The Grand Camée de France

At 31 by 26.5 cm, the Grand Camée de France is the largest ancient cameo to have survived. With 24 human figures in three registers, it is complex. The sardonyx has five layers (while the Gemma Augustea has but two), with colors ranging (outer to inner) from dark reddish-brown to cream to light reddish-brown to white to bark brown. The carving in low relief is exquisite. The stone is beautiful. And enigmatic.

Enigmatic: in other words, yet another locus of scholarly dispute. Yet there are points of general agreement.

The figures in the top register are aloft. Those in the middle register are seated or standing on a ground line, while those in the lower register appear to be crouching in a space in which they can neither stand nor even move much at all. The natural reading of this composition is that the upper register represents the heavenly realm in which all the figures must be divine—either deities or divine personifications or deified mortals, while the middle register is the earthly realm, that of the living; the lower realm is just that: a nether world in which all figures are subdued, confined, imprisoned.

In the top register, a togate male figure (10) bearing a scepter and wearing a radiate crown, his head shrouded, rides on the back of a flying male figure (13) holding a sphere. To the left is another flying male figure (12). His head is crowned with a laurel wreath; he wears military clothing and carries a shield in his hands. To the right, a cherubic boy (14) leads a winged horse on which rides another male figure (11) in military dress, his head adorned with a laurel wreath.

In the middle register, the central male figure (1) is seated, facing to the left, with an aegis on his lap. He cradles a tall scepter in his raised left arm and holds a lituus in his right hand. His chest is bare and his head is adorned with a laurel wreath. To the left of (1) is a standing male figure (3) in full military dress: helmet, shield, sword, cuirass, and greaves. He is flanked by a woman (4) standing and facing him on the right and on the left by another woman (8) seated and facing him, with a scroll in her hand. In front of her is a boy (7) whose military costume corresponds to that of the male figure (3). To the right of (1) and sharing a footstool with him is a seated woman (2) holding wheat sheaves and poppies. To the right of her, two figures gaze heavenward: one, a man (5) in military dress,  gestures toward (10) in the heavenly realm; behind him is a woman (6) seated in on a chair shaped like a sphinx.

The lower register is crammed with the vanquished: Parthians wearing the Phrygian cap and Germans with long hair.

So who are all these figures? Everything depends on the identification of the central figures in the middle and upper registers.  Here we consider two possibilities.

A. In the middle register the central figure (1) is Tiberius, Augustus’ adopted son and successor; the woman (2) to the right is Livia, Augustus’ wife and the mother of Tiberius. The young general (3) presenting himself before Tiberius is Germanicus. The boy (7) whose military outfit matches that of Germanicus (3) is his son Caligula, the darling of the army and the people, looking like his daddy in the miniature legionary kit fashioned for him by the soldiers who gave him his nickname.

In the top register the central figure (10) is Augustus. He is being carried upwards: this top register represents his apotheosis, his ascent to heaven as a new god

In short, the Grand Camée affirms the cohesion and continuity of the Julio-Claudians. And it affirms their legitimacy: to question the Julio-Claudians’ right to rule is to question that of Jupiter himself.

If one accepts this reading, one may date the cameo to the reign of Tiberius, between AD 14 (Tiberius’ accession) and 29 (Livia’s death). Yet some have argued for a later date, pointing out that Tiberius is here depicted in the guise of Jupiter: partially nude, with aegis and long scepter. Impossible during his reign, they say. For Tiberius followed Augustus in refusing divine honors, at least in the western half of the Empire. So, they contend, the Grand Camée postdates Tiberius’ death and was probably made under Claudius.  (The same argument has been made concerning the Gemma Augustea, on which Augustus is presented as seminude, holding the long scepter, and with an eagle beneath his seat.)

B. And now for another, quite different reading.  The central figure (1) in the middle register is not Tiberius but Claudius, sitting next to his wife Agrippina (2). The focal figure (3) in military dress is Nero. In the upper register the central figure is not Augustus but Antonia, Claudius’ mother, in the guise of Venus Genetrix, with Cupid at her side. She rides on the back of Aeternitas, the personification of Eternity, holding the globe that represents Rome’s imperial possessions. The stone affirms the Julio-Claudian dynasty, to be sure. But its special purpose is to legitimate the rule of Claudius (cf. our previous post on Claudius in the guise of Jupiter). The date is about AD 50.

Symptomatic of the history of this cameo’s interpretation is the disagreement on the gender of the central figure in the top register (10).  Man or woman?  If even this is disputed, the cameo is likely to remain what it has been thus far: an enigma.

Heinlein, Christine. Kaiser und Kosmokrator. Der Große Kameo von Frankreich als astrale Allegorie. Dissertation, Tübingen. 2011. 41-98 (on the history of the cameo's interpretation).

Kleiner, Diana. Roman Sculpture. 1992. 149-152.

Tuck, Steven. A History of Roman Art. 2015. 158-160.

The Four Seasons Altar

WINTER

This round altar (of white marble and 73 cm tall by 57 cm in diameter) adorned the Horti Sallustiani, the Gardens of Sallust between the Pincian and Quirinal hills.  Found in 1886, it is one of many sculptures found there, including the famous Dying Gaul (a Roman copy of a Hellenistic original) and the Ludovisi Throne (long regarded as an early classical masterpiece but now controversial).  On stylistic grounds the altar has been dated to the early years of Claudius’s reign, at about the time when the Horti Sallustiani became imperial property in AD 41.  It was then that the adopted grandson of the historian C. Sallustius Crispus (86-34 BC), the early developer and eponym of the gardens, married Agrippina the Younger at Claudius’ behest.

Decorating this altar are four winged putti (cherubic boys), each representing a season.  They are separated by tall vase-shaped cultic pillars embellished with acanthus leaves and blossoms.  Atop the pillars are grooved amphorae with pointed covers, suggesting vessels for burning incense.  From the handles of the amphorae hang draperies like baldachins, like heaven’s vault above the head of the each putto.

Winter (above) wears a short tunic that leaves one shoulder bare.  In his lowered left hand he holds an object left unfinished by the sculptor, probably a goose.  With his right hand he shoulders a water pitcher.  The reference is to the cult of the Egyptian goddess Isis, whose rites were celebrated in January under the Roman Empire.  The putto’s tunic refers to the white linen shirts worn by the Isiac celebrants.  The goose refers to the one slaughtered at the festival of Isis and whose liver was offered to the goddess.  Ritual ablutions belonged to the cult, too, and the water pitcher alludes to them.

SPRING

The naked figure of Spring recalls the festival of Magna Mater or Cybele.  At her festival simple country foods were eaten, such as cheese, herb dumplings, and fruit; the participants were bedecked in garlands of flowers.  In his right hand Spring holds such a garland, while on his left arm he balances a tray of first fruits.

Winter and Spring face one another, heads lowered and with a melancholy expression.

SUMMER

With his back to Spring stands Summer, naked, like Spring, and with a small cloak draped over his left forearm.  In his right hand he holds a sickle for reaping grain.  In his left hand he holds a stalk with a poppy seed capsule.  These are the attributes of Demeter-Ceres, goddess of agriculture, honored especially in Eleusis, to the west of Athens.  Her mysteries were celebrated in late summer.

AUTUMN

Finally, Autumn.  On a pedestal to his left stands a basket full of grapes. In his right hand he holds a knotty shepherd’s crook.  An animal skin is draped over his shoulder: the nebris, also worn by followers of Dionysus.  Dionysus’ most important festival took place at the time of the autumn grape harvest.  This putto has the largest wings.  He looks back at Summer, who, like him, has a cheerful expression.

On this altar it is the mystery religions, not the official Roman state cults, that mark the seasons.

Most Roman altars are rectangular, but this round one follows the Archaic East Greek tradition, which came to Rome via Pergamum.  The round form corresponds to the cyclical nature of seasons.

This altar is the earliest specimen of putti representing the seasons.  Male Seasons are attested on sculpture from the first century AD, as, for example, on the Tomb of the Haterii.  They are also found on the Arch of Trajan at Beneventum and on the Arch of Septimius Severus in the Roman Forum.  Under the Severans they begin to appear on sarcophagi.  Indeed, the “season sarcophagus” constitutes a type.

The example pictured above is the Season Sarcophagus from Rome.  It dates to ca. AD 330.  The four winged figures (youths, not cherubs) represent Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn.  Spring and Summer hold a roundel whose rim is decorated with the signs of the zodiac and which contains the portraits (unfinished) of the deceased husband and wife.  Supporting the roundel are putti harvesting grapes; to the left, between Winter and Spring, another little figure milks a goat, while to the right, between Summer and Autumn, there is yet another one harvesting wheat.

George Hanfmann showed that it was the Romans who invented the representation of the seasons as putti and first used them in funerary sculpture.  The Greeks of the Archaic and Classical periods had their Horae (they are already on the François vase), but it was not until the Hellenistic period that they came to represent the Four Seasons personified and began to stand for cyclic regularity, cosmic order, and earthly prosperity.  On Roman sarcophagi they came to represent eternal happiness for the deceased.  And the use of male Seasons was indeed Roman: they appear for the most part in art produced in and around the city of Rome.  Specimens outside Rome and Italy are few and far between.

Hanfmann says that the first representation of the Seasons as boys occurred on the Arch of Trajan at Beneventum (built AD 114-117).  It seems that he forgot about the Four Seasons Altar from the Horti Sallustiani produced over a half century earlier!

Hanfmann, George.  The Season Sarcophagus in Dumbarton Oaks.  1951.

Kleiner, Diana.  Roman Sculpture.  1992.  458-459.

Knauf-Museum Iphofen.  Reliefsammlung der grossen Kulturepochen.  2005.  182-183.

Simon, Erika.  Der Vierjahreszeiten-Altar in Würzburg.  1967.

The Philosophers' Mosaic

In 1897 this small (33” by 33 1/2”) mosaic was discovered in a villa at Torre Annunziata near Pompeii, nearly perfectly preserved by the protective blanket of ash laid over it by Mt. Vesuvius in AD 79. It is similar to another, slightly smaller mosaic found at Sarsina in Umbria and now in the Villa Albani in Rome. Two similar mosaics? That suggests that they are copies of a lost Hellenistic original, probably a painting.

The mosaic depicts seven men. Four are seated on a semicircular stone bench with lion’s-paw feet. Three are standing: the first, fourth, and seventh (we number them from left to right). To the left there is an open chest, probably a container for the scrolls. In front of the group is another open chest. The sphere that it contains is a focal point for the group. The first figure, the only one wearing a diadem, appears to be looking at it (perhaps explaining it) while the third points to it with a staff and the seventh figure seems to turn away from it with an air of suspicion.

In the background (left to right): two pillars support an architrave on which stand votive vessels, a tree with green foliage, a single column surmounted by a sundial, and, in the upper right corner, a fortified town or citadel.

The tree and the sacred gateway suggest a rural sanctuary, as often in Hellenistic art. The city in the distance shows that the gathering is taking place in the country. But a gathering of whom, exactly? Philosophers, it seems, given the sphere and the scrolls. Which philosophers? At this point, the modern consensus about the mosaic and its meaning ends.

Konrad Gaiser believes that the scene depicts the Academy of Plato. For him, the city in the upper right-hand corner is the key: it is Athens. He discerns the Acropolis, even the Parthenon. Thus, the scene is exo teichous (outside the city walls), where the Platonic Academy was located. Gaiser identifies the figures on the basis of their clothing, attributes, poses, and positions within the circle. The first figure is the lecturer. All the others appear to be looking at him, except figures three and four, whose eyes are on the sphere. For Gaiser, this figure’s diadem and the snake that he is holding identify him as Heraclides of Pontus (in northeast Asia Minor), known for his theory of the motions of celestial objects (he proposed that the movement of the stars was an illusion created by the daily rotation of the Earth). The second figure is Speusippus; the third Plato (pointing to the celestial sphere with his staff); the fourth, standing as he is behind the bench, is Eratosthenes of Cyrene, his position marking him as a philosopher from another era; the fifth Eudoxus of Cnidus; the sixth Xenocrates; and the seventh Aristotle (turning away in disapproval—and calling to mind the empiricist gesture of Aristotle in Raphael’s "The School of Athens").

Of the many other identities proposed for the philosophers, the most compelling is that they are the Seven Sages, a collection of sixth-century philosophers and statesmen renowned for their wisdom. If we accept this, all of Gaiser's fourth-century identifications are out. The third figure holding the staff is now not Plato but, e.g., Thales.

Or could the gathering involve an anachronism? Accepting the Seven Sages hypothesis did not prevent G. W. Elderkin from seeing in the first figure the late fourth-century ruler of Athens Demetrius of Phalerum. Demetrius was an early Peripatetic philosopher known to have collected the sayings of the Seven Sages. Why not show him conversing with those giants of two centuries earlier? Elderkin has been followed by Richard Brilliant, among others.

Truth be told, this is another case of non liquet.

Brendel, Otto.  Symbolism of the Sphere: A Contribution to the History of Earlier Greek Philosophy.  (1977) 1-18.
Brilliant, Richard.  "Intellectual Giants: A Classical Topos and the 'School of Athens'," Notes in the History of Art 3.4 (1984) 1-12.
Elderkin, G. W.  “Two Mosaics Representing the Seven Wise Men.”  American Journal of Archaeology 39.1 (1935) 92–111.
Gaiser, Konrad.  Das Philosophenmosaik in Neapel.  1980.

- Christian McKittrick

Herakles and Busiris

Among the parerga of Herakles was the slaying of Busiris, a mythical Egyptian pharaoh. (A parergon was a subsidiary or minor labor that the hero undertook while performing his major ones, i.e., the canonical twelve.) Like Herakles’ encounters with Nereus and Antaios, the killing of Busiris took place during his eleventh labor, the acquisition of the Golden Apples in the Garden of the Hesperides (cf. the post for 3/16).

When Egypt was ravaged by drought, Busiris sought advice from a seer, who told him that he could insure himself against calamity every year by sacrificing a stranger. The seer himself hailed from outside Egypt, so Busiris put the seer’s claim to the test by sacrificing him! And the trick worked: no drought that year, no famine. So the next year when Busiris began looking for another victim, is so happened that a certain stranger showed up as though on cue. You guessed it: that stranger was Herakles. When he was led to the altar and realized what his hosts intended to do to him, Herakles broke free from his bonds and slew Busiris and his son.

The earliest extant depiction of this story on a complete pot is on this black-figure hydria from Caere belonging to the second half of the sixth century BC. Here Herakles is a huge, dark figure who with his bare hands hurls around numerous dark- and light-skinned, white-clad Egyptian priests in front of the altar. He tramples two even as he chokes two more in the crook of his arms, strangles a third, and grasps a fourth by the ankle. The other Egyptians are doing their best to escape.

Most scholars regard this and similar later depictions as a parody of Egyptian monuments showing Pharaoh smiting or trampling his enemies. The great J. D. Beazley saw it this way as early as 1910. “The wit in the painting,” writes Susan Woodford, “comes from fitting the style to the subject; Herakles turns the tables on the Egyptians, the artist turns the tables on the Egyptian style!”

Such parody presupposes familiarity with Egypt. At the end of the eighth century Greeks were serving as mercenaries in Egypt, and they were influenced by the monuments there.  They had a trading post at Naucratis in the Nile delta from the seventh century BC. Contacts between Greece and Egypt were regular. “It is hardly conceivable,” concludes Martin Robertson, “that the painter of the Busiris vase had not himself seen Egyptian monuments.”

Another illustration of the myth, the earliest complete one in Attic vase painting, is this one by the Swing Painter from the second half of the sixth century BC. Here the figure that has fallen over the altar must be Busiris.  Herakles, wearing the lionskin, holds a white-clad Egyptian by the ankle and is about to use him to club Busiris, while another priest expresses his dismay. The others flee.

The story of Herakles and Busiris is popular in Attic red-figure vase painting during the first half of the fifth century. On this pelike by the Pan Painter from about 460 BC Herakles encounters more opposition than he did on the two vases considered above. One Egyptian is poised to strike the hero with an ax. For his part, Herakles has grabbed another by both ankles, prepared to meet the ax with a human weapon, even though his club is within easy reach.

The basic type is constant in these and other Attic depictions of Herakles and Busiris for most the fifth century: in the center Herakles attacks Busiris in front of the altar, while priests and attendants flee for their lives. Then, toward the end of the century, the type vanishes from Athens.

Carpenter, T. H.  Art and Myth in Ancient Greece.  1991.  128.

Robertson, Martin.  A History of Greek Art.  2 vols.  1975.  2.139.

Woodford, Susan.  Images of Myth in Classical Antiquity.  2003.  73-76.

- Ryan Summers

The Column of Antoninus Pius

Of Rome’s three major commemorative columns, that of Antoninus Pius is perhaps the least appreciated. Why? Like the Column of Trajan before it and the Column of Marcus Aurelius after it, it had a base, shaft, capital, and gilded bronze statue of the emperor whom it commemorated. But unlike those other columns it did not commemorate a military conquest; nor was it decorated with a sensational spiral relief or indeed carving of any kind (and the shaft is largely lost in any case).

Yet it did share with those other columns an important function: it served as an imperial tomb. While the Column of Trajan was a tomb in the strict sense, housing in its base the cremated remains of the emperor and his wife Plotina in golden urns, the Column of Antoninus Pius, like the later Column of Marcus Aurelius, was a cenotaph located near the spot where the emperor had been cremated, his Ustrinum (funeral pyre). The model (in the Museo della Civiltà Romana) pictured above shows where in the Campus Martius it was located with respect to the Pantheon (E). The column itself (A) was placed north of the the Ustrinum of Antoninus (B). To the east was the Ustrinum of Marcus Aurelius (C), whose column was located south (D).

The column was made of red granite imported from Egypt and it was monolithic, i.e., shaped from a single piece of stone. At 48’ tall it had less than half the length of the Column of Trajan, composed of drums of Luna marble. A mason’s inscription on the surviving lower end of the shaft tells us that the stone had been quarried in AD 106 for use in the Forum of Trajan. Contemporary coins, such as the denarius shown to the right, help us to imagine the whole monument. It appears to have had a Corinthian capital, and its pedestal was surrounded by a grating.

All that remains is the marble pedestal. Its inscription records that the column was erected by Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus in memory of their adoptive father: “To the Divine Antoninus Augustus Pius his sons (Marcus Aurelius) Antoninus Augustus and (Lucius) Verus Augustus (dedicate this monument).” Antoninus Pius died in 161 and it is likely that this monument was commissioned at that time. Faustina had died some 20 years earlier, in AD 140.

The other three sides of the pedestal are covered with reliefs. Shown above is the front, which faced the Ustrinum. It represents the apotheosis of Antoninus and Faustina. The imperial couple is being conveyed heavenward by a male figure that is youthful and almost entirely nude. Most striking about him are his wings, which span almost the field’s entire width. Hovering over the wings on either side are eagles whose spread wings iterate those of the central figure. In the lower left corner a seminude figure reclines, holding an obelisk meant to recall the nearby meridian obelisk of Augustus: he is certainly the personification of the Campus Martius, the Field of Mars, god of war. In the lower right corner is Roma, the personification of Rome. Leaning on a shield emblazoned with the babes Romulus and Remus being suckled by the she-wolf, she wears a helmet, with one breast bared, like an Amazon, and with the armor of the conquered stacked up at her feet: the emphasis here is clearly on war—even more so than in the other corner. It is not that Antoninus was a belligerent emperor; indeed, his was the most peaceful reign of the Principate! Rather, the martial figures here stand for not Antoninus’ reign in particular but the march of Roman history in general. And they are bidding farewell to the divine pair.

But who is that central figure? The attributes leave the question open: he holds a globe encircled by the zodiac and entwined by a snake. He is often said to be a genius-figure (a genius is an alter ego or a guardian spirit), but if so he is the only one with wings in all of Roman art. Is he Aeternitas, the personification of eternity that we find on the coinage of Faustina?  But Aeternitas is a feminine noun, so we would expect a female personification. Other proposals: Ascensus, Consecratio, Aion, the Mithraic god of time. Lise Vogel, who devoted an entire monograph to the monument, argues for Aureum Saeculum, Golden Age personified. She relates the scene to an earlier one of Hadrianic or very early Antonine date that shows the apotheosis of Sabina.

In this relief Sabina soars to heaven astride Aeternitas, who carries the torch with which she has just lit the pyre (ustrinum) below. The ustrinum is represented doubly by the flaming structure itself and by its personification in the form of a youth. On the right, her husband Hadrian bids her farewell. Comparison with the Sabina relief does indeed show that the Antoninus and Faustina relief is traditional, even if it does not really help us to identify that enigmatic central figure.

Finally, let us turn to the other two sides of the pedestal of the Column of Antoninus Pius. They are identical representations of the military parade or decursio that took place at the time of the consecratio or cremation ceremony. In the middle, on a central ground line, we see ten standing praetorians, two of whom, facing each other at the center, are signiferi, holding military standards, while two more are officers and the the other six are ordinary soldiers. All around the soldiers are horsemen galloping in a counterclockwise circular movement. Ten are equites, of whom five bear the vexillum (banner). Six wear tunic, toga, and calcei (boots). One (bottom center) stands out, isolated and wearing the pallium (cloak). Vogel argues that the six are the seviri Augustales (priests in charge of the imperial cult) and that the isolated central figure is an augustus: Marcus Aurelius on the one side, Lucius Verus on the other: that explains why there are two decursio scenes.

The reliefs on the pedestal of the Column of Antoninus Pius depict two moments in the ceremony of consecratio (enrollment of the emperor among the gods, i.e., deification or apotheosis). One is the cavalry procession (decursio) that preceded the lighting of the pyre--in this case, there were two decursiones, each led by one of the deceased emperor’s adopted sons, who would rule jointly until Verus’ death in AD 169. This double parade was a demonstration of their pietas. The other moment was the main event, the apotheosis of the imperial couple. Note the eagles flanking the emperor and his wife on the relief. Herodian (4.2) says that after the lighting of the ustrinum or funeral pyre “from the highest story (of the pyre) … an eagle is released … and soars up into the sky with the flames, taking the soul of the emperor from earth to heaven …  After that he is worshiped with the rest of the gods.”

This sestertius, dated to 161, was issued on the occasion of the consecratio that is the subject of the column base. Note that the pyre had four tiers: Herodian says that each tier was made of wood and filled with brushwood but also decorated with gold-embroidered drapery, ivory carvings, and paintings. The body was placed in the second tier. The decursio was followed by a chariot display, with those in the chariots wearing the ancestral masks (imagines). Then the pyre was lit… 

Boardman, John, The Oxford History of Classical Art (1997) 240-241.

Kleiner, Fred, A History of Roman Art (2007) 176-177; 195-197.

Vogel, Lise, The Column of Antoninus Pius (1973).

Minoan Snake Goddesses

This faience female figurine from Knossos on Crete (Neopalatial Period, 1750-1490 BC, when the palaces that had been destroyed ca. 1750 BC were rebuilt) belongs to the “snake goddess” type, which is found in various media, including pottery, frescoes, and seal engravings, at Minoan sites.  Faience is a technique that seems to have been borrowed from Egypt.  Egyptian faience contained no clay.  It was instead a quartz-based composition which, when fired, developed a colorful glaze.

The figure holds a snake in each of her outstretched arms; an animal sits atop her headdress (the head and left forearm are modern restorations).  She wears the costume that we see in Minoan frescoes: the flounced, bell-shaped skirt, the short apron, and the open bodice.

The 11 ½” tall statuette was found in 1903 by Sir Arthur Evans in the West Wing of the great palace at Knossos.  He called it the “Priestess or Votary.”

Along with that statuette he found another, larger one (13 ½”), which he called the “Mother Goddess.”  Her costume is similar to the one above but her arms are lowered, and the snakes that she holds are curling down her arms; another snake is winding around her tall hat.  This figurine, too, is heavily restored: the face, left arm, and skirt are modern.

The statuettes that Evans found caused a sensation.  Forgers saw an opportunity, and soon some fourteen fakes were to be seen in museums and private collections.  One such fake is the “Boston Snake Goddess,” the subject of an engaging exposé by Kenneth Lapatin, Mysteries of the Snake Goddess: Art, Desire, and the Forging of History (2002).  This figurine had raised doubts in the past.  But Lapatin makes a very strong case that it was fashioned by the Swiss artist Émile Gilliéron, the man who had restored the faience “Mother Goddess” and “Priestess or Votary” for Sir Arthur Evans. 

Especially odd, he notes, is the damage to the left side of the face: “Ivory is subject to flaking, and part of the left side has sheared away.  Yet the present features—eyes, nose, and mouth—are centered on what remains.  This should not be the case: if the piece was damaged after carving, the surviving features should be off center” (180).  Lapatin’s contention was corroborated when Carbon-14 tests returned a date of 1450—AD, not BC!  Visit the website of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and you will read that its date is “about 1600–1500 B.C. or early 20th century.”

What does the “snake goddess” type represent?  Suggestions abound.  Are they goddesses of nature or fertility?  Is there one goddess or several?  A household goddess?  Perhaps they are not goddesses but priestesses performing a ritual.  Or are they worshipers?  So many questions.  The truth is that there are no clear answers.  For the likely religious context of the figurines see Gesell.

Gesell, Geraldine. “From Knossos to Kavousi: The Popularizing of the Minoan Palace Goddess.” ΧΑΡΙΣ: Essays in Honor of Sara A. Immerwahr (2004) 131-150.
Lapatin, Kenneth. Mysteries of the Snake Goddess: Art, Desire, and the Forging of History. 2002.

Lapatin, Kenneth. “Snake Goddesses, Fake Goddesses,” Archaeology 54.1 (2001) 33-36.

- Lesley Ehmer

The Old Market Woman

The Hellenistic period saw a trend toward the representation of the real (as opposed to the ideal) and the lowly or ordinary (as opposed to high end of the social scale): in other words, the very opposite of what artists of the Classical Period chose to represent.

This trend is illustrated by the Greek statue known as the Old Market Woman (in fact it is a Roman copy of a Greek original).  When the statue was first discovered in 1907 at the foot of the Capitoline hill, it was thought to be a woman hawking a pair of chickens and a basket of fruit or vegetables, held in her (missing) left arm.  Her right arm (also missing) is perhaps holding out something else for sale.

She stoops with age (or else “her whole body is contorted as by a sort of recoil from her vociferation,” as an early interpreter supposed), her breasts are partially exposed by her loose garment, and her face shows the signs of old age: “the weary eyes, the sunken cheeks, the deep lines about the mouth, and the shriveled neck and breast all show a sculptor whose aim was to perpetuate an unlovely everyday type precisely as he saw it.”

But what about woman’s costume, legs, and feet?  “The costume is the same that we find on the ideal statues of goddesses or women—a sleeveless chiton, or dress, clasped upon the shoulder, and over this a large himation or mantle. The folds of these two garments fall as gracefully as though they covered the form of a young girl, and it is curious to observe that the limbs which they cover do not correspond at all to the shrunken character of the upper part, but are full and well rounded, as are also the prettily sandaled feet.”  And around her head is a kerchief encircled by an ivy wreath.  The conclusion?  “The occasion on which she is offering her wares for sale is some Bacchic festival.”  So Robinson in 1909.

Since then other interpretations have been offered.  Some think that the woman’s costume and ivy crown make it unlikely that she is a market seller, despite the name by which the statue is known.  Instead, she may be “an aged courtesan on her way to a festival of Dionysos, the god of wine,” while the basket and chickens may be “dedicatory gifts to the god or simply her own provisions for a long day of celebration.”  So the website of the MMA, where the statue may be seen today.

Andrew Stewart agrees that she is a courtesan (her chiton is revealing and "diaphanous"), though one "fallen on hard times."  But he argues against a connection with Dionysus, who had no temple near the findspot.  Instead, he conjectures that the statue was dedicated to the agricultural goddess Ops.

Yet one is left wondering who would commission such a dedicatory statue…

No author.  “Two Kinds of Realism.”  The Classical Weekly 3.8 (1909) 63.

Robinson, E.  “The Old Market Woman.”  The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 4.11 (1909) 201-206.

Stewart, A.  Art in the Hellenistic World: An Introduction (2015) 235.

- Christian McKittrick

Claudius as Jupiter

This over-life-size (8’ 4”) marble portrait of the emperor Claudius (ruled AD 41-54) was found in Lanuvium (about 20 miles southeast of Rome) in 1865.  It was made early in his reign, ca. AD 42 or 43. 

The statue presents two incongruities.  First, it obviously joins the body of a young man with the head of a man in his 50s.  Second, it presents the emperor in the guise of the chief Roman god, Jupiter: the oak crown (the oak being the god's sacred tree), the scepter in his left hand, and the eagle at his feet leave no doubt about this (his right hand probably held a thunderbolt—the patera is a mistaken restoration).  How were these (to us) odd combinations received by the ancient viewer?

(1) The head shows the signs of aging common in middle-aged people: forehead lines, bags under the eyes, nasolabial folds.  Claudius was indeed about 50 at the time of his accession in AD 41.  So the head seems true to life.  By contrast, the body is youthful.  His nude torso puts that youthfulness on display.

Realism was the mark of Roman portraiture already under the Republic.  Roman elites kept ancestor masks (imagines) in their homes.  Some Roman portraits are actually hyper-realistic, with exaggerated features (including exaggerated defects): modern scholars call these “veristic” and the style “verism.”  Why exaggerate?  Verism projected aristocratic virtues: maturity, experience, seriousness, determination…  The logic is not unlike that of caricature: physiognomy reveals character, and character belongs to ideology.

The combination of an old head with a young body was also already common under the Republic.  This statue (right) found at Tivoli (known as the Tivoli General—note the military breastplate at his side) joins a realistic head with a semi-nude body that is youthful and muscular.  It is worth noting that this incongruity is a Roman phenomenon: it is not found in Greek portraiture.

So the portait of Claudius was nothing new...  Yet in a way it was.  For Augustus had set a pattern for portraiture that was distinctly classicizing.  His statues and those of his successors Tiberius and Caligula are in the style of the Greek art of the fifth and fourth centuries, i.e., that of Classicism, especially the High Classical moment of Pheidias and Polyclitus.  The early Julio-Claudians are portrayed as ever youthful, more ideal than real (or veristic).  They do not age.  And, generally speaking, all their portraits follow this classicizing pattern.  After all, they were a big ruling family, a dynasty.  They had a claim to rule, and their portraiture showed that they all shared that claim.

So in reverting to the realism of Republican portraiture Claudius was making a statement.  He was staging a return to Republican values.

(2) Claudius’ assimilation to Jupiter was similarly ideological.  "Do not challenge my rule," he seemed to be saying, "unless you want to challenge the very order of the divine world!"  The association of the rule of the Julio-Claudians with that of Jupiter was traditional, a commonplace already in Augustan poetry.  Iuppiter in caelis, Caesar regit omnia terris: “Jupiter rules all in the heavens, Caesar rules all on earth” so runs a line attibuted to Vergil in the Latin Anthology.  Horace compared Augustus to Jupiter (Odes 1.12, 3.5), and so did Ovid.

Augustus is portrayed as Jupiter on the Gemma Augustea (left), where he holds a scepter, with Jupiter’s eagle at his feet.

If the portrait of Tiberius in the guise of Jupiter (right) from the theater at Caere (modern Cerveteri) was indeed recut from a portrait of Caligula, then this piece, too, was a model for portrait of Claudius.

So the answer to the question concerning the Roman reception of Claudius’ incongruous portrait is this: the realism of the head and the link to Jupiter were traditional, part of the conventional language of images.  But as such they made a strong statement.  Claudius was a Julio-Claudian, a legitimate ruler, and he was announcing a return to the values of the Republic.  This program must be understood in its context.  Claudius followed Caligula, who had been assassinated after only four years in power.  He had been found hiding behind a curtain by the Praetorians and made emperor.  He needed to show that he was not going to be another Caligula.  Afflicted with a stutter and a limp, and known more as a bookworm than as a statesman, he needs some powerful PR.  So he chose to present himself as both an old-fashioned Republican general (like the Tivoli General) and a Jupiter-like guarantor of order and stability.  His invasion of Britain in AD 43 was a renewal of the project of Julius Caesar in 55 and 54 BC.  His big message was that he was turning back the sundial, back to the good old days.

- Ryan Summers