Ancient Rome in Living Color, 1781
This beautifully engraved collection of ancient Roman art and sculpture encompasses the heart and soul of the Grand Tour at its height during the final years of the ancien régime. Aristocrats and gentry flocked to Rome throughout the eighteenth century, eager to engage firsthand with the beauty and magnificence of classical antiquity that had occupied the lion’s share of most grammar school and university curricula. Each of the thirty-three engraved plates in this volume is rendered unique, and in many instances hauntingly beautiful, thanks to masterful interventions of hand coloring in warm blue, gray, and sepia tones augmented with white highlights against dark backgrounds. The rediscovery of the preternaturally well-preserved archaeological sites of Pompeii and Herculaneum during the decades immediately preceding this publication captivated European imaginations, presenting the renewed possibility for a seemingly unmediated and exclusive experiencing of the art, architecture, and culture of what hitherto had seemed an impossibly remote Roman antiquity.
Every engraving captures stirring artistic visions from ancient imperial palaces, baths, and mausoleums of the reigns of Titus, Trajan, Hadrian, and Constantine—the last of which,of course, also marked the start of the transition of Rome toward Christianity. However, the subject matter of these seductive classical scenes remains resolutely pagan, depicting gods and goddesses, nymphs and putti, and legendary heroes.
The volume opens with a prefatory text in French, followed by identifications of each plate that function almost as latter-day museum labels—perhaps a gesture to the contemporary advent of the first great national European museum collections. These are written minimally, allowing the suite of engravings to truly shine without the distraction of dense interpolated texts, and thus reproducing as far as possible the experience of stumbling across these ancient masterpieces in situ and embracing them for the wonder they evoke.
One of the more compelling illustrations is a depiction in the Baths of Titus of the birth of Adonis, who was conceived from an incestuous relationship between his mother, Myrrha, and her father, Cinryas. When Cinryas learned of the deception of his daughter, by then pregnant with his son, he banished her to Arabia, where she gave birth to Adonis just before the gods transformed her into a myrrh tree and consigned her unnatural infant son to the Underworld to be fostered by Persephone. In this tableau, Venus presides over the birth of the handsome Adonis, who is being presented to her by a nymph on bended knee. The goddess holds a scepter in her right hand and leans against a tree—the newly transmogrified Myrrha—while a second nymph looks on as they all stand in a desert of “Arabia Felix,” the storied birthplace of precious aromatic barks and gum resins, including myrrh.
The final plate in this book is as wild as it is powerful. A bacchante, a priestess of Bacchus, the ancient god of wine and revelry, subdues a charging centaur whose hands are tied behind its back. The bacchante is poised on its muscled haunches, grasping the hair of the centaur’s nape in an attempt to control his mighty animal spirit, her other hand armed with a thyrsus—the telltale Dionysian staff topped by a fecund pinecone. The fame of this particular remarkable image had also grown through its reproduction in the famous Le antichità di Ercolano (1757–92), a massive nine-volume folio collection of ancient artworks recovered from the ruins of Herculanaeum. As well as this slender but gorgeous book, the Peabody Library possesses a fine and complete set of the Antichità, which was privately printed and whose circulation was tightly controlled by the king of Naples.
—Kelsey Champagne, Earle Havens
Bibliography
Bertrand Gilles, “Les voyages d’artistes français en Italie au XVIIIe siècle: Bilan des études récentes et perspectives de recherché,” Histoire de l’art 51 (2002): 29–37; Chantal Grell, Herculanum et Pompéi dans les récits des voyageurs Français du XVIIIe siècle (Bibliothèque de l’Institut Français de Naples, 1982), esp. 192–203; Nancy Ramage, “Flying Maenads and Cupids: Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Eighteenth-Century Decorative Arts,” in Carol C. Mattusch (ed.), Rediscovering the Ancient World on the Bay of Naples, 1710–1890 (Yale University Press, 2013), 161–76.