Figure 7.1). Signed and dated HGoltzius Invent. et sculpt. Ao 1589 (‘H. Goltzius conceived and engraved this in the year 1589’), it is a huge print, made from a single copper plate measuring 562mm by 405 mm. A massive, excessively muscled figure towers over the landscape, dwarfing the mountains in the distance. The mushrooming muscles, which far exceed the bounds of anatomical accuracy, have earned the figure the humorous Dutch nicknames of de Appel-sak (‘the apple-sack’) or de knollenman (‘the bulbous/tuberous man’).2 The enormous club shares the tumescence of the body, but here circular wounds, presumably made as a result of pruning the wood, boil through the knobbly surface. Like the creatures that fought Hercules, Goltzius’ great image is a monster, not only because of its gigantic size but also because it transcends the boundaries of normality, provoking wonder and horror.3 1 The translation of the inscription is adapted from that provided in the catalogue entry for The Great Hercules in Orenstein 2003–2004, 106–108 (with further bibliography). 2 See Leesberg 2012, 1.257–261 (156) and the excessive musculature noted by Holman 1993, 396– 412 and 399–400; Goeree 1682, 406. I am grateful to Alice Zamboni for this reference. 3 On early-modern definitions of monsters, see Bates 2005, 12–13 and Wilson 1993, 3–29.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004435414_009

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figure 7.1 Hendrick Goltzius, The Great Hercules. Engraving 562mm by 405mm. Inscribed HGoltzius Invent. et sculpt. Ao 1589. Cleveland Museum of Art, Ohio. Gift of The Print Club of Cleveland (Inv. 1995.38) Photo released into the public domain in 2019 through the Cleveland Museum of Art’s Open Access policy

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Art historians, including myself, have also struggled with this immense figure. We have fought, using the firm and respectable methodological weapons of contextualisation, iconography and authorial intention, to contain and stabilise it as a representation of a single, coherent subject. Yet as we attempt to do so, further variations and new possibilities arise. This is particularly disconcerting because, as the inscription indicates, the figure of Hercules is supposed to be the epitome of masculine virtue, an embodiment and elevated exemplar of heroic mental and physical strength and endeavour. This chapter follows the story of my engagement with this form of masculine subjectivity, my attempt to pin it down and contain it, and ultimately my recognition that its potency and tragedy lie in its own never-ending, at times deceitful and ridiculous, effort to encompass and conquer everything. As such, I recognise The Great Hercules as a proto-modern figure appropriate to the European expansion of trade and knowledge across the globe at end of the sixteenth century: the beginning of empire. On the way to this conclusion, I contend with Hercules as an avatar for the character and ambitions of its artist, Hendrick Goltzius, and as a body politic – a quasi-allegorical personification of the city of Haarlem, both as a place with a distinctive identity and history and as a microcosm for the Netherlands as a whole. In the first section I shall contemplate the print in the light of the knowledge to which contemporary art lovers would have had access and which can be shown to be relevant to its interpretation. This produces an ever-expanding, ever-mutating Great Hercules that demands to be tackled in ingenious ways. The second section will attempt this by mobilising the concepts of aporia and virtue.

1.1

Haarlem/Hendrick/Hercules

The print was published in Haarlem, in the Dutch province of Holland, during a period known as ‘the Troubles’.4 A significant understatement, ‘the Troubles’ referred to a profound breakdown of political and religious authority in the seventeen provinces of the Netherlands, whose Catholic overlord was the Habsburg sovereign, Philip II of Spain (1527–1598). There was an initial wave of Protestant iconoclasm in 1566, in which devotional images and other manifestations of power were attacked, defaced and removed. Over the subsequent 4 The name derives from the Conseil des Troubles, a repressive commission set up in 1567 by the Habsburg governor, Don Fernando Alvarez de Toledo, third Duke of Alva (1507–1582), to investigate and punish the rebels. See further Israel 1995, 156–161.

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decades many living human bodies experienced oppression, cruelty and suffering caused by violent civil war and repeated attempts to reassert political control. The print was published ten years after the Union of Utrecht, in which the seven rebel Northern provinces pledged their alliance and laid the foundations of a new, independent polity. Although known as the United Provinces of the Netherlands, sovereignty in this emergent state was in fact divided, negotiated and configured by the surviving institutions of the old, dynastic regime. Hendrick Goltzius (1558–1617), the maker of The Great Hercules, was no runof-the-mill artisan in a provincial town. He was a highly successful and ambitious artist and publisher, a self-conscious successor to Albrecht Dürer (1471– 1528), in the most ancient city in the Netherlands, a centre of culture and manufacture that claimed printing as its own invention.5 Having been taught the art of engraving by the distinguished writer, philosopher, translator, politician and liberal theologian Dirck Volckertszoon Coornhert (1522–1590), Goltzius was in touch with intellectuals and political figures. He also collaborated with Bartolomeus Spranger (1546–1611), a leading artist at the renowned, cosmopolitan Imperial Habsburg court in Prague. Goltzius knew Spranger’s work through the agency of his close friend in Haarlem, the painter, poet and writer on art Karel Van Mander (1548–1606). In 1604 Van Mander was to publish Het Schilder-Boeck (The Painter Book), a hugely influential compendium of art literature that is key to my interpretation of The Great Hercules. Based in part upon Vasari’s Lives, but much more than just a translation, the book included a long biography of Goltzius, and an extensive account of Hercules’ trials and escapades within a commentary on Ovid’s Metamorphoses.6 Het Schilder-Boeck offered not only advice and information for aspiring artists and art lovers but also access to the theoretical discourse of art that had originated in Italy in the mid-sixteenth century.7 This kind of literature privileged the depiction of heroic histories, such as that of the demi-god Hercules. Goltzius produced many images of Hercules. These expose different facets of Hercules’ character that inform the 1589 engraving of The Great Hercules, his most significant and personal treatment of the subject. Our hero makes his first major entrance into the artist’s oeuvre as a prominent figure at a celebrity 5 van der Ree-Scholtens 1995, 19–313, esp. 96, 287–90. 6 See Van Mander 1604: ‘Het Leven der Doorluchtighe Nederlandtsche en Hooghduytsche Schilders’ (‘The lives of the illustrious Netherlandish and High German painters’), fol. 281v– 287r and ‘Uutlegginghe, en sin-ghevende verclaringhe, op den Metamorphosis Publij Ovidij Nasonis’ (‘Interpretation, and meaningful explanation of the Metamorphoses of Publius Ovidius Naso’), fol. 74v–79v. For translation and commentary, see Miedema 1994–1999, vol. 1, 384–407 and vol. 5, 174–225. 7 On which, see Melion 1991, esp. Part 2.

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wedding party, in The Marriage of Cupid and Psyche.8 This monumental engraving, dated 1587, is based on an equally ambitious ink and wash drawing by Spranger.9 Hercules is in attendance at the nuptial celebrations of Cupid and Psyche, whose marriage, after extended trials, is a restoration of harmony in the celestial realm. The mythological narrative, of trouble and displacement ultimately resolved through sanctified love, would have resonated strongly in Goltzius’ home city of Haarlem, a proud community whose motto was Vicit Vim Virtus (‘Virtue conquers violence’).10 Haarlem had endured particular tribulations during ‘the Troubles’: in 1572–73 a successful siege of the city by the Spanish resulted in the surrender of the starving population, the massacre of the weak local garrison and military occupation until 1577.11 In 1576 the damage sustained during the siege was compounded by an uncontrolled fire for which the mercenaries billeted in Haarlem were responsible. The city was grievously damaged as a consequence of these two events.12 In the 1580s, after the Spanish had left and Catholics had been granted equal rights with Protestants under the authority of the Prince of Orange, the city consciously promoted toleration and the arts resulting from peace and a culture of love.13 However, in The Mar8

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Leesberg 2012, part 2.312–15 (341). Orenstein 2003–2004, 87–9 (with further bibliography). Goltzius’ very first engagement with the subject appears to be an early engraving of 1575– 77, after Francesco Primaticcio, which shows Hercules on a ship, defending himself against an attack by the three-bodied Geryon. See Leesberg 2012, 2.290–91 (332). An example of this print in the Rijksprentenkabinet, Amsterdam, is viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020. Spranger’s pen and wash drawing, 397 mm by 834mm, in the Rijksprentenkabinet, Amsterdam, is viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020. Goltzius’ engraving was produced from three plates measuring in total 427mm by 849 mm. An example in the British Museum Print Room, London (1852,1211.63, 1852,1211.64, 1852,1211.65), is viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020. The long Latin text in the margin recounts at length Psyche’s ‘misery on land and sea’ before she and Cupid ‘were abundantly blessed with a daughter: eternal Happiness’. Orenstein 2003–2004, 87 and 333. On the need for civic cohesion, see Rosenthal 2003, 183; de Bièvre 1988, 313 and passim. According to de Bièvre 2015, 110, the motto Vicit Vim Virtus surfaced in Haarlem around the time of the Spanish siege of 1572–3; it was included in the coat of arms that decorated the façade of the town hall (built in 1602–1604) and appears on the title page of Claes Jansz. Visscher’s Plaesante Plaetsen (‘Pleasant Places’), 1610–20, a series of etched and engraved views in the surroundings of Haarlem. See Schuckman 1991, 1.84 (149). See Marsilje 1995, 40–41 and van Thiel 1999, 22–3, 27 and 209–11. See Groeneveld, de Jongste, Speet and Temmink 1995, 141. Haarlem’s narrative of heroism and suffering during the siege was depicted in the decorations for the Triumphal Entry of Robert Dudley, Duke of Leicester (1532–1588) to Haarlem in March 1586, see van Dorsten and Strong 1964, 64–5. See Spaans 1989 and, on the period 1580–1770, van der Ree-Scholtens 1995, part 2. On

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riage of Cupid and Psyche, it is noticeable that, while Hercules gestures towards the scene of harmony, love and plenty, he faces in the opposite direction.14

1.2

The Labours of Hendrick

In developing the monumental The Marriage of Cupid and Psyche (1587), Goltzius advanced a new, personal technique of engraving.15 Powerful, virtuoso, elaborately swelling and subsiding contours and curved hatchings on white paper emphasise volume and plasticity. This was both an effective means graphically to ‘sculpt’ prominent muscles and metal armour and a visual rhetoric that Goltzius employed above all to characterise mature, eroticallycharged, heroic masculinity. The technique is used, for example, in his series of ten Roman Heroes (1586) and in The Great Hercules (1589).16 Here the huge body, and the entire scenario, are themselves constituted as Herculean products of skilled labour, in conjunction with the physical force of the intaglio printing press. In 1588 Goltzius published another exceptionally large print on the subject of Hercules in the very different technique of chiaroscuro woodcut, as if exchanging the polished, controlled rhetoric of the Gallic Hercules for the natural, rugged, impressive power of the Germanic one.17 Club raised, a similarly moustachioed, less excessively muscular Hercules is situated in a dark cave, about to annihilate the man-eating and fire-breathing monster Cacus, who had stolen his cattle.18 The next year, 1589, saw the publication of The Great Hercules, but this was not the end of the artist’s involvement with the subject. In 1590 Goltzius set out from Haarlem for Rome, where, probably in 1592, he drew and at some point engraved, at least in part, two antique statues in which Her-

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the ideological significance of love in Dutch cities, especially Haarlem, in the earlyseventeenth century, see Woodall 1996, 219–25 and Nevitt Jnr 2003, 21–98. Van Mander (1604, fol. 274r) maintained that every figure in The Marriage of Cupid and Psyche performed his own office or duty; that of Hercules was door-wachter (‘doorkeeper’). Orenstein 2003–2004, 82–3. For the relationship between The Marriage of Cupid and Psyche and the Roman Heroes, see Orenstein 2003–2004, 87–92. Hercules and Cacus, published by Willem Jansz. Blaeu. Examples in the British Museum Print Room (London W,5.37, 410 mm by 335 mm and 1895,0617.83, 405mm by 330mm) are viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020. See also the example of The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1951, Metropolitan Museum (Inv. 51.501.4440), viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020. See further, Orenstein 2003–2004, 100–102. Leesberg 2012, 2.218–27 (304).

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cules figured, again in large scale: a full-length figure of the Roman emperor Commodus as Hercules holding his son Telephos, and the so-called Farnese Hercules, holding the three golden apples and being admired by two diminutive northerners.19 The two engravings were probably part of an unrealised project to record major Roman monuments and were not actually published until after Goltzius’ death in 1617. In 1600 Goltzius gave up printmaking for oil painting but his interest in Hercules persisted. In 1613 he produced a monumental canvas triptych of Hercules and Cacus in a landscape, flanked by Mercury and Minerva.20 Probably made for the Haarlem lawyer and civic administrator Johan Colterman (c. 1565–1616), the central composition recalls The Great Hercules of 1589, although the face and body are more naturalistic, even potentially comic, and it is possible that the figure bears the likeness of Colterman’s son.21

1.3

A Problem of Virtue

The 1589 engraving of The Great Hercules incorporated aspects of these various iterations and was apparently of special complexity and personal significance. Van Mander, who in his biography of Goltzius christened it ‘zijnen grooten Hercules’ (‘his great Hercules’), says that the artist took the huge print with him on his journey to Rome in 1590. Passing through Munich he encountered the Antwerp-born engraver Hans Sadeler (1550–1600), who was working at the court of the Duke of Bavaria. This meeting acquired some notoriety in the marking out of Goltzius’ life by Van Mander, who says that Goltzius adopted the humble guise of a Dutch cheese merchant while his servant, impersonating his master, engaged Sadeler in a discussion of ‘his [Goltzius’] great Hercules and other things’. For Van Mander, a friend of the artist writing a decade or so after the event, the conversation resulted in everything being ‘understood in a more measured way [maetlijcker verstaen] and appreciated better’.22 According 19

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Hendrick Goltzius, Hercules and his son Telephos, engraving 1592 (published by Herman Adolfsz. 1617), 411 mm by 299 mm; Hendrick Goltzius, The Farnese Hercules, engraving 1592 (published by Herman Adolfsz. 1617), 416 mm by 300 mm. Examples of the latter in the British Museum Print Room (London D,5.267 and 1854,0513.104) are viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020; London 1854,0513.104 is reproduced on the cover of this volume. Leesberg 2012, 2.368–75 (378–80). Luijten 2003– 2004, 132–6, with further bibliography. Central canvas 2070 mm by 1425 mm, Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem. Nichols 2013, 149–53 and 141–2, with further bibliography. Van Mander 1604, 283r, with Miedema 1994–1999, vol. 1, 390–91.

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to another, earlier, source however, things were not so amicable. On May 24 1591, the renowned humanist writer on art Dominic Lampson (1532–1599) wrote from Liège to the famous neo-Stoic philosopher Justus Lipsius (1547–1606):23 But I do not approve […] of the fact that he [Goltzius], travelling incognito, visited his colleague in art Hans Sadeler (who is to be sure himself not in the least to be despised as an artist) and himself criticised his own works to the point of open contumely, or quite demolished them, in order to draw out of Sadeler a like contempt of those same works, and that he subsequently, in a letter he left behind in the inn, bitterly jeered at and mocked the man – if this is what he has done, I say, I do not approve it. The interpretation and value of the monumental engraving was thus a matter of dispute between its author and a well-informed, reputable and high-status colleague. Measured understanding and appreciation of the work’s virtues were the acceptable outcome of this process, but there was also potential for controversy and humiliation. Because of multiple deceits, ridicule could be directed at the work itself, at the hoodwinked beholder and even at the artist, whose disguise of cheese merchant apparently concealed his true virtue as an artist.

1.4

A Closer Look

1.4.1 Monumentality and Temporality The controversy over The Great Hercules (Figure 7.1) in Munich suggests that the print was well-known to, and examined closely by, contemporaries. In addition to the extraordinary body of Hercules himself, the print combines text and image and conflates a number of time-frames and narrative moments into a single pictorial field. The scene is a deep river valley, flanked by high mountains and traversed by a path whose winding and ascending route is emphasised, in the foreground, by curving ridges and furrows, like giant incisions of the engraver’s burin. The dominant main figure in some respects resembles a

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Verum non perinde illud, quod, in itinere dissimulato quis esset, Joannem Sadlerum ὁμότεκνον (& ipsum artificem minime sane poenitendum) invisens, opera sua vel ad apertam usque vituperationem extenuaverit, aut depresserit, ut similem Sadlero corundem operum vituperationem elicerat, at deinde per literas in diversorio relictas hominem amare increpuerit, atque irriserit. Non, inquam, si fecit, probo. The Latin text of the letter is published in Nichols 1991–1992, 89 and in Miedema 1994– 1999, vol. 5, 189, n. 140, from which the translation is taken.

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statue, particularly the famous Farnese Hercules, a Roman copy of a Greek original. Recovered in pieces from the ancient Roman Baths of Caracalla in the 1540s and restored by one of Michelangelo’s protégés, the Farnese Hercules had gained a massive reputation by Goltzius’ day as an antique masterpiece.24 It could have been known in the Netherlands through the large print of 1562 by Jacob Bos (fl. 1549–1580), a Dutch artist working in Rome. This engraving, and one of the same subject made by Giorgio Ghisi (1520–1582) in the 1570s, was often included in examples of Antoine Lafréry’s Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae (Magnificent Sights of Rome).25 In Goltzius’ print, besides the monumental central figure, Hercules also appears in episodes from his ongoing life-story, involving seemingly impossible tasks that he undertook at the command of Eurystheus. Of the five events mentioned in the Latin inscription beneath the image, the last two visually frame the main figure and situate him within his extraordinary life-narrative, serving to justify the Latin inscription’s claim to Hercules’ reputation for virtue over land and sea (terra marique).26 In the middle distance to the left, in a vignette inspired by an engraving by Cornelis Cort after a painting by Frans Floris, Hercules is wrestling with the shape-shifting river-god Achelous.27 Achelous, having become a slithering snake in his effort to overcome his enemy, has now taken the form of a raging bull. The battle was motivated by competition for the hand in marriage of Deianeira, daughter of a local king. Hercules is disarming his foe by ripping off one of his horns, the potent ‘stump’ [truncus] that is grasped in The Great Hercules’ right hand. In the far distance, over the

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For the influence of the Farnese Hercules on other artists see Verbanck-Pierard and Macostay in this volume. Jacob Bos, Omnium elegantissimum Herculis signum Gliconis Atheniensis peritissimi artificis manu fabrefactum, quod Paulo III Pont. Max. in thermarum Antoniniarum ruderibus inventum, et in domus Farnesianae ad campum Florae interiori porticu locatum (‘The most elegant statue of Hercules of all, made by the hand of the most skilled artist, Glycon of Athens, which was discovered in the papacy of Paul III in the Antonian baths, and placed in the Villa Farnese, in the interior portico, near Flora’s Field’), 1562, engraving 447 mm by 302mm. Giorgio Ghisi, The Farnese Hercules, c. 1578, engraving 360mm by 216 mm. Examples of both engravings in the Print Room of the British Museum, London are viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020: Bos 1869,0410.2209; Ghisi 1865,0610.15. On the Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae: Zorach 2008. Holman 1993, 401. 1563, engraving 223mm by 285 mm. An example in the Print Room of the British Museum (London F,1.282) is viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020. One of a series of ten plates of The Twelve Labours of Hercules, see Sellink 2000, 3.34 (177).

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river,28 two water-nymphs, the Naiades, have filled Achelous’ amputated horn with fruits of the earth and present the cornucopia to Deianeira. In the other episode, to the right of the great figure, Hercules is engaged in a fight to the death with Antaeus, the half-giant son of Poseidon, god of the sea, and Gaia, the personification of the earth. Since Antaeus drew his own great strength from his mother, Hercules outwitted his adversary by lifting him up and squeezing him tightly, severing his connection with the ground.29 The pictorial field is, however, dominated by the massive, excessively muscled central figure which straddles the landscape. This imposes its mass upon the beholder; the first impression is of a monumental statue. Firmly outlined against the sky, stone-hard muscles are defined and modelled by the swelling incisions of the burin. The marks of a sculptor’s chisel and the play of strong light on unpolished white marble are evoked with curving hatching and cross-hatching, often punctuated by pricked dots, which give way to patches of untouched paper.30 It has been noticed by others that the physique and the open-legged stance are characteristic signs of hyper-masculinity in this period, as indeed they are now. The stance is reminiscent of a recognisable type of highly muscled Hercules sculpture, such as a bronze statuette made in the middle years of the 1560s that is attributed to the Dutch emigrant to Florence Willem Danielsz. van Tetrode (c. 1525–1580).31 1.4.2 A Complex Body Politic There is, furthermore, a significant resemblance between the huge, straddling figure and a print of The Colossus of Rhodes designed by Haarlem’s leading artist Maarten van Heemskerck (1498–1574) (Figure 7.2). Published in 1570, the engraving formed part of Heemskerck’s novel series The Eight Wonders of the World.32 The giant statue of Helios, the Titan-god of the sun, reputedly spanned 28 29

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The river is more evident in Cort’s print (see n. 27). For these two episodes as staples of Hercules’ life-narrative, integrated into his depictions as additions to episodes within the associated text, see Capriotti in Allan, AnagnostouLaoutides and Stafford (eds) 2020. For Goltzius’ ‘dotted lozenge’ technique, see Brown 2012. Attributed to Willem Danielsz. van Tetrode, Hercules Pomarius, bronze c. 1562–1567, 395 mm high. An example in the Rijksprentenkabinet, Amsterdam, is viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020. The similar pose does not necessarily mean that Tetrode’s bronze was the inspiration for Goltzius’ print. For other possible sources of the pose, compare Leeflang and Luijten 2003–2004, 106–7 and 316 notes 80–3. Philips Galle after Maarten van Heemskerck, The Colossus of Rhodes, engraving 1572, 211 mm × 256mm. Plate numbered four of the series The Eight Wonders of the World, lettered below left ‘Martinus Heemskerck Inve’ and ‘P. Galle fecit’.

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figure 7.2 Maarten van Heemskerck, The Colossus of Rhodes, pen and brown ink, contours incised for transfer to engraving plate, with traces of black chalk on laid paper, 263 mm × 205 mm. Inscribed in the artist’s hand Martijn van Heemskerck/inventor. London, Courtauld Gallery Photo © The Samuel Courtauld Trust, The Courtauld Gallery, London

the harbour of the Greek city in the third century BCE. A connection with The Great Hercules is supported by a text presumed to be dedicated to the Colossus of Rhodes preserved in The Greek Anthology. This twice uses the topos ‘on land and sea’ that appears in the Latin inscription in Goltzius’ print and names Hercules as an ancestor of all victors, justifying their erection of Colossi:33 To you, o Sun, the people of Dorian Rhodes set up this bronze statue reaching to Olympus, when they had pacified the waves of war and crowned their city with the spoils taken from the enemy. Not only over the land but also on sea did they kindle the lovely torch of freedom and independence. For to the descendants of Hercules belongs dominion over land and sea. 33

Trans. Higgins 2013, 134, with discussion. For the original Greek and an alternative translation, see Paton 1920, 386–7. The Greek Anthology was first published in Florence in 1494.

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The shared topos ‘on land and sea’ and the similarity between the colossal figures in the two prints suggest that The Great Hercules might, like The Colossus of Rhodes, be understood with reference to ‘the lovely torch of freedom and independence’. Although Hercules was during this period claimed as an ancestor of the Habsburg dynasty and thus identified with Habsburg sovereignty, Holman interprets The Great Hercules as a symbolic representation of the powerful new polity that emerged as a result of the Revolt of the Netherlands against the Habsburg monarch Philip II of Spain.34 In her insightful and meticulously researched 1993 article, Holman recognises that The Great Hercules is a giant with ‘too many muscles’ that are not only ‘overstocked’ but ‘over-stated’ and suggests that it is an allegory in which different constituencies of the United Provinces of the Netherlands were bound together in a rather similar way to Hercules’ bulging physique. In 2002, Kunzle simplified Holman’s subtle argument by describing Hercules’ muscular exaggeration and distortion as ‘an anatomical hyperbole for the newfound might of the Dutch Republic’.35 The pointed visual and textual analogies between The Great Hercules and The Colossus of Rhodes suggest that the Dutch body politic was being conceived through the microcosm of the civic history of Haarlem. In promoting virtue over violence, Haarlem was comparable to Rhodes which, according to Strabo’s Geography, written between 20BCE and 23 CE, was a city without equal for its improvements and good order (14.2.5–13). The Colossus was erected to commemorate forever Rhodes’ defeat of the ruler of Cyprus, whose son unsuccessfully besieged the city in 305BCE.36 However, the Colossus stood astride Rhodes’ harbour for only fifty-four years before it was toppled by an earthquake. Haarlem had itself been granted noble privileges in 1219 and city status in 1245 as a result of the successful siege of Damietta in the Eastern Mediterranean during the Fifth Crusade.37 Haarlem’s own ‘earthquake’ happened in 1572, just two years after the publication of Van Heemskerck’s print when, like Rhodes, the city was besieged by the son of a foreign governor.38 Unlike its illustrious predecessor, Haarlem gave way.

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Bull 2006, 91–92 and 139–140. Bull is incorrect in claiming that Hercules is ‘conspicuous by his absence’ from the Netherlands. For the Habsburg Hercules in relation to the iconography of the Charles Alexander, Duke of Lorraine, see Verbanck-Piérard in this volume. Kunzle 2002, 198. See Higgins 2013, 125 and passim. Present day Dimyat in northern Egypt. For the omnipresence of antiquity in Netherlandish historiography of this period, see de Glas 2011, 89–90. Fadrique Álvarez de Toledo (1537–83), son of the Habsburg governor, Don Fernando Álvarez de Toledo, third Duke of Alva.

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When situated in Haarlem in the midst of ‘the Troubles’ that beset the Habsburg Netherlands in the second half of the sixteenth century, The Great Hercules can be recognized as a body politic. It is, however, an incoherent, contradictory body in which could be sought both the mythical source of Habsburg sovereignty and the ‘freedom and independence over land and sea’ desired by adherents of the Dutch Revolt. In 1589, furthermore, both the United Provinces of the Netherlands and the city of Haarlem were not unified wholes but undergoing profound instability and change in which physical and symbolic violence and destruction existed alongside desire to restore authority, peace and harmony. The question of whether Virtue would conquer Violence, or vice-versa, hung in the balance. 1.4.3 Hercules on the Move It is notable, then, that The Great Hercules does not hold the three golden apples stolen from the garden of the Hesperides, unlike Tetrode’s Hercules Pomarius and The Farnese Hercules. According to Van Mander:39 In relation to the attainment of this golden apple, the antique statues of Hercules are generally made [with] three apples in the left hand, as one may see in Rome in the copper statue on the Capitol, and the Marble one in the Palace […] of Cardinal Farnese. Which [apples] are also not without meaning but signify the three powers of Hercules, which is virtue. The first, to moderate wrath, the second, to avoid avarice, the third to constrain lust, and not to serve it. The omission of the apples places The Great Hercules at a time before the hero’s penultimate or final labour in the garden of the Hesperides, whereby he gained stability through the acquisition of these three symbols of virtue and, by implication, eternal life. Moreover, looking closely, it becomes apparent that, in addition to his resemblance to a monumental statue, Goltzius’ great figure of 39

Van Mander 1604, fol. 79r: “Om dit gouden Appel-halen, worden Herculi van den ouden Beeldtsnijderen, in de slincker handt ghemeenlijck ghemaeckt dry Appelen, also men te Room aen den coperen op t’Capitolium en den Marmoren in’t Paleys oft heerlijck huys des doorluchtigen Cardinaels Farnesij, mach sien: welcke oock sonder beteyckeninghen niet en zijn: maer wijsen aen dry crachten Herculis, dat is, der deught. Eerst, te matighen den toorn: ten tweeden, te mijden giericheyt, ten derden, den wellusten de dwinghen, en niet te dienen.” Van Mander mentions specifically the Farnese Hercules and the gilded-bronze Hercules on the Capitoline, i.e. Hercules of the Forum Boarium, now in the Capitoline Museum, Rome.

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Hercules is a semi-divine hero in motion, travelling far and wide and labouring towards immortality. Flanked by life-events that occupy the same pictorial field, he is not only straddling this landscape but also striding through it, travelling uphill along a winding path that ultimately breaches the frame to impinge upon the space of the beholder.40 While the head turns back and the torso is shown almost frontally, the massive legs point forward, although in slightly different directions. The big toes are flexed as if walking and the tattered skin of the Nemean lion, fluttering out behind the figure, enhances the impression of movement. There is, furthermore, reason to believe that some of the print’s classically educated and acutely observant viewers would have perceived the figure as not only poised between stasis and progress but also at the crossroads, faced with the wider, more accessible route of material life and the difficult, rocky road to glory.41 The battle with Antaeus, to the right of the great figure on the well-worn path leading towards us, is generally supposed to have taken place immediately before Hercules’ visit to the garden of the Hesperides. In the print, the direction of Antaeus’ gaze and the formation of the rocky cliff and subtle lighting behind the struggling pair hint at another, narrow, elusive route climbing up the craggy mountain, presumably in the direction of Hercules’ ultimate, elevated destination. Bass has also argued that the great central figure of Hercules positions the artist-hero between virtuous, but ultimately fatal, love for his bride Deianeira and lustful desire for his adversary Antaeus.42 This implies a kind of ‘Choice of Hercules’ in which the conventional iconography, of Hercules tempted by two female personifications of Virtue and Vice, has been replaced by a Hercules who moves between two violent episodes from his own life-narrative. In these two battles, virtue and vice are not opposed but profoundly entangled, both with one another and with different kinds of desire. The ‘Choice of Hercules’ between virtue and vice was, significantly, central to Hercules Prodicius, an allegorical travelogue and mirror for princes published in 40 41 42

Noticed independently in Bass 2016, 52. On the tradition of ‘Hercules at the crossroads’, see the Introduction to this volume, and Panofsky 1930. Bass 2016, 52 and 54. Bass argues further that ‘Goltzius’s intentions with this work were personal rather than political’ and that elsewhere in his oeuvre he ‘attested to the significance of love as a generative force in his artistic enterprise’. On homoerotic desire in the encounter between Hercules and Antaeus, see Simons 2008, 637–645. Bass states that Deianeira is not depicted in the group of three naked women, but cf. ‘Hercules and a naked Deianeira after Goltzius’ by Jacob Matham c. 1590, see Widerkehr 2007, 2.61 and 67 (174). An example in the Print Room of the British Museum, London (1856,0209.287) is viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020.

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Antwerp by the antiquarian Stephanus Vinandus Pighius (1520–1604) in 1587, two years before the appearance of The Great Hercules.43 The text recounted Pighius’ travels through Austria to Rome in the company of his young patron and pupil Karl-Friedrich, heir to the Duchy of Jülich Cleve-Berg. Having been welcomed at a number of courts and improved by a variety of sights and antiquities, especially antique statues of Hercules, Prince Karl-Friedrich died in Rome at the age of twenty.44 The book is an account of and monument to KarlFriedrich’s exemplary ascent to immortal virtue through travel and the study of classical antiquity, especially Hercules.45 Hercules Prodicius surely caught the eye of Goltzius and his circle because of the artist’s own origins in Mulbracht, in the Duchy of Jülich Cleve-Berg, and his own planned journey to Italy in the year following the publication of the print.46

1.5

Hendrick/Hercules

In addition to recognition of The Great Hercules as a body politic, the print can thus be interpreted with reference to the artist, as the embodiment and articulation of his artistic virtuosity and heroic labour. Pighius’s Hercules Prodicius and Van Mander’s biography of the artist suggest that during his travels Hendrick emulated prince Karl-Friedrich in his close, self-improving identification with Hercules. Van Mander presents the artist’s departure for Italy as a dramatic choice, made after years of physical and mental suffering, between a living death in Haarlem and the prospect of fulfilment by encountering great

43

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On the story of the choice of Herakles told by the fifth-century BCE sophist Prodikos of Keos and reported in Xenophon’s Memorabilia (2.1.21), see the Introduction to this volume. On Hercules Prodicius in the sixteenth century, see Laureys 2000, passim, esp. 277. Further on Pighius, see Jongkees 1954, 119–85. For more on Hercules’ role as a guide/mirror for princes, see Deligiannis in this volume on the Gonzagas, and Sienkewicz in Allan, Anagnostou-Laoutides and Stafford (eds) 2020 on the Medicis. Pighius develops an allegorical interpretation of three Hercules statues in Rome, in which he associated the acquisition of the three golden apples with munera Virtutis (‘the rewards of Virtue’). For discussion, see Laureys 2000, 286, 291–2, 298–301. Van Mander, given his familiarity with at least two of these statues (see n. 39, above), may well have been aware of Pighius’ interpretation of them. Laureys 2000, passim. As the grandson of the Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand I (1503– 1564), Karl-Friedrich was strategically important in religious and dynastic politics. He was shown great honour during his travels. See Laureys 2000, 270 and Jongkees 1954, 159–67. For Goltzius’ origins in Mulbracht, a village in the dukedom of Jülich-Berg-Cleve, see Van Mander 1604, fol. 282r with Miedema 1994–1999, vol. 5, 177–9. Goltzius (b. 1558) and KarlFriedrich (b. 1555) were very close in age.

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works of art in Rome, even if he died in the attempt.47 As in Hercules Prodicius, the subject of Hercules (here in both noble and boorish forms) then becomes central to Het Schilder-boek’s account of Goltzius’ journey across land and sea, travelling incognito and in uncouth disguises. As discussed earlier, in Munich The Great Hercules was the focus of his conflict with another elite artist (an alter-ego), whilst being impersonated by his servant and disguised as a Dutch cheese-merchant. In Rome he adopted the Germanic persona of ‘Hendrick van Bracht’ when drawing ‘the best and most important antique statues’ that included, of course, the renowned, monumental figures of Hercules mentioned by Pighius and Van Mander.48 Ridiculed by young artists in Rome, Goltzius’ true identity only became fully apparent as he approached his ultimate destination, Naples, when he was recognised by a noble companion. In Naples, ‘I believe in the palace of the viceroy, Goltzius drew an excellent antique statue, a seated young Hercules’.49

1.6

The Great Hercules as Hydra

So far, The Great Hercules could have been perceived as a body politic that Goltzius’ circle could have identified with Haarlem (both as a city with a distinctive history and as a microcosm of the larger polity that was being created by wrestling with Habsburg authority, in the intimate manner of Hercules and his alter-ego Antaeus). It could also have been understood as an avatar for the 47

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Van Mander 1604, fol. 282v, trans. Miedema 1994–1999, vol. 1, 389: “When he saw that his life (as one says) was hanging by a silken thread […] Goltzius at last decided, even though he was weak, to travel to Italy, hoping in that way to get some improvement, or at least to see all the ingenious or beautiful works of art in Italy before he died […].” An allusion to Mulbracht, Goltzius’ birthplace in Jülich Cleve-Berg and the place of origin of Pighius’s hero, prince Karl-Friedrich. This ‘somewhat boorish’ persona can be related to the Germanic and comic dimensions of Hercules: in Rome Goltzius’ audience consisted of young artists, who, according to Van Mander, ‘expected that they were more likely to see something laughable than astonishing’. However, Van Mander then compared their misperception to the members of the Roman Senate at the time of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, who thought initially that the figure of a Danubian farmer (Danubischen Boer) was ‘some human in animal form’, but when they listened to him, ‘judged him at once to be a God’. On this comparison, see Miedema 1994–1999, vol. 1, 390 and vol. 5, 191–2. The drawing is not known; the building was identified by Reznicek as the Palazzo Nuovo, at that time the residence of the Spanish viceroy Juan de Zuñiga, 1st Duke of Peñaranda (1551–1608). Zuñiga was the viceroy of Philip II of Spain, a member of the Habsburg dynasty that was itself identified with Hercules. Further, see Miedema 1994–1999, vol. 1, 392, 393, vol. 5, 194, n. 183, Reznicek 1961, vol. 1, 84, n. 4.

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artist himself (especially in relation to his life-changing journey to Italy). The print shows the hero towering over the scene as a Colossus and at the same time engaged in the violent conquest of foes associated with land and water. The great figure of Hercules is a permanent monument to victory that is apparently moving forward along a path that leads, visually, into our own world. Contemporary viewers, particularly those who knew Pighius’ Hercules Prodicius, could have observed that he is, moreover, poised at the crossroads between the broad and rutted ‘low road’ towards the ease and pleasures of an ignoble life and the difficult, steep and elusive ‘high road’ that leads to honour, virtue and immortality. As we struggle to contain and stabilise The Great Hercules, the subject moves and multiplies like the proliferating heads of the hydra, one of Hercules’ most challenging opponents. In our encounters with The Great Hercules so far, we have experienced a contradiction between the anatomical excess and violent narrative of the image and the Latin inscription, which asks us to acknowledge Hercules’ ‘virtue on land and sea’ and emphasizes his ultimate capacity, through his labours, to ‘enrich the stump with prolific fruits’. The print can be described as a monster, not only because of the figure’s extraordinary physical size and preternatural shape, but also because the image is unnaturally massive and uncontainable from the point of view of interpretation. It is both contradictory, in claiming virtue through violence, and massively overdetermined, in that its appearance can be accounted for in more than one way. We saw, moreover, that the image accommodates multiple temporalities: the eternal time of a colossal monument, the narrative time of the episodes from Hercules’ life, the progressive time of our hero’s ongoing journey and the moment of choice of Hercules at the crossroads. The potential of the image to generate interpretations does not stop there. Fashionably moustachioed but beardless, the Great Hercules can accommodate both a contemporary, martial, Batavian version of the Roman Hercules – described by Tacitus as a cult followed by the fierce, rebellious tribes of the lower Rhine – and, in its graphic character and control, the Gallic Hercules, an exemplar of the power of rhetoric and reason.50 As will be explained later, vir-

50

Publius Cornelius Tacitus’s Germania would have been known to Goltzius and his humanist circle. Having been lost, a single manuscript was made public in 1455 and became of particular interest to northern humanists: see Birley 1999, xxvi. On Hercules in Germania, see Birley 1999, 38, 42, 55 and 107 n. 9, also de Glas 2011, 92–3 and Roymans 2009, 219–38. For the ‘Dutch Hercules’, see Holman 1993, 402–3. For more on the significance of Hercules’ facial hair and the imagery of martial masculinity in the Netherlands, particularly Haarlem, during this period, see Godycki 2020.

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tue could be claimed for both figures. Whilst that of the Batavian Hercules was expressed in the strategic use of physical force, the mature, artful, Gallic Hercules leads the community by the golden threads of rhetoric.51 We shall see too, that The Great Hercules is understandable not only as a master over ‘land and sea’ but also as a figure of profound suffering, flayed, mutilated and transfigured by fire in search of rejuvenation and resurrection. Most challengingly, perhaps, Goltzius’ encounter with Sadeler in Munich suggests that the (suppressed) laughter and distaste that The Great Hercules can now provoke was also a possible response to the print in the sixteenth century.52 The antique characterisation of Hercules as sometimes ridiculous was accessible through literature, vases and minor arts; for example, our hero was often made a fool of by his pan-sexual desires, and was depicted and described dressing and acting like a woman when in thrall to his mistress Omphale.53 The ancient tale of ‘Hercules black-bottom’ also inspired one of Erasmus’s Adages and appears in the rip-roaring account of Hercules’ adventures published in 1604 by Van Mander.54 In this tale two young brothers, the Kerkōpes, who were notorious thieves, tried to rob Hercules while he was asleep, whereupon they were bound by Hercules and strung up over his shoulder. Hanging headfirst, the boys were confronted with Hercules’ arse, covered with black hairs. They discussed their mother’s invocation of the adage ‘not to fall in with a “black-bottom”’, because in ancient Greece a hairy black (rather than smooth white) rump denoted a warlike, valiant man who would punish misdeeds.55 Van Mander elaborated on the classical story for humorous effect by recounting that one of the two boys was faced with Hercules’ schamelheyt (‘shameful parts’) and that his hairy bottom caused hilarity not only in Hercules himself,

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Hallowell 1962, 242–55 and Plett 2004, 419–20. For contemporary images and descriptions of the Gallic Hercules, see ‘Eloquentia fortitudine praestantior’ in Andrea Alciato’s Emblemata (Alciato no date a), reproduced in the Introduction to this volume (Figure i.1). Magnaguagno-Korazija 1983, 80–82, considers the print is an ironic, mannerist parody of the Renaissance conception of Hercules as the epitome of virtue. Wind 1998, 1.173; Galinsky 1972, 81–100. On the Omphale myth, see briefly the Preface (§ 3.3) and Introduction (§ 5 and § 6) of this volume; for more detail on the ancient sources, see Stafford 2012, 132–4, also 10, 55, 60–2, 71, 83–4, 98, 106, 146, 152, 186. The story, while not well attested in extant ancient literature, must have been well known in antiquity, since it appears as part of the sculptural programmes of two archaic temples, the Heraion at Foce del Sele (c. 560BCE) and Temple C at Selinous (c. 520BCE): on the ancient sources see Stafford 2012, 60–63. For the Adage of Erasmus, see Barker 2001, 155– 6. Cf. Van Mander 1604, fol. 74v–79v, 77r. For the importance of Erasmus in the province of Holland, see de Glas 2011, 84. Barker 2001, 156.

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‘who was a fun-loving [bootsliefdigh] man’, but also in the two boys, ‘who were laughing so very heartily that Hercules asked the reason’ and in appreciation of the joke, let them walk free.56 When considered from this earthy perspective, there is a potentially laughable contrast in The Great Hercules between the knobbly physique, with its double phallus of horn and club, and the very small actual penis, as was noticed by Magnaguagno-Korazija in 1983.57 Three centuries earlier, in a publication on the human figure of 1682, the Dutch art theorist Willem Goeree (1635–1711) stated that:58 The image of a man must also not resemble a dried-out codfish, nor through the swollenness of the muscles be as knobbly as a sack of tubers. Because Goltzius somewhat violated this in his Great Hercules, his print has been called ‘The Apple-sack of Goltzius’ (‘den Appel-sak van Goltzius’) since it was published. Thus, from the beginning, the honoured Hercules, seeking his three golden apples, was apparently regarded by some viewers as an earthy sack of apples. For Dutch speakers this metaphor was potentially specifically genital, since the word zak is slang for scrotum and the etymology of zaadbal, the vernacular term for testicle, is ‘seed ball’, the same thing conceptually as an apple. Intriguingly, a charcoal drawing in the British Museum currently attributed to Goltzius depicts a paunchy, rather doleful-looking Hercules with the suggestively round paw of his lion-skin hanging low-down between his striding legs.59

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Van Mander 1604, fol. 77r. Magnaguagno-Korazija 1983, 80. Goeree 1682, 406, my translation and emphasis: “Ook en moeten de Menschbeelden geen uytgedroogde Stockvissen gelijken, noch door de gezwollentheyd der Muskelen soo knobbelig zijn als een sak met knollen. Om dat Goltzius hem dat hier in aan sijnen Grooten Herkules wat vergrepen had, is sijn print, sederd de tijd datse uytquam, ‘den Appel-sak van Goltzius’ genoemt.” The Print Room of the British Museum, London: 1946,0713.984, viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020. Formerly attributed to Cornelis Cornelisz. van Haarlem (1562–1638).

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Grappling with Masculine Virtue

So how to embrace, rather than battle to conquer, this monstrous overdetermination? In his study of wonders, marvels and monsters in early modern culture, the literary historian Peter Platt concluded that:60 If the urge to control the marvellous is great, if the preternatural is always threatened with naturalisation […], it is the power of the marvellous that necessitates such a response. For the marvellous and the monstrous are almost always in danger of eluding mastery and classification. Yet it is this very intractability that can force or facilitate a recharting – of the map of artistic possibility, of the body, of the known world, or human potential. This second section of the chapter explores what happens if we take this intractability to heart, adopting the feminist thinker Donna Haraway’s approach of ‘staying with the trouble’, of working with the monstrosity rather than seeking to contain and ultimately resolve it.61 What if we accept that Goltzius’ The Great Hercules does not represent any stable entity, whether natural, preternatural, supernatural or conceptual? According to Prodikos, Hercules, when confronted by a crossroads with two divergent paths, was placed in an unstable condition of confusion and uncertainty known as aporia.62 The literal meaning of the Greek a-poros is a path that is blocked. As Nagel and Pericolo have shown, works of art that generate a state of perplexity or aporia, including works that can be associated with more than one ‘subject’ at the same time, emerged in Europe in the period between 1400 and 1700, and they point out that aporia, according to Aristotle, was the initial impulse to philosophical thought.63 I would suggest that the marvelousness, and the monstrosity, of The Great Hercules engraving lies in its aporetic capacity to mobilise and challenge its viewers by offering multiple, contradictory paths, and requiring them – like Hercules – to find a way among them. In doing so, it can be seen to force or facilitate a re-charting of the masculine subject for the ‘new world’ that was incipient in 1589. The ultimate subject of the wondering/wandering inspired by The Great Hercules is masculinity, conceived not as an essence but as a form of justification 60 61 62 63

Platt 1999, 22. Haraway 2016, 1–8. Davies 2013, 8–9. Nagel and Pericolo 2010, 1–15.

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for nobility and hence authority and control. The question of masculinity lies at the heart of the work because Hercules was the recognised exemplar of virtue and the etymology of virtue itself derives from the Latin noun vir (man). Cesare Ripa (1560–1622) articulated these links in his Iconologia, an influential compendium of emblems, personifications and symbols first published in 1593.64 As the first line of the Latin inscription beneath Goltzius’ image indicates, the virtue of its subject was taken for granted by contemporaries. Ripa repeatedly described Hercules as the exemplar of heroic virtue and Van Mander called Hercules virtue itself.65 Virtue thus clearly connoted manliness, manhood, strength, vigour, courage, excellence, particularly in battle. Yet virtue is also ‘troubled’ by an ambivalence in which the active manifestation of courage that triumphs over adversaries through the use of physical force exists alongside Aristotelian and Stoic traditions of virtue as a quality or performance of mind or soul. For these thinkers, virtue is an unfaltering, ongoing constancy that is the perfect ‘golden mean’ between extremes: it is not swayed by temptation or passion but is attained by practice and governed by reason.66 Considered in these terms, the virtue sought by Hercules Prodicius – ‘Hercules at the crossroads’ – is thus the path of aretē, constantly mediating between excess on both sides, rather than a simple, binary opposition to vice.67 In relation to an engraving, this path could be imagined as an elusive but vital line of supreme quality that, in negotiating between extreme positions such as cruelty and suffering, lust and apathy, passion and reason, flesh and stone, linked as well as separated them.

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C. Ripa Perugino 1593, 289, 290. In C. Ripa Perugino 1644, 85, a Dutch translation of the 1624–5 edition of Ripa expanded by G.Z. Castellini, the entry entitled Virtu, naer de medaglie van Alexander (‘Virtue after a medal of Alexander’) reads: “Van een Mannelijck opsicht is Virtus vertoont, om dat haer naem van Viro of Viribus, dat is, van ’t Mannelijck af komt, en toont alsoo haere dapperheyd, die een deughlijck Man betaemt.” “Virtue is shown in a masculine aspect, because her name derives from Viro or Viribus, that is from ‘manliness’, and so shows her prowess, that befits a virtuous man.” See further Woodall 2003, 7–25. For example, Ripa 1593, 290; for Van Mander 1604, fol. 78r–v, see below p. 215. See further below, n. 70. Woodall 2003, passim; Aristotle, Nichomachean Ethics, book 2; Hanafi 2000, 183–6. Van Mander 1604, fol. 78r–v: ‘Hercules wort veel ghehouden te wesen de deught, daer toe wort t’woordt Aretē ghetrocken, t’welck deught te segghen is.’ (‘Hercules is much held to be virtuousness, from which the word Aretē is drawn, that is to say virtue.’) Cf. Braider’s discussion of the temporality of Annibale Carracci’s Choice of Hercules (1595–97, Naples, Museo Nazionale di Capodimonte) and the implications of the theme for the emergence of the ‘modern subject’ (Braider 2004, 111–43).

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What is the nature of this elusive path or line, and where does it lead? Nagel and Pericolo explain that:68 a-poros, a path that is blocked, is not the same as a non-path, a path never opened. It means that there is a path […], or rather there has been a way […], and yet it is somehow impassable. An aporia suggests that there was once the possibility of resolution; it points out that there is a way – perhaps pointing it out for the first time, for there was no need to acknowledge the path itself as long as it was a means to an end. The aporia forces us not merely to come up with a different solution; by necessity it forces a reconsideration of the approach itself, the ‘thinking of the path’, an enquiry that also figures a history. Why is the path here? How was it beaten? Why is the path no longer passable? What other paths are inspired by the existence of this one? As we have seen, for contemporaries Hercules’ primary destination was the garden of the Hesperides, Hera’s orchard in a far western corner of the world in which a tree bearing golden apples grows. Van Mander followed the expanded, 1603 edition of Ripa when he claimed that the three golden apples held by the famous statues in Rome signified ‘three powers of Hercules, which is virtue. The first, to moderate wrath, the second, to avoid avarice, the third to constrain lust, and not to serve it.’69 Significantly, however, in Ripa’s original text these three powers led to a more elevated goal:70 When reason has so far suppressed the sensory affections that it is indivisibly joined to the virtuous mean, and made pure and illustrious, it surpasses human excellence and approaches the Angels. Here the acquisition of the three apples represents significant progress en route to a condition of virtue in which materiality is contained, purified and ultimately transfigured into incorporeal, angelic form. Before attaining these golden fruits and the ultimate, intangible reward that they promise, the bur-

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Nagel and Pericolo 2010, 9. See above, n. 39. Ripa 1603, 507 on ‘Virtu Heroica’: “È quando la ragione hà talmente sottoposti gli affetti sensitiui, che sia giunto al punto indivisibile de I mezzi virtuosi, & fattosi pura, & illustre, che trappassi l’eccellenza humana, & à gli angeli si accosti.” The same phrase (‘Virtu Heroica’) is found in Rinaldi 1538, 77.

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geoning body of The Great Hercules is situated in a masculine life-narrative of passion and excess rather than reasoned moderation. Infamously, in a fit of madness he slaughtered his own children, and Van Mander recounts at length and with relish stories of murderous strength and numerous violent contests with monstrous enemies, often motivated by passion rather than reason.71 Whilst these episodes could – with some difficulty – be moralised, they could not articulate a consistent ‘golden mean’.72 Hercules can achieve true virtue only after the completion of his life-story, and this noble aim justifies the cruel and vicious deeds that he performs along the way. Hercules’ labours and other adventures were in fact less demonstrations of virtue in the civilised, Aristotelian sense of negotiating a perfect, reasoned path through excess than repeated trials of the ancient, primitive conception of virtue as an inherent, embodied potency or efficacy, a natural life-force that was linked with sexual virility, physical strength and the principle of kill or be killed.73 Besieged Haarlem had recently been subjected to this principle and according to Van Mander, Goltzius regarded his journey to Italy as a fight for survival and recognition that involved the conquest of adversity by whatever means necessary, extending to death itself.74

2.2

The Path and End of Suffering

Indeed, in order to become ‘pure and illustrious’, Hercules had not only to be repeatedly brutal but also to suffer a searing demise: ‘a path that is blocked’. As described at length in Ovid’s Metamorphoses and more briefly by Van Mander, Hercules’ death was an agonizing experience of blistering and disintegrating muscles. Set off by the heat from a sacrificial altar, his poisoned tunic began to ‘melt into his flesh’. It had been contaminated with the searing blood of the hydra, and sent to him by his wife Deianeira (‘the man-destroyer’) in the mistaken belief that it would restore his love for her:75

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On Hercules’ murderous madness and its depictions in the eighteenth century, see Macsotay and Caballero Gonzalez in this volume. ‘Van Hercules’, Van Mander 1604, fol. 74v–79v. Woodall 2003, esp. 9–10; Braider 2008, 113. Van Mander 1604, fol. 282v, see n. 47. Van Mander 1604, fol. 74v. Ovid’s description of the hero’s death is gorier than the earliest description, in Sophocles’ Women of Trachis, but surpassed in horrific detail by the slightly later Senecan Hercules Oetaeus.

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The poisoned garment, cleaving to him, ripped his skin, heat shriveled, from his burning flesh. Or, tightening on him, as his great strength pulled, stripped with it the great muscles from his limbs, leaving his huge bones bare. Importantly, though, Hercules’ corporeal death was followed by an apotheosis in which the hero was resurrected and rejuvenated ‘in spirit form’. Ovid described this spirit dimension in terms not just of containment but of the exclusion of his earthly, bodily origin: ‘Unlike the well-known mortal shape derived by nature of his mother, he kept traces only of his father Jupiter.’76 Although situated within his life-narrative as a hardened warrior, the principal figure of The Great Hercules print anticipates the tortured condition of its ultimate, transformative death as a physical being. It is noticeable that in places the ragged hide of the Nemean lion looks like a woven textile, draped over his left arm, fluttering above his right shoulder and hanging down between his legs. One is reminded of the fatal tunic sent to Hercules by Deianeira, the garment that seared his skin and laid his great muscles bare. Moreover, a comparison between Goltzius’ print and the immensely influential myological images of Andreas Vesalius’ (1514–1564) anatomical atlas De humani corporis fabrica (On the Structure of the Human Body, 1543) not only makes the exaggeration of the muscles in The Great Hercules immediately apparent but also exposes significant visual similarities between them that seem likely to have been noticed by educated contemporaries.77 For example, both The Great Hercules and the Vesalian illustrations are large-format prints in which a huge, naked, male fig-

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Ovid, Metamorphoses 9.98–171, trans. More 1978, 2.878–84, esp. 879. On knowledge of Ovid’s Metamorphoses in the Netherlands before 1600, and of Van Mander’s Uutlegghinge (‘Interpretation’), see Sluijter 1986, 295–321. An interest in Vesalian imagery in Haarlem is indicated by the inclusion of a book of anatomical diagrams in the foreground of Maarten van Heemskerck’s St Luke Painting the Virgin of c. 1550, as discussed by Veldman 1977, 115–21. In a postscript to a letter of 17 February 1595, Pieter Pauw (1564–1617), professor of anatomy at Leiden University since 1589, mentioned to his correspondent Jan Jacob Orlers, that ‘Morghen (wesende Zaterdagh), beghinne ik de tweede anatomie. Ghelieft u. e. Tzelfde Goltzius ofte iemant anders te verwittighen’ (‘Tomorrow (being Saturday), I will start the second anatomy. May it please you to notify the same Goltzius or anyone else’) Prinsen 1905, 173. In 1618, Pauw’s successor Ottho van Heurne (1577–1652) purchased an example of The Great Hercules that is recorded as mounted on panel and framed in a 1622 inventory of the anatomy theatre. See further, Huisman 2009, 50. Goeree’s description of The Great Hercules as an Appelsak also indicates that the anatomical allusions of the Hercules figure were recognised, because the criticism appears in the chapter of his treatise Menschkunde (‘The Study of Man’) devoted to musculature (Goeree 1682, 406).

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ure towers over a landscape, dominating the horizon. In both Vesalius’s Prima Musculorum Tabula (‘First Diagram of the Muscles’) and Goltzius’ print the muscles are hypertonic and highly articulated by means of the incised lines. The depicted bodies have been stripped of, or appear to lack, the cutaneous and sub-cutaneous layers that normally cover and soften the muscular structures.78 Both figures are, in effect, flayed. As Kusukawa has pointed out, Vesalian anatomical illustration was associated with the figure of Hercules. She convincingly connects the explicit use of the Belvedere Torso as the model for one of the figures in De humani corporis fabrica librorum epitome (Basel 1543) with the perfect ‘Herculean’ body.79 We have seen that The Great Hercules too had an honoured antique exemplar in the statue of the Farnese Hercules. However, more pertinent to the tortured flesh that is currently being foregrounded is a myological illustration in the Historia de la composicion del cuerpo humano (‘History of the composition of the human body’) by Juan de Valverde (1525–1588), a Dutch edition of which was published in Antwerp in 1568 (Figure 7.3).80 De Valverde’s illustrations were mostly adapted from Vesalius but an original engraving that corresponds to the woodcut Prima Musculorum Tabula in Vesalius shows a full-length muscle-man holding a skin in one hand and a knife in the other. The scene has been compared with Saint Bartholomew holding his flayed skin in Michelangelo’s Last Judgement (1536–1541, Sistine Chapel, Vatican City), which the artist would almost certainly have known, but those with a modicum of classical education were equally likely to have recognised the figure as some kind of Hercules; the large, ragged pelt with paw-like appendages resembles that of a lion as much as a man.81 As comparison with Giambattista della Porta’s (c. 1535–1615) De humana physiognomonia (On Human Physiognomy) of 1586 reveals, the facial skin in particular, with its deep eye sockets, squashed nose and hairy extension below the chin, evokes the physiognomic characteristics of a lion (Figure 7.4).82 78

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Kusukawa 2012, 210. The myological figures in De humani corporis fabrica libri septem were all set in landscapes and approximately 425 mm by 285mm. The illustrations are viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020. Kusukawa 2012, 215 and fig. 10.9. de Valverde 1568. I consulted Plantijn’s 1572 edition, in which the image is Table 1, Book 2; opposite page 56. The book was first published in Spanish in Rome in 1556, in Italian in 1560 and in Latin in Antwerp in 1566. de Valverde’s draftsman, Gaspar Becerra (1520–1570), is said to have studied with Michelangelo in Rome. On the print, and the relationship of de Valverde’s illustrations to classical statues including the Belvedere Torso, traditionally identified as Hercules, see San Juan 2008. On the enduring relationship between the Belvedere Torso and Hercules in eighteenth-century artistic renderings, see Macsotay in this volume. della Porta 1586, 2.34.

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figure 7.3 Myological engraving from Juan de Valverde, Anatomie, oft levende beelden vande deelen des menschelicken lichaems: met de verclaringhe van dien, inde Neder-duytsche spraecke (Anatomy, or Living Images of the Parts of the Human Body: with explanations, in the Dutch language), Antwerp: Christopher Plantijn 1568, Libri II, Tabula I Photo © Wellcome Collection, CC BY 4.0 (https://creative commons.org/licenses/by/4.0), available at https:// wellcomecollection.org/works/kwd3mw22 (accessed 05/08/2019)

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figure 7.4 Comparative physiognomy of man and lion, woodcut from Giambattista della Porta, De humana physiognomonia Libri IIII (Four Books of Human Physiognomy), Naples 1586 Photo © Wellcome Collection, CC BY 4.0 (https://creativecommons .org/licenses/by/4.0), available at https://wellcomecollection .org/works/v382jckk (accessed 05/08/2019)

Thus, seen through the lens of Vesalian anatomy, the lion’s hide in The Great Hercules (Figure 7.1) heightens the allusion to flayed skin produced by the treatment of the muscles. The hero’s hairy pelt seems both physically to belong to him, turning him into the Netherlandish lion rampant, and to be ripped from him into tatters, dramatically framing and exposing his face and torso.83 Whilst one fragment flutters upwards from his shoulder like a wing, others, rendered in flickering light with wavy lines rather than curved cross-hatching, glimmer like flames from his brawny right arm. Hence The Great Hercules can not only be seen as a virile hero but also to intimate a traumatised figure annealed by butchery and fire en route to an ardently desired rebirth and rejuvenation. Understood as a body politic, it could have evoked the Netherlands’ recent experience of violence, in particular the siege and subsequent conflagration in Haarlem. A contemporary etching by

83

Compare Michäel Eytzinger’s Leo Belgica (The Belgian Lion), 1583, the first of many maps in which The Netherlands are presented in the shape of a lion.

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figure 7.5 Frans Hogenberg, Massacre in Haarlem by the Spaniards, 1573, etching, 218mm × 282 mm. Rijksprentenkabinet, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (Inv. RP-P-1949–433) Photo © Rijksmuseum, released into the public domain by the Rijksmuseum

Frans Hogenberg (1535–1590) depicts the terrible suffering consequent upon the city’s surrender by means of multiple abject bodies (Figure 7.5). Described as ‘naked’ in the inscription, in the image the vulnerable bodies of these victims are juxtaposed to the hard, segmented armour of the victors.84 In April 1589, the year the print was published, Thomas Bodley (1545–1613), an English diplomat at the Hague, reported that the United Provinces were ‘weaker at this present than it hath been these many years; and unless by Her Majesty’s [Elizabeth I’s] extraordinary assistance and counsel it be presently holpen, there is little appearance that they can hold it out long.’85 Yet there was also the possibility of resurrection and in retrospect, 1589 was a watershed. Israel states in his history of the Dutch Republic that:86

84 85 86

Mielke 2009, 1.63 (B90). As quoted by Israel 1995, 234, with reference to Wernham 1957, 450. Israel 1995, 234.

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In 1588, the United Provinces’ strategic situation seemed as precarious as ever. Yet, over the three years 1588–90, the outlook improved dramatically, a crucial transition for Dutch, and all European history. From being a divided enfeebled state, incapable of defending its territory, the Republic was transformed into a viable confederacy […]. A body made monstrous and yet ultimately transmuted by burning also makes sense in relation to the artist, whose dominant hand had, according to Van Mander, been injured as the result of falling into a fire and being seared by boiling oil as a young child. Badly bound, the hand ended up deformed, ‘the sinews grew one into the other, so that he could throughout his life never properly open his hand’.87 Yet it was this tortured, inflexible hand that ultimately had the right shape and the strength to manipulate the burin in the heroic labour of producing prints such as The Great Hercules. In Van Mander’s biography of Goltzius, it is notable that the ‘evident signs of his identity’ that finally convinced a noble companion that the shabbily clad figure on the way to Naples was the renowned artist were the entwined lines of the H and G monogram on his handkerchief and this misshapen part of his body. The deformed hand is assumed to be depicted in two pen-works that reproduce his virtuoso engraving technique of forceful swelling and tapering lines (Figure 7.6).88 This metonymic self-portrait seems to inform the hands of the main figure of The Great Hercules, hands that hold the pustular club and Achelous’s amputated horn like engraver’s burins (Figure 7.1).89 It is notable too that in Van Mander’s biography, Hendrick/Hercules’ apotheosis is often not far away from the presence of (and the desire for) physical

87 88

89

Van Mander 1604, fol. 284r (my translation); cf. Miedema 1994–1999, vol. 1, 386. Hendrick Goltzius, The Artist’s Right Hand, Haarlem, Teylers Museum, pen and brown ink, 230 mm by 322mm, inscribed with the artist’s name, including the HG monogram, and dated 1588 (Figure 7.6); Hendrick Goltzius, The Artist’s Right Hand, pen and brown ink, 245 mm by 340 mm, sold at Christies 10-07-2014, as discussed by Melion 1991, chapter 3, see esp. 59 and 168. The identification of the drawing with Goltzius’ own hand is rejected by Miedema 1994–1999, vol. 5, 180. Goltzius inserted self-referential iconography relating to his damaged hand into his works. For example, in 1606 the pen-painting Sine Cerere et Baccho friget Venus (Without Ceres and Bacchus, Venus freezes, Philadelphia Museum of Art), Goltzius himself is recognisable in the background, holding a burin, his right hand seemingly in the flames. See also the engraving of Gaius Mucius Scaevola, produced in the 1580s, in which the Roman hero proved his courage by unflinchingly placing his hand in a blazing fire: an example in the Print Room of the British Museum, London (1854,0513.95) is viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020.

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figure 7.6 Hendrick Goltzius, The Artist’s Right Hand, 1588, pen and brown ink, inscribed with the artist’s name, including the HG monogram, 230mm × 322mm. Haarlem, Teylers Museum (Inv. N 058) Photo © Hannolans 2019, released into the public domain

labour and abject suffering; for example, directly after depicting the seated, young Hercules in Naples ‘he and his companions returned to Rome in the Papal galleys because Goltzius was eager to see the naked slaves rowing’.90 Previously, in Rome, because of the plague, ‘in the streets and public places, miserable sick people lay dying, also in some places near where Goltzius was busy drawing after antique statues; this did not stop him from realising his desires, despite the foul stench […]’.91

2.3

At the Crossroads between Tradition and Modernity

The Great Hercules was published at the threshold of the Dutch ‘Golden Age’, a period of unprecedented expansion in global trade, knowledge and exploitation, particularly in the distant West, the location of the garden of the Hes-

90 91

Miedema 1994–1999, vol. 1, 392–3 and vol. 5, 194. Van Mander 1604, fol. 283r. Miedema 1994–1999, vol. 1, 390–91.

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perides. It is notable that explicit evidence of this new world, in the form of a tobacco plant, features in the lower left corner of the print.92 A contemporary woodcut of two warriors of the Tupinambá people from the Amazon region in Brazil demonstrates how the noble Hercules could migrate visually into this realm and become entangled with ‘the Barbarian’ and ‘the savage’ (Figure 7.7).93 Following Donna Haraway’s injunction to ‘stay with the trouble(s)’, this chapter has abandoned the attempt to limit understanding of the print to the epistemology of an ‘enlightened’ world. Instead of trying to contain The Great Hercules within the strict confines of logic, the more liberal techniques of knowledge-production of the late-sixteenth century have allowed Hercules to incorporate both the macrocosm and the microcosm: the Netherlandish body politic exemplified by the city of Haarlem, and the individual artist Hendrick Goltzius, epitomised by his misshapen yet powerful hand. The heroic, masculine body has expanded to encompass not only an initial claim to authority and stability in the form of a monumental statue but also the mobility of a life-story punctuated by events and informed by choice. It has been suggested that, at this pivotal historical moment, the masculine subject was being required not only to decide between vice and virtue, conceived as fixed, binary opposites, but also to engage in a continual negotiation between different but related extremes. While the colossal statue looks backwards towards the monuments of an antique golden age, the progressing figure strives towards a dream of material fulfilment and spiritual immortality that justifies repeated trials of strength and brutal deeds along the way. As well as being a demi-god, The Great Hercules admits the possibility of being a laughable ‘Apple-sack’. As a flesh-and-blood human being he has been ravaged and deformed by physical labour and suffering as intense as, and entangled with, the cruelties he is dealing out to adversaries over land and sea. Indeed, the Latin inscription beneath

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Holman 1993, 400–401. This does not invalidate Holman’s suggestion that the medicinal properties of tobacco can be interpreted with reference to Goltzius restoration to health through his journey to Italy. The powers of a panacea such as tobacco were known as ‘virtues’. de Léry 1578, 231. Cf. Gaudio 2008, ix–xi. See de Léry 1578, 230 (the page opposite to the woodcut) for the use of the terms ‘savage’ and ‘Barbarian’ and a description of the Tupinambá battle cries that is similar to the account of the battle hymn to Hercules and battle cries of the Germanic peoples in Tacitus, Germania 3. For the construction and circulation of de Léry’s image see Sloan 2007, 67–69, 227. For a Herculean presence in the depiction of colonisation, in Australia by Thomas Cleveley (1747–1809) and New Zealand by twentyfirst-century artist Marian Maguire, see Dillon and Stafford respectively in Blanshard and Stafford (eds) 2020.

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figure 7.7 Two warriors of the Tupinambá people from the Amazon region of Brazil, woodcut from Jean de Léry, Histoire d’un Voyage fait en la terre du Brésil autrement dite Amerique (History of a voyage to Brazil, otherwise known as America), La Rochelle: Pour Antoine Chuppin 1578, 231. The British Library, London: 576.c.29 Photo © Joanna Woodall

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The Great Hercules seems to hint that this giant has not only conquered his alter-egos, Achelous and Antaeus, but also, through exposure in his labours to the three additional ‘monsters’ that are mentioned, somehow subsumed these ‘others’ into his own prodigious body: the poisonous and insatiable hydra, the fire-breathing, cannibal giant Cacus and the ‘three bodied’ hulk Geryon.94 Consisting of both an inscription and an image, the print has thus been moved through and beyond iconography into a realm in which the very same lines, incised and inked by the artist and expressed onto the paper by the physical force of the mechanical press, not only describe a figure but constitute a multifarious, entangled, perplexing subject named Hercules.95 Yet in calling Hercules ‘virtue itself’, Van Mander specified ‘the honest, valiant heart [ghemoedt], wisdom, reason and constancy that is in us, because no one shares in or attains these good characteristics without Divine grace, and the good inclinations of the heart [ghemoets].’96 This chapter has demonstrated that The Great Hercules cannot be recognised as a figure of virtue if virtue is regarded solely as a fixed position, in contrast to its foreign other: vice. There is more mileage in the Aristotelian practice of constantly charting a line between excess on every side, the elusive golden mean that would still justify transcendent value.97 Goltzius was conscious of the pun between his name and the Dutch word for gold and ‘The Apple-sack of Goltzius’ can, after all, be seen to be engaged in the difficult, never-ending task of finding the proper path to attain the golden apples and the intangible ‘golden mean’.98 This potent meta-line would both describe and connect the realms of matter and spirit, passion and reason, barbarity and civility. According to Aristotelean ethics, virtue not as an

94 95 96

97 98

Cf. Hanafi 2000. Cf. Ingold 2007, 5: ‘what is a thing or indeed a person, if not a tying together of the lines – the paths of growth and movement – of all the many constituents gathered there?’ Van Mander 1604, fol. 78r–v: “Soo dat Hercules niet en is anders als de deughtsaemheyt, het eerlijck cloeck ghemoedt, wijsheyt, redelijckheyt, en ghestadicheyt, die in ons is, om dat dese goede eyghenschappen niemant te deele en worden sonder de Godtlijcke goetheyt, en goede toegheneghentheyt des ghemoets […].” Sachs no date. The pun on Goltzius’ name is evident in a personal emblem drawn by Goltzius dated 1609. A laurel-crowned, classical bust representing Honour flies above a caduceus of Mercury, god of eloquence, the base of which is inserted into a pot of gold coins. The inscription ‘Eer boven Golt’ means ‘Honour above Gold’. Drawing, pen and dark brown ink on cream laid paper, 150.8 mm by 89 mm, Crocker Art Museum, E.B. Crocker Collection, Sacramentio, California, 1871.143; viewable online through a link from the Hercules Project website, Hercules Project 2020.

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entity or even essence but as a continuing practice, habitus or path, could thus be sought and found even within monstrosity, as what might be termed the line of beauty. The philosopher and translator of Aristotle Joe Sachs emphasises:99 … the intimate connection of beauty with the experience of wonder. The sense of wonder seems to be the way of seeing which allows things to appear as what they are, since it holds off our tendencies to make things fit into theories or opinions we already hold […]. But this is what Aristotle says repeatedly is the ultimate effect of moral virtue, that the one who has it sees truly and judges rightly, since only to someone of good character do the things that are beautiful appear as they truly are […]. It is only in the middle ground between habits of acting and between principles of action that the soul can allow right desire and right reason to make their appearance, as the direct and natural response of a free human being to the sight of the beautiful. Hendrick Goltzius himself seems likely to have pursued a transcendent line within his monstrous, material creation. After all, Van Mander says that whilst drawing the great antique statues in Rome amongst the dead and dying victims of the plague, he ‘almost forgot himself because his spirit and mind were, as it were, abducted and taken away from his body through looking at the excellent works of art’.100 However, while Goltzius aspired to approach the Angels in heaven, we remain down on earth, embodied beings in the midst of the trouble and arguably lacking the assistance of Divine grace. In its attempt to make sense of The Great Hercules, this chapter has responded to the aporia by opening up a path that has to divide, proceed in parallel, cross, spiral outwards, double back on itself and adopt other manoeuvres in negotiating between and bringing together a whole array of ‘extremes’. They include allegory and embodied experience, individual and community, monumentality and mobility, cruelty and suffering, physical labour and erudite rhetoric, nobility and boorishness, animality and civility, reverence for past achievements and progress towards future fulfilment – the list could go on. These abstract limits of masculinity 99 100

Sachs no date. On aporia and its role in early modern art, see Nagel and Pericolo 2010. Van Mander 1604, fol. 283r. Miedema 1994–1999, 1.390 and 5.190. According to Gaudio 2008, 39, ‘[Goltzius] establishes a path of transcendence […] in which the artist acknowledges the materiality of the scriptive instrument’s work even as he imagines a victorious end for that labour’.

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have been linked together and given a specific character by a pivotal historical moment, Haarlem in 1589, but they remain logically different, even opposed. In the supremely controlled marks that form The Great Hercules, incipient binary contradictions have been concealed, condensed and reconciled by the artist, the confusions and troubles to which they testify transformed into a graphic image that engenders in the viewer the endless task of perceiving ‘inherent’ virtue: the golden mean in the incised, inked line. Yet in addition to Hendrick’s personal identification with Hercules Prodicius, who makes his choice between earth and heaven, it is worth remembering that his old friend Van Mander stated that ‘Together, all these things that have been recounted prove Goltzius to be a rare Proteus or Vertumnus in Art, who like him can metamorphose into all ways of proceeding’.101 This chapter has suggested that in The Great Hercules Goltzius’ procedures involve hyperbole, disguise, deceit, displacement and comical inversion through knowing imitation. In my view it is not inherent virtue but this Art, the ongoing, astoundingly skilled, embodied practices of translation, mutation and transformation, which can still invest the figures of Hendrick Goltzius and The Great Hercules with the golden thread of rhetorical potency ascribed to the Gallic Hercules.102 Their virtue lies in the artful performance that can still provoke fruitful thought about masculinity on the threshold of modernity.

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Van Mander 1604, fol. 285r., my translation: “Al dees verhaelde dinghen t’samen bewijsen, Goltzium eenen seldsamen Proteus oft Vertumnus te wesen in de Const, met hem in alle ghestalten van handelinghen te connen herscheppen.” Cf. Miedema 1994–1999, vol. 1, 398. See above, n. 51. In the edition of Andrea Alciato’s Emblemata published in Leiden in 1591, the Latin text of emblem CLXXX, ‘Eloquentia fortitudine praestantior’, reproduced in the Introduction to this volume (Figure i.1), is translated: “His left hand holds a bow, his right hand a stout club, the lion of Nemea clothes his bare body. So this is a figure of Hercules. But he is old and his temples grizzled with age – that does not fit. What of the fact that his tongue has light chains passing through it, which are attached to men’s pierced ears, and by them he draws them unresisting along? The reason is surely that the Gauls say that Alcaeus’ descendent excelled in eloquence rather than might and gave laws to the nations. – Weapons yield to the arts of peace, and even the hardest of hearts the skilled speaker can lead where he will.”

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H. and Luijten, G. (eds.) Hendrick Goltzius (1558–1617): drawings, prints and paintings, Amsterdam, New York, Toledo, OH: Rijksmuseum, Metropolitan Museum of Art, and The Toledo Museum of Art, 117–45 Magnaguagno-Korazija, E. (1983) Hendrick Goltzius. Eros und Gewalt, Dortmund: Harenberg Marsilje, J. (1995) ‘De geografische, institutionele en politieke ontwikkelingen’ in van der Ree-Scholtens, G. (ed.) Deugd boven geweld: een geschiedenis van Haarlem, 1245– 1995, Hilversum: Verloren, 19–62 Melion, W. (1991) Shaping the Netherlandish Canon, Chicago, IL and London: Chicago University Press Mielke, U. (comp.) (2009) Frans Hogenberg Broadsheets, 2 vols., in Luiten, G. (ed.) The New Hollstein: Dutch and Flemish Etching, Engravings and Woodcuts 1450–1700, Ouderkerk aan den Ijssel: Sound & Vision Publishers in co-operation with the Rijksprentenkabinet, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Nagel, A. and Pericolo, L. (2010) ‘Unresolved images: an introduction to aporia as an analytical category in the interpretation of early modern art’ in Nagel, A. and Pericolo, L. (eds.) Subject as Aporia in Early Modern Art, Farnham and Burlington, VA: Ashgate, 1–15 Nevitt Jnr, H.R. (2003) Art and the Culture of Love in Seventeenth-century Holland, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Nichols, L. (2013) The Paintings of Hendrick Goltzius, Doornspijk: Davaco Nichols, L. (1991–1992) ‘Hendrick Goltzius: documents and printed literature concerning his life’ in Falkenberg, R., Filedt-Kok, J.-P., Leeflang, H. (eds.) Goltzius-Studies: Hendrick Goltzius (1558–1617), Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek 42–43: 77–120 Orenstein, N. (2003–2004) ‘Finally Spranger: prints and print designs 1586–1590’ in Leeflang, H. and Luijten, G. (eds.) Hendrick Goltzius (1558–1617): drawings, prints and paintings, Amsterdam, New York, Toledo, OH: Rijksmuseum, Metropolitan Museum of Art, and The Toledo Museum of Art, 106–108 Panofsky, E. (1930) Herkules am Scheidewege und andere antike Bildstoffe in der neueren Kunst, Leipzig and Berlin: B.G. Teubner Platt, P. (ed.) (1999) Wonders, Marvels and Monsters in Early Modern Culture, Newark: University of Delaware Press; London: Associated University Presses Plett, H. (2004) Rhetoric and Renaissance Culture, Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter Prinsen, J.Lzn. (1905) ‘Eenige brieven van Professor Pieter Pauw aan Orlers’, Oud Holland 23: 168–74 Reznicek, E. (1961) Die Zeichnungen von Hendrick Goltzius: mit einem beschreibenden Katalog, 2 vols. Utrecht: Haentjens Dekker & Gumbert Rosenthal, L. (2003) ‘Political and painterly virtue in Cornelis Cornelisz van Haarlem’s Wedding of Peleus and Thetis for the Haarlem Prinsenhof’ in de Jong, J., Meijers, D.,

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Westermann, M. and Woodall, J. (eds.), Virtue, Virtuoso, Virtuosity, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek 54: 172–201 Roymans, N. (2009) ‘Hercules and the construction of a Batavian identity in the context of the Roman Empire’ in Derks, T. and Roymans, N. (eds.) Ethnic Constructs in Antiquity: the role of power and tradition, Amsterdam Archaeological Studies 13, Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 219–38 Schuckman, C. (comp.) (1991) Claes Jansz Visscher to Claes Claesz Visscher II, 2 vols. in De Hoop Scheffer, D. (ed.) F.W.H. Hollstein’s Dutch and Flemish Etchings, Engravings and Woodcuts c.1450–1700 (Vol. 38), Roosendaal: Van Poll Sellink, M. (comp.) (2000) Cornelis Cort, 3 vols., in Leeflang, H. (ed.) The New Hollstein: Dutch and Flemish etching, engravings and woodcuts 1450–1700, Rotterdam: Sound & Vision Publishers in co-operation with the Rijksprentenkabinet, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Simons, P. (2008) ‘Hercules in Italian Renaissance art: masculine labour and homoerotic libido’, Art History 31: 632–64 Sluijter, E.J. (1986) De ‘Heydensche Fabulen’ in de Noordnederlandse Schilderkunst circa 1590–1670, The Hague: E.J. Sluijter Sloan, K. (2007) A new world: England’s first view of America, London: British Museum Spaans, J. (1989) Haarlem na de Reformatie. Stedelijk cultuur en kerklijk leven, The Hague: Stichting Hollands Historische Reek Stafford, E.J. (2005) ‘Vice or Virtue? Herakles and the art of allegory’, in Rawlings, L. and Bowden, H. (eds.) Herakles and Hercules: exploring a Graeco-Roman divinity, Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales, 71–96 van Dorsten, J., and Strong, R. (1964) Leicester’s Triumph, Leiden; Leiden University Press; London: Oxford University Press van der Ree-Scholtens, G. (ed.) (1995) Deugd boven geweld: een geschiedenis van Haarlem, 1245–1995, Hilversum: Verloren van Thiel, P. (1999) Cornelis Cornelisz van Haarlem 1562–1638: a monograph and a catalogue raisonné, Doornspijk: Davaco Veldman, I. (1977) Maarten van Heemskerck and Dutch Humanism in the sixteenth century, Amsterdam: Meulenhoff Wernham, R.B. (1957) ‘The Mission of Thomas Wilkes to the United Provinces in 1590’ in Conway Davies, J. (ed.) Studies presented to Sir Hilary Jenkinson, London: Oxford University Press: 423–55 Widerkehr, L. (comp.) (2007) Jacob Matham, 3 vols. in Leeflang, H. (contr. and ed.) The New Hollstein: Dutch and Flemish etching, engravings and woodcuts 1450–1700, Ouderkerk aan den Ijssel: Sound & Vision Publishers in co-operation with the Rijksprentenkabinet, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Wilson, D. (1993) Signs and Portents: monstrous births from the Middle Ages to the Enlightenment, London: Routledge

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Wind, B. (1998) ‘Comic’ in Roberts, H.E. (ed.) Encyclopedia of Comparative Iconography: themes depicted in works of art, 2 vols, Chicago, IL and London: Fitzroy Dearborn, 1.173–7 Woodall, J. (2003) ‘In pursuit of virtue’ in de Jong, J., Meijers, D., Westermann, M. and Woodall, J. (eds.) Virtue, Virtuoso, Virtuosity, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 54: 7–25 Woodall, J. (1996) ‘Love is in the air – Amor as motivation and message in seventeenthcentury Netherlandish painting’, Art History 19: 208–46 Zorach, R. (2008) The Virtual Tourist in Renaissance Rome: printing and collecting the Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Library. Catalogue of an exhibition held 24th September 2007 to 11th February 2008, Special Collections Research Center, University of Chicago Library

chapter 8

Literary Hard Labour: Lyric and Autobiography in Joachim du Bellay Marc Bizer

In Renaissance Studies there has been a great deal of scholarly attention given to the development of the autobiographical genre and its relationship to the professional roles of its practitioners, who were often secretaries, lawyers, or diplomats frustratingly engaged in the politics of their time.1 Such studies have been largely focused on prose, yet it seems that, at least with Joachim du Bellay (1522–1560), one can make a case that lyric also participates in the phenomenon where the literary is inseparable from the political and more importantly where actors who hoped to play a role in History, turn away from it and toward themselves.2 Not surprisingly, given the innate tendency of lyric to bring the self to the fore, the example of du Bellay, the impoverished and ambitious aristocrat obliged to seek a career close to the spheres of power and who wound up ‘wasting’ years of his life at the Papal court, shows that the theme of professional toil and frustration transcended the boundaries of prose and verse and, in this process, constituted a significant spur to the development of autobiographical literature. Hercules, being the mythic hero of toil, along with his specific incarnation as the Gallic Hercules provided, in this respect, a worthy model for Renaissance French writers and rulers. In scholarship on sixteenth-century France, Hercules is most widely known as the ‘Gallic Hercules’ a figure derived from the Greek writer Lucian (125– 180). This figure found his way into the hearts and minds of humanists, who, as Hallowell put it, ‘saw in [him] a ready-made literary and artistic device to glorify their language, their literature, and their monarchy’.3 Glorification of the monarchy was, not surprisingly, a key use of Hercules by the royal poet, Pierre 1 See, for instance, Najemy 1993; Rambuss 1993; Biow 1998; Desan 2012. 2 See further especially Desan 2012, 292 and 300. Desan has observed that those who ‘n’ont pas pu véritablement être eux-mêmes acteurs’ (‘have not truly been able to be actors themselves’) turn to writing a ‘nouvelle histoire plus vraie qui amoindrit l’expérience de l’autre au profit de l’ expérience du moi’ (‘new, truer history that diminishes the experience of the other to the advantage of my own’). 3 Hallowell 1962, 250. On the second-century text by Lucian, see the Introduction to this volume. For a more general overview of the Gallic Hercules, see Rebhorn 1995.

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Ronsard (1524–1585).4 The situation is, however, quite different in the context of Ronsard’s rival Joachim du Bellay. In the latter’s Regrets, which subtly question courtliness and French identity as attached to the person of the King, du Bellay’s diplomatic duties are often presented in conflict with the act of writing verse so that the writer seems almost to want to deny the status of poetry, likening his verses to ‘daily jottings or chronicles’, and thus to prose.5 Insofar as du Bellay underscores in the first sonnet of the Regrets how different his situation is from the epic heroes Odysseus and Jason and furthermore that, unlike Ronsard, he makes no pretence of writing epic, the appearance of Hercules in the Regrets is noteworthy.6 The purpose of this chapter is first to re-examine the classical distinction between negotium (‘leisure’) and otium (‘work’), and then to consider to what extent the notion of struggle and travails is central to the development of the lyric voice and the autobiographical genre in du Bellay’s innovative verse. I will do this, not by examining the figure of Odysseus as I have done elsewhere, but by exploring references to and the context for the mythological figure of Hercules, who, like Odysseus, is closely associated with the King in the Regrets.7 The chapter uses the paradigmatic Adagia (‘Adages’) of Desiderius Erasmus (1466–1536) to suggest that Erasmus’ treatment of the Greek hero in the adage Herculei labores (‘the labours of Hercules’), in which Hercules is made to embody humanist labour, can be considered a precedent for the hitherto unsuspected connections between lyric, labour, and the autobiographical genre in sixteenth-century Europe that emerged in the work of du Bellay.

1

The Labours of Joachim du Bellay

Du Bellay’s work is filled with references to poetic labours, the most prominent being the La Deffence et illustration de la langue françoyse (Defence and Glorification of the French Language, hereafter, Deffence). This is, in a sense, an essential trait of French humanism of the first half of the sixteenth century: there was a great deal of cultural catch-up to be done with respect to both the ancients and the Italians. Some, however, were too intent on reproduction; thus du Bellay

4 See, for example, his ‘Elegie au Roy’ (vol. 5, 133–45), ‘Hercule Chrestien’ (vol. 8, 207–23), and ‘Hylas’ (vol. 15, 234–53); all references are to the Laumonier edition (Rabelais 1914–19). 5 Bizer 2000. Regrets 1, 14, trans. Helgerson (du Bellay 2006), which I have used throughout for the Regrets and the Defence and Glorification of the French Language. 6 Bizer 2010. 7 See especially Bizer 2011.

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condemned the fervent neo-Latinists by saying ‘you have learned their words with great effort and the better part of your life is already past’ (‘à grand peine avez-vous appris leurs motz, et voyla le meilleur de votre aage passé’).8 Even in terms of imitation in another language, the poet is exhorted, ‘with nightly and daily hand, turn over the pages of Greek and Roman models’.9 Du Bellay also sought to strike a balance between the especially technical and formally virtuosic lines of his predecessors, the grands rhétoriqueurs, and the ennobling idea of the poet inspired by divine fury, and so insists on the inadequacy of innate (‘naturel’) talent alone:10 He who wishes to fly through the hands and lips of men must long dwell in his study. And he who desires to live in the memory of posterity must, as though dead unto himself, often sweat and tremble and, just as our courtier poets drink, eat, and sleep at their ease, endure hunger, thirst, and long vigils. Still, poetry as a vocation or calling paradoxically implies a great deal of work. Du Bellay also underscores that toil distinguishes the new poet from courtier poets for whom verse is neither vocation nor calling and is instead subordinated to the decadent ease of courtly life. The Regrets, the collection of sonnets composed by du Bellay while in Rome in the 1550s as part of the diplomatic entourage of his cousin, Jean du Bellay (1493–1560), initially appear to reintroduce the notion of poetry as otium – but only in contrast with the courtly professional works of the poet stationed in Rome. Thus, in the introductory poem ‘A Monsieur d’ Avanson’, he states, ‘The Muse alone in the midst of labour eases pain and dries my tears’.11 Similarly, part of his captatio benevolentiae is to repeat this message in order to defend against possible criticism of the imperfect nature of this poetry: the purpose of his verse is just to offer ‘some rest from my labours’.12 The Muse and his ‘labeur’ (‘labour’) therefore appear diametrically opposed, as in sonnet 6 where he has lost ‘that divine frenzy’ (‘ceste divine ardeur’) precisely 8 9 10

11 12

Deffence 1 ch. 11. Deffence 2 ch. 4: ‘feuillete de main nocturne & journelle les exemplaires Grecz & Latins’. Deffence 2 ch. 3: “Qui veut voler par les mains et bouches des hommes, doit longuement demeurer en sa chambre: et qui désire vivre en la mémoire de la postérité, doit, comme mort en soi-même, suer et trembler maintes fois, et, autant que nos poètes courtisans boivent, mangent et dorment à leur aise, endurer de faim, de soif et de longues vigiles.” Regrets, ll. 31–2: ‘La Muse seule au milieu du labeur / Flatte la peine, et desseiche les larmes’. Regrets 1.7: ‘A mes travaulx … quelque repos’.

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because of his mundane responsibilities, or in sonnet 12, addressed to fellow secretary Olivier de Magny, where he states, ‘Given the household cares which are my travails … You often wonder how I sing’.13 In sonnet 13, du Bellay presumably refers to his earlier Petrarchan verse as being a ‘waste’ since it is ‘the vain pastime of such a prolonged error’ and as a ‘thankless work’ having made him ‘waste the best years of my life’ (ll. 2–4); he then lightly dismisses his current verse as ‘pleasant toil’ because it ‘numbs the care that affronts me’.14 Nevertheless, since the entire collection of the Regrets is convincing proof that the Muse hardly frowns upon a poet so occupied by chores, we must not forget that by referring to poetic composition as ‘pleasant toil’ (‘plaisant labeur’, 18.11), du Bellay underscores the commonality of ‘toil’ underlying both of the activities in which he engaged, yet with the one salient difference being that poetry is termed pleasant and administration is not.15 In some sense, then, the two concepts of negotium and otium appear to be more similar than different. Another similarity in this context where labeur also applies to poetry, is that both activities offer little reward. Thus, later in the Regrets, du Bellay states ‘we complain to see our efforts / Deprived of applause’ and even advises fellow poet Etienne Jodelle to ‘choose other work / Than that of the Muse if one wants to get ahead’ if Calliope’s rewards seem too meagre.16 The poetic attitude informing the Regrets, then, is consistent with du Bellay’s earlier insistence on the importance of hard, thankless work in the formation of the poet in his Deffence. The Regrets are filled with grumblings on this subject, in sonnet 24 for instance, 13 14

15 16

Regrets II.1–4: ‘Vu le soin ménager dont travaillé je suis … Tu t’ébahis souvent comment chanter je suis.’ Regrets II.2–4; 5–6. Regrets 13.1–6: “Maintenant je pardonne à la douce fureur Qui m’ a fait consumer le meilleur de mon âge, Sans tirer autre fruit de mon ingrat ouvrage Que le vain passe-temps d’ une si longue erreur. Maintenant je pardonne à ce plaisant labeur, Puisque seul il endort le souci qui m’ outrage …” “Now I forgive the gentle fury Which made me waste the best years of my life, Without gaining any other fruit of my thankless work Than the vain pastime of such a prolonged error. Now I forgive this pleasant toil, Because it numbs the care that affronts me …” Regrets 18.11. The oxymoronic ‘pleasant toil’ is of course a transformation of the repudiated earlier Petrarchan style. For a study of this phenomenon, see Rebhorn 1980. Regrets 146.9–10: ‘nous nous plaignons de voir nostre labeur / veuf d’applaudissement’. Regrets 153.11–12: ‘autre labeur choisir / Que celuy de la Muse, à qui veut qu’on l’avance’.

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he speaks of ‘the longings, the troubles, the torment, and the suffering, / the belated repentance for a vain hope’.17 The oft-repeated expression ‘vain hope’ (‘esperance vaine’) has Petrarchan echoes in Ronsard’s Amours, where it constitutes, however, a transposition of frustration from the amorous realm to that of the political and diplomatic.18 In a contrary sense, then, du Bellay’s involvement in the kind of work that lyric poets traditionally despise, like political service, is accompanied by an implicit refusal of the traditional lyric love poet’s work, such as the conquest of the lady through poetry, which used to be called his militia amoris or ‘service of love’. In other words, far from being the obstacle it is represented to be, the toil of public service provides the type of inspirational impetus that makes the poetic craft of the Regrets possible. Accordingly, ‘vain hope’ applies no longer to love but to the toil associated with political aspirations.

2

Joachim du Bellay and the King

There is, however, a bit of a twist for the poet du Bellay when the notion of labeur encounters sovereignty. First, the king does not work, but he does, with things presumably just happening when he wills them to happen. In the final sonnet of the Regrets, du Bellay invites the king to direct his power towards the writer poet and in so doing to create something out of nothing:19

17

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Regrets 24.9–14, addressed to Jean-Antoine de Baïf: “Moy chetif ce pendant loing des yeux de mon Prince, Je vieillis malheureux en strange province, Fuyant la pauvrété: mais ne fuyant pas Les regrets, les ennuys, le travail, & la peine, Le tardif repentir d’ une Esperance vaine, Et l’ importun souci, qui me suit pas à pas.” “Meanwhile miserable I, far from the eyes of my prince, Am growing old, unhappy, in a foreign land, Fleeing poverty, but not, alas, fleeing The longings, the troubles, the torment, and the suffering, The belated repentance for a vain hope, And the nagging care that pursues me step by step.” For the use of ‘esperance vaine’ in Regrets, see also sonnets 33, 35, 47. Regrets 191.12–14: “Elargissez encot sur moy vostre pouvoir, Sur moy, qui ne suis rien: à fin de fairs voir, Que de rien un grand Roy peult faire quelque chose.”

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Expend in turn your power on me, On me who am nothing – so as to show That of nothing a great King can make something. Effortless royal agency comes to the fore in an earlier sonnet addressed to François II, where du Bellay identified the prince’s father as ‘our Gallic Hercules’.20 Earlier, at the very end of the Deffence, du Bellay had exhorted the reader and not the king to remember the Gallic Hercules, ‘pulling peoples after him by their ears with a chain attached to his tongue’.21 This imagery of Hercules having his tongue linked by chains to his audience in order to demonstrate the triumph of eloquence over force became part of the official iconography of the king, who was depicted precisely as a Gallic Hercules during the royal entry ceremony into Paris of 1549.22 Yet in the very same poem of the Regrets, rather than encouraging the heir to govern through a mastery of rhetoric, the poet uses the figure of Hercules to inspire the young dauphin to take the arduous path to virtue, representing it as the summit of a mountain that can only be reached through great exertion: ‘That painful effort alone can climb’.23 There is another path, of course, leading ‘without climbing’ (‘sans eschelle’) to ‘vice’, but du Bellay ends the sonnet apparently by holding up as an example Hercules who laboriously ‘made himself a god by virtue alone’.24 This would, then, appear to be a Herculean transposition of the allegory of the more difficult path taken by Petrarch in the latter’s Ascension of Mount Ventoux.25 In shifting from the Gallic Hercules embodying eloquence to the more traditional figure of the labouring, Choice-making hero, du Bellay makes the example more relevant to himself. While it may seem problematic that the topic here is virtue and not poetic style, it is notable that in sonnet 3 of the Regrets, addressed to the king, the poet uses virtually the same imagery to suggest, in a surely ironic, self-deprecating fashion, that he will pursue ‘a more

20 21

22 23 24 25

Regrets 172.1–2: ‘Digne filz de Henry, nostre Hercule Gaulois, / Nostre second espoir …’ (‘Worthy son of Henry, our Gallic Hercules / Our second hope …’). Deffence 2 ch. 12: ‘Vous souvienne de votre ancienne Marseille, secondes Athenes: & de votre Hercule Gallique, tirant les Peuples apres luy par leurs Oreilles avecques une Chesne attachée à sa Langue.’ See Bryant 1986, 130 and Jung 1966, 90–93. On the origins of the Gallic Hercules, see the Introduction to this volume, with Figure i.1. Regrets 172.10 ‘qui par le seul travail vault estre surmontee’. Regrets 172.14. On the tradition of the Choice of Hercules, see the Introduction to this volume, and Stafford 2005. On Petrarch and the Choice, see Durling 1974.

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well-travelled road’ (‘le chemin plus batu’) unlike Ronsard (who happens to have ‘Grace’):26 For neither my heart, nor my strength, nor my breath suffices To follow, as he does, in sweat and pain That arduous trail that leads to virtue. This was, of course, a literary commonplace, possibly conditioned by the royal status of the addressee. What this topic has in common with the metapoetic discourse is the theme of choosing toil over ease.

3

Erasmus

Although it is not directly cited by du Bellay, Erasmus’s adage Herculei labores (‘labours of Hercules’) provides important context for Hercules as the exemplar of humanist labour.27 The Dutch humanist begins his long adage by stating that the notion of the ‘labours of Hercules’ may be taken in two ways: first as ‘something great and manifold’ requiring the strength of Hercules, but also as an act ‘of a kind to bring the greatest advantage to others, and little or no profit to the doer, except a little fame, and a lot of envy’.28 What interests Erasmus is this second option, for it serves as the point of departure for a considerable excursus devoted to the notion of humanist toil in general and to the thankless nature of Erasmus’s aphoristic undertaking in particular. Initially Erasmus exhorts princes to focus on the ‘general good’ and not to use ‘their office for themselves as if they were running a private concern’.29 But just as du Bellay would insist on his service amounting to ‘utterly neglecting one’s own interests’, 26

27 28 29

Regrets 3.12–14: “Ne me bastant le Coeur, la force, ny l’ haleine De suivre, comme luy, par sueur & par peine Ce penible sentier qui meine à la vertu.” The influence of Erasmus’s Adagia on the Regrets has been well documented: see Legrand 1994. For more on Erasmus, see Woodall in this volume. All references to the adage Herculei labores are based on the translation by Philips (Erasmus 1964). Erasmus, 193. Hercules is also mentioned by Rabelais in the context of Pantagruel’s excellent practice of government (Rabelais 1995, 75): ‘il régnait en traitant bien ses sujets, les maintenant en toute équite et justice, en leur octroyant une constitution libérale et des lois adaptées à la situation des provinces …’ (‘He reigned by treating his subjects well, keeping them in all fairness and justice, by granting them a liberal constitution and laws adapted to the situation of the provinces …’).

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in Erasmus, the largely political concept of service, of pursuing ‘the advantage of others at the expense of oneself’, quickly becomes the pretext for humanist self-portraiture.30 Thus, Erasmus complains:31 If any human labours ever deserved to be called Herculean, it is certainly the work of those who are striving to restore the great works of ancient literature – of true literature. While in fact, they condemn themselves to immense toil, owing to the incredible difficulty of the task … This is the beginning of what is known familiarly today as ‘a rant’. This chapter is not concerned with the details, but Erasmus concludes by wondering, given the vigils, labour, hardships, criticism, and lack of rewards, ‘who would not be frightened off by these things from engaging in such work, unless he be a real Hercules in mind, able to do and suffer anything for the sake of serving others’?32 Just as du Bellay associates his fate with Cardinal Jean du Bellay’s in Regrets sonnet 49, Erasmus self-disparagingly draws parallels between his situation and that of the prince:33 When I see what happens to the princes, nay the heroes of the world of letters, what can I expect to happen to me, knowing full well as I do that all my things are mediocre, or rather non-existent, in comparison with theirs. But he then adds, ‘especially in this sort of work, which entails far more labour than can be easily imagined by anyone who has not experienced it’.34 Yet the tone soon becomes much more personal and self-justifying:35 For these reasons I think it is not out of place here, to digress a little further on these matters than the subject itself seems to suggest, not because I want to make a display or show off my brains and industry, but make the reader a little more inclined to be just to me. Certainly whoever considers what immense toil and what infinite difficulties this collection of adages (however imperfect) has meant to me, will be much less impatient.

30 31 32 33 34 35

Regrets 46.4: ‘du tout mespriser sa propre utilité’. Erasmus, 194. Erasmus 194. Erasmus 195. Erasmus 195. Erasmus 195–6.

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The works of both Erasmus and du Bellay demonstrate a decisive shift in attitudes towards work. In lyric poetry, du Bellay had initially sought to combine the notion of toil with that of divine fury so as not to confuse the vocation of the poet with that of the mere verse craftsman or technician, yet in the Regrets, he made tedious administration and management the very source of his inspiration. In the early seventeenth century, François de Malherbe (1555–1628) would dispense with the idea of divine inspiration and again give priority to versification over ideas, but humanists of the early and middle sixteenth century found that there was much to do, and accordingly, from Guillaume Budé (1467–1540) and Erasmus to du Bellay, one finds a frequent insistence on toil, often thankless toil, as part of a captatio benevolentiae addressed to patrons. Their labours are an essential, indeed characteristic part of the self-portrait that emerges from their writings.

Conclusion After the thematic parallels between du Bellay and Erasmus, and the topos of humanist toil that appears in their works, this chapter ends with the suggestion about the role that Hercules plays in the relationship between genre, theme, and the emergence of the self in the western Europe of the sixteenth century. In the introduction to her translation of the Adages, Phillips comments that, in some ways, the Adages can be seen as a precursor to the Essays of Montaigne (1533–1592).36 In many of the adagia the proverbs take centre stage, in the longer ones, such as the Herculei labores, they give way to autobiographical comments and metapoetic considerations.37 Adages like the Herculei labores are proto-essays themselves, and constitute a middle ground of sorts between an encyclopaedic compendium of sayings and Montaigne’s work of self-portraiture in which citations are absorbed by the writer, thus creating a much richer and more complex relationship with the authorial voice. As Montaigne famously declared in the essay On the Education of Children, ‘I much more readily twist a good saying to sew it onto myself than I twist the thread of my thought to go and seek it elsewhere’.38 It is fascinating and, I would argue,

36 37

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Erasmus 1964, 38. For example, in Herculei labores Erasmus attributes an almost decorative function to quotation when he observes, ‘proverbs only show their real beauty when they are seen inserted like jewels into the right place in a speech’ (Erasmus 199). Montaigne 2003, 1 ch. 26: ‘Je tords bien plus volontiers une bonne sentence pour la coudre sur moi que je ne tords mon fil pour l’ aller querir’.

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telling, that Erasmus chose to make the adage Herculei labores one of those proto-essays. Evoking, for himself, the model of the labouring Hercules and going beyond that of the Gallic Hercules associated with the sovereign’s authority, du Bellay creatively transforms, in the process, notions of work and leisure. Even though toil in the Regrets is often evoked as an impediment to poetic composition, the fact that ‘travail’ is necessary for surmounting this obstacle suggests that du Bellay might also be seen as a distant precursor of Gustave Flaubert, famous for dramatizing the drudgery involved in writing, condemned, as Roland Barthes put it, to a kind of ‘literary hard labour’.39

Bibliography Primary Sources du Bellay, J. (2006) The Regrets: with, The Antiquities of Rome, Three Latin Elegies, and the Defense and Enrichment of the French Language, trans. Helgerson, R., Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press Erasmus (1964) The ‘Adages’ of Erasmus: a study with translations, Phillips, M.M. (ed.), Cambridge, Cambridge University Press Montaigne, M. de (2003) The Complete Works, Frame, D. (trans.), New York: Knopf Rabelais, F. (1995) Œuvres complètes: Le Tiers Livre, Demerson, G. (ed. and trans.), 2nd edition, revised, Paris: Editions du Seuil Ronsard, P. de (1914–19) Oeuvres Complètes, Laumonier, P. (ed.), 8 vols., Paris: Librairie Marcel Didier

Secondary Sources Barthes, R. (1977) Writing Degree Zero, Lavers, A. and Smith, C. (trans.), New York: Hill and Wang Biow, D. (1998) ‘From Machiavelli to Torquato Accetto: the secretarial art of dissimulation’, in Patrizi, G. and Quondam, A. (eds) Educare il Corpo, Educare la Parola nella Trattatistica del Rinascimento, Rome, Bulzoni: 219–38 Bizer, M. (2011) ‘Royal mythography and its discontents: Joachim du Bellay and Etienne de la Boétie’, in Bizer, M. Homer and the Politics of Authority in Renaissance France, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 81–117

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Barthes 1977, 64; 66: ‘Flaubert it was who most methodically laid the foundations for this conception of writing as craft’ and ‘since Literature could not be vanquished by its own weapons, was it not better to accept it openly, and, being condemned to this literary hard labor to “do good work” in it?’

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Bizer, M. (2010) ‘From lyric to epic and back: Joachim du Bellay’s epic Regrets’, Modern Language Quarterly 71.2: 107–27 Bizer, M. (2000) ‘“Qui a païs n’a que faire de patrie”: Jaochim du Bellay’s resistance to a French identity’, Romantic Review 91.4: 375–95 Bryant, L.M. (1986) The King and the city in the Parisian Royal Entry Ceremony: politics, ritual, and art in the Renaissance, Geneva: Librairie Droz Desan, P. (2012) ‘Des mémoires de Commynes aux essais de Montaigne’ in Blanchard, J. (ed.) 1511–2011, Philippe de Commynes. Droit, écriture: deux piliers de la souveraineté, Geneva: Librairie Droz, 285–300 Durling, R.M. (1974) ‘The ascent of Mt. Ventoux and the crisis of allegory’, Italian Quarterly 18: 7–28 Hallowell, R.E. (1962) ‘Ronsard and the Gallic Hercules Myth’, Studies in the Renaissance 9: 242–55 Jung, M.-R. (1966) Hercule dans la littérature française du XVIe siècle: de l’Hercule Courtois à l’Hercule baroque, Geneva: Librairie Droz Legrand, M.-D. (1994) ‘Les Adages d’Erasme au sein des Regrets de Joachim du Bellay’ in Dauphine, J. and Mironneau, P. (eds) du Bellay: autour des Antiquitez de Rome et des Regrets, Biarritz: J & D Editions, 65–77 Najemy, J.M. (1993) Between Friends: discourses of power and desire in the MachiavelliVettori letters of 1513–1515, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press Rambuss, R. (1993) Spenser’s Secret Career, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Rebhorn, W.A. (1995) The Emperor of Men’s Minds: literature and the Renaissance discourse of rhetoric, Ithaca, NJ, Cornell University Press Rebhorn, W.A. (1980) ‘du Bellay’s imperial mistress: Les Antiquitez de Rome as Petrachist sonnet sequence’, Renaissance Quarterly 33.4: 609–22 Stafford, E.J. 2005, ‘Vice or Virtue? Herakles and the art of allegory’ in L. Rawlings and H. Bowden (eds.), Herakles and Hercules: exploring a Graeco-Roman divinity, Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales, 71–96

chapter 9

Voltaire’s Hercules Russell Goulbourne

1

Hercules and the philosophes

On 23rd March 1765, Voltaire writes to his well-placed and influential friend Etienne Noël Damilaville, encouraging him to fight the good fight against intolerance and injustice: ‘Go well, and may you enjoy the strength of Hercules in order to crush the hydra’.1 The timing is crucial. A fortnight earlier, the Royal Council had finally rehabiliated the memory of Jean Calas, a Protestant merchant from Toulouse who in 1762 had been executed for the murder of his son who, allegedly, had wanted to convert to Roman Catholicism. Voltaire’s decisive role in the so-called ‘Calas affair’ is well known, including the publication of his powerfully polemical Traité sur la tolérance (Treatise on Toleration, 1763), in which he integrates the Calas affair into his broader philosophical campaign of the 1760s to ‘écraser l’Infâme’ (‘crush the despicable’), where l’ Infâme refers to the infamy of Roman Catholic bigotry and intolerance. What Voltaire’s letter to Damilaville also reveals is the free-thinker’s fashioning of a suggestive parallel between crushing l’Infâme and the second of Hercules’ twelve labours, namely killing the Lernean hydra: like Hercules bashing the many-headed monstrous serpent, Voltaire is working hard to crush fanaticism, and encouraging others to do likewise. The metaphor of fanaticism as the Lernean hydra and the parallel between Hercules and the eighteenth-century free-thinking philosophes figure on several occasions in Voltaire’s correspondence of the 1760s. For instance, four days after the letter just quoted, on 27th March 1765, Voltaire writes to Damilaville again:2

1 Voltaire 1968–77, D12498: ‘Portez vous bien, et jouissez de la force d’Hercule pour écraser l’ hydre’. All references to the correspondence are by letter number. All translations are my own, unless otherwise indicated. 2 Voltaire 1968–77, D12508: “Hélas! mon cher frère, ces petites grenades qu’ on jette à la tête du monstre, le font reculer pour un moment, mais sa rage en augmente, et il revient sur nous avec plus de furie. Les honnêtes gens nous plaignent quand l’ hydre nous attaque, mais ils ne nous défendent pas comme Hercule. Ils disent, pourquoi osaient-ils attaquer l’ hydre?”

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004435414_011

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Alas! My dear brother, these little grenades that we throw at the head of the monster make it recoil for a moment, but then its rage increases all the more and it comes back at us with even more fury. Decent folk pity us when the hydra attacks us, but they don’t defend us like Hercules. They say, why did they dare to attack the hydra? Voltaire and Damilaville are brothers in arms, but the monster is clearly putting up a good fight. Indeed, no sooner was the Calas affair being resolved satisfactorily than the case of Pierre Paul Sirven became the next cause célèbre. In January 1762 the Protestant from Castres was accused of having killed his daughter (who, like Calas fils before her, had actually committed suicide) and was executed in September 1764. Then, in July 1766, the young chevalier de La Barre was executed for blasphemy following an incident with a crucifix on the bridge in Abbeville the previous summer. For Voltaire, history seemed to be repeating itself. Hence his letter, once again to Damilaville, of 8th August 1767, in which he writes: ‘As I’ve already told you, one has to spend one’s life fighting. A man of letters, however little reputation he has, is a Hercules who fights hydras. Lend me your club: I’m braver than I am strong’.3 And, some four months later, in his letter to his great ally Jean d’ Alembert of 26th December 1767, Voltaire writes:4 What annoys me the most is that the pedants, the fanatics and the crooks are united, while the good people are scattered, isolated, lukewarm, indifferent, attentive only to their own wellbeing and, as someone once said, let their friends have their throats cut and drink their blood.5 That will not stop Chardon from being the rapporteur on the Sirven case; this is a new blow of the club dealt to the fanaticism that is again lifting up its head from out of the mud in which it wallows. Hercules, stir up more Herculeses. 3 Voltaire 1968–77, D14344: “Je vous l’ avais bien dit qu’ il fallait passer sa vie à combattre. Un homme de lettres, pour peu qu’ il ait de réputation, est un Hercule qui combat des hydres. Prêtez-moi votre massue: j’ai plus de courage que de force.” 4 Voltaire 1968–77, D14623: “Ce qui me fâche le plus, c’ est que les cuistres, les fanatiques, les fripons sont unis, que les gens de bien sont dispersés, isolés, tièdes, indifférents, ne pensant qu’à leur petit bien-être et comme dit l’ autre, ils laissent égorger leurs camarades et lèchent leur sang. Cela n’empêchera pas monsieur Chardon de rapporter l’ affaire des Sirven; c’est un nouveau coup de massue porté au fanatisme qui lève encore la tête dans la fange où il est plongé. Hercule, ameutez des Hercules.” 5 The reference is to 1 Kings 21:19 and Job 39:30.

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The Sirven case is coming to trial and Voltaire welcomes the appointment of Daniel-Marc-Antoine Chardon as rapporteur. He encourages d’ Alembert to stir up the like-minded ‘Herculeses’ in support of truth and justice. In Voltaire’s hands, Hercules becomes a kind of shorthand for a certain resolve, a sense of determination and commitment to the cause: Hercules is fashioned into a figure of strength for – indeed, the very image of – the free-thinking philosophes.6

2

Satirical Parallels

If Voltaire, in his private correspondence, effectively collapses the difference between ancient mythology and eighteenth-century France for exemplary ends (i.e., in order to encourage his fellow philosophes to remain as strong as Hercules in their battle against l’Infâme), in his public writings, as this chapter will demonstrate, he enacts the same kind of conflation but for satirical ends. Specifically, in a number of his philosophical works Voltaire uses irony to create corrosive parallels between ancient myth and the Christian tradition, where each comically undermines the other: in these texts, Voltaire constructs Hercules as an integral part of his critique of institutionalised religion in a context of Church- and state-led censorship. He puts the ancients’ historical accounts on a par with Biblical accounts, and suggests that the two are equally fantastical: his critique of ancient history is the context for his devastating critique of the Bible and of the Roman Catholic Church. Voltaire the historian was unusual in being deeply suspicious of what he regarded as the ‘fables’ of ancient history, which for him relied more on memory than on reason; indeed, as Force notes, Voltaire’s preference for modern history is the key to understanding his distinctive approach as an historian in eighteenth-century France.7 Voltaire read Diodorus and Herodotus, for instance, and mocked both mercilessly, not least for what they reveal about Hercules, and for how they reveal it.8 For instance, having dimissed their histories as works of pure fantasy, at the end of his article ‘Of Diodorus of Sicily and of Herodotus’ in Questions sur l’Encyclopédie (Questions on the Encyclopaedia, 6 Free-thinking is to Voltaire what poetry was, as Bizer demonstrates in this volume, to his sixteenth-century poetic forebears: a Herculean labour. 7 Force 2009, 462; see also, Cronk 2015. For a useful introduction to Voltaire the historian, see Volpilhac-Auger 2009. 8 Voltaire read Diodorus’s Universal History in the 1758 edition of the Abbé Terrasson’s sevenvolume French translation, first published in 1737–44 (see Voltaire 2010a, 143–45); he read Herodotus’ histories in the 1713 edition of Du Ryer’s three-volume French translation, first published in 1645 (see Voltaire 2011a, 380–84).

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1771), Voltaire reserves particular scorn for the gratuitous detail that Diodorus gives about Hercules in his Universal History:9 It would be impossible to give more details about Hercules: this hero travels the whole hemisphere, sometimes on foot and all alone like a pilgrim, sometimes like a general of a great army. All his labours are faithfully discussed. Given that Voltaire’s wide and intensive reading of ancient history simply led him to be more and more sceptical about ever actually knowing the ancient world, his use of the adverb ‘faithfully’ (‘fidèlement’) is shot through with irony. Voltaire treats with satirical disdain the absurdly luxuriant detail about the ultimately unknowable Hercules. Significantly, it is the unknowability of Hercules, and, by extension, of Christian tradition, that Voltaire chooses to foreground at the beginning of ‘Abraham’, the first article in his Dictionnaire philosophique (Philosophical Dictionary, 1764):10 Abraham is one of those names famed throughout Asia Minor and Arabia, like Thoth in Egypt, the first Zoroaster in Persia, Hercules in Greece, Orpheus in Thrace, Odin in the northern countries, and many others, all better known for their celebrity status than for a well-attested place in history. As part of his withering attack on the historical veracity of the Old Testament, Voltaire names Abraham – the patriarch and father of all Christian believers – alongside a host of mythical deities and prophets. The choice of names is not, of course, innocent: Voltaire will name Thoth and Zoroaster in La Philosophie de l’histoire (The Philosophy of History, 1765), though this time alongside Moses and Muhammad as examples of individuals who have created religions from scratch; and, in Chapter 3 of one of Voltaire’s most hostile anti-Biblical 9

10

Voltaire 2009, 474: “On ne peut donner plus de détails sur Hercule: ce héros parcourt tout l’hémisphère, tantôt à pied et tout seul comme un pèlerin, tantôt comme un général d’une grande armée. Tous ses travaux y sont fidèlement discutés.” Voltaire 2011b, 8; Voltaire 1994a, 289: “Abraham est un de ces noms célèbres dans l’ Asie mineure, et dans l’Arabie, comme Thaut chez les Égyptiens, le premier Zoroastre dans la Perse, Hercule en Grèce, Orphée dans la Thrace, Odin chez les nations septentrionales, et tant d’autres plus connus par leur célébrité, que par une histoire bien avérée.”

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works Dieu et les hommes (God and Men, 1769), he will refer to Thoth, Zoroaster and Orpheus, alongside Moses, as inventors of divinities who punish vice and reward virtue for the purpose of social control.11 It is only in the Philosophical Dictionary article ‘Abraham’, however, that Thoth, Zoroaster and Orpheus are joined by Hercules and are, together, presented as individuals whose reputation preceeds them, perhaps even exceeds them. For Voltaire, it seems, Hercules is one of those ancient, mythical figures who is famous for being famous. Hercules is there at the very start of what was to become one of the most controversial works of the European Enlightenment – the Philosophical Dictionary was promptly condemned by the French authorities and placed on the Index of books prohibited by the Roman Catholic Church, where it remained until the Index was abolished in 1966 – and yet at the same time he is not there, since Voltaire presents Hercules as in some sense unknowable, or at least not enjoying ‘a well-attested place in history’.

3

Criticizing Superstition

The subversive parallel that Voltaire creates, via Hercules, between ancient myth and Christianity is reinforced in the Philosophical Dictionary article ‘Idol, Idolater, Idolatry’, in which Voltaire shows how Christians use the term ‘idolatry’ to denigrate other religions whilst demonstrating, at the same time, that the Christian use of images and statues could equally seem ‘idolatrous’ to a non-Christian. Focusing on ancient paganism, Voltaire raises the question of how the ancients viewed the statues they erected of their gods:12 How did they look upon the statues in the temples of their false deities? The same way, if I may say so, that we look upon the images of the things

11 12

Voltaire 1969, 225; Voltaire 1994c, 284. Voltaire 2011b, 157; Voltaire 1994b, 207–208: “De quel œil voyaient-ils donc les statues de leurs fausses divinités dans les temples? Du même œil, s’ il est permis de s’ exprimer ainsi, que nous voyons les images des objets de notre vénération. L’erreur n’était pas d’ adorer un morceau de bois ou de marbre, mais d’ adorer une fausse divinité représentée par ce bois et ce marbre. La différence entre eux et nous n’est pas qu’ ils eussent des images et que nous n’en ayons point; la différence est que leurs images figuraient des êtres fantastiques dans une religion fausse, et que les nôtres figurent des êtres réels dans une religion véritable. Les Grecs avaient la statue d’ Hercule, et nous celle de St Christophe; ils avaient Esculape et sa chèvre, et nous St Roch et son chien; Jupiter armé du tonnerre, et nous St Antoine de Padoue, et St Jacques de Compostelle.”

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we venerate. Their error lay not in worshipping a piece of wood or a lump of marble, but in worshipping a false god represented by the wood or the marble. The difference between them and us is not that they had images and we don’t: the difference is that their images pictured the fantastic creatures of a false religion whereas ours stand for real people professing a true faith. The Greeks had the statue of Hercules, and we have St Christophers; they had Aesculapius and his goat and we have St Roch and his dog; they, Jupiter wielding a thunderbolt and we, St Anthony of Padua and St James of Compostela. Voltaire’s satirical point is that modern Christians are just as superstitious as ancient pagans: the neat distinction that he makes between true and false religion – ‘the difference is that their images pictured the fantastic creatures of a false religion whereas ours stand for real people professing a true faith’ – rings comically hollow. Rather, the suggestion is that fantasy and falsehood characterise both the cult surrounding Hercules and that surrounding Christian saints in equal measure.13 Voltaire puts on a par the statue of Hercules at Tyre and the ten-metre-tall wooden statue of St Christopher that stood at the entrance of Notre-Dame in Paris until 1785, implicitly likening the staff that St Christopher holds in one hand in Christian iconography to the club that Hercules normally carries. A symbol of spiritual guidance thus morphs suggestively into a sign of brute force. Later in the same article, Voltaire returns to Hercules:14 The Greeks and Romans increased the number of their gods by apotheosis; the Greeks deified conquerors like Bacchus, Hercules, and Perseus, and the Romans built altars to their emperors. Our acts of apotheosis are different: we have saints instead of demi-gods (their secondary deities) but we pay no regard to rank or military prowess. We have built temples to people who are simply virtuous and who would mostly be unknown on earth if they had not gone to heaven.

13 14

Lojkine 1997, 417, notes the way in which the differences between Christians and pagans dissolve in Voltaire’s Philosophical Dictionary article ‘Idol, Idolater, Idolatry’. Voltaire 2011b, 158; Voltaire 1994b, 211–12: “Les Grecs et les Romains augmentèrent le nombre de leurs dieux par des apothéoses; les Grecs divinisaient les conquérants, comme Bacchus, Hercule, Persée. Rome dressa des autels à ses empereurs. Nos apothéoses sont d’ un genre différent. Nous avons des saints au lieu de leurs demi-dieux, de leurs dieux secondaires; mais nous n’avons égard ni au rang, ni aux conquêtes. Nous avons élevé des temples à des hommes simplement vertueux, qui seraient la plupart ignorés sur la terre, s’ ils n’ étaient placés dans le ciel.”

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Voltaire’s treatment of the Christian saints is again shot through with irony: the simple them/us dichotomy he sets up is a vehicle for underscoring similarities rather than differences between the ancient and modern worlds. The negative connotations that accrue to Hercules and simultaneously to the Christian saints in Voltaire’s published works become more explicit still in the Philosophical Dictionary article ‘Superstition’. Voltaire stresses here the very human, the base, even the selfish in Hercules as a way of implying a parallel with other men around whom religious devotion has, quite erroneously in his view, built up. In this, even Jesus Christ might be implicated:15 There is a perhaps pardonable supersition, and one that encourages virtue: that is placing among the gods the great men and women who have benefited the human race. It would be better, no doubt, to look upon them simply as people to venerate and above all to try and imitate. Venerate a Solon, a Thales, or a Pythagoras without making it into a cult, but do not worship Hercules for cleaning the Augean stables or sleeping with fifty girls in one night. By introducing Hercules’ ability to clear up after animals and his great sexual prowess, Voltaire treats satirically the reasons for religious worship, referring both to the fifth of the twelve labours of Hercules – cleaning King Augeas’ stables – and to the story of Hercules’ prodigious feat of impregnating all of the fifty daughters of King Thespios with whom he had intercourse. Voltaire is likely to have read about these exploits both in Diodorus and in the entry ‘Hercules’ in Pierre Bayle’s Dictionnaire historique et critique (Historical and Critical Dictionary, 1697).16 For Voltaire, bienfaisance – doing good to one’s fellow human beings – is the test of true worth. He argues that Hercules’ deeds are qualitatively different from the achievements of the statesman Solon and of the philosopher Pythagoras, both of whom he had already cited as exemplary individuals at the end of Chapter 22 of the Treastise on Toleration.17 In Voltaire’s opinion, the deeds of Hercules do not benefit society and are therefore hardly 15

16 17

Voltaire 2011b, 239–40; Voltaire 1994b, 538: “Il y a peut-être une superstition pardonable et même encourageante à la vertu; c’est celle de placer parmi les dieux les grands hommes qui ont été les bienfaiteurs du genre humain. Il serait mieux, sans doute, de s’ en tenir à les regarder simplement comme des hommes vénérables; et surtout de tâcher de les imiter. Vénérez sans culte, un Solon, un Thalès, un Pythagore, mais n’ adorez pas un Hercule pour avoir nettoyé les écuries d’Augias, et pour avoir couché avec cinquante filles dans une nuit.” See, Voltaire 2006, 223 n. 10; see also, Stafford 2012, 183–4. Voltaire 2016, 122; Voltaire 2000, 250.

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worthy of praise, let alone worship. The comparison here implicitly invites the Christian reader to rethink the reasons for his/her own devotions, which risk being inspired more by miracle-working than by doing good. By not following the conventional topos of Hercules’ choice of virtue over vice, Voltaire makes of Hercules a much more subversive figure.18 Voltaire returns to the account of Hercules’s sexual prowess in his satirical short story L’Ingénu (The Ingenu, 1767), where he links it even more explicitly to a satire of Christianity. The reference comes at the end of Chapter 4, just after the naïve hero’s baptism:19 They had given to the baptized the name of Hercules. The Bishop of SaintMalo kept asking who this patron saint was of whom he had never heard. The Jesuit, who was most learned, told him that he was a saint who had worked twelve miracles. There was a thirteenth which was worth more than the other twelve put together, but which it ill became a Jesuit to mention. That was the one of transforming fifty maidens into women in the course of a single night. One of those present, who was something of a humourist, energetically elaborated on the merits of this miracle. The ladies all lowered their gaze and considered that, to judge by his face, the Ingenu was worthy of the saint whose name he bore. Voltaire exploits the comedy of the Jesuit presenting the labours of Hercules in terms of Christian miracles, as well as the comedy of the respectable Christian women with their barely veiled sensuality. In Chapter 6 the hero looks set to live up to his baptismal name when he is alone with Mlle de Saint-Yves:20 18 19

20

On the Prodikean Choice of Hercules, see the Introduction to this volume; also Stafford 2005. Voltaire 2008a, 204; Voltaire 2006, 222–23: “On avait donné le nom d’ Hercule au baptisé. L’évêque de Saint-Malo demandait toujours quel était ce patron dont il n’avait jamais entendu parler. Le jésuite, qui était fort savant, lui dit que c’ était un saint qui avait fait douze miracles. Il y en avait un treizième qui valait les douze autres, mais dont il ne convenait pas à un jésuite de parler; c’était celui d’avoir changé cinquante filles en femmes en un seule nuit. Un plaisant qui se trouva là releva ce miracle avec énergie. Toutes les dames baissèrent les yeux, et jugèrent à la physionomie de l’ Ingénu qu’ il était digne du saint dont il portait le nom.” Voltaire 2008a, 208; Voltaire 2006, 229–30: “L’ Ingénu possédait une vertu mâle et intrépide, digne de son patron Hercule, dont on lui avait donné le nom à son baptême; il allait l’ exercer dans toute son étendue, lorsqu’aux cris perçants de la demoiselle plus discrètement vertueuse accourut le sage abbé de SaintYves, avec sa gouvernante, un vieux domestique dévot et un prêtre de la paroisse. Cette vue modéra le courage de l’ assaillant. ‘Eh, mon Dieu! mon cher voisin, lui dit l’abbé, que

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The Ingenu’s virtue was an intrepid masculinity worthy of Hercules his patron, with whose name he had been christened. He was about to exercise it to its fullest extent when the piercing cries of the young lady whose virtue was of a more discreet kind brought the wise Abbé de Saint-Yves, his housekeeper, a God-fearing old servant, and a local parish priest all running to the scene. The sight of these people moderated the courage of the assailant. ‘Oh, my God!’ said the Abbé. ‘My dear fellow, what on earth are you doing?’ ‘My duty,’ replied the young man. ‘I am keeping my vows, which are sacred.’ The religious satire is underscored by the hero’s description of his sexual desires as sacred vows. And at the end of the chapter he discovers to his horror what a convent is:21 As soon as he learnt that this assembly was a sort of prison in which young girls were kept locked up, something horrible and quite unknown to the Hurons and the English, he became as furious as Hercules his patron was when Eurytus, King of Oechalia, a no less cruel person than the Abbé de Saint-Yves, refused him the fair Iole, his daughter, a no less beautiful person than the Abbé’s sister. He wanted to go and set fire to the convent and carry off his sweetheart or be burnt to death with her. The reference here is to Hercules’ attempt, after his twelve labours, to win the hand of Iole, whose father, King Eurytus, had promised her to anyone who could beat him in an archery contest; Hercules won, but Eurytus reneged on the deal, claiming that Hercules had unfairly used magic arrows.22 Like Hercules, Voltaire’s Ingenu is furious at being denied the pleasure to which he considers

21

22

faites-vous là?’ – ‘Mon devoir, répliqua le jeune homme; je remplis mes promesses, qui sont sacrées.’ ” Voltaire 2008a, 209; Voltaire 2006, 232–33: “Sitôt qu’ il fut instruit que cette assemblée était une espèce de prison où l’on tenait les filles renfermées, chose horrible, inconnue chez les Hurons et chez les Anglais, il devint aussi furieux que le fut son patron Hercule lorsque Euryte, roi d’Œchalie, non moins cruel que l’ abbé de Saint-Yves, lui refusa la belle Iole sa fille, non moins belle que la soeur de l’ abbé. Il voulait aller mettre le feu au couvent, enlever sa maîtresse, ou se brûler avec elle.” While the archery contest for Iole’s hand is well-attested (Sophocles, Women of Trachis 260 ff. is unique in not offering her as the prize in the contest in which Hercules is victorious), the accusation that Hercules cheated by using magic arrows is less widespread but is reflected in the ‘inescapable arrows’ of Soph. Trach. 265–6.

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himself entitled, but the cause of his frustration is not a stubborn father but the Roman Catholic Church, which, as Voltaire sees it, goes against nature by locking women away in convents.

4

Miracles and Fables

Elsewhere, Voltaire also calls into question the status of Hercules’ seemingly less self-indulgent miracles, which allows him to raise doubts in the reader’s mind about Christ’s miracles too. If Christian apologists were wont to present miracles as evidence of doctrinal truth, Voltaire, by contrast, insists on the numerous parallels between pagan and Christian miracles, and in so doing he reduces both to the level of fantastical fables. His argument is that religious superstition of all kinds relies for its formation and survival on the invention of spellbinding miracles and wonders. The implicit parallel between Hercules and Christ serves his satirical purposes well.23 In his Philosophical Dictionary article ‘Miracles’, Voltaire rejects as nonsensical the view that the Christian God works wonders just for a select few:24 It’s all very well your exalting the immutability of the Supreme Being, the perenniality of his laws and the regularity of his infinite worlds: our tiny 23

24

For the parallel commonly understood between Hercules and Jesus (who are sons of divinities and mortal women, undertake heroic tasks on earth on mankind’s behalf, journey to and return from the Underworld and attain godhood), and its permeation of early-Christian thinking and survival into the medieval period and beyond, see Allan, Anagnostou-Laoutides and Stafford (eds) 2020 passim, especially the chapters by Allan and Čapeta-Račik. Voltaire 2011b, 202–3; Voltaire 1994b, 376–7: “Vous avez beau exalter l’ immutabilité de l’ Être suprême, l’éternité de ses lois, la régularité de ses mondes infinis: notre petit tas de boue a été tout couvert de miracles; les histoires sont aussi remplies de prodiges que d’ événements naturels. Les filles du grand prêtre Anius changeaient tout ce qu’ elles voulaient en blé, en vin, ou en huile; Athalide fille de Mercure ressuscita plusieurs fois; Esculape ressuscita Hippolite; Hercule arracha Alceste à la mort; Hères revint au monde après avoir passé quinze jours dans les enfers; Romulus et Remus naquirent d’ un dieu et d’ une vestale […]. Nommez-moi un peuple, chez lequel il ne se soit pas opéré des prodiges incroyables, surtout dans des temps où l’ on savait à peine lire et écrire. […] Les philosophes chrétiens disent, Nous croyons aux miracles opérés dans notre sainte religion; nous les croyons par la foi, et non par notre raison que nous nous gardons bien d’ écouter; car lorsque la foi parle, on sait assez que la raison ne doit pas dire un seul mot; nous avons une croyance ferme et entière dans les miracles de Jésus-Christ, et des apôtres; mais permettez-nous de douter un peu de plusieurs autres.”

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mud pile has been swamped by miracles; history is as replete with prodigious occurrences as it is with natural events. The daughters of the high priest Anius changed whatever they felt like into corn, oil or wine; Athalida, Mercury’s daughter, rose several times from the dead; Aesculapius revived Hippolytus; Hercules snatched Alcestis from the jaws of death; Er came back to earth after spending a fortnight in hell; Romulus and Remus were born of a god and a vestal […]. Name us a people in whose country there have never been any incredible prodigies, especially in an era when they could read and write. […] The Christian thinkers say: ‘We believe in the miracles performed in our holy religion; we believe in them through faith, and not through our reason; we take good care not to pay any heed to that, because when faith speaks it’s agreed that reason must be silent; we have total, rock-solid faith in the miracles of Jesus Christ, but allow us to have a few doubts about several others.’ Voltaire ridicules the partiality of the Christians’ beliefs and their dogged refusal to listen to the voice of reason, as well as to the long and deliberately loaded enumeration of pagan miracles: men being born of a god and a virgin, water being turned into wine, people being raised from the dead. Voltaire seems particularly interested in the significance of the miracle of resurrection, and specifically Hercules’ rescuing of Alcestis from Hades, with which he would have been familiar from his reading of Euripides.25 Indeed, he devotes a whole article of his Philosophical Dictionary to ‘Resurrection’, in which he notes:26 The belief in the resurrection greatly pre-dates the historical era. Athalida, Mercury’s daughter, could die and rise again at will; Aesculapius brought Hippolytus back to life, as did Hercules Alcestis. Pelops was hacked to

25

26

See the Questions on the Encyclopédie article ‘Ancients and Moderns’, Voltaire 2007, 341–6, where Voltaire discusses in detail Brumoy’s translation of Euripides (including Alcestis), which he judges insufficiently accurate, even though Voltaire seems not to have understood Greek himself. Voltaire 2011b, 228; Voltaire 1994b, 490–91: “La croyance de la résurrection est beaucoup plus ancienne que les temps historiques. Athalide fils de Mercure pouvait mourir et ressusciter à son gré; Esculape rendit la vie à Hippolite; Hercule à Alceste. Pélops ayant été haché en morceaux par son père, fut ressuscité par les dieux. Platon raconte qu’Hères ressuscita pour quinze jours seulement.” Lojkine 1997, 420, notes, with reference to Voltaire’s Philosophical Dictionary article on ‘Resurrection’, the way in which the foundational Christian moment is relativized through the evocation of similar miracles from antiquity.

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pieces by his father and resurrected by the gods. Plato tells us that Er was resurrected for a fortnight only. And at the end of his Questions on the Encyclopédie article ‘Hell’, having given an account of Jesus’ harrowing of hell and subsequent resurrection, he notes:27 God had previously allowed the profane Gentiles to imitate in advance these sacred truths. Fables had imagined that the gods resuscitated Pelops, that Orpheus pulled Eurydice out of hell, at least for a short time; that Hercules saved Alcestis from there, that Aesculapius resuscitated Hippolytus etc. etc. Let us always distinguish fable from truth, and let us rein in our mind when it comes both to things that surprise it and to things that seem to conform to its feeble understanding. The ‘sacred truths’ of Christianity, Voltaire implies, are just as fantastical as those of ancient Greece and Rome. What is more, he suggests, the stories told in the Bible are, at least to some extent, mere retellings of the stories of pagan mythology. In the Philosophical Dictionary article he notes that ‘the belief in the resurrection greatly pre-dates the historical era’, and in the Questions on the Encyclopédie article he makes the ironic claim that God had allowed the pagans to imitate the Christians in advance. Drawing attention to one of the implausible stories told about Hercules allows Voltaire to cast doubt on the veracity of the Bible as a whole. Absurdity and the charge of anticipatory imitation come together again when Voltaire cites another of Hercules’s exploits, namely his rescuing of Laomedon’s daughter, Hesione, from a sea-monster at Troy,28 which anticipates, according to Voltaire, the story of Jonah in the Old Testament. How to make sense of what happens to Jonah is one of the questions that Voltaire puts in the mouth of his character Zapata, a remarkably inquisitive would-be theologian from Spain, in Les Questions de Zapata (Zapata’s Questions, 1767):29 27

28 29

Voltaire 2010b, 120: “Dieu avait permis auparavant que les prophanes gentils imitassent par anticipations, ces vérités sacrées. La fable avait imaginé que les dieux ressuscitèrent Pelops, qu’Orphée tira Euridice des enfers, du moins pour un moment; qu’Hercule en délivra Alceste, qu’Esculape ressuscita Hippolite etc. etc. Distinguons toujours la fable de la vérité, et soumettons notre esprit dans tout ce qui l’ étonne, comme dans ce qui lui paraît conforme à ses faibles lumières.” For more on Hercules and Hesione, see Stafford 2012, 70–72. Voltaire 1987b, 398–9: “Comment dois-je entendre l’ histoire de Jonas envoyé à Ninive pour y prêcher la pén-

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How am I meant to understand the story of Jonah sent to Nineveh in order to preach repentance there? Nineveh wasn’t Israelite, and it seems as if Jonah should have instructed it in the ways of Jewish law before calling it to repentance. Instead of obeying God, the prophet flees to Tharsis; a storm starts blowing, and the sailors throw Jonah into the sea in order to appease the storm. God sends a large fish which swallows up Jonah; he stays three days and three nights in the belly of the fish. God commanded the fish to release Jonah, and the fish obeyed; Jonah steps out onto the shore at Joppa. God orders him to go and tell Nineveh that in forty days it will be destroyed if it doesn’t repent. From Joppa to Nineveh is a distance of more than 400 miles. Doesn’t this whole story require the kind of superior knowledge which I lack? I would certainly like to confound the experts who claim that this fable is taken from the fable of ancient Hercules. Hercules was trapped for three days in the belly of a whale; but he had a feast there, because he ate the whale’s liver off the grill. Jonah wasn’t so clever. Zapata’s disarmingly naïve questions about the Biblical narrative serve to point up its flaws and implausibility; and while he claims to want to ‘confound the experts who claim that this fable is taken from the fable of ancient Hercules’, his comments serve only to suggest that the Biblical retelling is less interesting than the original. Pursuing his subversive questioning of miracles, Voltaire elsewhere draws attention to what he sees as the remarkable similarities between between Hercules and Samson.30 Voltaire does this, for instance, in his L’ Examen important de milord Bolingbroke (The Important Examination by Lord Bolingbroke, 1767), a

30

itence? Ninive n’était point Israëlite, et il semble que Jonas devait l’instruire de la loi judaïque avant de l’ induire à cette pénitence. Le prophète au lieu d’obéir au Seigneur s’ enfuit à Tharsis; une tempête s’ élève, les matelots jettent Jonas dans la mer pour apaiser l’ orage. Dieu envoie un grand poisson qui avale Jonas; il demeure trois jours et trois nuits dans le ventre du poisson. Dieu commanda au poisson de rendre Jonas, le poisson obéit; Jonas débarque sur le rivage de Joppé. Dieu lui ordonne d’aller dire à Ninive que dans quarante jours elle sera renversée, si elle ne fait pénitence. De Joppé à Ninive il y a plus de quatre cent milles. Toute cette histoire ne demande-t-elle pas des connaissances supérieures qui me manquent? Je voudrais bien confondre les savants qui prétendent que cette fable est tirée de la fable de l’ ancien Hercule. Cet Hercule fut enfermé trois jours dans le ventre d’ une baleine; mais il y fit bonne chère, car il mangea sur le gril le foie de la baleine. Jonas ne fut pas si adroit.” Such similarities had been noted since at least the early church and were particularly evident in church art of the medieval period: see Allan, Anagnoutou-Laoutides and Stafford (eds) 2020, especially the chapters by Anagnostou-Laoutides and Čapeta-Račik.

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work written under the guise of a response to his friend Lord Bolingbroke but in which he uses the Englishman’s name as a cover for his own far-reaching religious critique, emphasising inconsistencies in the Bible and stressing that the Old Testament in particular is a work of elaborate plagiarism, the product, he claims, of the light-fingered Jews who wrote it. At the end of Chapter 6, he observes:31 Their extravagant praise demonstrates that they stole all their ideas from the Phoenicians, the Chaldeans and the Egyptians, just as they stole their wealth whenever they had the opportunity to do so. They took the very name Israel from the Chaldeans, as Philo admits on the first page of his account of his deputation to Caligula; and wouldn’t those of us in the West be pretty stupid to imagine that everything these barbaric folk from the East had stolen really belonged to them? And at the beginning of Chapter 8, he asks:32 What shall we say of Jephthah, who sacrifices his own daughter to his bloodthirsty God, and of the ambidextrous Ehud who kills Eglon, his king, in the name of the Lord, and of the divine Jael who kills General Sisera with a nail that she drives into his head, and of the debauched Samson whom God favours with so many miracles? A gross imitation of the fable of Hercules. From Voltaire’s questioning the Biblical narrative emerges as doubly implausible: this is not just plagiarism, but poor plagiarism.33

31

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Voltaire 1987a, 194: “Leurs rapsodies démontrent qu’ ils ont pillé toutes leurs idées chez les Phéniciens, les Chaldéens, les Egyptiens, comme ils ont pillé leurs biens quand ils l’ont pu. Le nom même d’ Israël, ils l’ ont pris chez les Chaldéens, comme Philon l’avoue dans la première page du récit de sa députation auprès de Caligula; et nous serions assez imbéciles dans notre Occident pour penser que tout ce que ces barbares d’ Orient avaient volé, leur appartenait en propre?” Voltaire 1987a, 197: “Que dirons-nous d’ un Jephté qui immole sa propre fille à son Dieu sanguinaire, et de l’ ambidextre Aod qui assassine Eglon son roi au nom du Seigneur, et de la divine Jahel qui assassine le général Sizara avec un clou qu’ elle lui enfonce dans la tête, et du débauché Samson que Dieu favorise de tant de miracles? grossière imitation de la fable d’Hercule.” The references are to Judges 11:30–39, 3:15–25, 4.17–22. Voltaire makes the point again in Chapter 28 of God and Men: see Voltaire 1994c, 401.

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Conclusion

Hercules serves Voltaire well in his very public campaign against institutionalised religion. By pointing up parallels between paganism and Christianity, Voltaire mocks both; by calling into question the authority of ancient history, he undermines the foundational authority of the Bible. Voltaire’s appropriation of Hercules in his great campaign to ‘écraser l’ Infâme’ could, indeed, be said to illustrate the processes of consecration and memorialisation which he describes in his Questions on the Encyclopédie article ‘Antiquity’:34 The memory was kept alive of anything that could encourage men, but not of anything that might inspire in them wretched despair. That is so true because fables were invented so that people could have the pleasure of instituting festivals. Castor and Pollux did not fight on the side of the Romans in the battle of Lake Regillus; but after three or four hundred years priests said they did, and everybody danced. Hercules did not save Greece from a seven-headed hydra, but they sang songs of praise about Hercules and his hydra. Voltaire is alive to the fact that a myth can be constructed for a useful social purpose, but with scant regard for facts. So for Voltaire what Hercules actually did does not matter; it is how he is talked about that makes the difference. And if, as Voltaire contends in the Philosophical Dictionary article ‘Abraham’, Hercules is ultimately unknowable, that only serves to make him more flexible, even polysemic. On the one hand, the myth of Hercules comes to constitute a coded language for the cognoscenti: in Voltaire’s private correspondence with fellow free-thinkers, Hercules the miracle-worker becomes a model of sustained effort and hoped-for triumph. On the other hand, Hercules the man becomes a means through which Voltaire can subversively question Biblical authority and challenge what is, for him, the absurdity of religious tradition. Serving both constructive and corrosive ends, then, Hercules is at the very heart of what Voltaire is now most famous for, as Frederick the Great identifies in a

34

Voltaire 2007, 408: “On perpétuait le souvenir de ce qui pouvait encourager les hommes, et non de ce qui pouvait leur inspirer la lâcheté du désespoir. Cela est si vrai, qu’on imaginait des fables, pour avoir le plaisir d’ instituer des fêtes. Castor et Pollux n’avaient pas combattu pour les Romains auprès du lac Régile; mais des prêtres le disaient au bout de trois ou quatre cents ans, et tout le peuple dansait. Hercule n’avait point délivré la Grèce d’une hydre à sept têtes, mais on chantait Hercule et son hydre.”

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letter to him of 18th June 1776, some two years before Voltaire’s death: ‘If Hercules overcame the Nemean lion, a strong athlete called Voltaire has crushed beneath his feet the hydra of fanaticism’.35 For Frederick, Hercules carried out his first labour himself, but Voltaire took over for the second one. But his suggestion that the campaign against monstrous fanaticism is over seems optimistic; rather, the challenge still remains – and that challenge is at once Herculean and Voltairean.

Bibliography Primary Sources Voltaire (1968–77) Correspondence and Related Documents, Besterman, T. (ed.) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vols. 85–135, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation Voltaire (1969) La Philosophie de l’histoire, Brumfitt, J.H. (ed.) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 59, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation Voltaire (1987a) L’Examen important de milord Bolingbroke, Mortier, R. (ed.) in Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 62, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 127–362 Voltaire (1987b) Les Questions de Zapata, Marchand, J. (ed.) in Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 62, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 363–407 Voltaire (1994a) Dictionnaire philosophique (I), Mervaud, C. (ed.) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 35, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation Voltaire (1994b) Dictionnaire philosophique (II), Mervaud, C. (ed.) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 36, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation Voltaire (1994c) Dieu et les hommes, Mortier, R. (ed.) in Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 69, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 247–506 Voltaire (2000) Traité sur la tolérance, Renwick, J. (ed.) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 56C, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation Voltaire (2006) L’Ingénu, Francis, R. (ed.) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 63C, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation Voltaire (2007) Questions sur l’Encyclopédie (II), Cronk, N. and Mervaud, C. (eds) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 38, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation 35

Voltaire 1968–77, D20180: ‘Si Hercule a dompté le lion de Némée, un fort athlète, nommé Voltaire, a écrasé sous les pieds l’ hydre du fanatisme’. A decade earlier, on 25th February 1766, Frederick the Great had written to Voltaire (Voltaire 1968–77, D13183): “You will live for a long time; your old age is like the childhood of Hercules. That god crushed snakes in his cradle; and you, weighed down by years, you crush the despicable.” “Vous vivrez longtemps; votre vieillesse est comme l’enfance d’Hercule. Ce dieu écrasait des serpents dans son berceau; et vous, chargé d’ années, vous écrasez l’infâme.” On baby Hercules and the snakes, see Eppinger in this volume; also Stafford 2012, 52–53.

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Voltaire (2008a) Candide and Other Stories, Pearson, R. (ed. and trans.), Oxford: Oxford University Press Voltaire (2008b) Questions sur l’Encyclopédie (III), Cronk, N. and Mervaud, C. (eds) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 39, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation Voltaire (2009) Questions sur l’Encyclopédie (IV), Cronk, N. and Mervaud, C. (eds) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 40, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation Voltaire (2010a) Corpus des notes marginales (III), Elaguina, N. (ed.) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 138, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation Voltaire (2010b) Questions sur l’Encyclopédie (V), Cronk, N. and Mervaud, C. (eds) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 41, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation Voltaire (2011a) Corpus des notes marginales (IV), Elaguina, N. (ed.) Les Œuvres complètes de Voltaire, vol. 139, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation Voltaire (2011b) A Pocket Philosophical Dictionary, Cronk, N. (ed.) and Fletcher, J. (trans.), Oxford: Oxford University Press Voltaire (2016) Treatise on Toleration, Clarke, D.M. (ed. and trans.), London: Penguin

Secondary Sources Allan, A., Anagnostou-Laoutides, E. and Stafford, E.J. (eds) (2020) Hercules Inside and Outside the Church: from the first apologists to the Quattrocentro, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 18, Leiden: Brill Cronk, N. (2015) ‘Voltaire, historien des temps modernes’, Revue Voltaire 15: 73–89 Force, P. (2009) ‘Voltaire and the Necessity of Modern History’, Modern Intellectual History 6: 457–84 Lojkine, S. (1997) ‘Le cannibalisme idéologique de Voltaire dans le Dictionnaire philosophique’, in Kölving, U. and Mervaud, C. (eds) Voltaire et ses combats, 2 vols, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, vol. 1: 415–28 Stafford, E.J. (2012) Herakles, Abingdon, Oxon.: Routledge Stafford, E.J. (2005) ‘Vice or Virtue? Herakles and the art of allegory’ in L. Rawlings and H. Bowden (eds), Herakles and Hercules: exploring a Graeco-Roman divinity, Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales, 71–96 Volpilhac-Auger, C. (2009) ‘Voltaire and History’, in Cronk, N. (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to Voltaire, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 139–52

part 3 Challenging the Model in the Later Eighteenth Century



chapter 10

Hercules the Younger: Heroic Allusions in Late Eighteenth-Century British Political Cartoons Alexandra Eppinger

The late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, which produced some of the best known and most easily recognisable prints in the history of political satire, has been called the ‘golden age’ of English caricature.1 After first providing some information on the historical background and the genre of eighteenth-century British caricature in general (§1–2), I will discuss several political cartoons, dating from 1784 to 1806, which contain allusions to the myth of Hercules (§ 3), and analyse how the imagery of the hero and his deeds was employed as commentary on contemporary political events, particularly on the character and actions of, first, William Pitt the Younger and, then, of Charles James Fox, the Prime Minister of Great Britain and the leading opposition politician respectively. Hercules, one of the most versatile figures of ancient mythology, has from his earliest appearances lent himself to a wide variety of uses in many different literary and artistic genres: he was, among many other incarnations, a comic figure and a tragic hero in fifth-century BCE Athenian theatre, an exemplum virtutis upheld by – and to – Greek kings and Roman emperors, and a reviled, depraved effeminate to some early Christian writers.2 Taking into account this versatility, as well as the popularity Hercules has enjoyed throughout the centuries (his attributes of lion-skin and club remained highly recognisable to a classically educated audience), it comes as no great surprise that he found his way into the works of early caricaturists. In this genre he could be used to highlight positive characteristics of the persons being caricatured, as well as their negative sides. Hercules had featured in history as both a paragon of virtue and

1 Jöhnk 1998, 8. In this chapter, the terms ‘caricature’ and (political) ‘cartoon’ are used interchangeably. ‘Cartoon’ is a mid-nineteenth-century and twentieth-century term for the political print, Nicholson 1996, 8, no. 16. I am grateful to the organisers of the conference Celebrating Hercules in the Modern World for giving me the opportunity to present the paper on which this chapter is based, and to Valerie Mainz and Emma Stafford for inviting me to contribute to this volume. 2 On this see, in general, Eppinger 2017; Stafford 2012, 79–112, 137–56.

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a boastful, occasionally even contemptible, figure of ridicule, so the ambiguities of his personality lent themselves to satires that celebrated flawed political leaders.

1

The Historical Background of the Hercules Caricatures

This chapter deals with the time of King George III, whose sixty-year reign (1760–1820) encompasses the American War of Independence, the French Revolution, the French Revolutionary Wars and the Napoleonic Wars. It focuses on the Younger Pitt, a towering figure in British politics in the last quarter of the eighteenth century, and his great political rival, Charles James Fox. Herculean imagery attached to both these politicians to the point of their being designated ‘the modern Hercules’ in the inscriptions of contemporary political caricatures. The Younger Pitt (so often called to distinguish him from his eponymous father) was born in May 1759, the second son of William Pitt, 1st Earl of Chatham, who was Prime Minister from 1766 to 1768.3 The Younger Pitt was elected to Parliament in 1781, aged twenty-one, and entered the House of Commons as an independent Whig.4 On 19 December 1783, aged twenty-four, Pitt, a famously brilliant and persuasive orator, became the youngest ever British Prime Minister.5 Serving for eighteen years and eleven months, his tenure as Prime Minister was, after Robert Walpole, the second longest in British history. After his resignation in 1801 and his return to the position of Prime Minister in 1804, Pitt died in office in January 1806, at the age of forty-six. Charles James Fox, born in 1749, was, in character and appearance, the austere Pitt’s polar opposite: a gambler, drinker, and womaniser who enjoyed all manner of social gatherings and entertainments and whose scandalous private life was a matter of public knowledge.6 Fox entered the House of Commons in 1768 and remained a leading member of the Whig party until his death in September 1806. 3 See Hague 2005 on Pitt’s life and career. 4 Pitt described himself as an ‘independent Whig’, Hague 2005, 56; modern scholars often call him a Tory. 5 ‘Prime Minister’ was not yet a formal title, Hague 2005, 100. Pitt was, officially, the First Lord of the Treasury, who, at that time, was usually recognised as primus inter pares (‘first among equals’), Ehrman 1969, 183. In modern parlance the title ‘Prime Minister’ is, however, frequently employed to refer to Pitt, as well as to other leaders of the British government in the eighteenth century. 6 On Fox see Mitchell 1996.

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The debates in Parliament between Pitt and Fox were legendary. They were arch-rivals who, for a quarter of a century until Pitt’s death, actively loathed each other. Just as both their fathers, the Elder Pitt and Henry Fox, Lord Holland, had been political opponents in the 1760s, with the differences between them being lampooned in the political cartoons of their day, so did the clash of convictions between the two sons come to be satirised as a favoured topic for a new generation of artists.7

2

Political Cartoons

In late eighteenth-century Britain, caricatures were mainly concerned with internal politics, international affairs, and London’s high society. The satires were generally composed of several elements: a title or caption, the main scene, which was designed to attract the viewer’s attention, dialogue between characters, and occasionally a text below the scene, for instance a poem or song.8 Printed in quick response to events, caricatures are of importance as a primary, often the only, contemporary visual record, and as reflections of public opinion and values.9 Rauser maintains that caricature even became the ‘favored visual language of political representation in the 1780s’.10 Caricatures were usually sold as single sheets from print-shops and bookshops, mainly in London, though they were disseminated outside London, too, and English cartoons were even exported to mainland Europe and America.11 The most famous prints were made from hand-coloured etchings, produced in small, quite expensive editions; cheaper versions were uncoloured and would probably have reached a wider audience.12 It has been estimated that the most popular cartoons achieved impressions of up to two thousand, although two to five or six hundred impressions seems to have been the average print run.13 A print run of five hundred would not even have covered all members of the House of Commons, so it is safe to assume that, from the out7 8 9 10 11

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McCreery 1993, 164. Donald 1996, 19; McCreery 1993, 163. Hunt 2003, 2. Rauser 1998, 156. Donald 1996, 19–20; Haywood 2013, 14; Nicholson 1996, 18–19. Before the 1780s, many political prints were published in magazines. After 1780, they tended to increase in size and became ‘autonomous visual objects’, to be viewed on their own, without accompanying articles or essays, often created by named artists, Rauser 2008, 96–7. McCreery 1993, 163–4; Nicholson 1996, 12. McCreery 1993, 164; Nicholson 1996, 9, 11.

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set, the audience was quite restricted, especially because the costs of copies of political prints would have been beyond the means of most of the population.14 Comparatively little is known about the social values and practices which surrounded the prints – for instance, why particular images were favoured or criticised, how they were acquired and displayed, and the purposes they served.15 The impact of the stand-alone prints on public opinion is disputed but, in general, caricatures needed to have a wide commercial appeal in order for the print-sellers to recuperate investment in the enterprise. A valid case can, therefore, be made to support the contention that the imagery was carefully chosen to ensure that political prints would be understood by their intended audience.16 Allusions to ancient mythology suggest that these satires were not intended for the largely uneducated or even illiterate masses.17 Complex visual imagery and erudite texts, frequently including French or Latin phrases, more probably point to a relatively restricted audience drawn mainly from those strata of society which also provided the subjects of the political cartoons – essentially the middle and upper classes.18 It could even be argued that, since they generally lack causal contextual commentary whilst also requiring up-todate knowledge of political events and, frequently, familiarity with art and literature, political prints were largely geared towards Members of Parliament.19 We should, therefore, not overestimate the impact of these prints on the general public. 2.1 The Question of Censorship Aided by the lack of editorial control, caricatures, no matter how audacious or outspoken in their choice of subject matter and presentation, seem to have enjoyed an almost complete immunity from prosecution. Generally, political cartoons appear to have been accepted as part of the political currency of

14

15 16 17 18 19

Nicholson 1996, 11–13. It is unclear how many prints went beyond a first print run, although print publishers were frequently quick off the mark with counterfeit copies and variations on popular themes, Nicholson 1996, 10. Donald 1996, 15. Hunt 2003, 3–4. Cf. Hunt 2003, 9–10; Nicholson 1996, 17. Hunt 2003, 8; Nicholson 1996, 17. Nicholson 1996, 14, 17. Cf. Godfrey 2001, 17. Rauser identifies the London coffeehouses and the ‘coffeehouse politicians’ frequenting them as the ‘addressed ideal space and audience’ for caricatures, Rauser 1998, 157; this might indicate a more socially diverse audience for the prints.

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the day.20 There are only a few recorded cases of prosecution of publishers for libel. Lawsuits would have given the offensive prints even more publicity and would have entailed the personal exposure of the prosecuting party, whilst not necessarily winning the sympathy of a jury.21 It was much easier for an offended person simply to buy the plates and all the impressions and thus effectively suppress a caricature. The main way of dealing with potentially embarrassing prints seems to have been to buy the services of artists and publishers so that politicians often paid artists to produce caricatures attacking their opponents.22 The artists themselves habitually switched from one political side to the other, sometimes even when dealing with the same issues.23 2.2 Pitt and Fox in Contemporary Caricatures Caricatures were understood to distort a person’s characteristics, for example by exaggerating certain traits of their physiognomy, in contrast to contemporary ideals of beauty, with the aim of exposing their inner character.24 Thus Pitt, who was tall, extremely thin, and, by all accounts, rather ungainly, is often portrayed as a stick-like figure, with a long pointed nose and a receding chin with the natural features of his slenderness and of his face being exaggerated for comic effect.25 Fox is, in contrast, commonly depicted as heavyset and hirsute, rather scruffy, and distinguished mainly by a set of thick dark eyebrows that actually earned him the nickname ‘the Eyebrow’.26 Both are usually easily recognisable even to a modern viewer.

3

The Hercules Cartoons

There are actually not many Hercules motifs among the hundreds of late eighteenth-/early nineteenth-century caricatures, but they make for interesting viewing nonetheless and illuminate how the hero was utilised in the context of satirical commentary on political life, by, amongst others, the two greatest caricaturists of the time, James Gillray and Thomas Rowlandson. The

20 21 22 23 24 25 26

Donald 1996, 2, 15. Donald 1996, 15. Donald 1996, 2, 15; McCreery 1993, 164. Donald 1996, 26. Jöhnk 1998, 78–9; Rauser 2008, 15–17. Hague 2005, 129. Mitchell 1992, 1.

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relevant satires make use of Hercules to deal with topical affairs then current whilst, simultaneously, commenting on the (ironically exaggerated) character traits of their protagonists.27 Before discussing the Hercules prints in detail, it is necessary to note that the political cartoons of the period contain allusions to ancient myths other than those dealing with the exploits of Hercules. Some of these also featured Pitt and Fox: Pitt was, for example, cast in the roles of Midas (British Museum Satires 8995), Bacchus (British Museum Satires 8798), and the helmsman steering the ship of Britannia between Scylla and Charybdis (British Museum Satires 8320), whilst Fox was presented as a Gorgon (British Museum Satires 6450). 3.1 The Infant Hercules (1784) The first deed Hercules ever performed was strangling the two serpents sent by Hera to kill him in his cradle. This story is first attested in the fifth century BCE, and the motif of baby Hercules killing the snakes appears in different media well into late antiquity.28 It is, for example, common on coins minted at Thebes, the hero’s mythical birthplace, in the classical period.29 The motif was appropriated by Thomas Rowlandson in his caricature entitled The Infant Hercules (Figure 10.1) in February 1784, less than two months after Pitt took office as Prime Minister when he was still working towards securing a majority in the House of Commons.30 In this cartoon, a chubby blond child is sitting on a golden shield emblazoned with the words ‘shield

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28

29 30

This chapter is not intended to be a comprehensive survey of all the available material that includes references to Hercules in the visual satires of the period. It is, rather, limited to six cartoons which I judge to be exemplary for the use of the imagery of Hercules in the genre. Copies of the prints are preserved in, among other institutions: the Department of Prints and Drawings of the British Museum; the Department of Drawings and Prints of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; the Lewis Walpole Library at Yale University; the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division, Washington DC. Galinsky 1972, 36; Stafford 2012, 52. In art, the motif of Herakliskos Drakonopnigon (‘Infant Herakles the snake-strangler’) first appears around 480 BCE, on an Attic red-figure stamnos (Louvre G192; image online at https://www.louvre.fr/en/oeuvre‑notices/attic‑red‑fig ure‑stamnos, accessed 17/07/2019), but it enjoyed its greatest popularity in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, when sculptors and painters experimented with the depiction of children. The main sculptural type is the infant Hercules, sitting or kneeling, as in Theocritus, Idylls 24.55: ‘holding the two beasts fast in his soft hands’, Stafford 2012, 53. See Medeiros Araújo in this volume for the motif in a Spanish emblem book. Stafford 2012, 183; also BMC Central Greece 72 no. 39 (446–26 BCE); 79 no. 103 (395–87BCE). On the political events, see Hague 2005, 146–74.

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The Infant Hercules. Caricature, Thomas Rowlandson, 1784. The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1959. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 59.533.38 Photo released into the Public Domain by The Metropolitan Museum Of Art

of Chatham’.31 This inscription unequivocally identifies the child as the Earl of Chatham’s son, the Younger Pitt. In grasping in his hands two snakes with human heads, easily recognisable as portraying the heads of Charles James Fox on the left and of Lord Frederick North on the right, the boy tells the viewer ‘these were your ministers’. Both Fox and Lord North had been leading members of the previous government, the so-called ‘Fox-North-Coalition’, under the nominal leadership of the Duke of Portland (2 April to 17 December 1783), with Fox serving as Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs and North as Secretary of State for Home Affairs. Their entwined bodies, the tails of which have been cut off, are labelled ‘East India Bill’ (Fox) and ‘American War’ (North). The former label is a reference to Fox’s East India Bill (brought before Parliament on 18 and 27 November 1783), an unsuccessful attempt to regulate the East India Company (by then a corrupt and virtually bankrupt institution) and

31

This motif echoes Theocritus, Idylls 24.4: Alkmene put Iphikles and Herakles on a bronze shield to sleep, see Stafford 2012, 183.

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bring it, together with the Indian territories, more firmly under government control.32 This was widely perceived as a scheme by Fox, who had amassed enormous debts, to enrich himself and strengthen the political influence of his Whig supporters.33 Lord North, for his part, is being vilified for his role as Prime Minister (1770–1782) during the American War of Independence (1775– 1783). He was perceived as weak, lazy, and inefficient by contemporaries and frequently accused of incompetence; he was held responsible for the loss of the American colonies, as well as flourishing corruption at home.34 Rowlandson is here drawing attention to the first of many extraordinary deeds by the new Prime Minister, namely the defeat of the previous government. There are ancient precedents for such a reading of the print. Already in the very earliest literary realisation of the snake-strangling episode, Pindar’s first Nemean Ode, Amphitryon, observing Herakles’ victory over the serpents, calls for the seer Teiresias, who uses this first deed as the starting point to foretell the young hero’s future career up to and including his apotheosis.35 Similarly, in the orator Nazarius’ panegyric of 321, the image of Hercules killing the serpents functioned as a foreshadowing of the future accomplishments of the emperor Constantine.36 According to Pitt’s modern biographer William Hague, the cartoon ‘emphasises Pitt’s youth, purity and ancestry’.37 He was known at the time as ‘honest Billy’, in contrast to Fox, who had a well-earned reputation for debauchery.38 The shield, in turn, draws attention to the new Prime Minister’s status as political heir to the Elder Pitt, who had gained a heroic reputation as a symbol of duty and loyalty to King and nation.39 This might also be taken as an allusion

32

33 34 35 36

37 38 39

On the role of the East India Company in contemporary politics and British society generally, and Fox’s East India Bill specifically, see Ehrman 1969, 118–23; see also Hague 2005, 137–8; Mitchell 1992, 63–5. Hague 2005, 139–42; Mitchell 1992, 64, 69. Hague 2005, 37, 49, 111, 183. Pindar, Nemean 1.60–72. Panegyric 4 (10) 16.6, trans. C.E.V. Nixon: “As Hercules is said, while still a babe at the breast, to have crushed two serpents with his hands, so that the inborn nature of future strength burst forth from him even when he was a tiny infant, so you, Emperor, in the very cradle of your rule, as if you were slaying twin dragons, amused yourself with the celebrated punishments of savage kings.” This passage refers to Constantine’s capture and execution of Frankish kings Asaricus and Merogaisus. Hague 2005, 162. Hague 2005, 163; McCreery 1993, 168. Many contemporary caricatures drew attention to apparent disparities in the two politicians’ character traits. McCreery 1993, 166–7.

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to a sort of ‘inborn superiority’, owed to his ancestry and political heritage, which in turn expressed itself in the young man’s precocious political acumen that had allowed him to rise to the highest office in the country whilst remaining, compared to the members of the earlier Cabinet, a mere boy. Pindar, in the fifth century BCE, had, interestingly, already used the young Herakles’ first deed as an example of the ‘inborn qualities and prowess’ (φυή, phyē, literally ‘nature, genius’) of an athlete, as befitted the theme of the first Nemean Ode.40 In Pitt’s case, his natural abilities were augmented by his early education under his father’s tutelage, when he proved himself something of a prodigy.41 In contrast to Pitt, the young hero’s defeated rivals had both been linked with controversial political actions that had alienated many of their peers, namely the East India Bill and the American War. Furthermore, Fox had, for the better part of a decade, constantly and openly berated North for his policies, before suddenly entering into a coalition with him in April 1783. At the time, this change of loyalties was perceived as an ‘example of infamous politics’, a betrayal of Whig beliefs and values.42 The infant Hercules in this caricature promises an end to this kind of unprincipled dealing, and to the corruption and crises that plagued previous governments. In other contemporary prints, a growing tendency to question Pitt’s and even the King’s integrity for the constitutionally questionable way in which George III had made Pitt Prime Minister had already emerged.43 Pitt had even been called the ‘monarch’s puppet minister’.44 Casting Pitt as the young hero, Hercules, and emphasising what a youth with his impressive pedigree and Herculean characteristics might achieve, could thus serve to counter the mounting criticism of the way his Ministry had been instituted. The heroic (and victorious) baby Hercules could be interpreted as an ironic commentary on the accusations that Pitt was too young, and thus too easily controlled by the King. Pitt’s accession as Prime Minister had initially been met with derision by Fox and his associates; they claimed that his term of office, which had begun on 19 December 1783, would barely survive Christmas, and Fox himself took bets that Pitt would be Prime Minster for at least a week.45 The caricature can, then, 40 41 42 43

44 45

Pindar, Nemean 1. 33–59, on which, see Galinsky 1972, 36. Hague 2005, 14–16. McCreery 1993, 165; Mitchell 1992, 27, 30, 43–4, 60–1. McCreery 1993, 169. Rowlandson produced at least fifty political cartoons in 1784, many about the elections that would decide the stability of Pitt’s Ministry. Of these, approximately equal numbers are pro-Pitt and pro-Fox, Donald 1996, 26. On events leading to Pitt’s appointment, see Ehrman 1969, 126–7; Hague 2005, 146–8. Rauser 2008, 122. Mitchell 1992, 67.

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be interpreted as a comment on these assumptions: the young Hercules, despite the unpromising fact that he was a babe in arms, had easily defeated the snakes, as could hardly have been foreseen. Likewise, the young minister had, against all odds, managed to hold his own against the experienced politicians massed around Fox and North, and was indeed expected to continue to do so. A much less flattering interpretation than the foreshadowing of heroic deeds, but one which is at odds with the negative depiction of Fox and North (as well as the ancient tradition of using Hercules in an encomiastic way), is that Rowlandson intended a criticism of Pitt’s extreme youth and therefore his relative inexperience, and, by extension, that of his Cabinet, which included many of Pitt’s young friends, though not at the most senior level. That this could indeed be perceived as a problem is shown by Sir Gilbert Elliot’s contemptuous dismissal of the ministers as ‘a set of children playing at ministers [who] must be sent back to school’.46 At the same time, a jingle called ‘Billy’s too young to drive us’ did the rounds of opposition politicians with other political prints depicting Pitt as a ridiculous little boy.47 It must be noted, however, that youth was not in itself unusual in eighteenth-century politicians. In the 1780s, about one hundred Members of Parliament were under thirty; Fox himself had entered the House of Commons at nineteen and while holding a Cabinet position in one’s twenties was uncommon, it was not unheard of.48 Therefore, a positive interpretation of Pitt’s identification with Hercules makes more sense in the context of the political situation and the iconography of the print. After the political crises of the past few years, the young man would bring a fresh approach to politics.49 After all, inexperience had not presented a problem to Hercules. It appears that Rowlandson’s Infant Hercules (1784) is the only case where an ancient iconographical model was adopted virtually unchanged in a political cartoon featuring the exploits of Hercules. The artist might here have drawn on his time as a student at the Royal Academy of Arts, where studying plaster casts of classical statues was a large part of the curriculum.50 This would have enabled a familiarity with ancient iconography for, in his later years, Rowlandson did, indeed, make numerous studies of classical sculpture.51 Furthermore,

46 47 48 49 50 51

Gilbert Elliot-Murray-Kynynmound, 1st Earl of Minto, Scottish diplomat and politician (1751–1814), as quoted by Hague 2005, 152. Hague 2005, 152. On prints ridiculing Pitt for his youth, see also Müller 2009, 62–6, 104–9. Hague 2005, 101–2. McCreery 1993, 167. Payne and Payne 2010, 19–22. Cf. Payne and Payne 2010, 333–5.

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the subject of the child Hercules killing the serpents was chosen by Sir Joshua Reynolds, the first President of the Royal Academy of Arts, for one of his paintings in the following year. When, in 1785, Catherine the Great commissioned Reynolds to produce a picture for her collection, leaving the choice of subject up to the artist, he chose The Infant Hercules strangling the Serpents (St Petersburg, Hermitage Museum) drawing on Pindar’s version of the story.52 The choice of such subject matter for the history painting led to some criticism in the English press, where a scene from Russian history was favoured as a picture for the Empress instead of (in Hannah More’s words) ‘nonsensical Hercules’.53 The painting was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1788 to generally negative reviews.54 It might be surmised that Rowlandson’s reason for using a clearly identifiable ancient iconographical model for The Infant Hercules was that, as has been remarked, Pitt was too new to his exalted position to have inspired a ‘settled caricature image’.55 In this situation, it might have been the obvious choice to appropriate an established motif. 3.2 The Monstrous Hydra or Virtue Invulnerable (1789) The image of the hydra, the second of Hercules’ canonical enemies, seems to have enjoyed a certain currency in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century caricature as a metaphor for politicians or political views perceived as dangerous to the constitution. In these cases the person fighting the monstrous serpent was understood as a defender of the public good, rooting out corruption and evil.56 This is illustrated, for example, by another of Rowlandson’s works from 1788, which depicts Fox, in the context of the Regency Crisis, as the ‘political

52 53

54 55 56

Wien 2009, 373. Apparently, the mythological subject was seen as inappropriate because its polysemy allowed for too many different associations, undercutting the ‘official reading’ of the painting, Wien 2006, 375–6. Horace Walpole was said to have exclaimed ‘People will say she [i.e. Catherine] is strangling two Emperors’, Wien 2009, 376. One critic even saw the painting as an allegory of the trial of Warren Hastings, Wien 2009, 379. Wien 2009, 376–382. Payne and Payne 2010, 73. Pitt, backed by Britannia, had already faced the hydra of his political opponents in a cartoon of 1784 (British Museum Satires 6443). Fox battled a hydra-like dragon in a 1784 caricature (British Museum Satires 6444). In this volume, see also the chapters by Goulbourne for Voltaire’s use of the hydra in eighteenth-century France and by Mainz on the political implications of the figurative imagery of the hydra during the French Revolution. This use of the hydra in relation to crimes that destabilise society endures in the modern Greek media to this day, see Michalopoulos 2020.

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hydra’ with six different heads, showing his various political guises (British Museum Satires 7385). An anonymous print dated to 1789 shows Pitt, clearly recognisable by his tall, thin figure, facing the hydra, whose eleven heads bear the likenesses of his political rivals, among them Fox and North; the blindfolded head might represent the King (Figure 10.2). The place of a twelfth head is taken by the ostrich feathers of the Prince of Wales labelled with his motto Ich dien (‘I serve’). The headless torso on the right is Lord North’s; its label ‘American War’ once again makes him responsible for Britain’s defeat in that conflict. The smoke rising out of the severed neck is identified as ‘N(ort)h’s Debts and Deficiencies’, an allusion to the costs of the war. The smoke, in turn, blocks out the sun which is labelled ‘Public Good’. That the Prime Minister is assigned the role of Hercules is emphasised by the caption: ‘virtue invulnerable’, virtue being Hercules’ foremost characteristic. This invulnerability in the face of a dire situation is emphasised by the fact that Pitt, though entangled in the hydra’s body, does not look particularly anxious. He ignores the enemy and reaches up towards his goal, the aforementioned ‘Public Good’. This implies that alleviating the negative effects of the American War and defending the public good are his aims, despite the obstructions of his political opponents, portrayed as a force of evil arising from chaos (‘pandaemonium’) and intent on strangling him, and despite the fact that, at the time of the cartoon’s publication, Pitt could not count on the King’s backing. The caricature refers to the so-called ‘Regency Crisis’ of 1788–1789. In November 1788, George III had apparently lost his mind, in the first of several episodes of insanity that would permanently incapacitate him in 1811.57 At this time, a regency government, led by the Prince of Wales, the future George IV, or, in the case of the King’s death, his accession to the throne, would certainly have led to the dismissal of Pitt and probably the instalment of Fox as the new Prime Minister, followed by a shift of power to the Whig party.58 Pitt had managed to impose a set of restrictions on the impending regency at this date, effectively curtailing the Prince of Wales’s powers.59 In the caricature, this is indicated by 57

58

59

Ehrman 1969, 644–8; Hague 2005, 250–2. The King’s madness has sometimes been diagnosed as a symptom of acute intermittent porphyria, a rare hereditary metabolic disorder, Hague 2005, 257. At the time, there was even a rumour that Fox had poisoned the King, Mitchell 1992, 80. On the question of a regency and the problems inherent in this institution, see Ehrman 1969, 648–50; Mitchell 1992, 80–9. On the bad relations between Pitt and the Prince of Wales, see Ehrman 1969, 645–6. Ehrman 1969, 658; Hague 2005, 254, 265.

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The monstrous hydra, or virtue invulnerable. Caricature, anonymous artist, 1789. Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division, Washington DC PC 3-1789--Monstrous hydra Photo released into the public domain by the Prints & Photographs Division, Library of Congress, LC-USZ62-30929

the scroll clutched by Pitt and inscribed ‘Regency limitations & restrictions’. The message is that the virtuous Prime Minister, beleaguered as he was, has once again, Hercules-like, defeated his enemies. The opposition hydra remains ineffective, and Pitt has emerged as the defender of the constitution against encroachment by a potential Prince Regent.

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When the King recovered in February 1789, rendering the regency question void, Pitt’s triumph over his political rivals was absolute. There can be no doubt that Hercules and Pitt are positive figures in this print; indeed, in 1789 Pitt was at the apogee of his popularity, while his Whig opponents, including Fox, had reached a low-point.60 3.3 The Modern Hercules or a Finishing Blow for Poor John Bull (1795) The designer of this 1795 cartoon, which explicitly calls Pitt the ‘modern Hercules’, is unknown (Figure 10.3). The heroic allusion arises, in this case, from the equipping of Pitt with a large club with which he is about to smite a cowering John Bull, the personification of the English people that had been popularised in earlier eighteenth-century political cartoons, particularly those of the 1780s.61 John Bull carries five heavy bundles on his back, labelled ‘Pensions, Subsidies, Tax, Taxation, Debt’, which symbolise the burdens imposed on the people by Pitt’s government in order to cover the enormous costs of the French Revolutionary Wars.62 In this print, there is an especially marked (and comical) contrast between the traditional imagery of Hercules the strongman hero and the scrawny figure of the Prime Minister. The crucial thing, however, is that Pitt, and by extension Hercules, is cast in a villainous role, as illustrated by the inscription on the club: ‘Convention Bill’. This is another name for the ‘Seditious Meetings Bill’, one of the two so-called ‘Gagging Bills’ forced through Parliament in November 1795. This bill curtailed the freedom to meet to discuss political matters and was widely perceived as an attack on liberty.63 The caricature thus shows Pitt employing Herculean strength, symbolised by the club, to silence complaints about the government’s policies, mainly the excessive taxes raised to support

60

61

62 63

Ehrman 1969, 665–6; Hague 2005, 263–7. The image of the hydra of political opposition in connection with Pitt was to return in Samuel de Wilde’s 1808 caricature, in which the ghost of Pitt faces an ‘opposition hydra’, whose eight upper bodies are those of ministers from the late Cabinet, the so-called ‘Ministry of All the Talents’ (British Museum Satires 10961). Rauser 2008, 118. John Bull had been invented as a literary character by John Arbuthnot in 1712, and from political allegory passed into popular folklore. He was a type associated with the freeborn Englishman and was used to represent the patriotic spirit in contrast to stereotypical depictions of Frenchmen and revolutionary France in general (Donald 1996, 157–8). For the club of Hercules, as distinct from the figure of Hercules, see the chapter by Mainz in this volume. Many contemporary prints show John Bull as victim of Pitt’s massive wartime taxation, as well as of government repression, see Donald 1996, 161; cf. Hunt 2003, 162. Donald 1996, 162; Hague 2005, 378.

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The modern Hercules or a finishing blow for poor John Bull. Caricature, anonymous artist, 1795. The Lewis Walpole Library, lwlpr08632 Photo courtesy of The Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University

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the war effort.64 The ‘modern Hercules’ has become an entirely unheroic figure completely unlike his ancient forerunner, since the mythological Hercules was famous for liberating people from all kinds of oppression, not imposing it. When associated with rulers or leading statesmen, the Hercules of antiquity was understood to be a positive figure, an exemplum virtutis to be emulated, as indicated elsewhere in this volume.65 His negative role here is, therefore, rather untypical, but it is still very much in keeping with the targeting of individuals that was common in the political caricatures of the period. The mid-1790s were a time of crisis in a Britain at war with France.66 So, instead of resolving the problems, as he had done after his appointment to the Ministry and during the Regency Crisis, Pitt-as-Hercules might now be seen to be exacerbating difficulties through the silencing of many of those who disagreed with the positioning of the British government. The incongruity of casting the hero as an oppressor of the population could perhaps be explained by the need to show the futility of opposing the Prime Minister, to all intents and purposes the most powerful man in the realm. The best way of conveying this message might have been simply to borrow the attribute of the strongest, most invincible hero of ancient mythology. John Bull, the ordinary Englishman, is helpless in the face of such Herculean strength, just as the hero’s mythical enemies had been. A classically educated viewer might quite possibly have perceived this incongruity as a deliberate break with the level of expectations raised by the Herculean iconography – the club of Hercules having usually denoted a proverbially powerful, heroic figure – and the mythological background.67 3.4 The Modern Hercules, Cleaning the Augean Stable (1805) On 23rd April 1805, less than a year before his death, Pitt, easily identifiable by his face and leanness, was depicted as one of the horses (rather than cattle) in the stable of Augeas in Thomas Rowlandson’s The Modern Hercules, cleaning the Augean Stable (Figure 10.4).68 The role of the ‘modern Hercules’ is filled by 64 65 66 67

68

Cf. Hunt 2003, 156. See especially chapters by Deligiannis, Gwynne, Verbanck-Piérard, Medeiros Araújo. Donald 1996, 162. Buchartowski uses the term ‘Travestie’ (travesty) for such a use of mythological motifs in caricatures and sees it as the artist deliberately satirising the mythological subject, Buchartowski 1994, 108. There are other examples of the use of the Augean stables motif in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century caricature, see, for instance, British Museum Satires 4186 (c. 1768) and British Museum Satires 16340 (1830). Similar usage can again be found in the modern Greek press: see Michalopoulos 2020.

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The modern Hercules, cleansing the Augean Stable. Caricature, Thomas Rowlandson, 1805. The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1959. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 59.533.919 Photo released into the Public Domain by The Metropolitan Museum of Art

the MP Samuel Whitbread, an associate of Fox’s, who uses a tankard labelled ‘Whitbread’s Intire’ to flush away the accumulated waste.69 In the foreground, depicted as horses with human heads are, first, Pitt’s close friend and drinking companion Henry Dundas, Lord Melville, the First Lord of the Admiralty and, behind him, Alexander Trotter. The other horses are not easily identifiable, but the two behind Pitt might represent Lord Castlereagh and the future Prime Minister George Canning. The figure on the left, wearing a mitre and carrying a crozier, is Charles Abbot, the Speaker of the House of Commons, here called the ‘Abbot of St Stephen’. St Stephen’s was a chapel in the old Palace of

69

‘Intire’ is an alternative spelling of ‘entire’, a kind of malt liquor, resembling what is now called ‘porter’, OED s.v. entire 2b: http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/62897?result=1&rskey =5oqaIv& (accessed 18/09/2017). This is an allusion to the fact that Samuel Whitbread was the son of Samuel Whitbread Sr, the co-founder of the brewery business Whitbread & Co Ltd, which produced porter, see http://www.whitbread.co.uk/about‑us/history‑of ‑whitbread.html (accessed 26/09/2017). ‘Whitbread’s Entire’ appears in other contemporary caricatures, for instance British Museum Satires 10579.

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Westminster and served as the chamber of the House of Commons from 1547 to 1834. The phrase ‘St Stephen’s stables’ could apparently be used to mean Parliament and it is here applied in the context of a pun on the Speaker’s name as well as the name of the Augean stable. The imagery of this caricature is more complex than those previously considered. Some of the references, like the allusion to ‘Whitbread’s Intire’ or the ‘Abbot of St Stephen’, are hard for us to decipher, though, presumably, a contemporary audience would have recognised them more easily. In addition, the caricature, even more than the others examined in this chapter, requires specialist knowledge of contemporary events: Rowlandson’s message was probably only really clear to an audience well versed in the intricacies of day-to-day politics and also in classical mythology and iconography, namely the Members of Parliament involved in the events pictured, and their associates. In contrast to the previous caricatures presented here, the caption (‘Augeas a King of Elis, had a stable, which was not cleansed for thirty years – yet Hercules cleansed it, in one day. Vid Heathen Mythology’) both provides an explanation of the mythological background and makes a deliberate and highly explicit critique about the current political situation. Pitt had only returned to Downing Street in 1804, but he had been in power for almost nineteen of the past twentytwo years, since first taking office in December 1783.70 The analogy here could be that, just as the stable of Augeas had not been mucked out in thirty years and had, accordingly, accumulated vast amounts of waste, so Pitt had allowed a similar amount of (metaphorical) filth to build up, in the form, for instance, of an involvement in wars, excessive taxation and the oppression of dissenting views.71 Just like the stable, Pitt’s Ministry has become a cesspit, the cleaning of which required a Hercules, a role for which the Prime Minister himself no longer qualified. His days as the infant Hercules clearing away the detritus of previous governments were obviously long over. The immediate political situation alluded to here is Whitbread’s attack on Dundas and Trotter, who had been accused of dubious financial transactions. Trotter, as Paymaster of the Admiralty, had speculated with public money 70 71

On the circumstances of Pitt’s resignation in 1801 and his return to office in 1804, see Hague 2005, 463–72, 527–9. Apparently, the term ‘Augean’ was employed figuratively during the eighteenth century for ‘a place or institution characterized by great moral corruption or depravity’, OED s.v. Augean 1a. b: http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/13061?redirectedFrom=augean#eid (accessed 18/09/2017). In an anonymous print from 1780, ‘Association, or Public Virtue Displayed in a Contrasted View’, the Elder Pitt appears in spirit form, gesturing towards Parliament and demanding ‘O Cleanse Yon Augean Stable’, Rauser 2008, 113–114; fig. 56.

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(though without loss to the public purse) when Dundas was Treasurer of the Navy in the 1790s.72 Pitt, who had recommended Trotter to Dundas and thus landed him with the problem in the first place, defended Dundas (who had many enemies in the House) and, during the resulting debate in the Commons, Pitt’s friend William Wilberforce seconded Whitbread’s attack.73 This is alluded to by the broom in the foreground labelled ‘Will Force’s Broom for Suppression of Vice’; the broom, of course, is a tool for mucking out the stables, and the label refers to the ‘Society for the Suppression of Vice’.74 However, as it is lying on the ground, the broom, and by extension Wilberforce’s efforts, were apparently not adequate to the task of clearing up the mess left behind by the Cabinet. This labour instead required a modern Hercules, in this case the opposition politician Whitbread, who uses a tankard of porter to sweep away the waste, specifically the financial irregularities that lay behind Whitbread’s motion against Dundas, as symbolised by the bags of money. This Herculean deed was crowned by success when Dundas was forced to resign from the Cabinet on 9 April 1805.75 As an aside, it is worth noting that Pitt himself is not depicted in the foreground of the cartoon, and is thus not at the centre of Rowlandson’s attack on the Cabinet; indeed, even after this affair, Pitt’s reputation for personal integrity and financial probity remained intact.76 But, as he is also standing in the stable of Augeas, he is clearly implicated in the proceedings, having become mired in the morally questionable dealings of his associates. On a more general note, Rowlandson might also be emphasising a need for a modern Hercules to resolve the political situation in its entirety. In 1805, Britain was at war with France and there was a constant threat of invasion. Pitt was beset by political conflicts in both the Commons and his Cabinet, his health was failing, his popularity in the country was declining, and there were doubts about his ability to lead the nation in this time of crisis.77 At the height of his popularity and power, Pitt had featured in caricature as the infant Hercules and virtue incarnate but when at its nadir, his Ministry had become, in later visual satire, a veritable Augean stable.

72 73 74 75 76 77

Hague 2005, 546. On this whole episode, see Ehrman 1996, 752–60. Hague 2005, 547–8. On the Society see Roberts 1983. Hague 2005, 548. Hague 2005, 552. Cf. Hague 2005, 547–51, 555.

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3.5 The Republican-Hercules Defending His Country (1797) In contrast to the scrawny Pitt, Charles James Fox made for a much more convincing Hercules, at least physically; and with his drinking, womanising and general intemperance he is reminiscent of the comic incarnation of the ancient Hercules, ‘a cheerfully promiscuous glutton, always on the lookout for more food, drink and lovers’.78 These character traits made him more accessible than the aloof Pitt,79 just as they had made the comic incarnation of Hercules a great success with ancient audiences.80 The caricatures depicting him in the guise of Hercules do not, however, portray Fox as a heroic figure unambiguously; rather, the use of the imagery of Hercules appears to be an ironic commentary on Fox’s relative powerlessness and inefficiency as an opposition politician, and, later, when he was Foreign Secretary, to him even being perceived as a threat to Britain’s safety.81 In February 1797 (‘by tradition a dark year in English history’, Ehrman 1996, 3), James Gillray depicted Fox as a colossal Hercules, very hairy and generally scruffy in a ragged coat and breeches, bestriding the English Channel, raising his ‘Whig Club’ (Figure 10.5).82 In a variation on the favourite trope of using a fox to represent him, in an obvious pun on his name,83 the lion-skin is here replaced by a fox’s pelt, its head pulled up like a hood and the bushy tail hanging down, somewhat suggestively, between Fox’s legs. While one would probably, at least judging from the ostensibly defensive pose, expect Fox-as-Hercules to be acting in defence of Britain, a closer look actually reveals him to be drawing a fleet of French warships across the Channel by the strings clutched in his left hand.84 Furthermore, the caption of ‘the Republican Hercules’ emphasises the French connection, as, in 1797, France was still a Republic. This cartoon would seem to be using Fox’s well-known love of France (where he had spent time in his youth) and everything French.85 Fox’s good contacts with French politicians like Talleyrand and sympathies for the ideals of the French Revolution were well known and led to charges

78 79 80 81 82 83 84

85

Stafford 2012, 105. Cf. Galinsky 1972, 84. Cf. Hague 2005, 30, 60, 126, 585. Galinsky 1972, 96. Mitchell states that ‘at critical moments Fox, almost psychologically distancing himself from politics, failed to act’ (1992, 112). Cf. Mitchell 1992, 132. Ehrman 1996, 3. Rynell 1941–42, 348, 350–1. The speech bubble has a defensive tone, as well: ‘Invade the Country, hay? – let them come, – that’s all! – Zounds, where are they? – I wish I could see ’em here, that’s all! – ay! ay! only let them come, – that’s all!!!’. Mitchell 1992, 8–12, 38, 109.

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The Republican Hercules defending his country. Caricature, James Gillray, 1797. The British Museum, 1851,0901.846 Photo © The Trustees of the British Museum

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of Jacobinism, which made Fox a highly controversial figure in the 1790s and led to him being marginalised more and more in English politics.86 Gillray had used, in some of his earlier caricatures, the appellation ‘Reynard’, so Fox’s links with France were already well established at this date.87 By inverting the traditional function of Hercules as a defender from evil (alexikakos), the caricature thus implies that Fox is a danger to Britain. ‘His country’ in the caption, appears, therefore, to refer to France, with Fox as a French, ‘Republican’, Hercules. By 1797, Britain had been at war with France for four years, with Fox being an outspoken opponent of the war. This clearly did not aid his political standing.88 In February, in a tense atmosphere that anticipated a possible French invasion (French troops had actually landed in Wales), such a stance could easily be misconstrued as undermining the English defence against France or actually aiding the French invasion, which is what the cartoon seems to imply.89 This incarnation of Fox-as-Hercules can, therefore, hardly be interpreted in a positive light from a contemporary English viewpoint. 3.6 The Modern Hercules on His Labours (1806) In the year of his death, we see Fox kitted out as the ‘modern Hercules’, leaning on the club of ‘popular opinion’, which fits in with the epithets applied to him in other caricatures including ‘Champion of the People’, ‘Friend of the People’ and ‘Man of the People’ (Figure 10.6).90 Having achieved the first of the canonical labours, Fox-as-Hercules is wearing the skin of the Nemean lion, whose face is that of Pitt, who had died three months earlier, defeated in the end not by his political enemies, but by illness. Nevertheless, the implication behind the club’s inscription might be that, at least in the metaphorical sense, Pitt had been vanquished by Fox utilising ‘popular opinion’. Indeed, in the months prior to his death, the Prime Minister’s popularity had been low. However, the victory of Trafalgar (October 1805) had led to his popularity rising again, and after his death in January 1806, a general sense of loss had pervaded the country, with tens of thousands paying their respect at his lying in state, generally glow-

86 87 88 89

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Mitchell 1992, 109–111, 131–2, 135, 228. Rynell 1941–42, 350. Mitchell 1992, 139–40. Ehrman 1996, 5. In January 1797, in a cartoon titled ‘End of the Irish invasion; – or – the destruction of the French armada’, Gillray had depicted Fox as the figurehead of the French warship ‘Le Révolutionaire’, with the French invasion fleet being destroyed by strong winds emanating from Pitt and Dundas (British Museum Satires 8979). Mitchell 1992, 34; Rynell 1941–42, 349.

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The Modern Hercules on his Labours. Caricature, anonymous artist, 1806. The British Museum, 1985,0119.180 Photo © The Trustees of the British Museum

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ing obituaries, and tributes even from opposition politicians, including Fox.91 The inscribed club might be intended to foreshadow the next labours, implying popular support for Fox, or, more likely, as an ironic commentary by the anonymous artist on the appearance of popular support at a time when Fox’s political plans were in fact unravelling. This cartoon epitomises Pitt’s transformation from the ‘infant Hercules’, the shining boy-hero of his first months as Prime Minister, full of hope for the great deeds to come, into a monstrous opponent for another Hercules to defeat as the first of his adult labours. In addition Pitt, on his death, left an Augean stable of problems behind, as specified in the speech bubble: Now the Lion is Dead!!! But I have had a Devil of a Job in Cleansing the Augean Stable & I Suppose I shall have a worse before I can Conquer the Corsican Hydra! As for the Golden Fleece I’ll take pretty good care of that. The Caledonian Boar! Indian Harpies! Emancipation! Reform! &c &c &c!!! Oh! D-mme! thats all nothing. The list of opponents to be vanquished, including a reference, ‘the Corsican Hydra’, to the Emperor Napoleon, now nearing the peak of his power, is impressive, indeed appropriate for a ‘modern Hercules’ at the beginning of his labours. Fox did in fact believe that, as Foreign Secretary, he could broker a permanent peace with France.92 Fox was, however, already in his mid-fifties and terminally ill (within two months of the print’s publication, he was no longer able to participate actively in politics, and he was dead five months later), so there is a rather obvious contrast between the aims formulated here and what was realistic.93 By July 1806, Fox himself no longer believed in the likelihood of peace with France.94 At the time of the print’s April publication, the negotiations seem already to have been doomed before they had even started, resulting in the credibility of Fox and his associates being at a low ebb.95 Caricaturists accused him of having dazzled the public regarding the possibility of peace, and the present cartoon, with its widely ambitious and unrealistic list of labours to be performed, clearly fitted that mood.96 The disillusionment with Fox in the

91 92 93 94 95 96

Ehrman 1996, 830–3; Hague 2005, 555, 565, 578. Mitchell 1992, 227–8. Mitchell 1992, 222, 236–7. Mitchell 1992, 229. Mitchell 1992, 233. Mitchell 1992, 229.

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months before his death in September is illustrated by statements like ‘Charley Fox eats his former opinions daily and even ostentatiously, showing himself the worse man, but the better minister of a corrupt government’ or ‘He should have died, for his fame, a little sooner, before Pitt’.97 The coalition government he was part of, as Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, the so-called ‘Ministry of All the Talents’ (February 1806 to March 1807), was unstable, collapsing the following year.98 It would have been doubtful, therefore, if he could have achieved anything at all, let alone the great deeds envisioned for this modern Hercules. Fox-as-Hercules comes across as boastful rather than heroic: the portrayal is evocative of Hercules the slightly slow-witted strongman of Attic comedy.99 His physique seems to be that of a self-indulgent glutton (much like the real Fox, who was quite obese) rather than that of a vigorous hero. Whilst Pitt, as the infant Hercules at least, had appeared in an entirely classical guise, this depiction of Fox is a caricature of the classical heroic body. This need not necessarily be a negative image: the comic Hercules, whose main interest was food rather than performing heroic deeds, has been called ‘good natured, rather than terrifying’, a description that could have been applied to the muchloved Fox as well.100 Indeed, this Hercules, wielding the weapon of ‘popular opinion’, is clearly a far cry from Pitt-as-Hercules beating down John Bull. In the context of the political situation of the time, however, this incarnation of Fox-as-Hercules does not appear as a positive figure, but rather as someone making empty promises he was unable to fulfil, despite his heroic trappings. As Fox’s modern biographer Leslie Mitchell has remarked, ‘Herculean energies were at his disposal, but they were only rarely concentrated in the political arena’.101 It seems likely that the satirist intended an ironic commentary on the discrepancy between Fox’s plans and what he was likely to accomplish: not much, if one were to draw one’s conclusions from the fact that, during the past two decades, his political undertakings had, for the most part, come to nothing, often thwarted by Pitt.102 Now that Pitt was dead, Fox was, theoretically, in a position to implement the far-reaching plans he is shown formulating in the

97

98 99 100 101 102

Quotations from private letters from John Rickman, Secretary to the Speaker of the House of Commons, to Thomas Poole, dated to April and June 1806, as quoted in Mitchell 1992, 235. Mitchell 1992, 222. Cf. Galinsky 1972, 82, 84, 85, 87–8. Galinsky 1972, 88. Mitchell 1992, 264. See Mitchell 1992, 80–8.

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print, but his own character, as well as the general circumstances, including his ill health, were likely to prevent success once again. The bragging comic hero would serve as an appropriate metaphor for this situation.

4

Conclusion

In keeping with the demands of the genre, the Hercules cartoons all allude to specific events and political acts and assign the roles of the hero and his enemies to contemporary politicians. The elements taken from the ancient iconography of Hercules are rather basic and would probably have been easily recognisable to the viewers: the club, the lion-skin, and the hydra as enemy of the hero had been part of the artistic repertoire for centuries. However, combined as they were with highly-specific allusions to contemporary politics and events, the prints reached a level of sophistication that would have made them understandable only to a very select and comparatively small group of people, essentially members of the British upper classes who possessed the required level of knowledge of ancient art, as well as of the political machinations of the time. To a modern viewer, many of the more specific references to events, places, things or people remain obscure: while Pitt and Fox are quite easily identifiable, just like certain elements of the Hercules iconography, the finer points of the cartoons’ verbal and visual imagery require a high level of specialist knowledge for the often quite sophisticated levels of significance to emerge. Herculean imagery was used, from the early days of Pitt’s ministry until his death, for some of the most crucial events and highly topical issues of his tenure. At first identified with the young hero Hercules in a positive way, in later years Pitt turned, in the eyes of the satirists and their backers, into a problem to be vanquished by others taking on the role of Hercules. Fox, too, was depicted as both a ‘modern Hercules’ (albeit in an ironic way) and, by implication, an opponent of the hero. The Hercules motifs were clearly versatile enough to be utilised in a variety of contexts and applied to vastly different personalities. Apparently, the image of Hercules as a symbol of virtue and strength had lost none of its potency and could be employed as a powerful metaphor in satirical discourse on contemporary politics during a crucial period of British history.

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Bibliography BMC = Poole, R.S. (1963) A Catalogue of the Greek Coins in the British Museum: Central Greece, Bologna: Forni Buchartowski, C. (1994) Nachahmung und individuelle Ausdrucksform. Eine Untersuchung zu den Motiventlehnungen in der politischen Karikatur James Gillrays im Zeitraum 1789 bis 1805, Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang Donald, D. (1996) The Age of Caricature: satirical prints in the reign of George III, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press Ehrman, J. (1996) The Younger Pitt: the consuming struggle, London: Constable Ehrman, J. (1969) The Younger Pitt: the years of acclaim, London: Constable Eppinger, A. (2017) ‘Hercules cinaedus? The effeminate hero in Christian polemic’, in Campanile, D., Carlà-Uhink, F. and Facella, M. (eds) TransAntiquity: Cross-Dressing and Transgender Dynamics in the Ancient World, London: Routledge, 202–14 Galinsky, G.K. (1972) The Herakles Theme: the adaptations of the hero in literature from Homer to the twentieth century, Oxford: Blackwell Godfrey, R. (2001) ‘Introduction’ in Godfrey, R. and Hallett, M. (eds), James Gillray: the art of caricature, London: Tate Publishing, 10–21 Hague, W. (2005) William Pitt the Younger, London: Harper Press Haywood, I. (2013) Romanticism and Caricature, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Hunt, T.L. (2003) Defining John Bull: political caricature and national identity in late Georgian England, Aldershot and Burlington, VT: Ashgate Jöhnk, C. (1998) Die Bedeutung der Physiognomik für die englische Karikatur um 1800: Studien zur lesbaren Physiognomie bei James Gillray, Thomas Rowlandson und George Cruikshank, Göttingen: Cuvillier Verlag McCreery, C. (1993) ‘Satiric images of Fox, Pitt and George III: the East India Bill crisis 1783–84’, Word & Image 9: 163–85 Michalopoulos, A. (2020) ‘«Ο Ηρακλής πήρε το ρόπαλό του» [“Herakles took up his club”]: the reception of Herakles in the modern Greek press’, in Blanshard, A.J.L. and Stafford, E.J. (eds) The Modern Hercules, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 21, Leiden: Brill Mitchell, L.G. (1992) Charles James Fox, Oxford: Oxford University Press Müller, A. (2009) Framing Childhood in Eighteenth-Century English Periodicals and Prints, 1689–1789, Farnham and Burlington VT: Ashgate Nicholson, E. (1996) ‘Consumers and spectators: the public of the political print in eighteenth-century England’, History 81: 5–21 Payne, M. and Payne, S. (2010) Regarding Thomas Rowlandson. 1757–1827. His life, art & acquaintance, London: Hogarth Arts Rauser, A. (2011) ‘Amoral humor. Desire and mockery in Rowlandson’s comic art’, in

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Phagan, P. (ed) Thomas Rowlandson: pleasures and pursuits in Georgian England, London: GILES, 44–51 Rauser, A. (2008) Caricature Unmasked: irony, authenticity, and individualism in eighteenth-century English prints, Newark: University of Delaware Press Rauser, A. (1998) ‘Death or liberty: British political prints and the struggle for symbols in the American Revolution’, Oxford Art Journal 21: 153–71 Roberts, M.J.D. (1983) ‘The Society for the Suppression of Vice and its early critics, 1802– 1812’, The Historical Journal 26: 159–76 Rynell, A. (1941–2) ‘Some political nicknames in caricatures under George III’, Studia Neophilologica 14: 343–56 Stafford, E.J. (2012) Herakles, Abingdon, Oxon.: Routledge Wien, I. (2009) Joshua Reynolds. Mythos und Metapher, München: Wilhelm Fink

chapter 11

Hercules, His Club and the French Revolution Valerie Mainz

Lynn Hunt’s important article, ‘Hercules and the Radical Image in the French Revolution’ appeared in the second, spring 1983, issue of the journal Representations.1 Tying in the history of cultural practices with the history of ideas, the journal explores the ways in which societies, institutions and structures of power are shaped and impact upon collective motives, attitudes and activity.2 Hunt’s article, in line with the journal’s agenda, used a social, anthropological approach to study how the figure of Hercules came to be re-appropriated as a representative of collective, popular power during the most radical, Jacobin phase of the first French Revolution. Taking Hunt’s article as a starting point, this chapter re-examines images of Hercules created in a range of media at the time of the French Revolution to test out the uses to which this mythic hero of antiquity could be put. Although the focus here is on imagery produced in the aftermath of the attack on the Bastille (14 July 1789), a brief description of a celebrated ceiling painting (Figure 11.1) at the Palace of Versailles by François Lemoyne (1688– 1737), created under the aegis of the sovereign authority of the Bourbon monarchy will set the scene for some of the later, changing connotations that accrued to the antique figure of Hercules, and then on to his separate and distinctive weapon of a gnarled, tapering club.3 This particular attribute had been used as a characteristic distinguishing feature to mark out the person of Hercules in the visual imagery of the early modern period. During the Revolution, the weapon was split away from the monarchical associations that had previously accrued to Hercules. It was, thus, the cudgel, rather than the historiated

1 Hunt 1983, 95–117. I thank Russell Goulbourne and Catherine Karkov for their insightful comments on earlier drafts of this chapter. I am greatly indebted to Emma Stafford for her sensitive and judicious editing. Both the contributions of Russell Goulbourne and of Marc Bizer to this collection study Hercules in the word and imagery of the French tradition, whilst Alexandra Eppinger covers the useful comparative material of British caricatures. All translations, unless otherwise stated, are my own. 2 http://www.representations.org/about/ (accessed 17/07/2019). 3 The Encyclopédie was to identify the distinctive club of Hercules as being gnarled and broader at one end. ‘Massue’, Encyclopédie, ou Dictionnaire Raisonné 1765, vol. 10, 180.

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figure of the mythic, pagan, semi-divine hero, that came to represent the brute force of the French people at its most militant. The shift away from the use of Hercules as a moral exemplum in support of princely virtue towards later showings of the club of Hercules as a forceful stand-in for the revolutionary principles of liberty, fraternity and equality occurred in quite subtly nuanced ways. Both Macsotay and Potts have noted that, once the Revolution had erupted, the presence of a huge, boldly naked figurative torso, of bulging, taut, straining muscles, of a thick bull-like neck, which were constant hyper-masculine features of the outward body of Hercules, raised tensions between an aesthetic of virile strength, ideals of civic virtue and the brutality of the revolutionary event.4 Whilst the mythic hero Hercules was not entirely abandoned, past associations with absolute monarchy in the guises of, for instance, the rulers of the Habsburg and Bourbon dynasties, provide us with plausible grounds for understanding why much care needed to be taken with any overt personifications of the mythic figure when the Revolution was at its most intense.5 Taking on board the extent to which any specific reading of a past visual, or indeed, verbal image is itself a mediated construct, it is, nevertheless, still possible to suggest that, after the downfall of Robespierre and the ending of the most militant phase of revolutionary government, Hercules, the mythic hero of antiquity might be used to satirise the foreign policy of the government of the Directoire. Hunt’s valuable contribution to the history and visual culture of the French Revolution noted that the body of the King had been the sacred centre of political authority in France under the Ancien Régime whilst the figure of Hercules in French history had stood in for the power of individual kings. This historian argued that, by taking on the guise of the French people at its most militant during the French Revolution, the mythical hero came quite suddenly to be reinvented as an inverted sign of monarchy. In the making of the transformation, a major role was ascribed by Hunt to the artist turned Jacobin politician, Jacques-Louis David (1748–1825):6 Hercules appeared on a few prints and engravings in revolutionary France before 1793, but David (perhaps on the urging of Dupré) was almost singlehandedly responsible for reviving and transforming him into a powerful new symbol in the revolutionary repertory.

4 On these tensions, see the chapter by Macsotay in this volume; also Potts (1990). 5 See, for instance, Verbanck-Piérard, Laruelle and Medeiros Araújo in this volume. 6 Hunt 1983, 105.

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Hunt’s article ends with some comments about later nineteenth-century socialist appropriations of the strong worker-hero figure, suggesting that the preference for showing powerful, virile, classicising, idealised nudes over the realistic rendering of a care-worn proletariat can be traced back to the ambivalence of the elite Jacobin imaginary in its celebrations of an idealising Hercules on behalf of, and representing, the French people. Following on from the pivotal contribution of Hunt, my approach is certainly closely bound up with understanding how the visual imagery of the past can be used to explore issues of power, authority, gender, political revolution, nation building and identity at a momentous time in history. Yet, in giving the making of imagery due attention, this contribution also pleads for a much more nuanced and critically responsive approach to visual sources in history. Scrutinising how the figure of Hercules evolved, functioned and was received at a particularly momentous time and by placing the analysis of specific visual examples alongside extracts from the vibrant, written polemic of the period, it becomes only too evident that no single explanation can account for the many and varied appearances of Hercules. Contingent upon particular circumstances of patronage, production, medium, usage, reception and a range of other context specific factors it is, nevertheless, still possible to assess how a story-book, mythical, pagan, semi-divine hero, whose narratives stretch back to the texts and objects of antiquity, might have been widely appropriated for service in the creation of the modern French nation state whilst also, and at times more discordantly, assuming a gamut of diverse inferences. Acknowledging conditions of making, the processes of production and the materialities of a chosen medium affords insight into the many and varied guises that accrued to the mythic figure of Hercules, alongside the noted and evident masculinities of this hero’s, at times, over-determined physical appearance.

1

Hercules, the Monarchy and a Ceiling

François Lemoyne received the commission for the ceiling painting entitled L’Apothéose d’Hercule (Figure 11.1) in the Salon d’Hercule of the palace of Versailles in 1728.7 Inaugurated on 26 September 1736 by Louis XV, who was then just twenty six, this enormous painting, with a span of 480 metres, contains sixty-two figures in its un-compartmentalised central space given over to the showing of a celestial gathering of the Olympian gods. The imagery here has

7 See further, Ducamp 2001.

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Detail of François Lemoyne, L’ Apothéose d’Hercule (The Apotheosis of Hercules), 1731–1736, oil on canvas, 1,850 cm × 1,700cm. Château de Versailles, Salon d’ Hercule Photo © RMN-Grand Palais (Château de Versailles)/Gérard Blot/Hervé Lewandowski

the most powerful Roman god, Jupiter, seated on a throne in the action of offering the hand of Hebe to Hercules who stands in his chariot. Mostly joyful and pacifist in tone and with heroic virtue being suitably rewarded, this gathering is more about love, creativity and fertility than it is about conflict, combat and the martial arts of warfare. The bearded Hercules stands out amongst the plethora of figures. Specially isolated, silhouetted and set against the sky/Heaven, his customarily muscled torso is bedecked by a lion-skin and he holds, in one hand, his usual weapon/attribute of the gnarled, tapering club. Situated between the Grands Appartements and the royal chapel, the King passed through the space of the Salon d’Hercule on his way to and from daily mass. It is surely not co-incidental that the King’s former tutor and, from 1726, his First Minister, was called André-Hercule Cardinal de Fleury. Whilst it might be tempting to assume that the figure of Hercules could here serve as an exemplary ethical model for the education of the prince when attaining full man-

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hood, it would, however, be misleading to search for specific positive political signification in all the postures, gestures and actions of such a vast overhead painted ceiling which is predominantly generalising and non-specific in nature.8 Neither Jupiter nor Hercules appear here in the specific guises of either the young Louis XV or of Cardinal Fleury. What is certain is that the painting was and is still being celebrated as a dazzling manifestation of the greatness of the French school of painting and as a remarkable example of enlightened patronage. Some of this eulogizing splendour is borne out by the long description of the work given in the Mercure de France of October 1736 which has just one section devoted to the potentially exemplary nature of the overall scheme:9 The entire Work revolves around this theme: Love of Virtue raises man above himself and renders him superior to the most taxing and perilous tasks; obstacles melt away at the view of the interests of his King and of his Country; strengthened by honour and led by loyalty, through his actions he attains immortality. The Apotheosis of Hercules is most apposite for the development of this theme: this Hero throughout his life thought only of attaining immortality through his virtuous and heroic actions; and Jupiter of whom he had been the earthly image, crowns his labours in Heaven with immortality. This is the general idea of the subject. The first part of this extract, printed in italics, suggests this section is a citation that has been taken from some other approved written source. The next sentence might well align the achievements of Hercules with those of either the First Minister to the Crown or of the King himself, but in so doing it contains no suggestion that the vast decorative scheme offers up any sort of verifiably true 8 For the Choice of Hercules with reference to the theme of the education of the young prince, see further Martin, 1972, 203–216; also Deligiannis in this volume. For the use of Hercules in decoration as part of the education of the prince, see Sienkewicz on the Pitti Palace in Allen, Anagnostou-Laoutides and Stafford (eds) 2020. 9 Anon 1736, 2310–11: “Tout l’ Ouvrage roule sur cette pensée: L’ Amour de la vertu éleve l’homme au-dessus de luimême, et le rend supérieur aux travaux les plus difficiles et les plus périlleux; les obstacles s’ évanouissent à la vuë des interêts de son Roy et de sa Patrie, soutenu par l’honneur et conduit par la fidélité, il arrive par ses actions à l’ immortalité. L’ Apotheose d’ Hercule paroît bien propre à developer cette pensée; ce Héros ne fut occupé pendant le cours de sa vie qu’ à s’ immortaliser par des actions vertueuses et héroïques; et Jupiter, dont il avoit été l’ image sur la terre couronne ses travaux dans le Ciel par l’immortalité. Voici l’ idée générale du sujet.” The English translation above by Barbara Mellor is an extract from Ducamp 2001, 101–109.

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account of the doings, activities, attitudes or motives of either the First Minister or of the King. Whilst implying that love of virtue is a way for both the First Minister and the sovereign to gain immortality, the newspaper article is essentially about some mythical translation and has nothing to say about any specific event in history. It is fictional in its scope and it exists within the remit of a fabulously wealthy, fine ensemble, celebrating the glories of the French monarchy. Expressed materially in the forms of a subservient, glamorous, panegyric, the painted figuration presents the viewer below with a pinnacle to be striven for but which, in this world, will always ultimately remain unobtainable.10

2

Hercules, the Painting of History and a Toppling Monarch

In a painted sketch of 1790 (Figure 11.2), measuring just 55 cm by 92 cm and entitled Allégorie relative à la Déclaration des Droits de l’ homme (Allegory Concerning the Declaration of the Rights of Man) by Jean-Baptiste Regnault (1754– 1829), the figure of Hercules can still be said to function with some reference to the authority of the Bourbon monarchy, even if somewhat equivocally. Clearly belonging to an early phase of the Revolution, the figurative forms of this crowded design already indicate, however, that the sovereign’s authority is beginning to be visibly compromised even from within more authorised public spheres. The composition mixes real figures and realistic details with allegorical elements, personifications, mythical, divine and semi-divine beings, something in the grandiose manner of seventeenth-century picture-making such as that of, for instance, the Galerie des Glaces at Versailles, designed by Charles Le Brun (1619–1690), first painter to Louis XIV. The high-flown, classicising posturing sits, however, somewhat uneasily in Regnault’s sketch for part of the potential import here is surely to do with the inauguration of modern, equalising civic processes that were, in part, being prompted by the quite new insurrectionary, violent elements of the nascent, political Revolution. In the composition, in darkness to the rear, to the side and in clouds of smoke above a raging fire behind a mob of rioters, led on by a rebel grenadier surging forward and holding a pike topped by a liberty bonnet, one of the towers of the Bastille appears to be collapsing in on itself. This is very much to do with 10

Russell Goulbourne has pointed out to me two mocking references by Voltaire in which associations between the Hercules of Lemoyne’s ceiling painting and the King’s minister, Cardinal Hercule de Fleury, bring out the failure of the namesake to live up to the promise of his mythic predecessor: see Voltaire 1957, 1218–19; letter to Frederick of 26 January 1740 (D2149).

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Jean-Baptiste Regnault, Allégorie relative à la Déclaration des Droits de l’ homme (Allegory Concerning the Declaration of the Rights of Man), 1790, oil on canvas, 55.5 cm × 92 cm. Versailles, Musée Lambinet Photo © RMN-Grand Palais/Phillipp Bernard

recent events. Within a work that purports to the status of high art, and which relies on the exceptionally privileged, classicising vocabulary of those trained within the Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture, the fact of the presence of the insurgent mob behind the leading grenadier who advances from the toppling royal bastion prison, is certainly remarkable. Even more remarkable is the balancing of this insurrectionary element with the portrait-bust effigy of the King. The forceful and successful effects of popular activism are here being offset against the somewhat crumbling authority of an institutionally sanctioned sovereignty. The sketch has the crowned figure of France on the other side of the composition to that of the imploding Bastille. Brightly illuminated and seated on a throne before a temple of liberty, the female personification is shown in the action of carefully placing a sculpted portrait bust of Louis XVI onto a pedestal which is inscribed with the words: Père des Français, Roi d’un peuple libre (Father of the French, King of a Free People). The presence of the King here only in the form of his portrait bust, along with the signing of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen, can be understood as an early marking out of the increasing equivocation with which the person of Louis XVI, and the office he aspired to by divine right, were being held. The absence of the body

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of the King in this picturing has ostensibly removed the monarch from being the sacred centre of the nation. Within this particular composition, several figures look up to the King’s unstably-set portrait bust. These upward glancing figures include the female personification of Paris in the left foreground corner, Minerva in the action of signing the declaration in the centre, the allegorical figure of Abundance in the right foreground and an almost stereotypical Hercules. This Hercules certainly follows on from the recognisable formal characteristics pertaining to the pagan semi-deity of Lemoyne’s ceiling painting at Versailles. Here too, just as in the ceiling painting, Hercules has been depicted with the recognisable formal characteristics of being thickly bearded, having a heroic, muscled nude torso, wearing principally a lion-skin and gripping on to his large, gnarled club. The mythic hero ostensibly functions here too as a supporter of monarchy, standing by the side of the royal portrait bust pedestal and honouring the royal effigy in the face of the new forces of mob rule. Yet, from a close analysis of the composition, in which forces of insurrection also appear, and given the benefits of hindsight, it is still possible to interpret the sketch as having a potential significance that was undermining of royal authority. The sketch was presented to the city of Paris in March 1790 in the hope that a major commission would then ensue, but the larger canvas never materialised.11 The fall of the monarchy on 10 August 1792, the subsequent beheading of Louis XVI on 21 January 1793 together with the disgrace and downfall of some of the other people who feature in this composition, such as the mayor of Paris, Jean-Sylvain Bailly and the commander of the National Guard, the Marquis de Lafayette, overtook the commissioning of a work that was to be modelled on this preparatory sketch.

3

Clubs in Word and Image

An anonymous libelle or political pamphlet of 1789 entitled Le Coup de Massue/Premier Coup (The Club’s Blow/First Blow) can be used to demonstrate a break in the treatment of the figure of Hercules in terms of the coming into being of altered structures of power in France, and the wider spread of a newly invigorated French public opinion. The tract attacks the high Clergy for not 11

See the catalogue entry in Droits de l’ homme et conquête des libertés (Rights of Man and Conquest of Liberties) 1986, no. 16, 20–2. The French Royal Academician and leading history painter, Jean-Baptiste Regnault was considered to have been a rival to Jacques-Louis David at this time. The argument here was first articulated in Bordes and Michel (eds) 1988, 18–20, 113–15.

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wanting to relinquish Church property for the common good of the nation. Still at an early date in the nascent Revolution, the appeal of Hercules here was on behalf of the people and not on behalf of the monarchy. Just as Hercules had purged the land of its besmirching monsters, so were the rich clergy now purportedly to be amongst the first to fear the club-blow of public opprobrium:12 Well, you rich Clergymen who are still deliberating. Fear the nation justly inflamed. Hercules purged the land of the monsters that infected it; his club devastated the universe. Fear for yourselves the terrible inevitable club-blow of public opprobrium. The language of this pamphlet is satirical, prophetic, even melodramatic. Whilst Hercules and his club still belonged together, in the sense that the weapon of a distinctive club was used by Hercules to overcome malevolence, the attribute of this club had now been given the task of assisting the bite of public opprobrium in becoming, in its own right, a menacing, fighting force against the perpetuation of unjust privilege. This is the verbal rhetoric of newly active, political engagement, of radical lobbying and of threatening group contestation. The cudgel was to serve as a weapon of militant, even unthinking, aggression, acquiring a life force of its own in being appropriated from the mythical pagan hero for the benefit of the nation. Another anonymous pamphlet, datable to around the time of the King’s flight to Varennes in June 1791, also used the blow of the club/cudgel to threaten; this time it was the aristocrats who were the ostensible targets.13 Hercules was not invoked by name but, in a somewhat more sophisticated pun, an elision was made between the use of the club/cudgel and the political clubs of France. As the written tract unfolds, it becomes clear that the purpose of the pamphlet is, in fact, to attack and condemn the Jacobins whilst lamenting the more moderate forms of government that had existed under the rule of the Ancien Régime.

12

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Anon 1789, 7: “Eh, bien riches Ecclésiastiques, vous délibérez encore. Craignez la nation justement irritée. Hercule purgea la terre des monstres qui l’ infectaient; sa massue ravagea l’univers. Craignez pour vous la massue terrible inevitable de l’opprobre public.” The publisher of this libelle, Antoine-François Momoro, was to be executed on 4 germinal an II (24 March 1794) for his activities in promoting the extreme causes of the rabblerousing followers of Jacques Hébert, see further, Hesse 1991, 163–7. Anon, n.d.

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The opening of the polemic berated the top aristocrats who regretted the passing of what was deemed, satirically, to be the odious, vexatious, despotic, abominable Ancien Régime. The condemnation gave way to a lament about the destruction of the parlement as a safeguard of the nation’s liberty:14 The enemies of the public good, the aristocrat dogs, are they able to deny that they are indifferent to an arbitrary order, whether signed by Sartine, le Noir or Voidel! Was there not applause from within the heart of all the Clubs of the Kingdom when the parlement was destroyed, the safeguard of our liberty, the depository of our laws, that has so often prevented the breaking up of the empire, [and] the establishment of the religious inquisition, though such an inquisition is, admittedly, more tolerable than a political one? Raising issues to do with status, respect, subservience and gender difference in the face of an undermining stated rhetoric of equal civic rights, the pamphlet proceeded to reveal the hypocritical principles of some named left-wing politicians.15 The implication is that the institution of the new political systems devolved power away from the centralising control of a few only in a superficial manner because the ‘clubs’ had actually engendered a widespread but ineffectual, subservient and even licentious participation. The ‘clubs’ were, therefore,

14

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Anon n.d., 1: “Les ennemis du bien public, les chiens d’ Aristocrates peuvent-ils disconvenir, qu’il est très indifferent qu’ un ordre arbitraire, soit signé, Sartine, le Noir ou Voidel! Lorsqu’ on a détruit le parlement, sauvegarde de notre liberté, dépôt de nos loix, eux qui si souvent ont empêché le démembrement de l’ empire, l’établissement de l’inquisition religieuse, un peu plus tolérable il est vrai que l’ inquisition politique, n’a-t-on pas applaudi du sein de tous les Clubs du Royaume.” The parlements were courts of appeal that approved royal edicts; they were formally abolished in September 1790. Anon n.d., 4: “Is it the boredom of the waiting rooms for which these Gentlemen have regrets? Well! Let them go to the honourable members Lameth, Barnave, Fermond, Prieur, Goupil, and even Robespierre, they will see if the practice has been lost. They will even see that with some of them the practice of the insolent lackey has been replaced by a modest chambermaid with whom one can, if necessary, comment on the rights of man.” “Est-ce l’ ennui des antichambres que regrettent ces beaux Monsieurs? Eh! Qu’ils aillent chez les honorables membres, Lameth, Barnave, Fermond, Prieur, Goupil et même Robespierre, ils verront si l’ usage en est perdu. Ils verront même chez quelques-uns, l’usage du laquais insolent est remplacé par une modeste chambrière, avec laquelle on peut au besoin commenter les droits de l’ homme.”

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now the mere instruments of power that was being wielded by far worse monsters than had dominated under the Ancien Régime. The small anonymous caricature entitled L’Idole renversée (Figure 11.3) must date to the period just after the King’s flight and arrest at Varennes on the night of 20–21 June 1791.16 It is quite alternative in scope and, indeed, reach from the two rather grandiose and melodramatic late-Baroque paintings that have been considered above, even though the depiction still combines a mix between the patently contemporary and the more remote, abstract, generalising and allegorical. France is again being personified as a woman in royal robes, but here she wields a distinctive, gnarled, tapering club with which to strike the bust of the King off its pedestal. Above the club-wielding personification, a large crown rests somewhat improbably and incongruously on the tips of a circle of weapons held up by different types of soldiers and citizens who act fraternally and in unison around the central assault upon the fictively sculpted head of Louis XVI. The figure of Hercules might still be implicated here for having been someone who had wielded such a club to achieve a virtuous victory over vice and who, additionally, had been used to support the authority of the French monarchy, but what is now overtly being attacked here is the individual, Louis XVI, who had personally ascended to the position of monarch. The overturned portrait-bust effigy exists within this picturing as a discredited, fallen idol in contrast to the admittedly somewhat shaky, but still united, circle of support for the institution of a constitutional monarchy. The mythical person of Hercules is not present in this depiction either wholly or in part, so his characteristic attribute of the club/cudgel functions here predominantly in terms of metonymy rather than as synecdoche. The attribute of the club suggests the power and force of Hercules in virtuously overcoming vice, without the club becoming a stand-in for the presence and body of the mythical semi-divine hero. The club of Hercules rather than the figure of Hercules could, thus, come to be used in some of the imagery of the Revolution to indicate force or strength, whether in support of virtuous forms of behaviour or, more equivocally, in support of acts of violence. The club of Hercules, rather than the hero Hercules, came thus to be appropriated within revolutionary discourse and its attendant imagery.17 The fine art aquatint entitled Liberté (Figure 11.4) designed by Jean-Guillaume Moitte 16 17

This caricature is reprinted and commented on in Boyer de Nîmes 1792, I, 194–6. On the relationship between the Herculean imagery of the French revolution and the imagery of revolutionary causes more broadly, leading to the foundation of the modern nation of Greece, see Xanthou and Kyrkopoulou 2020. For the use of the club of Herakles in the modern Greek media, see Michalopoulos 2020.

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Anon., L’ Idole renversée (The Idol Overthrown), 1792, etching, 14cm × 10 cm. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, département Estampes et photographie, De Vinck 4919 Source gallica.bnf.fr / National Library of France

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figure 11.4

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Jean-Guillaume Moitte (del.), Jean-François Janinet (sculp.), Liberté (Liberty), 1792, etching, 36.5 cm × 26 cm. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, De Vinck 6051 Source gallica.bnf.fr / National Library of France

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(1746–1810) is another example of the divorce between the mythical figure Hercules and his usual attribute of a gnarled, tapering club. Silhouetted against a black background in a format derived from ancient Greek vase paintings but assertively facing frontally rather than in profile, the female personification of Liberty has acquired a grave monumentality. Seated on a fashionably styled neoclassicising throne, she tramples beneath her feet the many-headed hydra associated with despotism by way of the stories of Hercules but also, and increasingly, with the federalist revolt. The fictive monumental figure holds up, in one hand, the Phrygian cap of liberty whilst the other hand rests on the now familiar gnarled, tapering club. One review of the print noted that this club was to be understood as denoting, here, the emblem of strength given by Liberty.18 Antoine de Baecque has considered how the gender stereotyping of allegory in visual imagery came, during the French Revolution, to endow male figures with ‘thicker’ or denser meaning.19 Besides personifying strength, the demi-god of mythology Hercules had an acknowledged, elaborate and prolific back-story stretching back to the writers of antiquity with positive moral qualities accruing to this figure in some of the narrative episodes in which he had featured, such as those of his twelve labours, including the labour of the overcoming of the many-headed Lernean hydra.20 The personification of the female figure of liberty has, in contrast, no personal history. It is an emptier communicative vehicle and can be turned more easily towards universalising, abstract principles. By endowing the allegorical personification of liberty with the weapon/attribute of Hercules, that principally denoted this hero’s strength, the female personification acquires additional layers of signification without compromising the edifying rhetoric of what is here an essentially mute, static, fixed and monumentalising visual image. According to Hunt the first major public use of the figure of Hercules envisaged by David was at the Festival of Unity and Indivisibility of the Republic that was held on 10 August 1793, at a time when the Girondin revolt was being suppressed.21 Temporary sculptures were erected at each of the six stations of the 18 19 20 21

Gazette Nationale ou Le Moniteur 1793, 508. de Baecque, 1990, 189–92. See the Preface to this volume for a summary overview of the story of Hercules; for more detail, see Stafford 2012. Hunt 1983, 99–100. Hunt notes that no official reference to Hercules was made in the festival but that the engraver J.-G. Wille (1715–1808) recalled seeing the figure of Hercules with his left foot resting on the throat of the Counter-Revolution. A recent compendium of revolutionary iconography deals with David’s pronouncements about a project for a colossal male nude statue and singularly misidentifies the seated colossal figure in the

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processional route. Celebratory imagery in print form (Figure 11.5) continues to disseminate something of the configurations of these ephemeral monuments. The fourth stop in the Place des Invalides was given over to a sculpture representing Le Peuple français terrassant le fédéralisme (The French People Overwhelming Federalism) in the form of a colossal male figure, naked except for a Phrygian cap. Holding aloft a club in one hand whilst reaching round a bundle of fasces with the other hand, the giant steps on a monstrous hydra, having thus overwhelmed this negatively conceived force of evil. The grandiloquent words of David, when presenting the plans for the festival to the National Convention omit, however, the name of Hercules from the description of what was being planned for this location:22 The fourth station will be on the Invalides square; in the middle of the square, on the summit of a mountain, a colossal figure in sculpture, representing the French People, will gather the departmental fasces in his vigorous arms; ambitious federalism emerging from his muddy swamp parting, with one hand, the reeds, tries with his other to break off some part of the fasces; the French people sees it, [ambitious federalism] takes up the club, hits it and makes it return into his stagnant water so as never to let it re-emerge therefrom. The printed visual image that acts as a counterpart to the verbal record hardly conveys the performative nature of the spectacle espoused so passionately by the artist. Whilst much of what Hunt has to say about the transfer of symbols of authority holds good, particular transformations, evolving over time, need also to be carefully analysed. Just as verbal rhetoric is not to be taken merely at face value, so visual imagery needs to be acknowledged for the contexts, formal conventions and historically specific spaces in/with which it has been produced, come about and continues to evolve. Given the extent to which the semidivine Hercules had featured in the earlier iconography of various European and French sovereigns, the somewhat tenuous relationship here between the

22

artist’s sketch for an opera curtain Le Triomphe du Peuple français (The Triumph of the French People), Paris, Musée Carnavalet, see Reichardt, 2017, II, 1123. Archives Parlementaires 1911, Vol. 68, 566: “La quatrième station se fera sur la place des Invalides; au milieu de la place, sur la cime d’ une montagne sera représenté en sculpture, par une figure colossale, le Peuple français, de ses bras vigoureux rassemblant le faisceau départemental, l’ambitieux fédéralisme sortant de son fangeux marais, d’ une main écartant les roseaux, s’efforce de l’autre d’en detacher quelque portion; le peuple français l’ aperçoit, prend sa massue, le frappe, et le fait rentrer dans ses eaux croupissantes pour n’ en sortir jamais.”

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Villeneuve, Le Peuple Français terrassant le Fédéralisme (The French People overwhelming Federalism). From Vue des six différentes stations de la fête de l’ unité et de l’ indivisibilité de la République (View of the six different stations of the festival of unity and of indivisibility of the Republic), c. 1788–98, etching, 11.3cm × 8.7 cm. Paris, Musée Carnavalet, G.28848 Photo released into the public domain under CC0 licence by Paris Musées / Musée Carnavalet

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mythical figure and the embodiment of the French people in the form of a gigantic male nude beating down the hydra of Federalism should not surprise. The colossus served to embody the force of a newly liberated nation in overcoming enemies. It may well have been modelled on depictions of the mythical pagan hero, but its appearance in the festival owed little to the narratives of antiquity that dealt with the individual exploits of Hercules as an effective, though flawed, hero. When presenting the project of a colossal male nude statue constituting an allegory of the Sovereign People to the National Convention in November 1793, it is clear that, for David, it is the club or cudgel of Hercules which had, by this date, acquired its own life force in having become, if only metaphorically, an instrumental weapon for the scouring of those who were against the people. Besides noting it as the focus on the new seals of the Republic, Hunt’s breakthrough article made much of David’s proposal for this colossal sculpture that never, in fact, materialised, but that was intended to fill the void left by the destruction of the statue of Henri IV on the Pont Neuf. That equestrian monument had been destroyed the previous year in the aftermath of the attack on the Tuileries Palace of 10 August 1792, the day that came to mark the downfall of the monarchy. In David’s speech to the National Convention of 17 brumaire an II (7 November 1793), there is, however, just one mention of the name of Hercules: ‘Let this image of the people upright hold in its other hand that terrible and real club, of which that of the ancient Hercules was only the symbol’.23 David’s words clearly split off the proposed figurative form of the colossal statue’s club from the one that had served as a conventional symbol and attribute of Hercules. These words indicate that the speaker was, indeed, keen not to make an overt association between the mythic pagan deity and the innovations of the body of the French people writ large. In the eighteen separate articles that give the details of the proposed monument’s material composition, its physical appearance and the competition to award its commission, there is not one mention of the name of Hercules, although the seventeenth article announces that the Declaration of the Rights of Man, the Constitution engraved into bronze, the medal of 10 August and the present decree be deposited in the club held in one hand of the statue.24

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Archives Parlementaires 1867–1990, Vol. LXXVIII, 560: ‘Que cette image du people debout tienne dans son autre main cette massue terrible et réelle, dont celle de l’Hercule ancien ne fut que le symbole.’ Procès-verbaux du Comité d’Instruction publique de la Convention nationale (Minutes of the Committee of Public Instruction of the National Convention) 1891, II, 807.

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Counterpoint: Terror and Post-terror

In 1795, after Thermidor and the downfall of the radical Jacobin leader Robespierre, the mythological figure of Hercules embracing female personifications of liberty and equality did, however, feature on the Republic’s new silver coinage which was in circulation until year IX (1800).25 This mythological figure of Hercules was also appropriated by the major radical artist, Philippe-Auguste Hennequin (1762–1833), even if the critical import of his use of Hercules was at times veiled and/or somewhat satirical. A former student of David, Hennequin enjoyed a particular success at the Salon of 1799 when his large canvas entitled Le Triomphe du Peuple français au 10 août (The Triumph of the French People on 10th August) was awarded a first prize. The avowedly neo-Jacobin subject matter of this major work demonstrates not just that the shift away from radical politics happened over time, but also that the classically trained artist was able to manipulate visual imagery within the newly politicised public arenas with some skill. In his catalogue raisonné of the works of Hennequin, Benoit has discussed at length the first major, but unfinished and now lost canvas entitled La Rébellion lyonnaise terrassée par le génie de la liberté (The Lyon Rebellion Struck Down by the Spirit of Liberty).26 The work is known today from a sketch, from a preparatory drawing and from verbal descriptions. Writing on 14 pluviôse an II (2 February 1794) to the Commission temporaire of his birthplace of Lyon, renamed the Commune Affranchie after the failed federalist uprising, Hennequin described in detail his proposals for the allegorical decoration of the municipal Council’s meeting room. The descriptive wording here demonstrates the painter’s ardent political engagement with the causes of Jacobinism:27

25 26 27

The seminal authority on the post Thermidor period with its fluctuating political fortunes remains Baczko 1989. Benoit 1994, 49–51; 78–81. Meaulle 1843, 325: “Un jeune home représentant le peuple français, debout et appuyé sur sa massue, ayant sous ses pieds la fédéralité terrassé; les poisons, les poignards, les septres (sic) et les couronnes sont brisés autour de lui. Le jeune Hercule presse entre ses bras la Liberté; son attitude est grande et fière; la Victoire sur ses pas le couronne. Au pied d’une montagne élevée paroit (sic) la Raison, qui ordonne la destruction de la ville rebelle qu’un peuple indigné démolit lui-même. Dans une partie du tableau, on voit la fleuve du Rhône triste, abattu, qui se couvre le visage, gémissant d’ avoir baigné les murs d’une ville qui fut sur le point de ravir la liberté à la France. Au haut du tableau paroit (sic) la Renommée publiant les triomphes des Français, etc.”

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A young man representing the French people, upright and leaning on his club, having overwhelmed federalism at his feet; the fish, the daggers, the sceptres and the crowns are broken around him. The young Hercules presses Liberty between his arms; his attitude is great and proud; Victory on his heels crowns him. At the foot of a high mountain there appears Reason that orders the destruction of the rebel town being demolished by an indignant people. In a portion of the painting the sad, despondent river of the Rhone is to be seen covering her face, moaning plaintively for having washed the walls of a town that had been on the point of robbing France of liberty. At the top of the painting there appears Fame publishing the triumphs of the French etc. The description of the visual allegory vividly imputes to a young man with a club the successful putting down of the recent revolt and it deliberately aligns the hero Hercules to this masculine figure who is being lauded by the female personifications of Liberty, Victory, Reason and Fame. The rhetoric adapted classicising references to the new forms of political culture that had been engendered by the tumultuous events and power shifts of the moment. The polemical understanding of the visual picturing is about immortalising the sovereignty of the French people, now avowedly assuming the guise of Hercules, the hero and demi-god of antiquity. As such, it was far removed from the eulogising magnificence and royal splendours of Versailles. Going beyond heroic mythmaking, what counts here is the levying of an assault upon forces that were deemed to have threatened the course of a hard-fought upheaval in which principles of liberty, equality and fraternity had come to be allied to an unprecedented spirit of revolutionary republicanism. After the coup d’état of Thermidor and the downfall of the Jacobin régime, Hennequin’s neo-Jacobinism cast him in the role of suspect for he was imprisoned in Paris between September 1796 and February 1797 as a result of the failure of the Camp de Grenelle uprising that had taken place on 20–23 fructidor an IV (6–9 September).28 On his release, which came as a result of lobbying by his wife and a petition signed by fellow artists, he produced the stipple engraving entitled La Liberté de l’Italie, aux hommes libres (Figure 11.6). The scene is of the young military hero of the moment, General Buonaparte, in the action of embracing/being embraced by the French people in the form of Hercules on one side and by wisdom in the form of Minerva on the other

28

Benoit 1994, 21–22.

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Philippe-Auguste Hennequin, La Liberté de l’Italie, dédié aux hommes libres (The Liberty of Italy, dedicated to free men), 1798, stipple engraving, 45cm × 33 cm. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, De Vinck 6817 Source gallica.bnf.fr / National Library of France

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with, from above, Victory crowning the officer with laurel wreaths and fame trumpeting out his renown.29 In the foreground of this composition, there lie the defeated two-headed eagle of the Austrian Empire, the broken crozier of the Pope and a cudgel which is now to be understood as the abandoned club of the mythical figure of Hercules, who is also present in the print in the satirical guise of a Herculean figure representing the French people. In embracing, albeit in a rather too clumsy gesture, the comparatively diminutive, graceful, even rather effeminate figure of the military leader of the moment, the dominant forms of the antique hero also implicate, in a negative way, the newly emergent political leader of the moment. The substantial heroic male nude, admittedly and somewhat unusually at this date, draped behind by the obvious Herculean reference of a lion-skin, has the charged revolutionary words Egalité, Liberté, Patrie (Equality, Liberty, Homeland) on a ribbon streamer across his chest. Patrie has come to replace revolutionary fraternity but whose patrie is at issue here? The completed design is likely to date to after the defeat of the Austrians at the Battle of Rivoli on 14–15 January 1797 and possibly to after the signing of the Treaty of Tolentino of 19 February 1797 that was imposed on the Pope. In one hand the blatantly-naked personification of the French people holds the chains of Austrian political power and of Papal dominion that have recently been forcefully broken; in the other hand he holds up a statuette of Liberty with her own raised triangle of equality. There is a curious mix here of the contemporary and the antique with the tomb of Virgil behind reminding the viewer of the greatness of Roman and/or Italy’s rich cultural heritage. What are we to make of the fact that Italy’s modern-day liberator, General Buonaparte, is rather oddly swamped and somewhat overwhelmed by the heavily classicising elements that surround him so eulogistically? His gaze is directed towards and meets that of the naked, mythical fighter hero with some tenderness; it is thus also directed away from the well-endowed female torso of wisdom/Minerva. There is, furthermore, nothing here of the proletarian worker hero, nor even of the forthright ideological principles that 29

Benoit 1994, 148; 232. The design could have been worked on during his stay in prison. For the activities of artists in prison during the Revolution, see Matthiesson 2016. Antoine Maxime Monsaldy (1768–1816), the engraver of the print after Hennequin’s design, announced its sale in Le Moniteur Universel of 9 prairial an VI (28 May 1798). The announcement accounted for the print’s allegorical subject matter with the words: ‘Près du tombeau de Virgile, le general Bonaparte tient embrassé le peuple et la Sagesse; au-dessus planent la Victoire et la Renommée’ (‘Near Virgil’s tomb, Buonaparte holds embraced the people and Wisdom; on high soar Victory and Fame’).

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had so imbued the artist’s earlier aborted project in Lyon. Classical allegory worked more generally to idealise and universalise and in so doing promoted the fine-art object away from any active involvement in the harsh realities of either military endeavour or of a putatively ‘working class’ labour. Yet knowledge of certain historical contexts, extrinsic to the figurative forms of this print, also enables a more satirical slant to be imputed to its imagery even though the satire is here heavily veiled behind the guises of high art and of antiquity. Edouard Pommier has written eloquently about the policy of confiscation of artworks perpetrated in the name of Liberty by the government of the French Directoire.30 The taking back to Paris of war booty in the form of what were considered to be major cultural treasures from recently conquered territories was to culminate in a major festival held on 9 and 10 thermidor an VI (27 and 28 July 1798), the fourth anniversary of Robespierre’s downfall. With great pomp and ceremony, this festival marked out the spectacular entry into the Louvre of the third important convoy of treasures from Rome, central Italy and Venice.31 Not all had, however, been in support of such appropriations. Since the summer of 1796 there had been heated debates about this policy of conquest, appropriation and promotion in which art works were removed from territories newly occupied by the French for the purposes of establishing the French capital city as the pre-eminent capital city of Liberty. Raising issues about cultural heritage, about the educational value of seeing artworks in situ, about the morality of seizing and then displacing objects, about the need to prevent damage to the material fabric of antiquities, about the position of Paris within French hegemonies, these critical debates constituted a sustained attack on the government of the French Directoire.32 It is surely not merely coincidental that the figure of Hercules in Hennequin’s engraving is closely modelled on the huge male nudes still in situ on Rome’s Quirinal Hill, the so-called Dioscuri of Monte Cavallo, casts of which were ordered by the French in 1799 when it became clear that the originals could not be transported to Paris.33 That the taking of other famous sculptures from Italy might be implicated as something that was on-going and not a good thing is further brought out by the landscape setting itself and especially by the inscribed tomb of Virgil within that landscape setting that bring to mind the 30 31 32 33

Pommier, 1991, 397–466. McClellan, 1994, 114–23. See further Lettres à Miranda, 8, 13. Haskell and Penny, 1981, 139. The casts were eventually made in 1823 and are now displayed in the rotunda of the cast court at Versailles: see le Breton 2012.

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life and works of France’s first Premier Peintre, Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665), who had chosen to live and work in Rome rather than in Paris for most of his career.34 Hennequin, too, had spent the years 1784 to 1790 in Rome at the heart of what was considered to be the pre-eminent study centre for fine artists of the period.35 The print’s distant view of a walled settlement flanked by mountains is a deliberate evocation of Poussin’s well-ordered landscape scenes which combine carefully structured Italianate settings with antique subject matter as in the pendants The Burial of Phocion (Cardiff, National Museum) and The Ashes of Phocion being gathered up by his Widow (Liverpool, Walker Art Gallery). The tomb within Hennequin’s contrived particular setting is a further deliberate evocation of, even tribute to, Poussin, recalling as it does the paintings that are now entitled Et in Arcadia Ego (Chatsworth; Paris, Louvre), which depict shepherds and shepherdesses clustered around a tomb within some pastoral idyll deriving from views of the Roman campagna. Panofsky’s article about these works dwells on the inferences of vanitas (‘vanity’) to be had from such contemplation: that even in Arcadia, a land of distant happiness, death as well as the experience of sorrow at the passing of a loved one are still present.36 It is Virgil’s tomb and not the tomb of a fine artist that Hennequin has imaginatively conceived and labelled with an inscription from this most famous of Roman poets: Libertas, quae sera tamen / Respecxit inertem (‘Liberty, late though she was, had regard for me in my inactive state’).37 The plight of the artist, Hennequin, who produced this design in the aftermath of his own release from prison, as also of the artworks that had been ‘liberated’ from the site of Rome to be deposited in Paris, the French capital of Liberty, for the regeneration and benefit of humanity have, thus, been carefully encoded, even hidden, within an ostensible Herculean lauding of the victorious French general. Yet it is still possible to infer that just as the poet Virgil had produced pastoral poetry during a time of civil war, so the fine artist, Hennequin, was continuing to produce visual imagery, having survived civil war and incarceration. His visual imagery now also had a more cryptic political edge due to the vicissitudes he

34 35

36 37

For the celebration of the works of Poussin at the end of the eighteenth century, see Verdi, 1976; Denton, 2003. Benoit, 1994, 19. That Rome was the pre-eminent site for creative input into the fine arts in this period of neoclassicism is a key component of Macsotay’s pertinently argued contribution to this volume. Panofsky, 1955, 295–320. Virgil, Eclogues 1, 27. I thank Eva Frojmovic and John Kahn for their help with this source.

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had had to endure.38 The insistence on Liberty, even in the presence of death, is, perhaps, spelled out in an almost too compelling way – the title has Italy as the land of Liberty, the print is dedicated to the Liberty of free men and the inscription on the tomb memorialises the lateness of the coming of Liberty.

5

Conclusion

To sum up. The heroic male nude form certainly featured prominently in a range of visual imagery produced during the French Revolution. The club, which had become a conventional attribute of Hercules before the Revolution, was used when the Revolution was at its most intense to refer to strength in support of militant, armed revolutionary virtues. During the real upheavals that had, in part, been prompted by a rhetoric of civic unrest, this attribute was to accrue much symbolic purchase as a stand-alone weapon of militancy. Projections of the colossal male nude form similarly did not always necessarily implicate the hero of antiquity, Hercules. Yet the hero, Hercules, was also not just abandoned for, in certain instances, as several works by the neo-Jacobin painter Hennequin testify, some suggestion of the Revolution’s past popular militancy could, in the aftermath of Thermidor, still accrue to the storybook hero. By analysing imagery in the light of different and appropriate contexts of production, dissemination and reception, the ceiling painting, the allegorical picturing of contemporary event and the revolutionary print provide us with particular insights into the projections of history. In the case of Hercules, adaptation, emulation and imitation did not fit comfortably with the new revolutionary political culture even though something of the afterlife of this heroic figure continued to animate afresh once the revolutionary government had been superseded by the conquests and coming to power of a French general.

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Hennequin’s neo-Jacobin allegorical painting of Le Triomphe du Peuple français was exhibited at the Salon of 1799 but, probably at some point between 1815 and 1820, was cut up. It had featured a personification of the French people armed with a club and overturning the colossus of royalty, Benoit, 1994, 51–55. In 1800, the artist produced another satirical print, entitled La Chiquenaude du Peuple (The Slapping Away of the People). This overtly ultra-left response to the right-wing royalist factions of the moment is more clearly caricatural in its targeting. It depicts the naked, but now bald, hero Hercules slapping away the tiny, insect-like social parasites of the nobility and of the clergy whilst a just as miniscule Buonaparte rests at the side of this monster’s cudgel, Benoit, 1994, 233–34. In 1800 Hennequin also completed the ceiling painting of L’ Hercule Français (The French Hercules) (Paris, Louvre), which might be about the French people in the guise of Hercules overcoming reactionary artists, see Benoit, 1995, 58.

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Bibliography Primary Sources Anon (1789) Le Coup de Massue/Premier Coup, Paris: Momoro Anon (1736) ‘Plafond d’un Salon du Château de Versailles, qui precede celui de la Chapelle du Roy, apellé le Grand Salon de Marbre’, Mercure de France: 2309–17 Anon (n.d.) Grand Coup de Massue Aux Aristocrates, Paris: Limoudin Archives Parlementaires de 1787 à 1860: recueil complet des débats législatifs et politiques des Chambres françaises, imprimés par ordre du Corps législatif, (1911), Paris: Dupont Boyer de Nîmes, J.-M. (1792) Histoire des caricatures de la révolte des Français, Paris: Journal du Peuple ‘Massue’, Encyclopédie ou Dictionnaire Raisonné des Sciences et des des Métiers (1765), X, 180, Paris: Briasson, David Palné, Le Breton et Durand Gazette Nationale ou Le Moniteur Universel (1793), Paris: Henri Agasse Procès-verbaux du Comité d’Instruction publique de la Convention nationale (1891), Paris: Imprimerie nationale, volumes can be searched through the Hathi Trust Digital Library at https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/000372687 (accessed 17/07/2019) Quatremère de Quincy, A.-C. (1989, 2017) Pommier, E. (intro. & notes) Lettres à Miranda: ‘Sur le déplacement des monuments de l’art de l’Italie’ (1796), Paris: Macula Voltaire (1957) ‘Siècle de Louis XIV’ in Pomeau, R. (ed) Œuvres historiques, Paris: Gallimard, 1218–19

Secondary Sources Allan, A., Anagnostou-Laoutides, E. and Stafford, E.J. (eds) (2020) Herakles Inside and Outside the Church: from the first Apologists to the Quattrocento, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 18, Leiden: Brill Baczko, B. (1989) Comment sortir de la Terreur: Thermidor et la Révolution, Paris: Gallimard Benoit, J. (1994) Philippe-Auguste Hennequin 1762–1833, Paris: Arthena Benoit, J. (1993) ‘La peinture allégorique sous le Consulat: structure et politique’, La Gazette des Beaux-Arts VIe période: 77–92 Blanshard, A.J.L. and Stafford, E.J. (eds) (2020) The Modern Hercules, Metaforms: Studies in the Reception of Classical Antiquity 21, Leiden: Brill Bordes, P. and Michel, R. (eds 1988) Aux Armes & Aux Arts! Les arts de la Révolution 1789–1799, Paris: Adam Biro de Baecque, A. (1990) ‘Les Dames de la République: images allégoriques féminines pendant la Révolution’ in Brive, M.-F. (ed.) Les Femmes et la Révolution française: actes du colloque international, 12–13–14 avril 1989, Toulouse: Presses Universitaires du Mirail: 2, 189–93

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Denton, M.F. (2003) ‘Death in French Arcady: Nicolas Poussin’s The Arcadian Shepherds and Burial Reform in France’, Eighteenth-Century Studies 36.2: 195–216 Droits de l’homme et conquête des libertés (1986) Vizille: Musée de la Révolution française Ducamp, E. (ed.) (2001) The Apotheosis of Hercules by François Lemoyne at the château de Versailles: history and restoration of a masterpiece, Mellor, B. (trans.), Paris: Alain de Gourcuff Haskell, F. and Penny, N. (1981), Taste and the Antique, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press Hesse, C. (1991) Publishing and Cultural Politics in Revolutionary Paris 1789–1810, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press Hunt, L. (1983) ‘Hercules and the radical image in the French Revolution’, Representations 1.2 (Spring 1983): 95–117 le Breton, E. (2012) ‘Le Dioscure du Quirinal dans la Gypsothèque du Musée du Louvre’, Revue Archéologique 54: 275–95 available online at https://www.cairn.info/article .php?ID_ARTICLE=ARCH_122_0275# (accessed 17/07/2019) Lee, S. (1999) David, London: Phaidon Press Martin, J.R. (1972) The Decorations for the Pompa Introitus Ferdinandi, London, New York: Phaidon Matthiesson, S. (2016) The prison-made object in the French Revolution, PhD thesis, Monash University, available to download at https://monash.figshare.com/articles/The _prison‑made_object_in_the_French_Revolution/4276070/1 (17/07/2019) Meaulle (1843) ‘Un Lettre d’Hennequin, Peintre lyonnais’, Revue du Lyonnais, 324– 5 Michalopoulos, A. (2020) ‘«Ο Ηρακλής πήρε το ρόπαλό του» [“Herakles got his club”]: the reception of Herakles in the modern Greek press’, in Blanshard and Stafford (eds) Panofsky, E. (1955) ‘Et in Arcadia ego: Poussin and the elegiac tradition’ in Panofsky, E. Meaning in the Visual Arts: papers in and on art history, Garden City, NY: Doubleday Anchor Books: 295–320, originally published as Panofsky, E. (1936) ‘Et in Arcadia ego: on the conception of transience in Poussin and Watteau’ in Klibansky, R. and Paton, H.J. (eds) Philosophy and History: essays presented to Ernst Cassirer, Oxford: Clarendon Press Pommier, E. (1991) L’art de la liberté, Paris: Gallimard Potts, A. (1990) ‘Images of Ideal Manhood in the French Revolution’, History Workshop Journal 30.1: 1–21 Reichardt, R. (ed) (2017) Lexikon der Revolutions-Ikonographie in der europaischedn Druckgraphik (1789–1889), 3 vols, Muenster, Rhema Stafford, E.J. (2012) Herakles, Abingdon, Oxon.: Routledge Verdi, R.F. (1976) ‘“Poussin’s critical fortunes”: the study of the artist and the criticism

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of his works from c. 1690 to c. 1830 with particular reference to France and England’, PhD thesis: Courtauld Institute of Art (University of London) Xanthou, M.E.G. and Kyrkopoulou, K. (2020) ‘Reimagining Herakles: a supporter of Greek revolution and a defender of the Greek crown’, in Blanshard and Stafford (eds)

chapter 12

New Representations of Hercules’ Madness in Modernity: The Depiction of Hercules and Lichas Manuel Caballero González

As outlined in this volume’s Preface and Introduction, if ever there was a multifaceted hero in the ancient world, it was Hercules: founder of cities, model of excellence, example of kingly virtue, protector from every kind of peril, divinized hero. Hercules has featured, from antiquity onwards, as an exemplary saviour and courageous hero, often performing his famous labours. There are, however, only a few visual representations of a less well-known aspect of the Hercules legend: his madness. The few extant pictorial representations of this theme to have survived from antiquity deal exclusively with the death of his wife Megara and of their children.1 This chapter considers an important change in perspective on the representation of the madness of Hercules in painting and sculpture in the early modern period. It is clear that the Megara episode still attracted many artists, but the attention of painters and sculptors in the Renaissance and beyond frequently targeted another event in Hercules’ life, about which there is very little evidence in ancient literature and for which there are no precedents in the visual imagery of antiquity: the death of Lichas.2 The major work Hercules and Lichas (Figure 12.1) by Antonio Canova (1752–1822) is key to a visual tradition which, beginning in the Renaissance, culminated in this neoclassical sculpture. Through the medium of sculpture, the murder of Lichas by Hercules thus became a suitable vehicle for the expression of the madness of Hercules in modernity. Although Giambologna (also known as Jean de Boulogne, 1529– 1608) and Michelle Mazzafirri (c. 1530–1597) in the sixteenth century, as well as Francesco Bertos (1678–1741) and Christoph Unterberger (1732–1798) in the eighteenth century, created works of art that dealt with a mad Hercules slaying his servant Lichas, artistic interest in this scene reached its pinnacle with

1 Boardman 1988, 835, with bibliography, restricts Hercules’ madness to this episode alone. 2 The story appears mainly in Sophocles (Trach. 772–84), Ovid (Met. 9.211–29) and Seneca (Herc. Oet. 808–22); see also Apollod. 2.7.7; Hyg. Fab 36. On the ancient iconography, see Vollkommer 1992, 286–8.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004435414_014

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Antonio Canova, Hercules and Lichas, 1795–1815, marble, Galleria Nazionale, Rome, Inv. 131 Photo © Jean-Pierre Dalbéra, released under Creative Commons licence (CC BY 2.0; https://creativecommons.org/licenses/ by/2.0/) on Flickr (2011) and Wikimedia Commons (2013)

the statue by Antonio Canova.3 The focus in this chapter is, therefore, on this sculpture in order to demonstrate how this new portrayal of Hercules arose from a range of literary and iconographical sources, as an exemplary case of furens Hercules. This contribution is about the interpretation of myth via the 3 The earlier treatment of the Lichas story in Greek literature has an extensive bibliography, but with little focus on the sources of its iconography. See further Avery and Radcliffe 1972, 134 no. 89; 2008, 174 no. 33. The Warburg Institute Iconographic Database (online at https:// iconographic.warburg.sas.ac.uk/vpc/VPC_search/main_page.php, accessed 17/07/2019) of-

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mediations of painting and of a late eighteenth-century monumental piece of sculpture. As such, it is complemented by the discussion of Macsotay in this volume, which deals more with the socio-political contexts of the sculpted figurative group at a time when absolutist forms of government in western Europe were breaking down. The first part of this chapter (§1) briefly explores some of the concepts that attached to the state of madness in ancient myth, especially in Greece. The three murders committed by Hercules (§2), of Linos, Iphitos and Lichas, are then described for their contribution to our understanding of the furious and violent character of our hero, particularly in Greek literature. The death of Megara and her children in both literature and iconography is, however, taken to be the paradigmatic scene of the madness of Hercules (§ 3). This leads on to a consideration of the murder of Lichas and the change in the paradigm (§ 4) brought about by the exemplary case of furens Hercules in the handling of the modern-day narrative of Hercules and Lichas by the sculptor Canova (§ 5).

1

Mythological Madness in the Ancient World

In his discussion of madness in mythology, Mattes states that the Greeks could understand, as we do, any type of damage or disconnection of the sane mind as ‘madness’ (μανία, mania) for ‘disorderly’ effects were able to ruin the mind of a person and drive him mad.4 These feelings could be caused by rage in battle (as in Hector), joy and happiness (as in Orestes addressing his sister Electra), sorrow and suffering (as in Hecabe), or love itself (as in Helen).5 Ecstasy, especially Dionysiac and poetic or prophetic inspiration, could also be categorised as mania.6 Padel has pertinently observed that: ‘what madness “is like” is fabricated in a culture’s mind by the sane’.7 The sane decide how and why a person is mad; the social context of the diagnosis is essential. An aspect of madness that has,

4 5 6

7

fers a series of images with the title ‘Hercules throwing Lichas into the sea’ which allows us to see how the theme was depicted before Canova, especially for the visual interpretation of Ovid’s version (Met. 9.211–29). Mattes 1970, 7. Homer, Iliad 15.605; Aeschylus, Choephoroi 233; Euripides, Trojan Women 1284; Alcman fr. 1 = P.Oxy. 21.2300. For this reason, Dionysus’ female followers the Bacchantes were also called Maenads, ‘the furious ones’: see Mattes 1970, 102. Cf. a third type of theia mania (‘god-sent madness’) in Plato, Phaedrus 245A and Ion 533D. Padel 1995, 47.

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however, alarmed the ‘sane’ individual is the fit of rage, the unexpected outburst of violence, the explosion of uncontrolled fury. In the ancient world, this violence, linked to lyssa (‘fury’) and to either mēnos (‘rage’) or cholos (‘wrath’), was only an external and ‘human’ display of madness.8 It is obvious that the setting up of madness has not always been the same. A substantial difference is, for instance, to be found between the vague concept of madness in Homer, which was expressed by the words atē (‘delusion’/‘ruinous action’) and lyssa, and never with the substantive mania, and that expressed in later epic poetry, especially in Latin, where ‘there is an expansion in what in the Homeric epics was considered mad’.9 Thanks to some of the tenets of philosophy, particularly Stoicism, the concept of ‘anger-rage’ comes to be included within the concept of madness. Thus, the furor belli (‘battle-frenzy’), equating to either mēnos or lyssa, becomes a furor (‘madness’) that resembles insania (‘insanity’). According to Padel, madness in fifth-century Athens is associated with three basic ideas: darkness, as in melancholia (‘melancholy’, black bile); wandering, as in alē (‘roaming’); and damage caused, as in atē (‘ruinous action’).10 The darkness symbolizes both the lack of the light needed to guide reason and the blackness of the Underworld where the Erinyes live; the wandering reflects the violent movement of the mind which has lost its right way; the pain suffered by the mind is extended to the rest of the world by the sufferer: he who is out of his mind inflicts harm on his neighbour or family. In the case of Herakles, it is possible to see the first and the third of these notions, but not the second. There is, therefore, a physical explanation for madness in antiquity. Its ultimate cause is, however, beyond human understanding: madness is sent by the gods, who use insanity as punishment for mortal men. Madness is either a divine punishment for a previous wrong or a way to do a person harm in future: in madness, a person does something wrong which will entail the person’s suffering. Nothing can be done to avoid such an attack. No god protects an individual from madness sent by another god. Though the principal case in Greek tragedy is the madness of Herakles, this is also a feature of the madness of, for instance, Ajax and Athamas. It is possible that another divinity may take pity on the unlucky human being and bring an end to the person’s suffering, but this can never avert the effect of the madness.11 8 9 10 11

Cf. Mattes 1970, 101–8; Hershkowitz 1998, 144–53. See Hershkowitz 1998 on lyssa (148–9) and atē (131–2); Hershkowitz 1998, 154. Padel 1995, 47–215. For example, Athena stops Herakles’ madness by hurling a rock against his chest (see Euripides, Herakles 1003–9).

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Thus, madness in antiquity can be viewed as a temporary fit of rage, coming from outside the individual and caused by gods. The ultima causa furoris is to be found in the gods who destroy the mind of the individual; this damage has to do with notions of darkness and blindness. Darkness blinds the mind with a very concrete objective: to force the mind to see the real world in a distorted way. The internal disorder resulting from an external cause also had visible effects: the hair stood on end, the eyes protruded, blood was visible in the eyes, etc.12 The fit of madness is a violent outburst which damages the most precious possession of the unlucky victim: the offspring. Nobody, human or divine, can avoid the onset of a fit of madness inflicted upon them, the effects of which last forever. The crazed individual alone must bear the vengeance of the divinity, which is often gratuitous and unjustifiable. Herakles is Zeus’ son, but his father will spare him no disgrace; Athamas and Ino are Dionysus’ nurses, but neither they nor Athamas’ servants can avoid their misfortune. Two possible types of madness epitomise the whole mythological concept: a violent madness, as in the case of Herakles, induces the victim to commit murder whereas a punitive madness, as in the case of Orestes, is induced as punishment for a serious crime.13 In the case of violent madness, madness is necessary because the character would never commit such a crime under normal conditions. A particular feature of this state is its short temporal duration: the fit of madness is induced for a very concrete objective, namely the murder of someone dear to the affected person, and when this aim is fulfilled, the affected party returns to his right mind, knowing what he has done with the pain, at this point, becoming a conscious one. Punitive madness, on the other hand, does not precede the crime, but follows the murder. Its most salient feature is the punishment of wandering. It is a type of madness which does not end abruptly, but lasts and has phases of various intensity. It is possible that madness continuing over time was added to the first type of madness to form a mixed type.

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As, for instance, in Euripides, Herakles 867–869. For more references: Aélion 1983, 2.233– 250; 2.258–261. For further discussion of the link between internal and external disorder in conveying madness, see Caballero González 2017, 382–410. For references to Orestes’ madness, see below n. 29. An overview of earlier scholarship on the rationality of Orestes is provided by Porter 1994, 248–50.

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Three Exemplary Murders by Herakles ‘in His Madness’

The list of the mythological characters killed by Herakles is countless but, aside from the murder of Megara and her children by her crazed husband, three extraordinary cases stand out. These three murders were committed during what can be considered one of the hero’s fits of madness – that is ‘madness’ in a broad sense, including rage.14 2.1 Linos As a young hero, Herakles was instructed in various arts and disciplines by some of the best teachers: ‘by Amphitryon in riding in a chariot, by Autolykos in wrestling, by Eurytos in archery, by Kastor in fighting with heavy armour, and by Linos in singing and playing the lyre’.15 This Theban musician, the son of Apollo and a Muse (identified variously as either Kalliope or Ourania), dared to censure his pupil, who, offended, thereupon killed his master in a fit of rage; in the most popular version he did this with a kithara.16 This act cannot be regarded as a fit of madness, because no god was punishing Herakles in order to make him kill Linos; it is rather to be considered merely as a fit of rage and the most suitable way to demonstrate the furious and irascible nature of Herakles. So it is necessary here to distinguish between the two types of mythological ‘madness’ – that sent by the gods as punishment or a means to do harm, and the ‘rage’ which arises from an irascible nature and which is to be explained as purely human in origin. The son of Zeus did not lose control here because a divinity wanted to hurt him, but because his own constitution drove him to slay the person who had offended him after he had felt shamed or humbled, regardless of whether his feelings were a proportionate response to the situation. The Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae (LIMC) catalogues eight visual representations of this episode: an Attic red-figure skyphos of c. 460 BCE

14 15 16

See López Saco 2002. Apollodorus 2.4.9; in Theocr. Id. 24.105, however, Linos taught Herakles ‘letters’ (grammata), i.e. reading. According to Pausanias (2.19.8), Linos was son of Apollo by Psamathe, daughter of Krotopos but there is also a reference (9.29.6) to another version in which Linos’ father was Amphimaros and his murderer was Apollo. For Kalliope as Linos’ mother, see Apollodorus 1.3.2. For Ourania as Linos’ mother, see Hyginus, Fabulae 161. Tzetzes (Schol. in Lyc. 831 Scheer) says Linos was the son of Magnes and the Muse Clio. The kithara appears as murder weapon in Apollodorus 2.4.9 and Diodorus 3.67.2, where the reason for the reprimand was that Herakles was a slow learner. Elsewhere Herakles kills Linos with a plectrum (Ael. Var. 3.32) or a stone (Suda s.v. embalonta).

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(Schwerin KG 708), on which Linos and Iphikles, both seated, practise the lyre as the young Herakles approaches them, and seven other pots, where Herakles can be seen to be attacking Linos, who is shown seated or falling to the ground.17 2.2 Iphitos The death of Iphitos at the hands of Herakles is more difficult to interpret because of the varying circumstances of the murder reported in different sources. There are two important versions. In the first, recorded in the Odyssey, Iphitos is a legendary archer, who received his bow as a gift from Apollo and then gave it to Odysseus; Herakles ruthlessly slew Iphitos, who had been sent by his brothers and his father, Eurytos, to search for twelve lost mares.18 The poem says nothing about the motive for this murder, but does present it as scandalous, firstly because Herakles kills Iphitos ξεῖνον ἐόντα (‘his guest though he was’), that is without any respect for the sanctity of hospitality, and secondly because Iphitos was a friend of Herakles and had, in front of his own father, defended Herakles against the charge of having stolen the horses.19 As Olmos notes, no iconographical representation of this version of Iphitos’ death has survived.20 A minor variant of this version can be found in Sophocles, Diodorus, and Apollodorus: in the last source, Iphitos is seeking his father’s herd, which had been stolen by Autolykos, and, on coming to Tiryns, is slain by Herakles, who throws him from a lofty tower of his castle.21 The most important point is that only Apollodorus states that Herakles ‘suddenly became mad’ (μανεὶς δὲ αὖθις); in the other two versions, especially in Diodorus, Alkmene’s son is motivated by greed and avarice and is presented simply as a thief and a murderer. At any rate, this fit of madness does not correspond with cases of madness as punishment and no god sends him this madness to fulfil a personal objective, suggesting that Apollodorus’ use of the term mania is merely a figure of speech. A second version of the story centres on an act of vengeance: Eurytos had organised an archery contest with the promise that he would give the hand of his daughter Iole to the winner; Herakles won, but Eurytos failed to fulfil his word. Herakles’ outburst of violence was terrible, and he slew Eurytos and

17 18 19 20 21

LIMC IV.2 s.v. ‘Herakles’ no. 1666–73; Boardman 1988, 833; 1992, 290. Homer, Odyssey 21.11–30. Homer, Odyssey 21.27, trans. Murray. Olmos 1990, 738. In Apollodorus 4.6.2 it is a herd of cows; in Sophocles, Trachiniae 269–280 and Diodorus 4.31.2.2–3 it is a herd of horses which Herakles steals.

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his sons, including Iphitos. This version, transmitted by Herodorus of Heracleia and Pherekydes, could represent the core of the archaic epic poem The Capture of Oechalia by Creophylus of Samos, and has a great number of visual representations: LIMC catalogues seven pots with imagery of the episode.22 This is therefore, again, not a case of true madness: in the different versions we have an instance either of terrible and scandalous slaying or of deserved vengeance. These two cases emphasize that the extreme and potentially unreasonable actions of Herakles can arise not from madness in its true sense, but from his irascible character. 2.3 Lichas In the few instances where Lichas appears in antiquity, he is always identified as Herakles’ herald. The literary evidence, especially Sophocles, Ovid, and Seneca, reports the circumstances surrounding his death.23 The visual evidence for the murder, however, presents Lichas in a fundamentally different manner: Lichas is a servant, who, together with Philoktetes, helps Herakles to offer a sacrifice on Chryse’s altar.24 For the purposes of the present discussion, the literary evidence is of more importance than the visual, since the texts would have been more available to Renaissance and early modern artists. The story may be summarised as follows: Deianeira, worried that she has lost her husband to Iole, tries to regain his love with a garment she once received from the centaur Nessos, unaware that the centaur had deceived her and that the tunic does not contain a love potion, as Nessos had claimed, but had instead been poisoned by his blood. Lichas, obeying Deianeira, brings Herakles this garment which the hero then puts on. The poison burns his clothes and his skin and torments him with indescribable pain. In his agony, Herakles seizes Lichas: ‘The crazed Hero whirled him thrice and once again about his head, and hurled him, shot as by a catapult, into the waves of the Euboic Sea’ (Ovid, Metamorphoses 9.217–18, trans. More). The key point of this story is the absence of all mania. Sophocles speaks of the ‘convulsion of [Herakles’] lungs’ (σπαραγμὸς αὐτοῦ πλευμόνων, Trachiniae 778) and ‘his illness’ (τοῦ μὲν νοσοῦντος, Trachiniae 784); Ovid speaks of how Hercules’ ‘pain has gathered his whole rage’ (dolor rabiem conlegerat omnem,

22 23 24

Herodorus of Heracleia FGrH 31F37; Pherekydes FGrH 3F82; LIMC s.v. ‘Iphitos’ nos 1–7 (Olmos 1990, 739). Sophocles, Trachiniae 772–784; Ovid, Metamorphoses IX 211–229; Seneca, Hercules Oetaeus 808–822. LIMC s.v. ‘Lichas’ nos 1–2 (Volkommer 1992, 286) are two examples of Lichas acting as an assistant in a sacrifice; four more possible (but uncertain) examples are nos 3–6.

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Metamorphoses 9.212).25 In Seneca, Hercules’ own description of his state is reported (Hercules Oetaeus 823–25, trans. Miller): ‘Resistite’ inquit, ‘non furor mentem abstulit, furore grauius istud atque ira malum est: in me iuuat saeuire.’ ‘But hold!’ said Hercules; ‘’tis not madness has robbed me of my wits; this bane is worse than madness and than rage; I am fain to rave against myself.’ Thus, Hercules’ lack of rationality is not caused by furor (‘madness’) or ira (‘rage’), but by pain and suffering.26 It is possible to conclude that Lichas’ death was imagined in antiquity as a story of vengeance and retribution, but not of mania. It is a sad story, because Herakles-Hercules thought that Lichas had deceived him and deserved punishment, whereas we know that Lichas was completely innocent and undeserving of such treatment. The representation of Lichas’ death during the Renaissance and beyond would, however, change: his murder would become, together with Megara’s death, a clear demonstration of the madness of Hercules.

3

The Principal Case of Herakles’ Madness: The Death of Megara and Her Children

To begin with, in his Tusculan Disputations Cicero states (3.11, trans. King): Graeci autem μανίαν unde appellent, non facile dixerim; eam tamen ipsam distinguimus nos melius quam illi. hanc enim insaniam, quae iuncta stultitiae patet latius, a furore disiungimus. Graeci uolunt illi quidem, sed parum 25

26

It is true that rabies also signifies ‘madness’, ‘frenzy’, but I distinguish this variety of madness from that connoted by furor or insania, the madness of someone in a real state of dementia provoked by gods with a specific cause or purpose. A fit of rabies can drive a man out of his mind, but this state is only a metaphor derived from descriptions of true insanity caused by a divinity. There is, however, nothing to indicate that Hercules was mad, although More introduces this concept in his translation: ‘So, in his frenzy, … Then in a savage fury he cried out … the crazed Hero whirled him thrice’. This is in response to the common people thinking his antiquam rabiem (‘old rage’, suggesting something to which they were accustomed) had returned, Seneca, HO 806–7. On rabies, see previous footnote.

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ualent uerbo: quem nos furorem, μελαγχολίαν illi uocant; quasi uero atra bili solum mens ac non saepe uel iracundia graviore uel timore uel dolore moveatur; quo genere Athamantem Alcmaeonem Aiacem Orestem furere dicimus. Now I cannot readily give the origin of the Greek term mania: the meaning it actually implies is marked with better discrimination by us than by the Greeks, for we make a distinction between ‘unsoundness’ of mind, which from its association with folly has a wider connotation, and ‘frenzy’. The Greeks wish to make the distinction but fall short of success in the term they employ: what we call frenzy they call melancholia, just as if the truth were that the mind is influenced by black bile only and not in many instances by the stronger power of wrath or fear or pain, in the sense in which we speak of the frenzy of Athamas, Alcmaeon, Ajax and Orestes.27 This chapter is not the place for a detailed discussion of this text with its interesting discussion of the difference between insania (‘unsoundness of mind’) and furor (here, ‘frenzy’), inappropriate reduction of the notion of melancholia, or Cicero’s pride in the theoretical power of Latin. It is, however, the place for two remarks. The first point has to do with the cause of madness as furor: not only as ‘black bile’, but also as violent rage (ira), fear (timor), or grief (dolor). Adhering strictly to this explanation, the murders of Linos, Iphitos, and especially Lichas should be regarded as being committed during a fit of madness ( furor); yet, this departs too far from the texts so far considered and does not fit with the features of mythological madness in which a divinity plays an essential role. The second point is of even greater significance for the present chapter: Cicero here mentions four characters as exemplars of furor, among whom Hercules does not feature.28 These characters experience a high point, a crisis, and a concrete episode which reveals them to be mad. In most stories, Athamas is punished with madness by Hera for raising Dionysus;29 as a result of this, he kills his eld-

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In this text, Cicero focuses on the natural causes of madness; divinities do not here play a role in the onset of madness. Cicero also mentions people who are mad in two other works, which again do not use Hercules as an example of madness; for Cicero, the example of madness par excellence is always Athamas, who appears with Philoctetes (Harusp. Rep. 39.16–29, see also Myssok 2007, 197) and with Orestes (Pis. 46–7). I cite only a selection of references, excluding the scholia here and in the following notes.

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est son, Learchus.30 He then pursues both his wife, Ino, and Melicertes until they reach a precipice and jump into the sea, where they became the beneficent gods Leucothea and Palaemon, respectively.31 Ajax, in the eponymous Sophoclean tragedy, is made mad by Athena and slaughters a flock of sheep, thinking them to be (and seeing them as) the Greek leaders (Sophocles, Ajax 21–24). Alcmaeon and Orestes kill their mothers, and, as punishment for this crime, are driven mad and pursued by the Erinyes.32 In all these cases, madness (whether before or after the act) is linked with kin-killing. The prime example that links madness to (multiple) kin-killing is that of Alkmene’s son, Herakles – and the prime example of the madness of Herakles, is his murder of his wife Megara and of their children. This moment of murder has been recounted in several ancient sources, although many more accounts have been lost. In the Kypria, for instance, one of the stories which Nestor tells Menelaos, in a digression, is that of ‘the madness of Herakles’ (τὴν Ἡρακλέους μανίαν).33 Euripides presents the earliest account of the whole story in his Herakles: Lykos, who has overthrown Kreon and now reigns in Thebes, threatens to kill Herakles’ family (Megara and their children). Herakles returns just in time and kills Lykos; Herakles’ happiness, however, does not last long because Hera makes him mad and in his madness he shoots Megara and two of their sons with arrows, and clubs a third child to death. In this tragedy, Madness was even personified as Lyssa (‘Fury’).34 Nevertheless, this version is unusual because of the death of Megara and the onset of the madness after Herakles’

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In Greek: Zen. Vulg. 4.38; Apollod. 1.9.2; Luc. Salt. 42; Paus. 1.44.7; Callistr. 14; Arist. Or. 46; Clem. Al. Strom. 2.14.60; Et.Gen. α 130; EM. 24.10–30 G; Et. Sym. α 196–199; Eust. ad Il. 1.497.19; ad Od. 1.228.14–15 Stallbaum; Eudoc. 238 D’Ansse; Anon. in Rh. 145.23–26 Rabe. In Latin: Cic. Harusp. Resp. 39.16–19; Pis. 46–47; Tus. 3.8–11; Hyg. Fab. 2; Ov. Fast. 6; Pl. HN. 34.140; Tert. de anim. 17; Ser. Aen. 5.241; M.V. 2.99–100; Bad. Part. Cat. 2.849. In Greek: Philost. FHG 37; Apollod. 1.9.2; 3.4.3; AP. 9.345; Paus. 1.44.7–8; Callistr. 14; Ps.Callisth. 1.46a; Et.Gen. α 130; EM. 24.10–30 G.; Et.Sym. α 196–9; Eust. ad Od. 1.228.14–15 Stallbaum. In Latin: Hyg. Fab. 2; 4; 5; Ov. Met. 4.416–542; Fast. 6.473–562; Val.Flac. 3.60–73; Est. Theb. 1.12–13; 3.186–7; 4.570–1; Silu. 2.1.143–5; M.V. 2.100. Philost. FHG 37; Apollod. 3.4.3; Athenag. Leg. 29.21–28; Paus. 1.44.8; Nonn. D. 9; Eust. ad. Od. 1.228.16–18 Stallbaum; Eudoc. 238 D’Ansse; Hyg. Fab. 2; 224; Ov. Met. 4.542; Fast. 6.545–7; Lact. Inst. 21.22–3; Seru. Aen. 5.241; M.V. 2.100; Bad. Part. Cat. 2.849. Alcmaeon: Apollod. 3.7.5; Orestes: Aeschyl. Choeph. 896–930; Soph. Elect. 1410–16; Eur. Or. 34–51, 237–8, 253–79, 400–14, 530–34, 791–93, 831–45. In Euripides’ Orestes, 253–76, Orestes is not only described as mad but goes mad on stage; for a discussion of Orestes’ physical symptoms in this play, see Wright 2008; for conscience driving Orestes mad, see most recently Dikmoniene 2016. Proklos, Chrestomatheia, Severyns 1953, 116. Euripides, Herakles 843 ff.

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labours.35 Variations concern the number of children killed (between two and eight) and the way they were killed: shot and clubbed (as in Euripides’ version) or cast into a fire (in Pherekydes or Apollodorus).36 Euripides’ scene has received much commentary, so it suffices to identify only one possible explanation: Herakles’ madness ‘is an externally imposed and completely undeserved horror, and shows how bitterly cruel life can be, even for the greatest of men’.37 Pike has suggested that this point of view could be a typical Euripidean modification, since all the evidence suggests that Herakles ‘was basically a potential madman’.38 His irascible nature, his great vitality, his excessive confidence, which frequently verges on hybris (‘arrogance’), make Herakles a dangerous character, a personality prone to rage. As LIMC shows, in antiquity this madness of Herakles is presented visually by his sword-wielding and the seizing of his naked child by the hair or arm.39 This representation of the hero’s madness continues on during the Renaissance and into the modern era: even Antonio Canova produced a relief showing this episode. In addition, a plethora of tragic dramas (among which are Heywood and López de Zárate), operas (among which are those by L’ Héritier and Melani) and paintings (among which are those by Turchi and Canova) revisit the scene.40

4

A New Paradigm of Hercules’ Madness: The Death of Lichas

In the ancient world, then, madness was either a punishment sent by the gods (especially by Hera, as in the case of Athamas) that made the individual affected commit a crime, usually the murder of his own offspring (as, for example, Athamas), or it arose as a result of a penalty sent by the Erinyes in order to punish a previously committed crime (as in the case of Orestes).

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The Senecan version, Herc. Fur. 939–1035 agrees in large measure with the version in the Euripidean tragedy: Hercules killed his wife and his children with arrows and a club. For the onset of madness after the labours, rather than the more usual sequence which presents the labours as atonement for the kin-killing, see Boardman 1988, 835. See Jessen 1894, 2542–3, Phere. FGrH 3 F 13; Apollod. Bibl. 2.4.13. Pike 1978, 4. Cf. Bernstein (forthcoming). Pike 1978, 4. LIMC IV.2 s.v. ‘Herakles’ no. 1684–89 (Boardman 1988, 835–836). Although it is the prototypical example of Hercules’ madness, the theme was not often used in art: LIMC only has six visual references; it is also shown in a third- or fourth-century CE mosaic panel from the Villa Torre de Palma near Monforte (Lisbon, National Archaeology Museum). For this relief and for the following dramas, operas, and paintings, see Reid 1993, 1.531; see also further below § 4. On the dramas, see Galinsky 1972, 232.

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In the case of Herakles, this madness was represented in the visual imagery of antiquity through the murder of Megara and her children, but during the Renaissance and the modern era the death of Lichas, in its cruelty and savagery, became prominent in depictions of the hero’s madness. This episode is not a modern addition to the Herculean myth. Whilst this rage of Hercules justifies that this incident be treated as a case of madness, what is new is the interpretation of the episode. The modern innovation lies in converting this incident, which was never – and it is important to stress this point – understood in the ancient world as a case of madness into an episode of a more modern madness: in antiquity, Herakles’ rage against Lichas was not sent by the gods, it was not perceived as a punishment, and, more importantly, it was never described with the vocabulary of madness (see above § 3). The innovations, therefore, lie firstly in the choice of the murder of Lichas as a paradigmatic example of the madness of Herakles and secondly in representing the scene in a vivid and dramatic manner, surpassing the ways in which the murder of Megara and her children at the hands of her insane husband had been shown. This development from the time of the Renaissance culminated in Antonio Canova’s sculpture Hercules and Lichas (Figure 12.1). Precedents for the work of Canova include, during the sixteenth century, the great Giambologna’s cast bronze of Hercules and Lichas (Figure 12.2). This group has often been falsely identified as Hercules and Cacus, with the statue being paired with a bronze of Hercules and Antaeus.41 Some years later, Michele Mazzafirri cast another Hercules and Lichas in silver. Mazzafirri’s piece is listed in the inventory of the Guardaroba of Ferdinando I in 1591, with the explanation that ‘the silver was no doubt cast from a model by Giambologna’.42 Francesco Bertos, a well-known Venetian sculptor, also made a marble group in the eighteenth century, with the same title of Hercules and Lichas (Figure 12.3). The complex grouping here demonstrates undoubted skill in the showing of male nudes in athletic, muscular movement.43 Even if Galinsky has noted that there are very few attempts ‘to put Herakles on the stage as Herakles’, the scholar has identified other interpretations of the hero’s madness in the Elizabethan and seventeenth-century French theatre and, particularly, in Spanish drama.44 The only English Jacobean play is Thomas

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See Avery 1978, 134. As quoted by Avery 1978, 134. See Avery 2008, 16. This work has been recently restored by Materials Conservations Co. Galinsky 1972, 231. On the influence of French Classicism on Canova, see Myssok 2007, 190.

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Giambologna, Hercules and Lichas, 1591, bronze, Art Institute Chicago, IL, Inv. 1968.613, Robert Allerton Endowment Photo © Art Institute Chicago, released under Creative Commons licence (CC0; https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/ zero/1.0/)

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figure 12.3

Francesco Bertos, Hercules and Lichas, c. 1710, marble, front and rear views, formerly Koelliker Foundation, London, Inv. 30; sold by Sotheby’s December 2008 Digital composite © Hercules Project 2018

Heywood’s Brazen Age.45 Heywood represents the madness of Hercules in a significantly different way to the ways in which the plays of Euripides and Seneca had made manifest: such that it ‘was considered as referring to [Hercules’] slaying of Lichas’ being an act of bestiality.46 According to Riley:47 Heywood was not the first post-Ovidian writer to associate the events on Mount Oeta with Herculean furor. In the Carolingian poem Contra iudices, Theodulf of Orléans explicitly links the brutal and entirely unjust murder of the ‘unfortunate Lichas’ (miseri Lichae) to ‘furor Herculeus’, the hero’s inability to govern his animal instincts. Twenty years after Heywood’s play, Francisco López de Zárate presented the same point of view in his Tragedia de Hércules Furente, y Oeta (Tragedy of the Mad Hercules, and Oeta).48 Galinsky, too, perceived a change in the nature of the madness being attributed to Hercules:49

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Heyward 1613, 73–89. Galinsky 1972, 232. Riley 2008, 109–10. de Zárate 1651, 260–358. Galinsky 1972, 232.

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Even more than this shifting of the madness to a lesser event, it was the conventional explanation for it that diminished the literary and psychological interest which Hercules’ madness had held. This explanation was physiological and medical: the hero was said to have suffered from epilepsy. According to Galinsky, this explanation extinguished literary interest in Hercules’ madness per se, thereby making it possible to focus on this other event, the death of Lichas. By interpreting this murder as a fit of madness in the life of Hercules, the episode was thus raised from what had been a minor event to the level of magnitude of the murder of Megara’s children. This, then, is the beginning of this change that culminated in the monumental statue by Canova.

5

Hercules and Lichas by Antonio Canova50

Canova’s interpretation of the death of Lichas does not reduce the importance of the principal demonstration of the madness of Hercules being the murder of Megara and her children. Canova had made a relief of this episode for which there is a preparatory pencil sketch and a wax bozzetto and he also produced a painting of the scene.51 There are four aspects of this body of work that deserve some comment: the low-relief of Megara contrasts with the high-relief of Hercules; Hercules’ body leaning to the left can be connected to the leaning position of the paedagogus; the movement of Megara holds the viewer’s attention as she flees to the right whilst her body, pleading for mercy, has her arm stretching to the left; finally, as Finn has observed, the further the figures move away from Hercules, the less visible they become.52

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I will not provide a political interpretation of this work, since, as Myssok (2007, 195; my translation) notes: “Canovas Referat der Begebenheit in seinem ein Jahr später abgefaßten Brief gibt klar zu erkennen, daß weder diese noch offenbar irgendeine andere politische Deutung ursprünglich von ihm geplant war.” “Canova’s presentation of the incident in his letter, written a year later, clearly indicates that neither [Hercules representing liberation from the slavery of the Ancien Régime] nor any other political interpretation was originally planned by him.” Cf. Stefani 1984, 72–3 for a different opinion. Relief: Reid 1993, 1.545–6, Finn 1983, fig. 271; sketch and bozzetto: Finn 1983, fig. 274; painting: Sciolla 1989, 60–61. For Canova’s painting and relief being understood as an interpretation of Euripides with

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The astonishing sculpture of Hercules and Lichas (Figure 12.1) is a canonical work in the history of art. Larsson includes it, for instance, in his list of 100 masterpieces representing ancient myth.53 In addition Canova’s work has inspired other wonderful works, such as the painting of 1849, Hercules and Lichas (Odessa, Museum of Art) by Pavel Sorokin (1836/9–1886).54 Canova had great difficulty in completing this marble, which took twenty years to make.55 According to Finn, two main obstacles impeded progress on it: the difficulty of finding a buyer after the loss of the first purchaser, and the artist’s attitude towards this brutal and merciless scene.56 Canova documented his lack of motivation in a letter to Quatremère de Quincy in 1812:57 In questi giorni mi metterò all’Ercole. Oh che lavoro! Oh che male, quanto sudore mi costerà, e quanta fatica! Non vedo l’ora d’esserne fuori; che veramente mi pare d’aver un peso insopportabile, se non finisco ancor questo a dirittura, dopo tanti anni d’averlo modellato. In these days I will come back to the Hercules … Oh, what an effort! What a pain! How much trouble it will cost me, how much strain! I don’t see the time when I will finish; it seems to me to be truly an unsupportable burden, if I don’t finish it, since it’s so many years since I first made the model for it. When the sculptor decided to undertake this task, he had already had some experience with such harrowing creations, as is shown by works such as Creugas and Damoxenus (Rome, Vatican Museum) and The Death of Priam (Milan, Gallerie d’Italia).58 He also had a painted model for the theme in the work, Hercules and Lichas (Figure 12.4) by Christoph Unterberger of 1786 which could be

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act and scene numbers added to reproductions of the works, suggesting the possibility that Canova might have intended to send the viewer back to his literary source, see Blanshard 2005, 45–6; Finn 1983, 266. Larsson 2009, 161; Flaxman’s The Fury of Athamas (see further below, and Figure 12.5) is not included in this list. The position of Hercules clearly shows the painting had been inspired by the sculpture. Further on Sorokin, see Milner 1993, 406. For an easily accessible image online, see https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:SorokinPS_Gerkules%26Lihas.jpg (accessed 09/12/2018), © Ctac 2011. Canova began this work in 1795 and finished it in 1815. Finn 1983, 188. On difficulties with purchasers, see Pavanello-Praz 1981, 106–7. Quatemère de Quincy 1836, 383 (my translation). Cf. Myssok 2007, 189, who sees a clear influence of the Quirinal Dioscuri statues, Rome, in Canova’s bozzetti.

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Christoph Unterberger, Hercules and Lichas, 1784–1786, oil on canvas, Borghese Gallery, Rome Photo © Daedalum Photos / robin moret 2016, photography available through Daedalum, https://www.daedalum.org

seen high up on a ceiling in the Villa Borghese.59 The position of Hercules, his intimidating strength and his frenzied look, his torso and face partly hidden by his arm, all bring to mind the later rendering by Canova. Unterberger’s picturing, however, offered other compositional effects, such as the representation of roaring waves to bring out the anger of Hercules or the clouds to suggest the height of the location and the hybris (‘arrogance’) of Hercules. These elements stress the intensity of the situation and help the spectator process the brutal and fearsome moment depicted. Canova, using marble alone, focuses, instead, just on the figures, with only minimal background context, thus making the most of the closeness of the spectator’s positioning in contrast to the painting by Unterberger which can only be seen from below and from a distance.

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Cf. Myssok (2007, 291) for the differences between the two works. For Unterberger’s painting in situ, see https://galleriaborghese.beniculturali.it/en/il‑museo/la‑villa/sala‑10‑sala‑ %E2%80%8Bdi‑ercole/ (accessed 19/05/2020).

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Unterberger’s work possibly influenced Canova because of its optimal position in the cultural hub that was Rome, the Eternal City. Whether Canova’s work was in any way influenced by the 1606 design illustrating Ovid’s Metamorphoses by Antonio Tempesta (1555–1630) or the lost fresco of Hercules killing Lichas (formerly, Madrid, Casón del Buen Retiro) by Luca Giordano (1634–1705) remains doubtful.60 Also uncertain is whether Canova had access to the large painting Hercules killing Lichas of 1545 by Jacopo Tintoretto (1518–1594).61 In any case, the position of Lichas in the works by Tintoretto, Tempesta and Unterberger, where he is shown being held up by Hercules and does not touch the ground at all, is very different from the position of Lichas in the sculpture by Canova. Canova reverts to the arrangement used by Giambologna, in which the body of Lichas reaches down more vertically from the grasp of Hercules. The influence on Canova’s Hercules and Lichas of the sculpture The Fury of Athamas (Figure 12.5) by John Flaxman (1755–1826) of 1794 is noteworthy, as discussed further in this volume by Macsotay. Flaxman, born in York in 1755, travelled for the first time to Italy in 1787 in search of artistic inspiration. In Rome, he met Canova who was so impressed with Flaxman that he recommended his name to some of his patrons.62 One of these patrons, Frederick Hervey, Earl of Bristol, then commissioned Flaxman to produce a sculpture for his mansion at Ickworth, Suffolk. This sculpture was The Fury of Athamas. Canova probably knew of this project, and it may have given the Italian artist new ideas for future sculptures as the similarities between this work and Canova’s sculpture are striking. Canova’s sculpture (Figure 12.1) can, however, be seen to be superior in the tension of the perfectly chiselled muscles, the skilful expression of the sensation of movement, the pathos in the faces of both his figures, in the overall circular composition of the group, and in the brilliant parallelism with which Hercules grasps the hair of Lichas and Lichas grasps the lion-skin’s mane between the feet of Hercules.63

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Tempesta 1606, plate 84; the illustration has been made available online by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (Inv. 51.501.3950) at https://tinyurl.com/yyqz3mxj (accessed 17/07/2019). On Giordano, cf. Ferrari and Scavizzi 1992, 155. Private collection; Pallucchini and Rossi 1990, 1.164 and 2.205. Flaxman and Canova remained very good friends until the death of the Italian artist, cf. Caracciolo 2000, 164–7. Cf. Finn 1983, 190 and Myssok 2007, 192. Herakles’ grasping Lichas by the foot references Sophocles’ Trachiniae; Hercules grasping Lichas’ hair references Ovid’s Metamorphoses; Hercules lifting Lichas bodily in the air references Seneca’s Hercules Oetaeus; see above § 2.3. Compare also the Farnese Hercules, which shows Hercules relaxed and at rest, again on an extremely large scale: the Farnese Hercules measures 317cm; Canova’s sculpture is 335 cm. For the Farnese Hercules, see further the Introduction to this volume.

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John Flaxman, The Fury of Athamas, 1790–1794, marble, Ickworth, Suffolk Photo © Tony (https://www.flickr.com/photos/pc_plod/) 2012

There are striking resemblances between Flaxman’s and Canova’s sculptures: both emphasise the brutal strength of the main figure, whose facial features express his state of insanity; in both, the protagonist’s arms hide the faces, form an arch and accentuate the brutality of the scene; in both works the victims are either children or child-size and in both groups the facial expressions denote fear and horror. There are, of course, differences: the most evident one is the number of the figures in each group. The impression overall is, nevertheless, that the two similar works are, indeed, very similar in form, scope, content and impact. Two further brief remarks are instructive. Firstly, the work by Canova is faithful to the narrative in Ovid: the details of Hercules grasping the hair of Lichas are in Ovid as is the clinging of the clothes to the body of Hercules – this latter effect is not found elsewhere. Secondly, the original location of this massive statue deserves some comment. Prince Giovanni Raimondo Torlonia acquired the statue for his palace in the Piazza Venezia, Rome.64 The sculpture was placed indoors in a niche with the niche and its sculpture illuminated

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The building was demolished in the nineteenth century to create space for the Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II.

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by candlelight so that the viewing of the tension and force of Hercules was dramatically heightened. Twenty years later, Alessandro Torlonia was commissioned to create a group of twelve statues dedicated to the Olympian gods (Rome, Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna) in order to bring order and symmetry to the space and to create a contrast with the statue of Hercules by Canova.65 Canova’s work is, from an iconographical point of view, the historical turning point for the inclusion of the murder of Lichas in the imagery of the madness of Hercules. Although Canova may not have been conscious of the full impact of his rendition, this change in the depiction of classical mythological madness was probably induced by Flaxman’s Fury of Athamas, which depicts a scene in which madness was represented as the punishment of the gods. Canova therefore follows the literary tradition of Sophocles and, especially, of Ovid and Seneca, but goes one step further: influenced in part by Unterberger’s work, but above all by the work of Flaxman, Canova strives to show the death of Lichas as another major manifestation of the madness of Hercules.66 In fact, the physical descriptions found in Sophocles, Ovid, and Seneca helped him to do this, although these authors mainly describe the pain, suffering, anger, and vengeance associated with an act of violence. In Canova, this scene becomes a model of madness, like that of Athamas and the murder of Megara and of her children. Canova, of course, does not deal with madness as a punishment from the gods, but rather with the rage of Hercules being a summation of madness. By intensifying the raging madness of the scene’s protagonist, Canova sets it up as an unprecedented, more modern example of the madness of Hercules. In other words: according to the extant evidence, Lichas was only a servant of Hercules. Sophocles, followed by Ovid, whom Seneca then imitated, introduced a variant: his cruel death at the hands of an enraged Hercules, the hero’s fit of rage being caused by pain rather than divine intervention. Canova, however, goes further: he is inspired by Flaxman’s work, where a real case of madness, that of Athamas, was embodied, and incorporates this interpretation of madness into his own work. By choosing two violent episodes from the life of Hercules, the deaths of Lichas and of Megara and her children, but also by giving the first more force and pathos after assimilating Flaxman’s Fury of Athamas, Canova produced new imagery for the madness of Hercules in this

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Di Majo 2000, 308: ‘destinato a ritmare lo spazio e a far risaltare, per contrasto, la hybris mortale dell’Ercole’ (‘destined to bring rhythm to the space and to bring out, by contrast, Hercules’ mortal hybris’). Cf. Canova 1994, 308, quoted by Myssok 2007, 191–2.

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representation of the murder of Lichas.67 This new iconographical rendering does not arise spontaneously, as has been shown, but is a culmination of a development of works by other Renaissance artists (Giambologna, Mazzafirri and Tempesta) and neoclassical artists (Bertos and Unterberger). The ancient gods do not preside over this scene but the effects of furor caused by the divinities are implied in the similarities to Flaxman’s sculpture, although in that myth the furor of Athamas has been caused by Juno. Canova sculpted his Hercules with the same furor that Athamas has, so that the spectator can arrive at a new conception of what might have constituted the madness of Hercules.

6

Conclusion

The literary evidence for the death of Lichas has not been interpreted as a case of madness in the ancient world, and the death seems not to have been represented at all in Greek or Roman art. In English and Spanish dramas of the early modern era, there is a tendency to represent this episode as a fit of madness, the cause of which is more physiological than psychological: the famous ‘disease of Herakles’ (Ἡράκλειος νόσος), being epilepsy. It is the statue of Hercules and Lichas (Figure 12.1) by Canova in which a process, already begun in the Renaissance and continued in the modern era, is brought to completion: Alcmene’s son is the paradigmatic madman, not only because he killed Megara and her children as narrated and dramatized in the ancient literary sources, but also because he slew his servant Lichas. Canova’s masterpiece and his new portrayal of the madness of Hercules did not die with its creator for it has continued to influence representations of the theme by other artists, such as the painted depiction by Pavel Sorokin, who follows the Italian artist very closely. There are obvious differences (the face of Lichas is visible to the spectator and his fear heightens the pathos of the picture), but the scheme, as a whole, is very much the same.

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Although Stefani (1984, 76) sharply criticises the work: ‘Malgrado tale potente carica espressiva e tale impeto passionale, l’opera, sul piano dei risultati stilistici, è in parte fallita’ (‘In spite of such a powerfully expressive character and such passionate force, the work, in terms of stylistic results, is partly unsuccessful’).

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Bibliography Primary Sources Apollodorus: Frazer, J.G. (2014), Apollodorus Grammaticus, vol. 1, Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press Canova, A. (1994) A. Canova. Scritti. 1777–1822, Honour, H. (ed.), Rome: Instituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato Cicero: King, J.E. (1927) Cicero: Tusculan Disputations, London: Heinemann de Zárate, F.L. (1651) ‘Tragedia de Hércules Furente, y Oeta’ in de Zárate, F.L. Obras Varias de Francisco López de Zárate, Alcalá: Alfay, 260–358, available online through Bayerische Staatsbibliothek digital und Münchener DigitalisierungsZentrum Digitale Bibliothek at https://reader.digitale‑sammlungen.de/de/fs1/object/display/bsb 10530098_00005.html (accessed 09/12/2018) Diogenes: Hicks, R.D. (1965) Diogenes Laertius: Lives of Eminent Philosophers, Books VI– X, London: Heinemann Euripides: Wright, M. (2008) Euripides: Orestes, London: Gerald Duckworth Giordano: Ferrari, O. and Scavizzi, G. (1992) Luca Giordano. L’opera completa, vol. 1, Naples: Electa Napoli Heywood, T. (1613) The Brazen Age: the first act containing, the death of the centaur Nessus; the second, the tragedy of Meleager; the third the tragedy of Jason and Medea; the fourth Vulcan’s net; the fifth, the labours and death of Hercules, London: Nicholas Okes, available online through the Internet Archive at https://archive.org/details/ brazenagefirstac00heyw/page/n5?q=Heyward+Brazen+Age (accessed 09/12/2018) Homer: Murray, A.T. (1919) Homer: The Odyssey, London: Heinemann Ovid: Brookes, M. (1922) Ovid: Metamorphoses, London: Heinemann Ovid: Tempesta, A. (1606) Metamorphoseon siue transformationum Ouidianarum libri quindecim, Amsterdam: Pieter de Jode Proclus: Severyns. A. (1953) La Vita Homeri et les sommaires du cycle. Vol. 3. Étude paléographique et critique, Paris: E. Droz (Belles Lettres) Seneca: Miller, F.J. (1917) Seneca: Tragedies, London: Heinemann The Theoi Project (2000–) s.v. ‘Heracles’, The Theoi Project, online at http://www.theoi .com/greek‑mythology/heracles.html (accessed 07/12/2018) Warburg Institute Iconographic Database, online at https://iconographic.warburg.sas .ac.uk/vpc/VPC_search/main_page.php (accessed 07/12/2018)

Secondary Sources Aélion, R. (1983), Euripide. Héretier d’Eschyle, 2 vols, Paris: Les Belles Lettres Avery, C. and Radcliffe, A. (2008) The Triumph of Motion: Francesco Bertos (1678–1741) and the art of sculpture. Catalogue raisonné, Turin: Allemandi Avery, C. and Radcliffe, A. (1972) Giambologna (1529–1608): sculptor to the Medici, Vienna: Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien

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Avery, C. and Finn, D. (1987) Giambologna: the complete sculpture, Oxford: Phaidon (Christie’s) Artble (no date) ‘John Flaxman’, Artble: online at http://www.artble.com/artists/john _flaxman (accessed 07/12/2018) Bernstein, N. (forthcoming) ‘The madness of Hercules from Euripides to the Renaissance’ in Stafford, E.J. (ed.) Hercules Performed, Leiden: Brill Blanshard, A.J.L. (2005) Hercules: a heroic life, London: Granta Books Boardman, J. (1988) s.v. ‘Herakles’, in Balty, J.C. (ed) Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae, vol. 4.1, Zurich and Munich: Artemis-Verlag, 728–838 Boardman, J. (1990) s.v. ‘Herakles’, in Balty, J.C. (ed) Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae, vol. 4.1, Zurich and Munich: Artemis-Verlag, 1697–761 Boardman, J. (1992) s.v. ‘Linos’, in Balty, J.C. (ed) Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae, vol. 4.1, Zurich and Munich: Artemis-Verlag, 290 Boehm, F. (1912) s.v. ‘Hercules’, in Pauly, A., Wissowa, G. and Kroll, W. (eds), Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, vol. 1.8.1, Stuttgart: Metzler, 550–609 Caballero González, M. (2017) Der Mythos des Athamas in der griechischen und lateinischen Literatur, Classica Monacensia 51, Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag Caracciolo, M.T. (2000) ‘La Roma di Canova’, in Pavarello, G. (ed) Antonio Canova e il suo ambiente artistico fra Venezia, Roma e Parigi, Venezia: Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, 157–93 Dikmoniene, J. (2016) ‘Sąžinės problema Euripido Oreste’, Literatura 58: 18–31, available online at https://doi.org/10.15388/Litera.2016.3.10422 (accessed 17/07/2017) Di Majo, E. (2000), ‘L’“Ercole e Lica” e le dodici divinità dell’Olimpo. Dal Palazzo Torlonia alla Galleria Nazione d’Arte Moderna’, in Pavarello, G. (ed.) Antonio Canova e il suo ambiente artistico fra Venezia, Roma e Parigi, Venezia: Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, 307–27 Drexler, H. (1886–90) ‘Hercules im Kultus’, in Roscher, W.H. (ed) Ausführliches Lexikon der Griechischen und Römischen Mythologie, vol. 1.2, Leipzig: Teubner, 2901–3024 Finn, D. and Light, F. (1983) Canova, New York: Abbeville Press Galinsky, G.K. (1972) The Herakles Theme: the adaptations of the hero in literature from Homer to the twentieth century, Oxford: Blackwell Graf, F. (1998) s.v. ‘Herakles’, in Cancik, H. and Schneider, H. (eds) Der Neue Pauly, vol. 5, Stuttgart: Metzler, 387–92 Gruppe, O. (1918) s.v. ‘Herakles’, in Pauly, A., Wissowa, G. and Kroll, W. (eds) Paulys RealEncyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, Supplementum 3, Stuttgart: Metzler, 910–1121 Guerber, H.A., Smith, W. and Zorzos, G. (2009) Heracles. Hercules, North Charleston, SC: Create Space, On-Demand Publishing Hershkowitz, D. (1998) The Madness of Epic: reading insanity from Homer to Statius, Oxford: Clarendon Press

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Jessen, O. (1894–97) ‘Megara’, in Roscher, W.H. (ed) Ausführliches Lexikon der Griechischen und Römischen Mythologie, vol. 2.2, Leipzig: Teubner, 2542–6 Larsson, L.O. (2009) Antike Mythen in der Kunst. 100 Meisterwerk, Sttugart: Reclam López Saco, J. (2002) ‘El héroe griego perturbado y criminal: Hercules trágico’, Praesentia 6: online with abstract and link to pdf download at http://erevistas.saber.ula.ve/ index.php/praesentia/article/view/3709 (accessed 07/12/2018) Mattes, J. (1970) Der Wahnsinn im griechischen Mythos und in der Dichtung bis zum Drama des fünften Jahrhunderts, Heidelberg: C. Winter Merkelbach, R. (1991) ‘Weg mit dir, Herakles, in die Feuershölle!’, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 86: 41–3 Milner, J. (1993) A Dictionary of Russian and Soviet Artists: 1420–1970, Woodbridge, Suffolk: Antique Collectors’ Club Myssok, J. (2007) Antonio Canova. Die Erneuerung der klassischen Mythen in der Kunst um 1800, Petersberg, Hesse: Michael Imhof Verlag Olmos, R. (1990) s.v. ‘Iphitos’, in Balty, J.C. (ed) Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae, vol. 4.1, Zurich and Munich: Artemis-Verlag, 738–41 Padel, R. (1995) Whom Gods Destroy: elements of Greek and tragic madness, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press Padel, R. (1992) In and Out of the Mind: Greek images of the tragic self, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press Padel, R. (1981) ‘Madness in fifth-century B.C. Athenian tragedy’, in Hellas, P. and Lock, A. (eds) Indigenous Psychologies: the anthropology of the self, London: Academic Press Inc., 105–31 Pallucchini, R. and Rossi, P. (1990) Tintoretto. Le opere sacre e profane, 2 vols, Milan: Electa Pavanello, G. and Praz, M. (1981) L’opera completa del Canova, second edition, Milan: Rizzoli Editore Pike, D.L. (1978) ‘Hercules furens: some thoughts on the madness of Hercules in Greek literature’, The Proceedings of the African Classical Associations 14: 1–6 Porter, J.R. (1994) Studies in Euripides’ Orestes, Leiden: Brill Quatremère de Quincy, A.-C. (1836) Canova et ses ouvrages ou Mémoire Historiques sur la vie et les travaux de ce célèbre artiste, second edition, Paris: Adrien le Clerc et Co., available online through the Internet Archive at http://archive.org/stream/ canovaetsesouvr00quingoog#page/n10/mode/2up (accessed 07/12/2018) Reid, J.D. (1993) The Oxford Guide to Classical Mythology in the Arts, 1300–1990s, 2 vols, Oxford: Oxford University Press Riley, K. (2008) The Reception and Performance of Euripides’ Herakles, Oxford: Oxford University Press Sciolla, G.C. (1989) Antonio Canova: Plastiken von Liebe und Tod, Herrsching: Pawlak (Atlantis)

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Seipel, W. (2006) Giambologna: Triumph des Körpers. Eine Ausstellung des Kunsthistorischen Museum Wien, 27. Juni bis 17 September 2006, Vienna: Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien Stefani, O. (1984) La poetica e l’arte del Canova. Tra Arcadia, neoclassicismo e romanticismo, second edition revised, Treviso: Canova Soellner, W.B. (1958) ‘The madness of Herakles and the Elizabethans’, Comparative Literature 10: 309–24 Volkommer, R. (1992) s.v. ‘Lichas’, in Balty, J.C. (ed) Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae, vol. 6.1, Zurich and Munich: Artemis-Verlag, 286–8 Woratschek, J. (2005) Antonio Canovas mythologische Statuen. Zur Frage der Ansichtigkeit, Frankfurt am Main: Lang

chapter 13

How Hercules Lost His Poise: Reason, Youth and Fellowship in the Heroic Neoclassical Body Tomas Macsotay

There is no question that views on Herculean subject-matter were undergoing a degree of recalibration in the last decades of the eighteenth century and well into the European crisis brought on by the French Revolution.1 Eighteenth-century French prints and British caricatures, discussed elsewhere in this volume, present in their specific terms what might be described as a post-humanist Hercules: they seem to sit uncomfortably with certain conventional roles of personalized rule and conquest, the ones that so ideally fitted the image of Hercules and the ethos of plus ultra. Part of that vexed relationship to the humanist Hercules, of course, sprang from the fact that humanist images of Herculean virtue were cast in terms of ideal images of the ethos of the monarch. This chapter explores a field of image-making that is usually left out of the purview of studies of visual culture, so far inclined to privilege developments in French and British visual culture(s): namely the internationally trading Roman sculpture workshops and attendant circles of restorers, draughtsmen, antiquarians and travellers. Rome has been largely overlooked in accounts of the fluctuating image of the hero, which contains within its limits a sizeable proportion of Herculean iconography.2 An important exception concerns the vastly influential writings of Johann Joachim Winckelmann, which in 1994 were the object of a rich study by Potts giving the antiquarian’s descriptions of Greek statues a careful consideration in light of their singular investment in a theory of history, ideals of virility and conundrums of desire.3 There has been little else: scholars would need to cast their nets wide to consider a far more inclusive set of discurs-

1 This research for this article was carried out under the RYC-2015-18371 (MINECO) program, and financed by PGC2018-098348-A-100 (MCIU/AEI/FEDER, UE). I wish to reserve a special thank you to Dr Valerie Mainz, who commented on this and previous work over a number of crucial formative years. 2 An exception should be made for Johannes Myssok, who examined the ‘genere forte’ in Canova’s production of mythological statues. Myssok 2007, 185–232. 3 Potts 1994.

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ive and artistic practice, going beyond Winckelmann and the city’s principal artists. And it remains the case that it has been to societal events, not ideas circulating in the republic of letters, that students of visual culture have turned in their accounts of images of the heroic. It may be time to consider Rome as an active interlocutor in a transnational practice of image-making that was feeling the pressure of changing expectations over the roles of sovereignty and power, even if artists residing in Rome, given that they were subject to circumstances thoroughly dissimilar to their French counterparts, were unlikely to respond to contemporary events in outright political art. The case I will make for Rome’s artists is that they nevertheless kept pace with a renewed concern for the meaning and forms of civic action, that such concern sprang from some pre-revolutionary, aesthetic ideas, and that they had considerable impact on both continuities and discontinuities in a Herculean imaginary. Scholars such as Hunt, Crow, Solomon-Godeau, Fend, Myrone and Mainz have charted the myriad implications of a shift in perceptions of contemporary historical events for the genres of French painting and particularly the French commercial print in the years following 1789.4 What can be deduced from their interpretations in terms of a new interest in the heroic depends, as Mainz has shown, on the separate spheres and publics within which different sets of images circulated.5 For history painting, we see heroic forms return with an iconography of a Greco-Roman republican past, and in its wake the honing of normative schemas, often highly gendered ones, of patriotism and (later) citizenship. As contemporary events opened a space for the representation and commemoration of patriotic identity and civic action, artists took what they could from available narratives and conventions to coin formulae that permitted them to represent or emblematize (and their clients to cultivate an interest in) virile heroism. At times these have been exposed as straitjacket images that constituted themselves in opposition to forms and sensibilities negatively attached to bulk notions of the aristocratic, theatrical, frivolous or effete. But through and beyond these markers, the return to schemas of virile heroism created a new horizon for sensing masculine identity, coining a new figure of difference where images of androgynous or sexually underdeveloped adolescents accrue uneasy associations with care, dependency, seduction and inaction. It was at the uneasy disjuncture between the sacrificial hero and the selfinvolved ephebe (or, one might also say, the complementary imagining of the

4 Hunt 1983, Crow 1995, Solomon-Godeau 1999, Fend 2003, Myrone 2008, Mainz 2012 and 2017. 5 Mainz 2017, 9–11.

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ephebe as the hero’s new, republican other) that the new visual culture has been seen to have depended on Winckelmann and the wider culture of Greek revival, of which Rome and the antiquarian republic of letters became the epicentre. This is true for the degree to which late-enlightenment antiquarian and religious-anthropological discourses brought about their distinctive recalibrations of an iconography of sovereignty in terms of constellations that SolomonGodeau aptly labelled ‘male trouble’, as in the title of her famous study of the new gendered binary affecting representations of male bodies.6 But the point I want to make here is rather more simple: Winckelmann’s impact, and I believe also that of other, less widely studied writers, are indicators that artists in fact drew from many sources, not just the upheavals of the French Revolution, to consider the imaginary of the hero, inclining them to distance themselves from humanist, royal Hercules. Rome rather comes to support a multi-causal way of thinking about changes in the image of the heroic. It relaxes the stern focus on France as the source of political developments, and highlights the conceptual contribution forged in the Republic of Letters’ intricate intellectual and artistic environment. On a methodological level, this chapter considers the specific circumstances of elite sculptural production and antiquarian debate, whereby Roman sociability and the Roman sculptor’s studio permitted a crosspollination between knowledge and the imaginary, and between ideology and the peculiar, amalgamated gazes of artists and travellers interested in ancient remains and sculpture.7

1

Reviving a Greek Culture of the Heroic

Herculean subject-matter had strong affinities with other strands of iconography based on antique subject-matter, and this is particularly true of much neoclassical art inspired by the Trojan War and other early Greek mythology. Via Homer and other poets, artists adopted new narratives that go to make up the image of the hero in neoclassical sculpture. Indeed, even if there is little trace of a circumscribed heroic genre or rules for heroic representation in sculpture, the choice of certain heroes alongside, or in preference to, Her-

6 Solomon-Godeau 1999. 7 Elsewhere I have elaborated on the nature of encounters in the studios and social evenings involving sculptors, antiquarians and travelling art lovers, submitting that we need to consider a participative context where aesthetic attitudes to works by sculptors are not necessarily bound by a systematic ‘theory of sculpture’. Macsotay 2017b and the introduction to Macsotay 2017a, 1–21.

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cules begs us to take into account not only the narratives inspiring them but also a number of considerations to do with their psycho-social positioning in terms of young, male-gendered subjects. Homeric subject-matter involving the feats of Achilles or other ancient martial episodes, although discussed by theorists at the Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture, was practically unseen in freestanding figure sculpture made by French Ancien Régime sculptors. But in Rome and starting in the 1770s, Joseph Banks and Johann Tobias Sergel produced a number of figures and bas-reliefs, many on themes of Achilles that resulted from the peculiarities of transnational circles of male artists then working in the city and giving new prominence to martial subject-matter. Different from this widely-disseminated Achilles myth, Sergel’s life-size figure of a dying Orthryades, a sixth-century BCE Spartan warrior, only really known from Herodotus’ account of the Battle of Champions (Herodotus 1.82), represented an iconographical innovation. Yet like Achilles, the Orthryades was a figure of soldierly life, not princely valour, and it emphasized youth and ambition, not rule and conquest.8 Roman artists (or, rather, artists based in Rome) could be said to have been the principal agents in the iconographical recovery of a Greek heroic past. This happened independently from easily identifiable social or political developments, even after the fall of the Bastille launched a new interest in France for soldiering. But this chapter argues that Rome’s new images, particularly the Herculean ones, are new incarnations, not the familiar images of princely ethos.9 The heroism they present to the viewer is treated as a historically distant component of ancient Greek culture. This is true of Johann Asmus Carstens, one of the principal artists to work in Rome in the 1790s, and the author of an influential series of drawings illustrating the adventures of the Argonauts. The series would make a stellar ascent similar to Flaxman’s extremely popular drawings from Homer, Aeschylus and Dante (1791–1793). Carstens worked for years on the series of illustrations, from which a selection of twenty-four compositions were engraved by Joseph Anton Koch and published in 1799, shortly after

8 On the growth of soldiering themes in French neoclassical painting, see Potts 1990 and Mainz 2017. On the scarcity of Homeric belligerent subject-matter or battlefield heroes in French sculpture, which regain a level of prominence in Sergel and Banks’ Roman productions, see Macsotay 2013a and Macsotay 2013b. 9 For two accounts of the evolution of the image of the mythic hero in sculpture see Myssok 2007, and Gallo 2016. Gallo reveals the degree to which neoclassical engagement with the myth of Perseus increasingly revolved around the youthful appearance of Perseus, whereas earlier sculptural representations had invariably emphasized the figure of Andromeda, often omitting Perseus altogether.

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the artist’s death, with the title Les Argonautes selon Pindare, Orphée et Apollonius de Rhodes (The Argonauts according to Pindar, Orpheus and Apollonius of Rhodes). Koch and Carstens’ cartoons read less as an account of ancient models of virtuous action (the humanist Herculean topos) than as an elaborate reconstruction of a golden age where the heroic was an immanent aspect of life, but also of a golden age where poetic imagination actively sought to contribute to the formation of heroic virility. The over-arching preoccupation of this set of drawings is perhaps male fellowship, observed in scenes of happy get-togethers and loving pledges between young friends. In contrast to humanist heroes, climactic conflict and fighting, or the image of victory and the ideal ruler, do not seem to exhaust the appeal that these young heroes would have had to the artist. Carstens shows his heroes clutching spears and swords but mostly unclad, some almost in godlike nudity to underpin their young mature beauty. More remarkably still, their actions are guided by a desire to restore peace, and their conquests are ephemeral. In the different episodes they dole out comfort to fearful villagers, hold musical contests and perform feats of great valour. Their encounters with enthroned and crowned eminences and kings, whose territories they stand on, are at times celebrated in feasts, but as often they have an acrimonious edge. The Argonauts claim no land of their own, and Carstens shows them as ever sailing the Aegean on a continual drift. Carstens’ chosen episodes take a particular interest in the respect, trust and spiritual and corporeal comfort of Argonautic fellowship: their capacity to share adventures and to aspire to a sense of beauty. One need not wander far to read into them a series of cosmopolitan, republican and virile reformulations of the idea of heroic virtue. In Rome, Carstens had shared an apartment with the Jacobin and writer Carl Ludwig Fernow, who was an admirer of Kantian aesthetics and politics and who would, in 1806, publish his personal recollections in Das Leben des Kunstlers Carstens (The Life of the Artist Carstens), containing an elaborate biography and study of Carstens’ principal works. Greece was being recreated not simply as the stage of Achillean heroic, martial struggle, but above all as the poetic breeding ground of heroic mindsets. Among the drawings discussed by Fernow, one deserves particular attention here for its singular treatment of the role of Hercules as one of the Argonauts. It shows the episode of the singing contest between Chiron, young Achilles’ tutor, and Orpheus, before an audience of Argonautic travellers who stand and sit in two groups before the cave of Chiron. At the height of the musical interlude, Orpheus intonates a sublime hymn on the cosmogonical origins of the world, on chaos and the might of the gods. Hercules dominates the right half of the composition as if bewitched by beauty: he draws close to his young eromenos Hylas,

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echoing the parental pairing of Peleus and Achilles, seen on the left, as the company of boys, youths and men stand and sit motionless in admiring absorption over Orpheus’s voice.10 The main instigator for this particularly dreamy vision of Greek heroic culture was Winckelmann. Winckelmann’s introduction to the Geschichte der Kunst des Altertums (History of the Art of Antiquity) contains a striking passage that perhaps conveys the unusual force with which the German scholar carried through his assimilation of an image of liberty to one of idealistic but tender, yet also eagerly truth-loving, youth: The freedom which gave birth to great events, political changes, and jealousy among the Greeks, planted, as it were, in the very production of these effects, the germ of noble and elevated sentiments […]. [The Greeks] employed their intellectual powers at the period when they are brightest and strongest and are sustained by the vigour and sprightliness of the body which among us is ignobly nourished until it decays […]. The youthful understanding, which, like the tender bark, retains and enlarges the incisions made in it, was not amused by mere sounds without ideas; nor was the brain […] filled with dreams, to the exclusion of truth.11 What mattered was the beautiful male body and the expectation that it was inhabited by a noble soul. In the earlier (1755) Gedanken über die Nachahmung der griechischen Werke in der Malerei und Bildhauerkunst (Thoughts on the Imitation of Greek Works in Painting and Sculpture) those bodies were still simply the healthy, vital palaestra gymnasts, but in the introductory chapter to the History of the Art of Antiquity they were patriotic young male heroes, the proudest possession of a society enamoured with autonomy, truth-seeking and beauty. So, in the History of the Art of Antiquity, the ‘tender bark’ produced freedom fighters who included Iphicrates at age twenty-four, Aratus at age twenty, or indeed Philopoemen, ‘a mere boy’ who stood out for his bravery during Macedonia’s conquest of Sparta.12 Following Winckelmann, the society that perfected the art of sculpting gods as perfect nude youths was honouring in them the values of agile, rational action, and of real youths who moulded themselves physically into beautiful bodies and morally into free subjects. Carstens’ Orpheus singing before Chiron’s Cave captures something very similar to these 10 11 12

Koch 1799 with link to the British Museum’s online facsimile. On the drawing discussed here, see Fernow 1806, 173–4. I have used the first nineteenth-century English translation, Winckelmann 1850, 1.15. See Winckelmann 1850, 1.16.

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nebulous expectations: the boy Achilles and the adult Hercules are there, but their heroic resolve is not exteriorized through a desire for conquest and glory. Instead, they attend to the great artists, receiving an education in pure harmony and beauty, their heroism latent and fused with familial affection. And it even shows Hercules in love with the boy Hylas. The Danish-Roman sculptor Berthel Thorvaldsen made his name with a Jason with the Golden Fleece whose strong physique and nude appearance advertise, again, the youth who was intruding into a field of heroic authority occupied by Hercules not so long ago (Figure 13.1). As the leader of the Argonauts, and as a Greek hero, Jason was an expatriate warrior and an adventurer, who seems to be set up by Thorvaldsen to incorporate, within the limits of his humanity, values of virile strength. But what is particularly striking about this young warrior is that he is captured away from any fighting, acting the benevolent city-guard apparently alien to the excesses of, say, the vain or dying Achilles that had interested Banks and Sergel just two decades earlier.13 Thorvaldsen’s peer, Antonio Canova, rescued from oblivion another one of the Argonauts: Palamedes (Figure 13.2). Palamedes was the son of king Nauplius, and said to have been the inventor of chess and dice games, as well as new characters for the Greek alphabet. Palamedes was also punished for his honesty. Having exposed the madness feigned by Ulysses in an attempt to avoid leaving Ithaca, Palamedes would be forced to fight alongside Ulysses in Troy while remaining the object of the latter’s grudge, which ultimately leads to his death. Giovanni Battista Sommariva, who commissioned the Palamedes marble from Canova, chose a disenchanted and destitute Argonaut for a strange commission in which he is now suspected to have mirrored himself, taking to heart Palamedes’ fate as a reflection of the way he had been wronged by Napoleon after successfully serving him: in 1802 Sommariva had offered himself for the position of the presidency of the newly founded Repubblica Italiana, but the bid was unsuccessful.14 With the heroic style of Canova’s Palamedes, there has again been a fall from humanist languages of princely virtue and the historiated use of Hercules as a stand-in for monarchic power. The Argonautic route instead brings to the fore concerns over talent (assimilated here again with the confidence of Palamedes’ youthful demeanour), loyalty, fellowship, and betrayal. 13 14

On Thorvaldsen’s Jason and the favourable responses to it, see Von Einem 1974, Jørnæs 2011, 45–50 and Bindman 2015, 37–50. Little has been written on Sommariva, an eminent collector of engraved stones and a commissioner of both the Canova and Thorvaldsen studios. For an overview of his activities as a patron, see Pirzio Biroli Stefanelli 1995.

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Bertel Thorvaldsen, Jason with the Golden Fleece (1802–1803). Plaster, height 242 cm. Thorvaldsens Museum, Copenhagen Photo © Tomas Macsotay

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Antonio Canova, Palamedes (1804/1808). Marble, height: 210cm. Villa Carlotta, Lake Como, Italy Photo © Wolfgang Sauber 2006, released under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license (https:// creativecommons.org/licenses/by‑sa/3.0/deed.en) through Wikimedia Commons

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There is, in short, a number of signs from which we might infer that the iconography of ruler virtue and virile action, formerly dominated by Hercules, was being usurped. Of course, political events haunting Europe in the 1790s (and this is likely the case both for Sommariva and Thorvaldsen as he worked on his Jason) have a role to play in this recalibration of an iconography of power. Neoclassical representations of heroes faced a form of competition in a space vacated by the vanishing authority of the traditional Herculean hero. The attribution of commendable qualities to the Palamedes was in the end effected by his well-proportioned body and easy confidence. As J.S. Memes recorded in his published account of Canova’s Memoirs, in 1825, the Palamedes ‘will be ranked among the works which most nearly approach those Grecian models, where the ideal of physical and of moral beauty is portrayed in the majesty of corporeal and intellectual serenity’.15 The scale of heroic content seemed to be tipping towards a number of Greek figures whose heroism was born in qualities of the mind rather than specific actions, and whose virility was to be understood as the condition of an unperturbed youth, not the powerhouse Hercules. To better understand this redirection towards soulfulness, interiority and the body, it may be helpful to apply the idea of Enlightenment abstraction defended by Griener in his recent survey on the gradual development of an historical knowledge of art by students of art and collectors. According to Griener, the Enlightenment beholder sets out to arrive at the ‘truth’, i.e. a solid body of knowledge, contained in the artwork by a process that made the image immediate and unconditional: the aim being to achieve an ‘unsupported’ image (i.e. one that is free from medium and free from possessing and mediating owners or experts), which is then inscribed in an abstract field of universal imageknowledge.16 The process can be misleading, as it entails that what is gained in terms of an objective examination of the image is usually arrived at by the disintegration of the thing, with its conditions of support, of use, and of display. Monuments were treated as if they had no landmark function: materials and modes of display were cancelled out, singularities that made an altarpiece sacred or meaningful to a community, derided and exposed as myth. Griener’s findings match recent insights into the role that Enlightenmentera scholarship on ancient religions had to play in the advances made in the study of ancient sculpture. Here too, what came to be considered as sound, valid knowledge was constituted through a series of negative views on the specifics of systems of idolatry and cult. This meant that ideas and prac-

15 16

See Memes 1825, 402. Griener 2010. See also Haskell and Penny 1981 and Rees 2007.

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tices of local and historical groups of devotees were deemed insubstantial to the image’s true significance. Studying ancient artefacts became coeval with declaring the absurdity of stories of miracles and revelation, with telling the lie to the devotee’s affect and gesture as it actively enlivens the meaning and tradition of a cult. Not only did this sustained tradition of anthropological thinking have the result of desacralizing pagan myths (it separated ancient cult from the Christian moral reading that centuries-old glosses and commentaries had annexed to the pagan pantheon), but, as the work of Tausch and van Eck has helped us to understand, the impact of Enlightenment culture on the Olympian gods also entailed the creation of a science or regime of the disembodied image and the inanimate work of art, accompanying a profound shift in the way in which cultural artefacts were to be apprehended.17 One might draw an example from a text almost certainly consulted by the collectors accruing collections of antiquities and modern sculpture from Rome, which indirectly affected some of the images of Hercules discussed below. The archaeologist and speculative historian Pierre-François Hugues d’ Hancarville published in 1785 a study of ancient imagery entitled Recherches sur l’ origine, l’ esprit et le progrès des arts de la Grèce (Research into the Origin, Spirit and Progress of the Arts of Greece). The book promises its readers that via its specific way of reading ancient artefacts, they will find evidence of a historical past that communicated globally through the same symbols, in the same way that fossil shells (following an analogy used by d’ Hancarville) found around the world in dry land show the historical truth of the Flood as global phenomenon.18 Tracking an apparently endless variety of religious systems throughout the Mediterranean and far beyond into South Asia and the Far East, d’ Hancarville affirms a common trait that considerably simplifies these pantheons: a sense of basic kinship that he read into symbols of life forces. Bulls, rams and eggs were an important basic premise that aided the scholar to detect, sincerely or abusively, this universal symbolic system. Hidden behind the anthropomorphic deities that functioned in cult – but which d’Hancarville derides as ‘ignorant’ superstition –, the generative functions of être générateur (‘generative being’), puissance créatrice (‘creative power’) or the principe génératrice (‘generative principle’) were put in place to represent the backbone of a cosmogony.19 17 18 19

See Tausch 2000, and van Eck 2013 and 2017. d’ Hancarville 1785, iv. The most daring part of the argument is presented in the Supplément, where d’Hancarville traces the origins of Christian symbols (including the cross, Christ’s sacrificial death and resurrection) to Persian Mithraic cult. His ‘kinship’ chain connects the holiest emblems of

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D’Hancarville’s system treated coins, monuments and statues reductively as images, and connected them to form chains, just as comparative religious anthropologists had done before him in making ‘sense’ of pagan cult and world religion. All Eurasian systems of belief responded, for d’ Hancarville, to the simple schema of life forces subject to processes of becoming, breeding and sacrificial slaying. All other aspects of cult (to include myths, tales of gods and personified attributes) were without meaning beyond their cultic, and therefore locally or historically contingent, signification. To d’ Hancarville, any number of tales and moral ideas that existed in a cult beyond the language of apparently universal symbols were inchoate fabulations devised by castes of priests hoping to indoctrinate and benefit from the ignorant.20

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The Reconstructed Belvedere Torso

How did this complex shift in thinking about culture and the image affect attitudes to Hercules in late eighteenth-century Rome? What role, if any, was played by the city’s sculptors’ studios? The impact of an antiquarian engagement with Greek myths and ancient symbols on practices of imaging Hercules can be gleaned from a number of representations of the hero-god by artists working in the city. The Yorkshire sculptor John Flaxman took up residence in Rome between 1787 and 1794. In the heyday of his activities, he displayed two major projects there: one of them a Hercules, and the other a group that ‘rivalled’ Herculean subject-matter.21 Thanks to travellers’ records, it is possible to look at these projects through the eyes of a select group of contemporaries. One such surviving account from a Roman traveller, is that of the Scottish banker Sir William Forbes, who met Flaxman in his studio on 4 April 1793, and describes himself admiring a marble, over-life-size Fury of Athamas with strong overtones of the labours of Hercules.22 ‘The figures were as large as life, & appeared to me to be wonderful, well finished both in design and execution’ is how Forbes described the Fury of Athamas, which he must have observed in the marble version Flaxman had lodged in his working daytime studio.

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Christianity with images of the sacrificial offering of bulls, South-Asian lingams and ‘blasphemous’ temple imagery, Greek-orgiastic processions and phallic obelisks. See d’Hancarville 1785, 104–106. d’ Hancarville 1785, 36–7. For these projects by Flaxman, see Irwin 1979, 58–9 and Symmons 1984, 68–74. Forbes Journal, vol. VI, mss 1544 (April 14 to May 8 1793), fol. 175, National Library, Edinburgh. On the Fury of Athamas, see also Caballero Gonzalez in this volume (Figure 12.5).

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Forbes’ diary mentions Lord Bristol, who had commissioned Flaxman’s figure but seemed uninterested either in financing it or in controlling its iconography. Forbes also recorded a different meeting with Flaxman, at his house, in order to see a clay model of a Hercules and Hebe. The group, which survives in a painted plaster version now at Petworth House (Figure 13.3), was originally to provide the design for a monumental marble group, paid for by Thomas Hope, a Georgian Scottish-Dutch dilettante, designer and sculpture collector. As Winckelmann and d’Hancarville’s texts circulated in French editions, Hope and Forbes could both boast of being familiar with their ideas. After his visit to the Flaxman residence, Forbes specifically recorded that there had been some advisory work by d’Hancarville. In fact, the composition of Flaxman’s Hercules and Hebe originates in a vignette included in one of the volumes of d’Hancarville’s Antiquités étrusques, which had been published between 1766 and 1781 for the British vase collector William Hamilton in Naples.23 The diarist was apparently told by Flaxman that the Hercules and Hebe was basically a recreation of the rare limbless fragment that was only known in unrestored form, the Belvedere Torso on display in the Vatican (Figure 13.4), and to inform himself Forbes had gone on to consult Winckelmann’s enraptured description of it.24 The ancient Torso suggests a sitting and reposing figure, displaying a restless, flexing posture that had been such an inspiration to Michelangelo, a fact known to so many art students in the city. Another traveller, the French émigré Jean-Baptiste Charles de Goujon de Thuisy, wrote an unpublished account of his travels through Italy that included a visit to the Flaxman studio and house in 1793.25 Particularly well informed on the nature of the subject and its origins in archaeological debates, Goujon wrote that Flaxman showed Hebe had come to pay tribute to her deified husband by offering him a cup full of nectar. The description revealed, furthermore, that Flaxman had displayed a cast of the Torso next to his Hercules and Hebe group in order to encourage a form of informed viewing to which Goujon was indeed responsive. The fact that the Torso needed to be completed, as it were, by a restorer’s attention to the minutiae of musculature and pose was a circumstance that would have been particularly inviting to antiquarians as well as to the more casual traveller, core clients of Flaxman and other Roman sculptors.26 23 24 25 26

d’ Hancarville’s advisory role is also mentioned by Flaxman in a letter dated 13 March 1792 to William Hamilton, see Irwin 1979, 58. Forbes mentions Winckelmann 1765, 3.120 as his source. Goujon de Thuisy, add Mss 64100, fol. 251, British Library, London. On restoration studios and their close links to Rome’s integrated sphere of antiquarians, travellers and sculptors, see, for example, Berresford 2009, Bignamini and Hornsby 2010 and Capitelli, Grandesso and Mazzarelli 2012.

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John Flaxman, Hercules and Hebe (1792). Plaster, height 190.5cm. Petworth House, West Sussex Photo © Tomas Macsotay

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Belvedere Torso (first century BCE). Marble, height 120cm. Museo PioClementino (Inv. 1192), Vatican Museums, Rome Photo © Jean-Pol Grandmont 2012, released under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license (https:// creativecommons.org/licenses/by‑sa/3.0/deed.en) through Wikimedia Commons

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In a later recollection, published in 1840, Allan Cunningham, a journalist and clerk to the Francis Chantrey studio, gave an account of the social benefits, as well as ambitions and deceptions at the heart of Flaxman’s intervention in relation to the Torso:27 Flaxman purchased a plaster cast [of the Torso], and proceeded to make the additions with his usual enthusiasm. When he opened his studio to the connoisseurs, they beheld not one complete figure, but two – Hercules and Omphale. It could not be denied that the mutilated figure countenances the restoration of Flaxman: but it might easily be fancied to countenance many other positions and actions – and every spectator bringing a theory of his own, it so happened that not one of them corresponded with our artist’s restoration. Then, again, it must be known, that this fragment is considered by many as the remains of a far finer figure than any now in existence, and consequently the most glorious conception, and the most beautiful workmanship were sure to fall far short of what the lost portions were supposed to be. No wonder, therefore, that some shrugged their shoulders, others silently dissented – and many openly disapproved; nevertheless, the restoration showed fine poetic feeling, and a true sense of the antique. Hercules, however, was certainly too ponderous a companion for so tender a lady, and some surly critic compared it to Milton’s lion dandling the kid. Sometime before his death, he caused this group to be destroyed – and there is no great reason for lamenting it. Cunningham’s striking passage brings to life a debate carried on during studio visits, triggered by the restoration and appropriation of the Torso as a mythic vestige of highest sculptural achievement. Carstens, therefore, may have been thinking of Flaxman when he chose, in the aforementioned Orpheus’s Song before the Cave of Chiron, to reprise the motif of the seated Hercules, closely in line with the Torso’s pose. But Cunningham’s observation that some viewers had been very critical of the reconstruction holds true for such repetitions. The tender love-struck Hercules framed by Flaxman and Carstens (one embracing Hylas, the other drawing in Hebe) cleverly enlists the Torso in a deflection of the ‘conquering’ aspect of the hero-god’s personality, even if the German artist’s drawing takes the emotions of Hercules in an entirely different direction. Humbert de Superville, a young Swiss-Dutch draughtsman stationed in Rome between 1789 and 1800, left among his Roman sketches another vestige of the reception, and heated debate on the original form and intent, of the Torso. 27

Cunningham 1840, 3.263.

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It approaches something like a project for a three-dimensional figure, including, on a single page, a frontal and a lateral view of a hefty, toned young man, reminiscent of Hercules. Seen in divine nudity, the youth plays on the basic premise of the Torso, bringing it to life, but, in the manner of a Shiva statue. De Superville’s reanimated Torso has doubled arms that test different solutions to the subtle repetitions and strains at play in the musculature of the fragment (Figure 13.5).28 Moreover, the sketches come close to a young adult Hercules, stationed between passive and active attitudes to virtue, just the type of psychological awakening that Winckelmann had attributed to the Torso in his own description. Around 1792, possibly earlier, de Superville grew close to the Flaxman household and accompanied John on a number of visits to monuments in Tuscany and Umbria.29 Flaxman and de Superville may have been aware of a number of ekphrastic descriptions giving expression to the idea behind sculptural representations of Hercules. One such description, attributed to Libanius (Antioch, fourth century), made the full nudity of a figure in the type of the Farnese Hercules into an emblem of the Herculean psychological condition: ‘his attention fixed on valour, [he] could not concern himself about modesty’.30 Among ekphrastic explications of antique Hercules statuary there is also the description of Niketas Choniates (c. 1155–1217), in his On the Statues Destroyed by the Latins, of a statue of a bronze seated Hercules. This figure, which would have belonged to the type seen also in the Torso, similarly stresses Hercules’ nudity, but also his ‘despondency’:31 There he sat with no quiver about him, with no bow in his hand and no club to defend him, but extending his right leg and right arm as he could, and with his left leg bent at the knee. His left arm was supported at the elbow and the forearm raised, and on the palm of the left hand he was resting his head gently, full of despondency. His breast and shoulders were broad, his hair thick. His buttocks fat, and his arms bawdy … 28

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Humbert de Superville drew several studies of the Belvedere Torso itself (University of Leiden Print Room, PK-T-606; PK-T-607; PK-T-608; PK-T-608) and also of the Farnese Hercules (University of Leiden Print Room, PK-1984-T-15; PK-T-1325; PK-T-1326; PK-T-438), all available to view online through the University of Leiden’s Digital Collections at https:// digitalcollections.universiteitleiden.nl/ (accessed 05/08/2019). On Humbert de Superville’s surviving drawings, see Torrini 1991, Brigstocke, Marchand and Wright 2010, Bodel Nijenhuis 1997 and Ottavi Cavina 2005. The relevant passages from Libanius, Ekphraseis 5, are quoted in Hebert 1996, 55. From On the Statues Destroyed by the Latins 5, quoted here in the translation included in Stuart-Jones 1966, 204.

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Humbert de Superville, figure studies with reconstructions of the Belvedere Torso (undated), inscribed: ‘thoughts of Mr HdS concerning the Torso’. Pen and ink, 12 cm by 10 cm. Print Room Leiden University (Inv. PK-T-610), Leiden Photo © Tomas Macostay. Reproduced courtesy of the University of Leiden

Much as de Superville examined the effect of different raised arms on his seated gymnast, trying to bring back to life the form and expression of the Torso, visitors to Flaxman’s studio could have taken to their viewing of the Hercules and Hebe a dislocated knowledge of classical statues and passages in specialized texts; not about Hercules specifically, but about the two famous types of

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statue that were known to have been created by Greek sculptors of the Hellenistic period: the Belvedere Torso and the Farnese Hercules. This is reflected in the letters and accounts that began to be published in Rome and notably in Naples about works by Canova recently installed in the villas and gardens of his principal Italian patrons.32 Like some of the comments quoted above on Flaxman’s statues, the descriptions devoted to Canova’s works around 1800 embraced a highly ekphrastic and physiological knowledge about the pose, anatomy, skin and temperamental dispositions of the statues, as transmitted to a watchful observer through close inspection and reflexion on the expressive potential of the body of every figure. An almost pedantic return to the specifics of the two antique Hercules sculptures was reason enough for de Latouche, one of Canova’s French biographers, to place the Canovan Palamedes under the sign of the Farnese Hercules, on account not just of similarities in pose but also the fact that the Argonaut has ‘a neck as thick as Hercules’.33 The antiquarian sensibility therefore admitted an oblique use of the comparing gaze, releasing body-image, pose, age and gendered forms from the constraints of the subject-matter. This comparative mode was arguably also at work in Flaxman’s Herculean Athamas, whose critical reception will be the focus of the next and final section.

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Hercules Furens

Winckelmann had launched the idea that ancient Greek portraits of Jupiter and Hercules, in attempting to capture the personal characteristics of ‘dignity’, ‘bodily strength’ or ‘courage’, had resorted to features that put the observer in mind of a lion or a bull. Thus, Winckelmann believed that the unusually thick neck and the bull-like qualities of the head as found in antique figures, including but not limited to the Farnese Hercules type, were indices of ‘a vigour and force superior to human strength’ that befitted the metaphor of an ‘untameable bull’.34 As Halliday has argued, French vitalist medicine had been responsible for a more negative view of men with a powerful physique as a characteristic shared by an uneducated labouring class. Halliday suggests that this new perception of a threat to social well-being might have begun to invest the image of muscled men with anxieties over the need to police and contain the popular 32 33 34

Such accounts are gathered and discussed by Ferando 2014 and Bindman 2015. de Latouche 1825, plate 33. See for instance in the French edition of Winckelmann’s work, 1786, 367–8. The passages on these animal types of ‘courage’ are quoted by Bell 1806, 40, among others.

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John Deare, study drawing of Hercules fighting the Cretan bull, from an untraced original (1788). Pen and ink, wash and pencil. Height 29.8cm, width 41 cm (size of volume). Deare sketch album, bequeathed by Rupert Forbes Gunnis, J.P., Victoria and Albert Museum (Inv. E.288–1968), London Photo © Tomas Macsotay

mass.35 It is perhaps this investment in a move away from the common human form as a sign of superhuman vigour and courage (or baffling brutality) that informed the final works under discussion here. John Deare was a British sculptor who acted as Flaxman’s principal rival in the expatriate Roman community from 1784 to his death in 1797. From one of his albums with studies after the antique, now in the Victoria and Albert Museum, stems a study of Hercules fighting the Cretan bull, from an unknown relief that has strong similarities with the metope depicting the same theme at the Temple of Zeus at Olympia – a work that would not become known, however, until the temple’s excavation in the next century (Figure 13.6).36 Deare’s outline drawing 35 36

See Halliday 2010. Wickelmann 1762, 189–91 engravings no. 64–5. The vessel (no. 64) is a kylix, with a single continuous relief frieze, split into registers (no. 65) (trans. Appelbaum): “White marble vessel in the Villa Albani: the feats of Hercules; in No. 65, the develop-

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works almost like a vignette, fitting Hercules and the bull together as two overlapping but intimately integrated motifs. The apparent action (a lethal attack) gracefully dissolves into a dance between the two contenders. A snapshot view of an instant where Hercules gathers momentum, focused on wielding his club to beat down the beast, is enshrined in the sheer willpower conveyed by the wide opening of Hercules’ legs. This detail of the aggressive opening of the legs contorts Hercules into a slightly cartoon-like cadence that is rhythmically repeated by the position of the bull’s back leg, and by the detail of Hercules pushing down the animal’s front leg, forcing it into submission. Deare’s outlines also tend to link Hercules and the bull in a bond of anatomical kinship: the beholder might at one point be struck by the resemblance between the thick line of Hercules’ neck and turned head and the vast spine of the bull, as if both belonged to the same order of unruly vigour. These formal experiments compressing outline and ideas of force are perhaps a good way to frame the Herculean giganticism of two key projects of 1790s Roman sculpture: Flaxman’s The Fury of Athamas (Figure 12.5) and Canova’s Hercules and Lichas (Figure 13.7). Caballero Gonzalez, in this volume, discusses the two sculptures as examples of a distortion of antique ideas accompanying the episodes of furor in Hercules’ life. Such a focus on the assumed continuity of ideas about the image of Hercules differs, however, from the remarks that follow, which are preoccupied with the problematic aesthetics and politics of the violent Hercules in the 1790s, as consequent upon returning these Roman artists to the context of antiquarian and aesthetic debates that need also to be carefully considered in their own right. Some of this immersion in the universe of form is there in the way Deare captured, in his simple study of Hercules with the Cretan bull, the emotive value of large, rhythmic outlines that describe the sheer forcefulness of his subject. But the sculptural groups of Flaxman and Canova drive this effect to even harsher extremes. Both represent episodes of tragic temporary insanity, and Canova’s resembles the work copied by Deare in the way the entire movement is shown in large, continuous lines, as well as an insistence on situating the beholder on a frontal axis where Hercules’ body is radically exposed. ment of the frieze in No. 64 … TOP, LEFT TO RIGHT, Virtue; the fight with the lion on Mount Cithaeron; the liberation of Theseus from Cerberus; the seated Eurystheus, king of Mycenae, who ordered Hercules’ labors; the horses of Diomedes [see Nos. 68 & 69]; the fight with the hydra; the stag with bronze feet; MIDDLE ROW, LEFT TO RIGHT, the stag, the Stymphalian birds, the Erymanthian boar, the Cretan bull, the draining of the Vale of Tempe; BOTTOM: the water-god of Tempe; the fight with triple-bodied Geryon, viewed by Pallas(?); killing the snake that guarded the apples of the Hesperides (associated with goats); fight with a centaur [Nessus?].”

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Antonio Canova, Hercules and Lichas (1795–1815). Marble, height: 335cm. Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, Rome. Image: © National Gallery of Modern and Contemporary Art, Rome, by permission of the Ministero dei Beni delle Avità Culturali e del Turismo Photo © Tomas Macsotay

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Richard Earlom, after a painting by Johan Zoffany, The Plundering of the King’s Cellar, Paris (10 August, 1793, published in 1795). Mezzotint, 53.2cm by 66.2cm. Purchase: Elizabeth Hamilton and Jeffrey Wortman. Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. (Inv. DLC/PP-1989:085) Photo © Library of Congress, released into the public domain and available to download from https://www.loc.gov/pictures /item/2001697063/ (accessed 05/08/2019)

Among possible sources of inspiration are to be included certain strands of caricature, particularly of the British variety, as discussed elsewhere in this volume by Eppinger, which refer to Herculean exploits in order to infuse portraits of modern politicians with punch. Hercules’ labours as framed by the genre of caricature would in fact enable a painter like Johan Zoffany to depict the insurrectional events of 10 August 1792 in Paris in an ambitious yet grotesque canvas finished in 1793. In 1795 Richard Earlom issued a luxurious aquatint based on Zoffany’s painting, a faithful rendering of the original canvas and reproduced here for the purposes of discussion (Figure 13.8). In his thoroughly documented survey of the scene, Pressly has ably discussed how Zoffany’s scene offers a pointedly British-patriotic rebuttal of the French Revolution, playing on a Herculean commentary to capture the tragic undoing of Royal

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order by revolutionary barbarism.37 Its principal protagonist is a crowd: the loose-footed Parisian mobs as they raid the Royal palace at the Tuileries. As a result of the orgiastic drinking of wine in the King’s cellar, women expose themselves, Parisian servants join their black counterparts in the revelling, stabbings and theft go on unpunished, and men play with severed heads, while innocent women and children lie perishing in the foreground. To comment on this gross lapse of order, a sculptural group of Hercules and the hydra placed atop the Pont Royal’s buttress spells out either the theme of muscular violence, or the regretful absence of royal authority amid the chaos of the Revolution. Pressly reminds us that the metaphor of the many-headed hydra, which grew two new heads for each one that Hercules cut off, had long been in use to stand in for the sense of the uncontained or uncontainable masses.38 The concept of the masses as a many-headed hydra in Zoffany’s scene suggests a revolution orphaned by its political leadership, and turned into a hedonistic exercise of iconoclasm over everything that stands for public order. Zoffany’s Herculean sculpture, by inference, is a sign of what should have been a counterpart force of order. The furious Hercules hinted at by Zoffany remains valuable when examining the great sculptural works dedicated in Rome to Herculean violence. Canova’s famous Hercules and Lichas, now at the Galleria Nazionale de Arte Moderno e Contemporanea (aka La Galleria Nazionale) in Rome, was inspired by Sophocles’ play Women of Trachis.39 It shows the consequences of Deianeira’s unwitting collaboration in a plot to murder Hercules by having him wear a tunic drenched in the poisonous blood of the centaur Nessus. Tortured and in a frenzy, Hercules is bent on destroying the bearer of the tunic, the witless boy Lichas, who had himself been duped into taking the gift, and hurls him into the air to his death on the craggy rock below the citadel. The commission was in an advanced stage by May 1795, when private correspondence between Antonio d’Este and Don Onorato Gaetani, a Neapolitan nobleman and minister of the Neapolitan Bourbon king, confirms that Canova had agreed to undertake production of a colossal marble on the subject devised by Gaetani.40 In the years 37 38 39

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Pressly 1999, 62–4. Pressly 1999, 64. Myssok has underlined the importance of this shift towards Greek tragedy, which in Canova’s case reveals a gradual loss of interest in the operatic presentation of Herculean subject-matter. Pop has shown that the renewed importance of Greek tragedy in the recuperation of classical subject matter was in fact central to what he called the ‘neopagan’ movement in the 1770s. Myssok 2007, 190 and Pop 2012, 43–48. On the Sophocles and other classical sources, see Caballero González in this volume. On the context for the commission and the difficulties in determining whether the image had a political focus, see Johns 1998, 124–9 and Myssok 2007, 187–197.

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that followed, Canova’s project became a test-case for the unsustainability of Hercules’ traditional association with Bourbon power, and monarchic sovereignty generally. The commission had to be abandoned after Gaetani lost his post over the French occupation of Naples. Canova ordered the marble block and finished a modello for the group, but a forced move to Possagno meant he had to take leave of it. In 1799 he persuaded Count Tiberio Roberti to rally the support of the Chamber of Verona (the Provveditori, regents from noble families) in arranging for the group to be turned into a monument to the Austrian Emperor Francis II. But what was the most plausible interpretation of the allegory of the group? In 1795, the Hercules of Hercules and Lichas would have been fraught with Bourbon reminiscences, maintaining a positive association with Hercules as a guardian of monarchic rule and order in times of relentless political upheaval. In the 1799 re-purposing of the image, such a reading held up only with difficulty. Canova then put forward the group to act as a reminder of the hefty price to be paid by insurrection. To mellow the physical violence of the scene, Canova had meant to decorate the base of the group with reliefs showing Francis II bringing peace and unity and acting as the father of the people. But whether as a result of Canova’s efforts to find a brutal outline to emblematize the sheer force of the action, or as a result of the impotence of the Bourbon Hercules (that impotence at which Zoffany seemed to be hinting) it was not possible to pin down the political parergon to his frightful scene. A symptom of this is a letter from 1799 in which Canova reported on a French visitor to his studio who read the group as an allegory of the ‘French Hercules who throws the monarchy to the wind’.41 Canova closes the letter suggesting a new reading for the Hercules and Lichas, which could now emblematize ‘licentious liberty’. So apparently Canova’s Hercules had been orphaned from its princely credentials. The vicissitudes of the group (it eventually failed to be approved for the Verona monument by the intervention of Francis II) were above all determined, as Johns observes, by the unambiguous horror of the scene.42 Courting the theatrical tradition of Senecan horror and Hercules Furens, the beholder confronted Canova’s Hercules as a figure of treason, innocent slaughter and revolting insanity, not as a harbinger of stable or benevolent rule. Aside from the vain uses of force for which Hercules came to stand in British political caricature, Canova and Count Gaetani’s initial idea might have

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From Canova’s letter of 7 May 1799, as translated in Johns 1998, 124. Johns 1998, 173.

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felt pressure from yet another troubling precedent, one more closely allied to ideas of a misuse of force: namely, Flaxman’s equally oversized marble group of The Fury of Athamas (see Figure 12.5), which left Rome in 1794 for Lord Bristol’s Ickworth. Athamas was robbed of reason by Hera, and went on to hurl one of his sons, Learchus, to his death. A forceful image of disproportion, desolation, carnage and insanity, Flaxman’s group is still safely Ancien Régime in its Ovidian reminder of human insanity caused by jealous gods. Visitors to Flaxman’s studio found the gigantic Fury of Athamas group an intimidating sight which spoke of an antique canon gone mad. An anonymous German writer saw the group around the same time as Forbes, and reported in 1799 to the Neue Teutsche Merkur that he had been struck by Flaxman’s apparent ambition to return to the giganticism of an imagined antiquity. The German critic launched an analysis of the group’s antique sources, only to find that the marble group was a disastrous concoction, a hybrid which Flaxman turned over, ‘Polyphemus-like’, to a public that loved prints, flights of fancy, and preferred antiquity to be oversized. The writer briefly relates the Fury of Athamas to Canova’s Hercules and Lichas, where he sees much the same evil at work. So resolved is the anonymous writer to disavow a legitimate relation of kinship between classical statuary and the Flaxman group, that he accuses the sculptor of having taken his Herculean subject to the realm of the improbable and the monstrous. The critic references this superhuman excess via a famous Virgilian description of Polyphemus as the ‘vast, shapeless, horrendous wonder’.43 Having summoned this image of disproportion and ugliness, the German critic then transfers it to Flaxman’s own physical disfiguration: his malformed spine. He compares Flaxman to Athamas himself, the legendary artist Pseudophidias and the Homeric character of Thersites, the latter described in the Iliad as the ugliest of all Greeks and a spiteful, ill-spoken man. The author thought the last comparison appropriate ‘not just because of [Flaxman’s] Thersitian appearance, but because everything that he stole, appeared under his hands to become abominably crippled’.44 The letter closes in style by picturing the marble group of The Fury of Athamas, now unveiled as a monstrous aberration by a no less abject maker, as it is morbidly brought to life: ‘this is the Saviour,

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monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, Anon 1799, Der Neue Teutsche Merkur 3.65; after Virgil, Aeneid 3.658. Anon. 1799, Der Neue Teutsche Merkur 3.64: ‘dies letzteres nich nur, weil er eine Theristische figur hatte, sodern weil alles was er gestohlen hatte, unter seinen Händen wieder so entsetzlich verkrüppelt erschien’.

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who is professed to us by the new apostle of taste – such a Giant (Ungeheuer) they want to sell us as a token of the Greek spirit’.45 To echo this anxious rebuttal of the sheer force of Flaxman’s The Fury of Athamas, a final remark may bring together some of the evidence discussed here in connection with neoclassical representations of Hercules. One finds in the 1790s a curious displacement of roles occupied by Hercules. His traditional virtues seemed to be slipping away from him, and his prowess seemed to be taking refuge in different heroes who might exhibit a return to a Greek culture of the heroic, rather than to heroic tales of virtuous demeanor. To a certain degree, such developments can be shown to have intersected with the growing dominance of new, emphatically secular forms of knowledge that entered into the interest in ancient artefacts. If Hercules fails to retain some of his early-modern purchase on the visual arts, then the growing role of a deliberative public interested in the archaeological reconstruction and rational accounts of the origins of pagan myths and religious systems should in part be blamed for this. Indeed, the connections between antiquarian debate and the sculptors’ studios in Rome were particularly pronounced in the case of Flaxman, whose preoccupation with the Belvedere Torso, believed to be a representation of Hercules, has been explored here. But other factors were also possibly at work here: particularly the slip in ideals of virile force from images of personified dynastic order (which were shown to the king’s subjects to remind them of dynastic prowess) to ideals of republican fraternal virtue (which would have been given to freethinking men as a model of conduct). Thorvaldsen and Canova’s new heroes (their Jason and Palamedes, respectively) seemed handpicked to embody these new, charismatic ideals of sovereignty. They depended on a politically charged investment in a youthful virile subject that had become signposted by antiquarian debate as the pathway towards the recovery of Greek heroic forms. In the meantime, the image of a forceful, violent Hercules had trouble maintaining its former role as inspiring, didactic figure of sovereignty. To complete this picture, a final piece of evidence might be presented in the shape of another drawing made by Humbert de Superville. It is again one of his Roman drawings (Figure 13.9). The topic is clearly situated in the sphere of the Hercules Furens iconography, although one might also imagine it in terms of an appropriation of Flaxman’s violent group of Athamas by his young

45

Anon. 1799, Der Neue Teutsche Merkur 3.64: ‘dies der Heiland, den uns der neue Apostel des Geschmaks verkündigt. – Solche Ungeheuer will man als griechischen Geist und verpflanzen’.

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Humbert de Superville, Hercules or King Athamas killing one of his sons (c. 1790–1800). Pen and ink, 11 × 8 cm. Print Room, Leiden University (Inv. PK-T1391), Leiden Photo © University of Leiden. Reproduced by courtesy of the University of Leiden

protégé. Humbert has worked to erase the facial expressions and physical strain that seem to denote the presence of madness in both the Canova and Flaxman anti-heroes. As compared to the Canova and Deare images, which in their fine uses of contour and interwoven movement retain a measure of graceful play, de Superville’s drawing places the muscular protagonist in an archaically stylized position that evokes brutal self-assertion. Hercules’ body has fully spread legs and is positioned so as to confront the viewer, while the face looks away, in the direction in which the hero is about to hurl the young boy. Nothing in the formal presentation of the scene suggests a beautiful contour; nothing in the scene

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asks for sympathy. In a highly economical series of parallel strokes of the pen, de Superville seems to suggest the sheer brutality of the action, and to allow the musculature and nudity of the man to become emblems of this very force. As if to drive the point home, he leaves the man’s downward-pointing penis to dangle, threateningly, between the widely-spread pair of legs. The image is one that no longer admits escape: nothing of the body or the violence is hidden from the viewer.

Bibliography Primary Sources Anon. (1799) ‘John Flaxman’, in: Der Neue Teutsche Merkur 3: 62–4 Bell, C. (1806) Essays on Anatomy of Expression in Painting, London: Longman Cunningham, A. (1840) Lives of the Most Eminent British Sculptors, vol. 3, New York: Harper and Brothers de Latouche, M.H. (1825) Œuvre de Canova. Recueil de Gravures d’après ses statues et ses bas-reliefs, Paris: Audot d’Hancarville, P.F.H. (1785) Recherches sur l’origine, l’esprit et le progrès des arts de la Grèce, sur leur connection avec les arts et la religion des plus anciens peuples connus, 2 vols, London: B. Appleyard d’Hancarville, P.F.H. (1785) Supplément des Recherches (also published as Recherches vol. 3), London: B. Appleyard Fernow, C.L. (1806) Leben des Künstlers Asmus Jacob Carstens, Leipzig: Johann Friedrich Hartknoch Forbes, W. (1873) Forbes Journal, vol. VI, mss 1544 (April 14 to May 8 1793), fol. 175, National Library, Edinburgh Koch, J.A. (1799), Les Argonautes selon Pindare, Orphée et Apollonius de Rhodes: en vigntquatre planches, inventées et dessinées par Asmus Jacques Carstens et gravées par Joseph Koch, Rome: Koch, available online courtesy of the British Museum (Inv. 1984,0225.3.1–24) at https://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/ collection_object_details.aspx?assetId=595237001&objectId=1576328&partId=1 (accessed 05/08/2019) Winckelmann, J.J. (1850) The History of Ancient Art Among the Greeks, 3 vols, Lodge, G.H. (trans.), London: John Chapman Winckelmann, J.J. (1788) Oeuvres complettes de Winkelmann, 7 vols, Paris: SeguyThiboust Winckelmann, J.J. (1786) Recueil de différents pièces sur le arts, trans. Hendrik Jansen and Michael Huber, Paris: Barrois Winckelmann, J.J. (1767) Monumenti antichi inediti, available online courtesy of the

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Getty Research Institute and the Internet Archive at https://archive.org/details/ monumentiantichi01winc/page/n189 (accessed 05/08/2019); available in English translation as Winckelmann, J.J. (2010) Winckelmann’s Images from the Ancient World: Greek, Roman, Etruscan, and Egyptian, Appelbaum, S. (ed. and trans.), Dover Pictorial Archive Series, Mineola, NY: Dover Publications

Secondary Sources Berresford, S. (ed.) (2009), ‘Sognando il marmo’: Cultura e commercio del marmo tra Carrara, Gran Bretagna e Impero (1820–1920 circa), Pisa: Pacini Bignamini, I., and Hornsby, C. (2010) Digging and Dealing in Eighteenth-century Rome, New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press Bindman, D. (2015), Warm Flesh, Cold Marble: Canova, Thorvaldsen, and their critics, New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press Bodel Nijenhuis, J.T. (1997) ‘Note on the biography of David Pierre (Giottin) Humbert de Superville’, in Bolten, J. (ed.), Miscellanea Humbert de Superville, Leiden: University Library: 24–30 Brigstocke, H., Marchand, E. and Wright, A.E. (eds) (2010) John Flaxman and William Young Ottley in Italy, The Volume of the Walpole Society, London: Warburg Institute Capitelli, G., Grandesso, S. and Mazzarelli, C. (eds) (2012) Roma fuori di Roma: L’esportazione dell’arte moderna da Pio VI all’Unità (1775–1870), Rome: Campisano Crow, T. (1995) Emulation: making artists for Revolutionary France, New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press Fend, M. (2003) Grenzen der Männlichkeit: der Androgyn in der französischen Kunst und Kunsttheorie zwischen Aufklärung und Restauration, Berlin: Reimer Ferando, C. (2014) ‘Canova and the writing of art criticism in eighteenth-century Naples’, Word & Image 30.4: 362–76 Goujon de Thuisy, J.-B.C. de (c. 1793) add Mss 64100, fol. 251, British Library, London Griener, P. (2010) La République de l’Œil: expérience de l’art au siècle des Lumières, Paris: Odile Jacob Halliday, T. (2010) The Temperamental Nude: class, medicine and representation in eighteenth-century France, Oxford: University Studies in the Enlightenment Haskell, F. and Penny, N. (1981) Taste and the Antique: the lure of classical sculpture 1500– 1900, New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press Hebert, B.D. (1996) Spätantike Beschreibung von Kunstwerken: archäologische Kommentar zu den Ekphraseis des Libanios und Nikolaos, Graz: Karl Franzens Universität Hunt, L. (1983) ‘Hercules and the radical image in the French Revolution’, Representations 2: 95–117 Irwin, D. (1979) John Flaxman, 1755–1826: sculptor, illustrator, designer, London: Studio Vista Books

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Johns, C.M.S. (1998) Antonio Canova and the Politics of Patronage in Revolutionary and Napoleontic Europe, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press Jørnæs, B. (2011) The Sculptor Bertel Thorvaldsen, Copenhagen: Thorvaldsens Museum Macsotay, T. (ed.) (2017) Rome, Travel, and the Sculpture Capital (1770–1825), London: Routledge Macsotay, T. (2016) ‘Artistic labour and cosmopolitan sociability. British sculptors in accounts from late-eighteenth-century visitors to Rome’, in Burnage, S. and Edwards, J. (eds.), The ‘British’ School of Sculpture, c.1762–1835, London: Routledge/Ashgate, 101–26 Macsotay, T. (2013a) ‘Autonomy and marginality in foreign artists’ circles in Rome (c.1760–1800)’, in O’Gormann, F. and Guerra, L. (eds.), The Marginal and the Mainstream in Eighteenth-Century Britain and Italy, Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 155–71 Macsotay, T. (2013b) ‘Achilles dies. The ambivalent heroes of the Paris Academy’, in Egea, J. and Rodriguez Samaniego, C. (eds.), La imatge de l’heroi a l’escultura catalana 1800–1850, Barcelona: MNAC, 43–52 Mainz, V. (2017), Days of Glory? Imaging military recruitment and the French Revolution, Basingstoke: Pallgrave Macmillan Mainz, V. (2012), ‘Gloire, subversively’ in Jones, C., Carey, J. and Richardson, E. (eds.), The Saint-Aubin ‘Livre de caricatures’: drawing satire in eighteenth-century Paris, Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 151–77 Memes, J.S. (1825) Memoirs of Antonio Canova, with a Critical Analysis of His Works, and an Historical View of Modern Sculpture, Edinburgh: Archibald Constable Myrone, M. (2008) Bodybuilding: British historical artists in London and Rome and the remaking of the heroic ideal c.1760–1800, New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press Myssok, J. (2007) Antonio Canova: Die Erneuerung der klassischen Mythen in der Kunst um 1800 Köln: Michael Imhof Verlag Ottavi Cavina, A. (2005) Les Paysages de la Raison: la ville néo-classique de David à Humbert de Superville, Arles: Actes Sud Pirzio Biroli Stefanelli, L. (1995) ‘“Aveva il marchese Sommariva … una sua favorita idea”, 1, Opere di incisori romani documentate nella collezione Paoletti’, Bollettino dei Musei Comunali di Roma IX: 104–16 Pop, A. (2012) Antiquity, Theatre, and the Painting of Henry Fuseli. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012 Potts, A. (1994) Flesh and the Ideal: Winckelmann and the origins of art history, London and New Haven, CT: Yale University Press Potts, A. (1990) ‘Beautiful bodies and dying heroes: images of ideal manhood in the French Revolution’, History Workshop Journal 30.1: 1–28 Pressly, W.L. (1999) The French Revolution as Blasphemy: Johan Zoffany’s paintings of the massacre at Paris, August 10, 1792, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1999

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Rees, J. (2007) Die Kultur des Amateur: Studien zu Leben und Werk von Anne Claude Philippe de Thubières, comte de Caylus (1692–1765), Weimar: Verlag und Datenbank für Geisteswissenschaften Solomon-Godeau, A. (1999) Male Trouble: a crisis in representation, London: Thames and Hudson Stuart-Jones, H. (1966) Select Passages from Ancient Writers illustrative of the History of Greek Sculpture, Chicago, IL: Argonaut Symmons, S. (1984) Flaxman and Europe: the outline illustrations and their influence, New York: Garland Publishers Tausch, H. (2000) Entfernung der Antike: Carl Ludwig Fernow im Kontext der Kunsttheorie um 1800, Studien zur deutschen Literatur 156, Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag Torrini, A.P. (1991) Disegni di Humbert de Superville, Venice: Catalogue Galleria dell’ Academia van Eck, C.A. (ed.) (2017) Idols and Museum Pieces: the nature of sculpture, its historiography and exhibition history 1640–1880, Berlin and Boston: de Gruyter; Paris: École du Louvre van Eck, C.A. (2013) François Lemée et la statue de Louis XIV: les origines des théories ethnographiques du fétichisme, Paris: Éditions de la Maison des sciences de l’homme von Einem, H. (1974) Thorvaldsens ‘Jason’: Versuch einer historischen Würdigung, Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Phil.-hist. Klasse, Sitzungsberichte Heft 3, Munich: C.H. Beck

Index Italics = page with Figure; scholars included do not have p. refs to bibliographic entries; terms appearing in bibliographic references or (sub)titles are omitted. Anonymous artworks under medium; otherwise under name of artist. Abbot, Charles 281–2 Abraham 249–50, 260 Abbeville 247 academy (academic) 3, 12, 121, 164n47 Antwerp, Fine Arts, Royal 134 Brussels, Royal 125 Ghent, Painting and Sculpture, Royal 131–2 London, Royal 274–5 Lorraine, Painting and Sculpture 121 Paris, Painting and Sculpture, French Royal 3; see also Natoire, CharlesJoseph Roman 51–3 See also tradition Achilles 59, 82n1, 349–52 Acheloos, see Achelous Achelous xi, 10, 107, 194, 202–3, 222, 226; see also Caraglio Admetos, see Admetus Admetus x Acqui Termi 35 Aegean, Sea 92n173, 350 Aelst, Pieter van 109 Aeneas 57, 59, 86 Aesculapius 251, 256–7 Aeschylus 349 Africa (African) 69, 92, 162, 176n4, 184–7 Africanus, Publius Cornelius Scipio 47–8n2 Ajax 323, 329, 330 Alcestis 256–7 alchemy (alchemical) 138–41 Alciato, Andrea 150–1, 211n51, 228, n102; see also emblem Eloquentia fortitudine praestantior 4 Alcmaeon 329–30 Alcmene x, 102, 256–7, 341 Alkestis, see Alcestis Alkmene, see Alcmene Alembert, Jean-Baptiste le Rond de 127, 247–8

Alexander [the Great] xii, 121n2, 214n64 Alexander VI [Pope] 51 Alfonso X [of Castile], Estoria de España 181–3 Alise 101 allegorical (figure, personification) 6, 8, 16, 149–68 passim, 203, 207–8, 294–316 passim allegory 123, 141, 205, 227, 240, 278n62, 306, 309, 314, 370; see also Barros, Silva, Charles (Claude), Hennequin, Montalais, Regnault, Reysschoot, Rubens altar(s) 73, 77, 79, 86, 179, 216, 251; see also Hercules Ara Maxima 47–50, 57 of Chryse 327 of Hercules Saxanus 119, 128–31, 129 Amaltheus, Paulus 60 Amazon(s) ix, 10, 67, 70, 77, 99, 107, 224 Amphimaros 325n16 Amphitryon viii–ix, 185, 194, 272, 325 Amsterdam 164 Andalusia 189 Ancien Régime 127, 144, 294–316 passim, 335n50, 349, 371; see also France Annius of Viterbo (Berosus, Giovanni Nanni) Antiquitatum Variarum 104, 107 De primis temporibus et quattuor ac viginti regibus Hispaniae et eius antiquitate 186–9 Antaeus 8, 14, 69, 79, 89, 91, 107, 185, 187, 194, 203, 207, 209, 226; see also Carpi, Gianbologna (Jean de Boulogne), sarcophagus, Schavaert, sculpture Antaios, see Antaeus Anthony of Padua, Saint 251 Antwerp 98, 113, 124, 131, 134, 200, 208, 218 Appel-sak 194, 212, 224, 226 Apollo, x 14, 325–6; see also Gran Apollodorus viii, 84, 325n15–16, 326, 331

380 Appian of Alexandria 179 apples [of the Hesperides] ix, 70, 79, 85, 90, 206–15, 226, 366n36; see also Appel-sak Delvaux, Goltzius, Glycon, medal Arabia (Arabic) 160, 249 Aratus 351 Arbuthnot, John 278n61 Arcadia (Arcadian) 67, 70, 89, 315 Argonaut(s) 91, 349–52, 364; see also Carstens, Koch Aristotle 213, 227 Arnobius [of Sicca] 183 Arrian of Nicomedia 179, 188 Artemis of Ephesus ix, 134 Asia Minor x, 249 Athalida 256 Athamas xvi, 323–4, 329, 331, 340–41; see also Flaxman Athena, Pallas 16n31, 28, 35, 323n11, 330; see also Minerva Athens 4–5, 178, 202n25, 323; see also Raphael Atlantis 177 Atlas ix, 75, 85, 109, 112, 177 Atlas, Mount 85, 90 Augean stables, see Augeas (Augean) Augeas (Augean) ix, 107, 252; see also Rowlandson Augeias, see Augeas (Augean) Augustine, Saint 182, 184 Augustus [emperor] 58, 61, 178 Austria, Albert VII, Archduke of 114; see also rulership Isabella Clara Eugenia, Archduchess of 114; see also rulership Maria Anna, Archduchess of 122, 124; see also rulership Marie-Elisabeth, Archduchess of 122 Autolykos 325–6 Avienus, Ora Maritima 127 Aventinus (Thurmair, Johannes) 113 Avignon 152 Bacchus 55, 252, 270; see also Dionysus, Goltzius, Penni, Udine Bach, Johann Sebastian 5, 26n4 Baïf, Jean-Antoine de 239n17 Bailly, Jean-Sylvain 300 Banks, Joseph 349, 352

index Baroque 10, 13–4, 125, 134–44 passim, 151–2, 190, 303 Barre, François-Jean de la 247 Barros, Eleutério Manuel de, Allegory of the Equestrian Statue of King José 158–9 Basil [Bishop of Caesarea] 26n4 Bassi, Pietro Andrea 9 Batavia (Batavian) 210–11; see also Netherlands (Low Countries) Bavaria, Albrecht III the Pious, Duke of 41; see also patron(age) Albrecht V, Duke of 113 Bayle, Pierre 252 Becerra, Gaspar, Anatomie 218–9 Bedford, John of Lancaster, 1st Duke of 99 Belges, Jean Lemaire de 107 Bellay, Jean du 237 Bellay, Joachim du 17, 235–44 passim Bellona 54–5 Bellori, Giovanni Pietro 11 Berosus, see Annius of Viterbo Bertos, Francesco, Hercules and Lichas 320, 332, 334, 341 Bèze, Theodore de 165n53; see also emblem Bible (Biblical) 86, 61, 110, 176, 180, 186, 248, 257–60; see also tradition birds (Stymphalian) ix, 8, 68, 70, 107, 366n36; see also tapestry boar (Erymanthian) ix–x, 10, 69, 70, 89, 140; see also Delvaux Bodley, Thomas 221 Boccaccio, Giovanni, Genealogies of the Gods 185 Boethius, Consolation of Philosophy 9, 107 Bolingbroke, Henry St John, 1st Baron 259 Bologna 36 Bonnardel, Laurenço Antonio 165, 167 Bonsignori, Giovanni 9 Borgia (House of) 51, 53, 62 Bos, Cornelis 109 Bos, Jacob, Farnese Hercules 202 Bos, Michiel de 113 Bosch, Hieronymous 110 Boulle, André Charles 11 Bourbon (house of) 142, 293–4, 298, 369–70 Bousiris, see Busiris bow xi, 3, 228n102, 326, 362 Bracciolini, Poggio 50, 99 Braganza (house of) 156–7

index Brant, Sebastian 60 Brueghel, Peter the Elder 110 Briareus 177 Bristol, Frederick Hervey, 4th Earl of 338, 358, 371; see also patron(age) Britain (British) 1, 3, 17, 265–90 passim, 293n1, 346, 358, 365, 368, 370 Bruges 98, 100, 131 Bruni, Leonardo 26n3 Brussels 98, 105–8, 124–5, 131, 135–9 Coudenberg Palace 110 Place Royale 127, 132, 144 Budé, Guillaume 243 bull (Cretan) ix, 8, 10, 107, 202, 356, 364; see also Deare Bull, John 280; see also print(s) Buonaparte, General 311, 313, 316n38; see also Napoleon [emperor] Burgundy, house of 71, 100–1, 150 Margaret of York, Duchess of 100 Philip the Good, Duke of 100–1 Busiris x, 89, 187 Cacus x, 10, 47n2, 79, 89–90, 108, 180, 194, 226; see also Goltzius, tapestry Cadiz 175, 182, 183, 190, see also Gades Caesar [title] 47–93 passim; see also emperor Calas (affair) 246–7 Calderini, Domizio 50, 82, 86, 88–91 Caligula 259 Caliz, see Cadiz Calliope 238; see also Muse(s) Canning, George 281 Canova, Antonio 320–41 passim, 352–5, 364–373 passim Creugas and Damoxenus 336 Hercules and Antaeus 332 Hercules and Lichas 320, 321, 335–41, 367–73 Palamedes 354, 364 Caraglio, Giovanni Jacopo, Hercules and Achelous in the form of a Bull 9 Carducci, Michelangelo 151 caricature 265–90 passim, 303, 346, 368, 370; see also politic(s), prints, satire Association, or Public Virtue Displayed in a Contrasted View 282n71 The Modern Hercules on his Labours 287

381 The Modern Hercules or a Finishing Blow for Poor John Bull 278–80, 279 The monstrous hydra, or virtue invulnerable 275–8. 277 Carlos II, see Charles II [of Spain] Carpi, Ugo da, Hercules and Antaeus 9 Carracci, Annibale, Choice of Hercules 6, 214n67 Carstens, Johann Asmus 349–52, 361 Argonauts according to Pindar, Orpheus and Apollonius of Rhodes 349–50; see also Koch Orpheus’s song before the cave of Chiron 351–2, 361 Carthage (Carthaginian) 87, 178, 189 cartoon, see print: caricature Castlemaine, Richard Child, 1st Viscount 138 Castlereagh, Robert Stewart, Viscount 281 Castor and Pollux 260 Castres 247 Catherine the Great [empress] 275 Catholicism (Catholic) 165, 196, 246; see also tradition Catholic League 152 Catholic Monarchs 186 Roman Catholic Church 10, 165n53, 167n56, 248, 250, 255 cattle (of Geryon) ix, 68, 89, 150, 152; see also Geryon Caxton, William 9, 100 Caylus, Anne Claude comte de 130–1 Celtis, Conrad 60 Cerberus 8, 10, 66–7, 69, 89, 107, 109, 366n36; see also entry (joyous, royal, triumphal) Ceryneian or Cerynitian hind, see hind Cetubals (original inhabitants of Spain) 180 Chaldeans 259 Chantrey, Sir Francis 361 Chardon, Daniel-Marc-Antoine 247–8 Charles I [of Britain] 13 Charles I [of Spain], see Charles V Charles II [of Spain] 153 Charles V [Holy Roman Emperor (Charles I of Spain)] 92, 107–9, 125, 153n22, 188 Charles VI [Holy Roman Emperor] 119, 122; see also Corradini, Gran

382 Charles VI [of France] 98–9 Charles VIII [of France] 51–2, 62–3 Charles the Bald [Holy Roman Emperor] 62 Charles, Claude 121–3 Allegory of Architecture 121 Allegory of Choreography 121 Allegory of History Writing under the gaze of Time and Hercules 122–3 Allegory of Mathematics 121 Allegory of Sculpture 121 Chatham, William Pitt, 1st Earl of 266, 271 Chiron 350–1, see also Carstens Choniates, Niketas 362 Christianity (Christian) xii, 47, 55–6, 87, 105–6, 139, 153, 156, 176, 179, 249–57, 260, 265, 356–7; see also tradition, virtue knight 55–9, 101, 106 Christopher, Saint 12, 251; see also Rubens, statue Chryse, see altar Cicero, Marcus Tullius 5, 25, 26n4, 60, 328– 9 Cimbriacus 60 Cintio, Giambattista Giraldi 9 Civitella-Cesi, Alessandro Raffaele Torlonia, 2nd prince of 340 Giovanni Raimonido Torlonia, 1st prince of 339 Clearchus 177n9 Clement IX [Pope] 156 club 2, 3, 6, 18, 37, 48–49, 73, 77, 88, 132, 134–5, 158, 194, 199, 212, 228n102, 247, 251, 265, 278, 280, 284, 286, 290, 293– 317 passim, 331n4, 362, 366; see also politic(s) Cobenzl, Count Charles de 124 Coimbra 158 coin (coinage) xii, 121, 127, 141, 179, 226n98, 270, 310, 347, 357 collection(s) 9–10, 98, 105n27, 107, 109–10, 126n17, 128, 131, 144, 151, 153, 158, 164, 177n9, 237–42 passim, 275 colossus 210, 309, 316n38; see also giant, Heemskerck, nude, Rhodes, sculpture Colterman, Johan 200 Commodus [emperor] 200; see also sculpture

index Constance, Council of 50 Constantine [emperor] 122, 272; see also statue Constantinople 40 Cretan bull, see bull (Cretan) Coornhert, Dirck Volckertszoon 197 Copley, Sir John 6 Corradini, Antonio; Hercules Musarum 143 Cort, Cornelis 113, 202–3 Costa, Friar Francisco Nunes da 158 court (courtly) 14, 33, 36, 40, 52, 60, 100–1, 104, 106, 121–2, 127–8, 134, 137–8, 142, 144, 150, 158 fn38, 162, 197, 200, 235, 237; see also rulership Courtrai 131 Cramillon, Bartholomew 140 Cranach, Lucas the Elder Hercules and Omphale 16 Labours of Hercules 10 Creophylus [of Samos] 327 Crete 187 Cumae, Sibyl 55 temple of 87 Cunningham, Alan 361 Dachau, Festsaal 113 Damietta, Siege of 205 Damilaville, Etienne Noël 246–7 Dante Alighieri 349 David [of Bible] 110–11 David, Jacques-Louis 294, 300n11, 306–10 The Triumph of the French People 307n21 Deare, John, Hercules fighting the Cretan Bull 365–6, 373 Deianeira, see Deianira Deianira xi, 62, 68, 82, 84, 90, 92, 203, 207, 216–7, 327, 369; see also tapestry Delphi, Oracle x, 177n9 Delvaux, Laurent 125, 135–44 passim Hercules 136, 137–44 passim Hercules holding a distaff and a tambourine 138 Omphale 138 Diodorus Siculus viii, 88, 90, 99, 101–2, 107, 185n45, 248–9, 252, 325–6 Diomedes, see horses (of Diomedes) Dionysus 47, 322n6, 327, see also Bacchus Domitian [emperor] 61, 68, 70–71, 83

index dragon 63, 275 of the Hesperides 107 See also Ladon, snakes, vase(s) Dubreuil, Toussaint (circle of), Henri IV as Hercules crushing the hydra 152n16 Dürer, Albrecht 197 Dundas, Henry Melville, 1st Viscount 281–3, 286n89 Dutch 17, 194–228 passim, 241, 358, 361 Revolt 206 See also Netherlands (Low Countries), republic East India Bill 271–3 Eglon 259 Egypt(ian) ix, xii, 107, 151, 176–90 passim Electra 322 Ehud 259 Elizabeth I [of England] 221 Elvas 156 emblem (emblematic) 119–45 passim, 163, 224–6, 306, 356, 362, 370, 377 books 4, 17, 149–53 passim See also Alciato, Bèze, Farjardo, Heredia, Ripa emperor 17, 51–2, 61, 122, 127, 132, 143; see also Caesar [title] empire 150, 196, 302 Byzantine 40 Germanic 124 Holy Roman 47–93 passim, 121, 124, 313 Portuguese 162 Roman 56–7, 61, 175 Spanish 153, 179 Enghien 98, 108 England (English) vii, 9, 16, 47, 62–3, 99– 100, 104–5, 138, 168, 179, 254, 265–90 passim, 332, 341 English Channel 284 engraving, see print(s) Erymanthian boar, see boar (Erymanthian) entry (joyous, royal, triumphal) 56, 150–5, 198n12, 240, 314 Arch of the Merchants 154–66, 155; see also Lavanha, João Baptista Arch of the Familiars of the Holy Office 156 See also festival(s) Enyo 55, 64

383 epic vii–xi, 50, 53, 55, 58–9, 62–3, 86–7, 91, 236, 323, 327 Er 256–7 Erasmus, Desiderius 8–9, 17, 211, 236, 241–4 Erinyes (Furies) 323, 330–1 Erytheia 175, 177–8; see also Pillars of Hercules Escouchy, Mathieu d’ 100 Este Antonio d’ 369 house of 99 Euripides 256, 330–1, 334–5 Eurydice 257 Eurystheus ix–x, 91, 202, 366n36 Eurytos, see Eurytus Eurytus [of Oechalia] ix–x, 254, 325–6 Evander 47, 57, 83, 89 example (exemplary) xi–xii, 12, 25, 32, 58, 92, 240, 273, 320, 329n28, 332; see also exemplum virtutis, model exemplum virtutis 265, 280, 294, see also example, virtue (virtus) Fabricio de Vagad, Gualberto 184 Faydherbe, Lucas 137 Fajardo, Saavedra, Hinc Labor et virtus 153; see also emblem, rulership Farnese Hercules (ancient sculpture) 6, 12–3, 122, 135, 138, 202, 206, 218, 338n63, 362, 364; see also Bos, Charles (Claude), Ghisi, Glycon of Athens, Goltzius, Natoire, Rubens, Superville Feliciano, Felice 16, 26, 35–41 passim Felix, Pollius 58, 82, 85, 92 Feltre, Vittorino da 25–33 female (feminine) 6, 16, 29, 99, 158, 167, 207, 299–300, 306, 310–11, 322n6; see also gender, masculinity Fenis 181 Ferdinand (Ferrante) I [of Naples] 56 Ferdinand II [of Aragon] 186 Ferdinand III [of Castile] 183 Fernández Valverde, Juan 181 Fernow, Carl Ludwig 350 Ferrara, see Este (house of) festival(s) 58–9, 77, 84, 150–1, 154, 156, 163, 260, 306–9, 314–5; see also entry (joyous, royal, triumphal), Villeneuve Filipe II [of Portugal], see Philip III [of Spain]

384 Fiorentino, Rosso 9 Flaxman, John 338, 357–62, 371–3 Hercules and Hebe 358–63, 359 Fury of Athamas 338–40, 357, 364, 366, 371–2, 339 Flaubert, Gustave 244 Fleury, André-Hercule de 296–8 Florence 9, 26, 203–4 Margaret of Parma, Duchess of 109–10 Medici, Cosimo de’, 1st Duke of 419 Medici, Ferdinando I de’, 3rd grand Duke of 322 See also Medici Floris, Cornelis 109 Floris, Frans 112–3, 202 Hercules/The Liberal Arts 112 Fontainebleau, palace 109 Forbes, Sir William 357–8, 371 Fornovo 62 Fox, Charles James 265–90 passim; see also Gillray, print(s) France (French) vii, 11, 17, 51–2, 55, 61–3, 98–99, 109, 121, 124–5, 128, 130–1, 141–2, 150, 160, 165, 167, 235–6, 248, 250, 268, 280, 283–8, 291–316 passim, 332, 346–9, 358, 364, 370 monarchy 119, 122, 142, 298, 303 See also Gaul, Revolution (revolutionary, French) Francis I [Holy Roman Emperor (François of Lorraine)] 122, 141 Francis Xavier, Saint 163n45 François I [of France] 106, 107, 141 François II [of France] 240 Frederick II [of Prussia] 260–1, 298n10 Frederick III [Holy Roman Emperor] 51–2, 56, 60 Freemasonry 124, 141 Fulvio, Andrea 48–9 Fury, see Erinyes Gadeira 50, 82, 87; see also Gades Gades (Gaditanus) 175–90 passim; see also Pillars of Hercules Gaetani, Onorato 369–70 Gaia (Earth) 203 garden, see Hesperides Gargoris 187 Garibay, Esteban de 189

index Gaul 142, 150; see also Hercules gender 13, 14–16, 295, 302, 306, 347–9, 364 androgynous 347 cross-dressing 14 See also female (feminine), male (masculine), virtue (virtus) George III [of Britain] 266, 273 George IV [of Britain] 276 Germany (German) vii, 40, 55, 61, 104, 150, 199, 209, 224, 351, 361, 371; see also empire Geryon ix–x, 8, 10, 67–9, 89, 107, 149, 175– 90 passim, 194, 226, 366n36; see also cattle, Goltzius, Primaticcio Gheynst, Jeanne van der 109 Ghent 110, 131–4 Ghisi, Giorgio, Farnese Hercules 202 Giambologna (Jean de Boulogne) 320, 338, 341 Hercules and Antaeus 332 Hercules and Lichas 332–3 Hercules and Nessus 10 giant x, 10, 12, 69, 89, 91, 107, 183n35, 203, 205, 206, 226, 372; see also colossus, monster Gibraltar, Strait of 153, 177, 186; see also Pillars of Hercules Gillray, James 269, 284–8 Britannia between Scylla and Charybdis 270 The Republican Hercules defending his Country 285 Giordano, Luca, Hercules killing Lichas 338 Giraldi, Lilio Gregorio 9, 106n31 Glycon of Athens 202n25; see also Farnese Hercules Godecharle, Gilles-Lambert 138 Goeree, Willem 212 Goltzius, Hendrick 12, 17, 194–228 passim Farnese Hercules 200, cover Gaius Marcus Scaevola 222n89 Great Hercules 194–228 passim, 195 Honour above gold 226n98 Hercules and Cacus (painting) 200 Hercules and Cacus (print) 199 Hercules and his son Telephos 200 Marriage of Cupid and Psyche 198–9 Sine Cerere et Baccho friget Venus 222n89

index The Artist’s Right Hand 222–3 See also Primaticcio Gonzaga Alessandro, Marquis 16, 25–42 passim Carlo, Sabbioneta, lord of 31, 33, 42 Dorotea 40 Federico I, Marquis 25–42 passim Francesco, Cardinal 36, 40 Gianfrancesco, Marquis 25–42 passim house of 25–42 passim Lodovico III, Marquis 33, 36, 39 See also Mantua Goujon de Thuisy, Jean-Baptiste Charles de 358 Gran, Daniel Apotheosis of the Emperor Charles VI between Hercules and Apollo 143 Hercules Musarum 143 Greece 28, 81, 90–3, 175, 178, 181, 211, 249, 206, 322, 350 Greek vii–xii, 3–14 passim, 25–6, 36, 48– 9, 82, 92, 99, 104, 153, 160, 166, 175–90 passim, 202, 204, 213, 233–7, 251, 256, 265, 275, 280n68, 303n17, 306, 321–41 passim, 346, 348–52 passim, 364, 369, 372 Greek and Roman xii, 8, 151n13, 177, 237 See also sculpture Gribelin, Simon, Choice of Hercules 6 Grotesque(s) 109–9; see also Penni, Raphael, Udine Grünpeck, Joseph 60 Guzmán, Saint Domingo de 149

385

Hastings, Warren 275n53 Hebe (Youth personified) xi, 84, 296; see also Flaxman, Juventas Hébert, Jacques 301n12 Hecabe 322 Hector 73, 82, 322 Heemskerck, Maarten van 49, 203–5 Colossus of Rhodes 203–5, 205 St Luke painting the Virgin 217n77 Helen of Troy 322 Helios (the Sun) 139, 203–4; see also Heemskerck Hennequin, Philippe-Auguste 310–6 Liberty of Italy, dedicated to free men 311–6, 312 Rebellion of Lyons overwhelmed by the Genius of Liberty 310–11 Triumph of the French People on 10 August 310, 316n38 Slapping down of the People 316n38 Henri II [of France] 124n7, 150–1 Henri IV [of France] 151–2, 167, 240, 309 Henry VI [of England] 99 Henry VII [of England] 52, 62–3 Henry VIII [of England] 105–8 Hera ix, 194, 270, 329–31, 371; see also Juno Herakles, see Hercules Hercules apotheosis xi, 134, 217, 272; see also Gran, Lemoyne at the crossroads, see Choice of attributes 3, 37, 100, 133, 265, 314; see also apple, bow, club, lion-skin, miniature, Reysschoot Haarlem 194–228 passim; see also HogenChoice of ix, 1–3, 16, 25–42 passim, 139, berg, Frans 207–10, 240, 253; see also Caracci, Habis 187 Kaufmann, Gribelin, Matteis, miniHabsburg(s) 52, 60, 107, 114, 119, 141–3, 145, ature, vice, virtue 149, 152–6 passim, 196–7, 205–6, 209, 294 Gallic 2–4, 8, 17, 106, 150–1, 167, 199, 210– eagle 61, 132, 313 11, 228, 235, 240, 244; see also Alciato See also Netherlands (Low Countries) Herculean 1–3, 9–10, 13, 17, 68, 73, 101, Hadrian [emperor] 179 140–4, 149–168 passim, 181, 199, 218, Hague, The 221 224, 240, 242, 248, 261, 266, 273, 280, Hamilton, Sir William 358 282, 289, 313, 315, 332, 334, 346–374 Hancarville, Pierre-François Hugue, Baron d’ passim 356–8 infancy 67, 102–4, 153, 270–1, 275, 282–3, Hannibal 59 288–9; see also Rowlandson, tapestry Harrewijn, François, Charles Alexander of islands of 177, 182–3 Lorraine 120 judgement of, see Choice of

386 monster-slaying ix, 8–10, 14, 16, 18 road of 177 Saxanus 119, 128–31, 129; see also altar See the individual opponent for labours and parerga; see also giant, madness, Pillars of Hercules Heredia, Juan Francisco Fernandez de, Ut non pullulet flamma resecat malum 153– 4; see also emblem Herodorus of Heracleia 327 Herodotus 178, 181, 188, 248, 349 Hesione x, 184n42, 257 Hesperia 181, 183n35 Hesperides (garden of) ix–x, 10, 70, 77, 79, 135, 206–7, 215; see also apples, dragon Heurne, Otto van 217n75 Heywood, Thomas 331, 334 hind (Cerynian) ix, 10, 68, 89, 107 Hippolyta ix, 70, 99 Hippolytus 256–7 Hispal 187–8 Hispan 181–8 Hogenberg, Frans, Massacre in Haarlem by the Spanish 221 Holbein, Hans, the Younger, Erasmus 9 Holland, Henry Fox, 1st Baron 267 Homer(ic) 323, 348–9, 371 Horace 53 Hope, Thomas 358 horses (of Diomedes) ix, x, 8, 67, 70, 88, 107, 110, 366n36 Horus 187 Humanism 8, 49, 113, 236 Hungary 52, 63, 70, 107, 125 Hurons 254 hydra (Lernaean) ix, 8, 68, 70, 77, 88, 90, 110, 134–5, 152–68 passim, 194, 209– 12, 216, 226, 246–7, 260–1, 275–8, 290, 366n36, 369; see also Heredia, medal, Montalais, Pollaiuolo, Robetta, tapestry Corsican 288 of federalism 306–9; see also Villeneuve Hylas 350, 352, 361 Iberia (n) 151–2, 168 peninsula 17, 89, 175–9, 190 Ickworth 338, 371 iconoclasm 10, 196, 396

index idolatry 250–1, 355 Ignatius, Loyola, Saint 163n45 Ingénu 253–4 Iolaos 168, 183; see also Hispan Iole xi, 254, 326–7 Iphicrates 351 Iphikles ix, 271n31, 326; see also vase(s) Iphitos ix–x, 14, 322, 326–7, 329 Isabella I [of Castille] 186 Italy (Italian) 3, 9, 12, 39–40, 51–2, 56, 60– 63, 92, 104, 109–10, 114, 156, 134, 184–8, 190, 197, 208–10, 216, 224, 236, 311–16 passim, 338, 358, 364 peninsula 33, 52, 62–3 Ithaca 352 Jael 259 Jacobin(ism) 286, 293–5, 310, 316, 350 James I [of Great Britain] 13 James of Compostela, Saint 251 Jason 91, 156, 236, 352; see also Thorvaldsen Jephthah 259 Jesus Christ xii, 8, 139, 252, 255–6 Jesuit (Society of Jesus) 152, 165, 167, 253 College of La Flèche 163n45 Jiménez de Rada, Roderigo [Archbishop of Toledo], Historia de rebus Hispaniae 179–81 João IV [of Portugal] 156 Jodelle, Etienne 238 John VIII [Pope] 62 Jonah 257–8 Jonghelinck, Nicolas 112 Joppa 258 Jose I [of Portugal] 17, 149–68 passim Joseph II [Holy Roman Emperor] 125 Jove 53, 56, 66, 67, 70; see also Jupiter, Zeus Juan II [of Castile] 99 Judaism (Jewish) 156n34, 178, 258 Jülich Cleve-Berg, Karl-Friedrich, prince of 208–9 Julus 75, 79, 81, 86 Juno ix, 69, 84, 102–4, 194, 341; see also Hera, tapestry Jupiter (god) viii, 36n36, 39n42, 57, 67, 69, 71, 87, 217, 250–1, 296–7, 364; see also Jove, Zeus Jupiter [of Crete] 185 Julius II [Pope] 52, 63

index Justin, Epitome 184, 187 Juventas (Youth personified) 54; see also Hebe Kalliope, see Calliope Kastor 325; see also Castor and Pollux Kaufmann, Angelica, The Artist hesitating between the Arts of Music and Painting 6 Kerberos, see Cerberus Kerkōpes x Keryneian or Kerynitian hind, see hind (Cerynian) Koch, Joseph Anton 349–51 The Argonauts according to Pindar, Orpheus and Apollonius of Rhodes 350; see also Carstens Kreon ix, 330 Krotopos 325 labeur 237–9; see also otium, negotium labours viii–x, 5, 8–10, 17, 47–93 passim, 97, 106, 108–13, 139, 144, 150, 153– 64, 177, 180, 184–8, 199–200, 210, 216, 226, 235–44 passim, 246, 249, 252–4, 286–8, 297, 306, 320, 331, 357, 368; see also Amazon, Augeas, birds (Stymphalian), boar (Erymanthian), bull (Cretan), cattle (of Geryon), Cerberus, Cort, Cranach, Diomedes, Hesperides (garden of), hind (Cerynian), hydra (Lernaean), lion, print(s), Rome Lactantius, Divine Institutions 186 Ladon (of the Hesperides), see dragon Laestrygonians 187–8 Lafayette, Marquis de 300 Lampson, Dominic 201 Latin vii–xi, 8, 11–2, 14, 17, 153, 158, 160, 198n9, 201n23, 202, 204, 210, 214, 268, 323, 329 neo-Latinists 237 translation 25–42 passim, 47–93 passim, 99, 218n80, 228n102 Lavanha, João Baptista 154–6; see also entry (joyous, royal, triumphal) Learchus 330, 371 Le Brun, Charles 298 Leicester, Robert Dudley, 1st Earl of 198 Le Fèvre, Raoul 9, 100–12 passim

387 Lemoyne, François, Apotheosis of Hercules 143n60, 293, 295–8, 296, 300 Lens, Andries Cornelis, Hercules protects Painting from Ignorance and Envy 134 Leo X [Pope] 10, 48, 105–6, 109 Lernaean or Lernaian hydra, see hydra (Lernaean) Leto, Pomponio 47n2, 50–1, 53, 58–9, 69, 82, 92 L’ Héritier, Jean 331 Libanius 362 Liberty 27, 101 fn22, 278, 294, 298–9, 302, 310–6 passim, 351, 370; see also Hennequin; Moitte Lichas 18, 230–41 passim; 369; see also Bertos; Canova, Giambologna (Jean de Boulogne), Mazzafirri, Unterberger Liège 105, 201 Lille 100 Lima Pereira, Paulo de 149 Linos 322, 325–6, 329; see also vase(s) lion(s) 8, 69, 156, 162–4, 218, 220; see also Porta Nemean ix, 10, 57, 63, 68–9, 77, 110, 135, 207, 217, 261, 286, 366n36; see also tapestry; Netherlands (Low Countries) lion-skin (leontè) ix, xii, 2–3, 73, 106, 121, 157, 212, 265, 284, 290, 296, 300, 313, 338 Lipsius, Justus 201 Lisbon 149–68 Church of Memory 157 Royal Palace Courtyard (Terreiro do Paço) 160 See also entry (joyous, royal, triumphal), Machado London 267–8 Banqueting House (Whitehall) 13, 134n34 St Stephen’s Chapel (Old Palace of Westminster) 281 Loredan, Leonardo [doge] 52 Lorraine 119–45 passim Anne Charlotte, princess of 121n2 Charles Alexander, prince of, 17, 119–45 passim, 205n34; see also collection(s); Harrewijn, patron(age), Reysschoot, rulership

388 duchy 121, 130, 141 Elisabeth Charlotte of Orléans, Duchess of 119, 121, 128, 130 house of 142, 145 Leopold Joseph, Duke of 119, 121–3, 128; see also Charles (Claude) Lunéville, Castle 121 Remiremont Abbey 124; see also court Stanisłas [of Poland], Duke of 130–1 Louis XI [of France] 51n13 Louis XII [of France] 52 Louis XIV [of France] 119, 130, 298 Louis XV [of France] 130, 295, 297 Louis XVI [of France] 299, 300, 303; see also print(s), Regnault love 14, 75, 77, 79, 162, 198–9, 207, 216, 239, 284, 296–8, 322, 327, 352, 361 Lucian 3, 26n4, 151, 235 Lusitania 149, 164n47; see also Portugal Lykos 330 Lyon(s) 52, 151–2, 310, 314 Lyssa (Fury personified) 323, 330 Machado, Joachim Castro de, José I 161–3, 160, 161; see also statue Macedonia 90, 351 madness ix, 18, 216, 276, 320–41 passim, 352, 373 furor 323, 328–9, 341, 354, 366 mania 322–8 rabies 328 Madrid 106, 154 Escorial 151 Magny, Olivier de 238 Malatesta, Paola 33 male (masculine) 1–2, 6, 16, 18, 107, 194–228 passim, 254, 306–9, 313–6, 332, 346– 51; see also female (feminine); gender; nude homoerotic 14, 207n42 virility 13, 216, 350, 355 Malherbe, François de 243 Mander, Karel de 197–228 passim Mantegna, Andrea 36, 49n6, 50n12, 68 Mantua 25–42 passim, 106 Barbara of Brandenburg, marchioness of 41 Castello di San Giorgio, Camera degli Sposi 49–50

index house of, see Gonzaga Margaret of Bavaria, marchioness of 41 Manuel I [of Portugal] 156 manuscript 12, 25–6, 36–42 passim, 47, 50– 4, 60, 63, 70, 210; see also miniature Marcanova, Giovanni 36 Marche, Olivier de la 100–1 Marchi, Francesco de 110 Marck, Erard de la 105 Margarit i Pau, Joan [Archbishop of Gerona], Paralipomenon Hispaniae 184–5 Mariana, Juan de 189 Maria Theresa [Holy Roman Empress] 119, 122, 127, 132 Marie-Antoinette [of France] 122 Mariemont 124–5, 139–40 Mariette, Pierre-Jean 158n38 Marissal, Philippe Charles 132 Marseille 240n21 Mars 28, 34–5, 54–6, 59; see also W/war Marso, Pietro 50, 82, 88, 92 Martial [Marius Valerius Martialis] 61, 68 Mary [of Hungary] 107–8; see also Netherlands (Low Countries), rulership Matteis, Paolo de Choice of Hercules (Leeds, Temple Newsam) 6–7 Choice of Hercules (Oxford, Ashmolean Museum) 6 Mattielli, Lorenzo 143, n61 Mauritania 85, 187n50 Maximian Augustus [emperor] 54, 57–8, 62, 86 Maximilian I [Holy Roman Emperor] 17, 47–93 passim Mazzafirri, Michele, Hercules and Lichas 320, 332, 341 Mazzatosta, Fabio 50 Mechelen 124 medal 157–8, 214n64, 309 Hercules offers the golden apples to the city of Lisbon (line drawing) 157–8; see also Silva Medici Giovanni di Lorenzo de’ 106 Lorenzo the Magnificent 106 Marie de’ [of France] 152 See also Florence Medina, Pedro de 189

index Mediterranean 61, 153, 182, 189, 205, 356 Megara ix, 320–5, 328–335, 340–1 Mela, Pomponius 178, 183 Melani, Jacopo 331 Melicertes 330 Melqart 175–77; see also Phoenicia, Tyre Menelaos 330 Menalippe 99 Metz 128–31 Michelangelo 97n3, 202, 218, 356 Last Judgement 218 Midas 270 Milan 33, 40–1 Filippo Maria Visconti, Duke of 33 Ludovico Sforza, Duke of, see Sforza Milynus 187 Minerva 102–4, 132, 200, 300, 311, 313; see also Athena, Pallas miniature 37–9, 42, 62 Hercules between Pleasure and Virtue 37–8 Sic ego su[m] Cesar Maxim [ilianus] orbus herus 61–2 Minto, Gilbert Elliot, 1st Earl of 274n46 model 1–2, 16–8, 26, 29, 42, 61, 63, 98– 100, 111, 113, 151–2, 183, 218, 235, 244, 260, 274–5, 296, 320, 336, 340, 372; see also exemplum virtutis, sculpture: model Moitte, Jean Guillaume, Liberty 303–6, 305 Momoro, Antoine François 301, n12 Mondéjar, Gaspar Ibáñez de Segovia, Marquis of, Cadiz Phenicia 190 Monsaldy, Antoine Maxime 29n313 monster (monstrous) ix–xi, 47, 54, 67, 69, 151–2, 158, 194–228 passim, 246–7, 257, 261, 275–7, 288, 307, 371; see also Hercules Montaigne, Michel de 243 Montalais 165–7 Monstrorum domitori 166 Montale, Louis de (Blaise Pascal) 165n49; see also Montalais Montfaucon, Bernard de 128, 131 Morales, Ambrosio de 188n52 Moses 181, 249, 250 Muse(s) 48, 60, 237–8, 325; see also Gran Muhammad 249

389 Nagonius, Johannes Michael 16, 47–93 passim Naiade(s) 194, 203 Nancy 121, 128, 130n28, 131 Nanni, Giovanni, see Annius of Viterbo Naples 56, 62, 209, 222–3, 358, 364, 370 kingdom of 51 Napoleon Bonaparte [emperor] 228, 352; see also Buonaparte, General Natoire, Charles-Joseph, Life Class at the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture 11n23 Nauplius [of Greece] 352 Navarre 150 negotium 236, 238; see also labeur, otium Nemean lion, see lion: Nemean neoclassic(ism) 18, 125, 127, 134–7, 144, 315, 320, 341, 346–74 passim Nessos, see Nessus Nessus xi, 8, 327, 366n36, 369; see also Giambologna (Jean de Boulogne) Nestor 93, 330 Netherlands (Low Countries) 119, 217, 220 Northern (United Provinces) 196–7, 202, 205–6, 210 Netherlandish (Dutch) 17, 194, 196, 199, 200, 202–5, 212, 214n64, 218, 220, 222– 3, 226, 242, 358, 361; see also Batavia(n), lion, republic Southern (Austrian, Flemish, Habsburg, Spanish) 98, 124, 127, 137–8, 144, 206; see also rulership Nineveh 258 Norroy 128–31 North, Frederick (Guildford, 2nd Earl of) 171–6 nude 6, 49, 132n33, 295, 300, 306n21, 309, 313–6, 332, 351–2; see also gender, male (masculine) Ocampo, Florián da, Crónica General de España 180, 188–9 Odin 249 Odysseus, see Ulysses Oeta, Mount 90, 185, 334; see also tapestry Ogmios 3 Ognias 3 Olympia, temple of Zeus vii, 10, 365 Olympic games x, 92, 99

390 Olympus 53, 84, 90, 144, 204; see also tapestry Omphale x, 14–16, 138, 211, 361; see also Delvaux, Rubens Order of the Golden Fleece 101, 124 Teutonic 124, 135 Orestes 322, 324, 329–31 Orithya 99 Orléans, Philippe I, 1st Duke of 130n27 Orléans, Philippe II, 2nd Duke of 128 Orlers, Jacob 217n77 Orpheus 249–50, 257, 350; see also Carstens, Koch Orsini, Gentile Virginio 55–9 Orthryades 349 Osiris 187–8 otium 236–8; see also labeur, negotium Oudenaarde 98, 108–9, 112 Ourania, see Urania Ovid 165, 217, 327, 339–40, 371 painting(s) 3, 6, 9, 11, 13, 87, 97, 109, 112–3, 121, 126, 132, 134, 139, 143, 156, 200, 275, 295–300 passim history 1, 3, 6, 275, 347 See also Goltzius, Hennequin, Lemoyne, Matteis, Regnault, Reynolds, Rubens, Unterberger, Zoffany, vase(s) Palaemon 30 Palamedes 352–5; see also Canova Palazzi, Carlo Francesco 156 panegyric 47, 51, 53, 58, 60, 63, 272, 298 Paris 110, 121, 127–8, 150, 152n18, 240, 251, 300, 311, 314–5 Bastille 293, 298–9, 349 Grenelle, Campe de 331 Louvre 11, 314 Place des Invalides 307 Pont Neuf 309 Tuileries Palace 309, 369 See also Zoffany parlement 152n18, 302 Parliament (British) 266–8, 271, 274, 278, 282 patron(age) 7, 25, 35–6, 40, 42, 62, 106, 119, 121, 125–7 passim, 132, 156, 208, 253–4, 352, 338; see also collection(s), entry (joyous, royal, triumphal), Lorraine, Reysschoot, sculpture, statue, tapestry

index Paul II [Pope] 56–7, 59, 68 Pausanias 325n16 Pauw, Pieter 217n77 Pavia 40, 53 Peleus 351 Pelops 256 Peñaranda, Juan, 1st Duke of 209n49 Penni, Giovanni Francesco, Triumph of Hercules, Triumph of Bacchus 106 Perseus vii, 85, 251, 349n9 Persia(n) 181, 249, 356n19 Peter of Verona, Saint 156 Petrarch (Francesco Petrarca) 5, 26, 240 Petrarchan 238–9 Pherekydes 175n3, 178–9, 327, 331 Philoctetes 90, 329n28 Philoktetes, see Philoctetes philosophes 246–8, 255n24 Philip II [of Spain] 114, 151, 196, 205, 209n49 Philip III [of Spain] 154 Philip IV [of Spain] 156 Philo 259 Philopoemen 351 Philostratus 179 Phoenicia(n) 175–8, 181–2, 184, 187, 189–90, 259; see also Tyre Phrygia(n) 187, 306–7 Phryxus 79, 91 Pighuis, Stephanus Vinandus 208–10 Piles, Roger de 11–12 Pillars of Hercules 153, 177–9, 182, 185–6; see also Erytheia, Gades, Gibraltar Pindar 273 Pitt, William the Younger 17, 265–90; see also print(s); Rowlandson Pius II [Pope] 39 Pius IV [Pope] 49 Pizan, Christine de 99 Plato 32, 39, 177, 257 pleasure (voluptas) 1, 5–5, 25n3, 28–29, 41–2; see also allegory, Hercules, vice, virtue Plutarch 182n31 politic(s/al) xii, 2–3, 39–40, 51, 61, 106–6, 124, 130–1, 138–44, 149–68 passim, 183, 196–7, 208n45, 235, 239, 242, 265–90 passim, 294–316 passim, 347–51, 355, 366, 369–70 body 17, 196, 203–6, 208–9, 220, 224

391

index cartoon 17, 265–90 passim club 284, 301–10 passim pamphlet 300–3 propaganda xii, 63, 149, 151n10 See also caricature, male (masculine), republic, Revolution, rulership Pollaiuolo, Antonio, Hercules and the Hydra of Lerna 9; see also Robetta Polyphemus 371 Pombal, Marquis de 157–8, 161–5 Porta, Giovanni Battista della 218 Comparative physiognomy of man and lion 220 Portland, William Cavendish-Bentinck, 3rd Duke of 271 Portugal 149–68 passim, 178; see also Lusitania Poseidon 203 Posidonius 178 Possagno 370 Poussin, Nicolas 315 Ashes of Phocion being gathered by his Widow 315 Burial of Phocion 315 Et in Arcadia Ego 315 Poynings, Sir Edward 104 Prague 197 Primaticcio, Francesco 198n8 print(s) xii, 9, 14, 126, 164–5, 217, 222, 265, 307, 316, 346–7, 371; see also caricature, politic(s/al) engraving 109, 158, 165, 194–228 passim, 294; see also Barros, Caraglio, Carstens, Cort, Gribelin, Goltzius, Heemskerck, Hennequin, Koch, Monsaldy, Montalais, Cristofano, Silva etching 9, 134, 267; see also Harrewijn, Hogenberg, Moitte, Villeneuve The Idol Overthrown 303–4 woodcut 199; see also Becerra, Carpi, Goltzius, Porta, Ripa, Vesalius Maximilian as Hercules Germanicus 61 Two Warriors of the Tupinambà people from the Amazon region of Brazil 224–5 Prodicus xi, 4, 25–42 passim, 139, 208n43, 213 Prodikos, see Prodicus

Propertius 14 Protestant 10, 196, 246–7 Proteus 228 Prussia 124 Psamathe 325n16 Pseudophidias 371 punishment (divine) 323–6, 330–1, 340 Pythagoras 252 Quatremère de Quincy, Antoine-Chysostome 336 Rabelais, François 241n29 Raphael 9, 105–6, 109 Paul preaching at Athens (Hercules holding up the Heaven, Hercules killing the centaur, Eurytion from tapestry border) 106 Regillus, Lake (battle of) 260 Regnault, Jean Baptiste, Allegory relating to the Declaration of the Rights of Man 298–200, 299 Remus 256 Republic(anism) 162, 284–6, 311, 348, 350, 372; see also Gillray Dutch 205–6, 221–2 Florentine 107 French 284, 306, 309 Greco-Roman 347 letters (of) 347–8 Venetian 313 Revolution (revolutionary), French 2, 16, 18, 125, 266, 278, 284, 293–317 passim, 346–8, 368–9 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, The infant Hercules strangling the serpents 275 Reysschoot, Pieter van (Pierre Norbert) 119, 131–4 Allegorical portrait of Charles Alexander of Lorraine 133 Rhine (river) 55, 122, 132, 210; see also Reysschoot Rhodes (Colossus of) 203–5; see also colossus, Heemskerck Ripa, Cesare 139, 151, 163–4, 214–5; see also emblem Rivoli (battle of) 313 Roberti, Count Tiberio 370 Robespierre, Maximilien 294, 302n15, 310

392 Robetta, Cristofino, Hercules and the hydra of Lerna 9; see also Pollaiuolo Roman Catholic Church, see Catholicism Rome 10, 12, 40, 47–93 passim, 138, 156, 199–202, 206, 208–9, 215, 218, 223, 227, 237, 257, 314–5, 338, 346–74 passim Aventine Hill 47–8, 57, 73, 75, 83, 86, 89–90 Baths of Caracalla 202 Capitol 49, 57, 67, 83, 206 Circus Flaminius 48 Circus Maximus 48, 57, 83 Colosseum 57 Domus Aurea 109 Forum Boarium 47–9, 57, 206n39 Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna 369 Piazza Venezia 339 Palazzo dei Conservatori 49 Palazzo Farnese 6 Palazzo Venezia (formerly Palazzo di San Marco) 52, 62 Quirinal Hill 82, 314 Roman vii–xii, 8, 37, 128, 130, 175, 178, 200, 210, 222, 270, 296, 313, 315, 346–74 passim; see also academy; altar; sculpture; workshop Santa Maria sopra Minerva 49 Theatre of Marcellus 57, 82 Via Flaminia 56 Villa Borghese 337 Villa Madama 109 See also Greece, Vatican Romulus 77, 82, 86, 256 Ronsard, Pierre de 236, 241 Rouen 151–2 Rowlandson, Thomas 274–5, 280–3 The Infant Hercules 271 The Modern Hercules cleansing the Augean Stable 281 Rubens, Sir Peter Paul 11–4, 121n4, 134, 137 Apotheosis of James I 13 Descent from the Cross 12 Drunken Hercules 13 The Hero crowned by Victory 14 The Man Herakles 12 The mocking of Hercules by Omphale 14– 15 The Triumph of Hercules over Discord 13

index rulership 12–13, 26, 35, 128 courtly 121 education in 16, 25–42 passim, 153, 207– 8, 273, 296–7 governor (Austrian Netherlands) 107, 119–45 passim princely 2, 16–18, 104, 150, 294, 349, 370 sovereign(ty) 31, 60, 111, 152, 159, 163, 196–7, 205–6, 239, 293, 298–9, 309, 311, 347–8, 370, 372 Sadeler, Hans 200–1, 211 Saint-Malo, Bishop of 252 Saint-Yves, Abbé de and Mlle de 253–4 salamander 135–7, 140–1; see also Delvaux Salutati, Coluccio 26n3 Samson 176, 182, 184, 258–9 Santos, Eugénio dos 160–1 sarcophagus xi, 49 Hercules and Antaeus 50n7 Sarrasin, Clément 104 Sassolo da Prato 5, 16, 25–42 passim satire(s) 253–4, 283, 314; see also caricature, politic(s/al) Saul 110 Saxony, Friedrich Christian, Prince-Elector 26n4 Schavaert, Frans 110 Hercles and Antaeus 111 sculpture(s) xi, 8, 10–13, 18, 87, 121, 137–43, 161–3, 203, 274, 306–7, 309, 314, 320–22, 332, 335–41 passim, 346–374 passim Belvedere Torso 218, 357–64, 360, 363 Commodus as Hercules 12, 200 Constantine 49 Dioscuri 314, 336n58 Domitian 68 Hercules (Rome, Capitoline) 49, 206 Hercules and Antaeus (Florence, Palazzo Pitti) 12, 49 model 138, 144, 332, 336, 358 See also altar, Bertos, Canova, Deare, Delvaux, Farnese Hercules, Flaxman, Godecharle, Giambologna (Jean de Boulogne), Glycon, Greece, Machado, Mattielli, Mazzafiori, neoclassic(ism), Rhodes (Colossus), Sergel, statue, Tetrode, Thorvaldsen, Verschaffelt, workshop

index Sele, Foce del, Heraion at 211n54 Selinous (Selinunte), Temple C 22n54 Seneca 327–8, 334, 340 Sergel, Johann Tobias 349, 352 Orthryades 349 Sforza Galeazo Maria 41 Ludovico 52 See also Milan Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley Cooper, 3rd Earl of 1–3, 6, 14 Sicily 90, 178 Silius Italicus 26n1, 2, 50–51, 58, 69, 88–91 Silva, Joaquim Carneiro da 158–67 passim Allegory of the equestrian statue of King José I 159 Sirven, Pierre Paul 247–8 Sisera, General 259 Sixtus IV [Pope] 47–8, 85 Smets, C. de, Charles Alexander 134 snake (serpent) ix, 67, 69, 88, 102, 110, 132–5, 151, 153, 158–68, 202, 246, 261n35, 270– 74, 366; see also dragon Socrates 28, 34n26 Solon 252 Sommariva, Giovanni Battista 353, 355 Sophocles 216n75, 254n22, 320, 326–7, 340, 369 Sorokin, Pavel, Hercules and Lichas 336, 341 Sousa, Francisco de 156 Spain (Spanish) 17, 89–90, 101, 107, 119, 142, 149–56, 175–90 passim, 198, 209, 218n80, 257, 332, 341; see also Habsburg(s), Iberia, rulership monarchy 181, 183, 186, 190 Sparta(n) 249, 252 Spinedi, Carlo Guiseppe 140 Spranger, Bartolomeus 197 The Marriage of Cupid and Psyche 198 Statius, Publius Papinius 58, 85, 92 statue 9, 12, 49–50, 58, 75, 77, 83, 93, 135–44 passim, 158–68 passim, 182, 199, 202– 9, 218–227 passim, 250–1, 274, 335–41 passim, 346–74 passim Hercules (Tyre) 251 Henri IV (Paris) 309 St Christopher (Paris) 251 See also colossus, male (masculine), rulership, sculpture, Verschaffelt

393 Strabo, Geography 178 Stymphalian birds, see birds (Stymphalian) Suárez de Salazar, Juan Bautista 180 Suffolk, William de la Pole, 1st Duke of 99 Superville, Humbert, de 361–3, 372–4 Belvedere Torso 363 Farnese Hercules 362n28 Hercules or King Athamas killing one of his sons 373 syncretism 175–7 Tacitus 61, 210 Talleyrand-Perigord, Charles Maurice de 284 tapestry (tapestries) 10, 17, 97–114 passim; see also collection(s), patronage, Netherlands (Low Countries), Schavaert, workshop Arming of Hercules 102 Conquest of Sheep Island 102 Death of Hercules on Mount Oeta 105 Deianira 109 Hercules at the Gates of Calydon 105n27 Hercules establishing the Games on Mount Olympus 99 Hercules fighting the Nemean lion 109 Hercules fighting the Stymphalian birds 112 Hercules saving Hippodamia from the centaurs 101 Hercules strangles two serpents in his cradle 102 Hercules with Cacus, Atlas, Cerberus 109 Hercules with the Lernean hydra 109 Juno suckling Hercules 102–3 Labours of Hercules 110 Tournament of the Amazons 99 Tarifa 188 Tartessus 79, 89, 186n45, 188 Teiresias 272 Tempesta, Antonio 338, 341 Tervuren 125 Tetrode, William Danielsz van, Hercules Pomarius 203 Thales 252 Tharsis 258 Thebes 270, 330 Theocritus 270–1 Theodulf [Bishop of Orléans] 334

394 Thermidor 310–11, 314, 316 Theseus ix, 156, 366n36 Thespios [of Thespiae] 252 Thersites 371 Thorvaldsen, Berthel 352–3, 355, 372 Jason with the Golden Fleece 353 Thoth 249–50 Thrace ix, 70, 88, 249 Tintoretto, Jacopo Robusti, Hercules killing Lichas 338 Tiryns ix, 91, 326 Tizzoni, Francesco 156 Toledo, Don Fernando Alvarez Alva, 3rd Duke of 196n4, 205n38 Toldedo, Fadrique Alvarez Alva, 4th Duke of 205n38 Tolentino, Treaty of 313 Torlonia, see Civitella-Cesi Toulouse 246 Trogus, Pomponius 184 Tournai 98, 101, 104–5, 131 ware 124 tradition academic 3, 121n4, 134 Christian 248–9 classical 1–18 passim Euhemeristic 179 religious 17, 260 See also academy, Bible, Christian, model Trafalgar (battle of) 286 Trasimene, Lake 59 Trent 63 Council of 10 Trogus, Pompeius, Philippic History 184 Trotter, Alexander 281–3 Troy (Trojan) x–xi, 57, 73, 82, 87, 90, 92, 100, 104, 184 fn42, 257, 352, see also W/war: Trojan Tubal 181, 187 Tupinambà, people 224–5; see also print(s) Turchi, Alessandro, The Raging Hercules 331 Tuscany 362 Typhoeus 187 Typhon 188 Tyre (Tyrians) 178, 188–90, 251 Udine, Giovanni da, Triumph of Hercules and Triumph of Bacchus 106

index Ulysses (Odysseus) 91, 156, 236, 326, 352 Umbria 362 Unterberger, Christoph 320, 336–8, 341 Hercules and Lichas 337 Urania 325; see also Muse(s) Urban IV [Pope] 183 Ursus 55–6 Utrecht, Union of 197 Vagad, Rui Sánchez, Fabricio de 184 Valeriano, Pierio 163, 166n54 Valois, house of 98, 142, 150 Valladier, André 152 Varennes 303 vase(s) 4, 8, 211, 306 Capture of Oechalia 327 Feats of Hercules 365n36 Herakliskos Drakonopnigon 270n28 Linos and Iphikles (attrib. Pistoxenos) 326 Vatican Palace 47, 85, 97n3, 109, 358 Saint Peter’s 47 See also Rome vengeance (revenge) 188, 324, 326–8, 340 Venice 33, 314 Basilica of St Mark 68 Venus 53 Verona 35–7, 370 Versailles 121, 311 Palace 142–3, 293, 298 See also Lemoyne Verschaffelt, Pierre-Antoine, Charles Alexander 127 Vertumnus 228 Vesalius, Andreas 217–8, 220 Prima Musculorum Tabula 220; see also Becerra vice (kakia, vitium) 5, 8, 26, 32, 35, 151, 156, 163, 181, 207, 214, 224, 226, 240, 250, 253, 283, 303; see also allegory, Hercules: Choice of, pleasure, virtue Vienna 122, 124, 143; see also Corradini, Gran, Mattielli, painting, sculpture Vila Viçosa (royal palace at) 156 Villena, Enrique de 9, 153n25 Villeneuve, The French People overwhelming Federalism 308; see also David virility, see male (masculine) Virgil 83, 313–5, 371

395

index virtue (aretē, virtus) ix–xi, 1–7, 13, 16–18, 25– 42 passim, 60, 74–7, 85, 98, 138–9, 141, 145, 153, 162, 194, 196, 198, 200–6, 224, 226–8, 240–1, 250, 252–4, 265, 275– 8, 282, 290, 296–8, 316, 320, 346, 350, 355, 362, 366n36, 372; see also allegory, exemplum virtutis, Hercules: Choice of, male (masculine), Matteis, miniature, print(s), rulership, vice Christian 105–7, 154 civic 143–4 princely 97, 294, 352 Visconti, Filippo Maria, see Milan Voltaire 246–61 passim, 298n10 Vladislav II [Bohemia, Hungary and Croatia] 52 Vries, Hans Vredeman de 109

Second Punic 50, 58 Second World 105n36 Seven Years’ 122 Spanish succession 119 Trojan 87, 107n37, 348 Whig 266, 272–3; see also politic(s/al) Whitbread, Samuel 281–3 Wilberforce, William 283 Wilde, Samuel de, The opposition Hydra, or Brittania’s worst foe 278n60 William I [Orange-Nassau] 198 Winckelmann, Johann, Joachim 134, 346–8, 351, 358, 362, 364 workshop(s) 125, 134, 137, 138n44 sculpture 364 weaving 98, 104, 107–8, 110, 113–4 Xenophon xi, 5, 25, 26n4–5, 28, 34, 36–7

Walpole, Horace 275 Walpole, Robert 266 W/war (s) 13, 35, 101, 113, 124, 128, 144, 187, 189 fn54, 197, 204, 280–3, 286, 314–6 American Independence 266, 271–3, 276 Austrian succession 122 Eighty Years’ 98 First World 52 French Revolutionary and Napoleonic 266, 278 martial (action) 210, 296, 349, 350

York 338 Zapata 257–8 Zárate, Francisco López de 331, 334 Zeus vii–x, 87; see also Jove, Jupiter temple of, see Olympia Zoffany, Johann, The Plundering of the King’s Cellar, Paris 10 August 1793 368 Zoroaster 249–50