“Its horror and beauty are divine...”
On the Medusa... - Percy Shelley, 1819.
Whilst in the normal course of pursuing amusements and curiosities for The Collection, your Archivist noticed that not all images of snake-haired women were depictions of Medusa, the justifiably aggrieved Gorgon wronged by gods, goddesses, and men alike. There are, in fact, a multitude of classical and classically-inspired figures with serpentine locks, among them The Gorgons, The Furies, and the Goddess Eris. Add to this the amalgamation of the aforementioned mythological entities and their attributes with allegorical representations of Envy and Discord, and you have an interesting iconographic panoply of images befitting a post for A Year in the Library.
In perusing this entry (as surely no one actually reads A Year in the Library), please be forewarned that the minutiae of classical exegesis are glossed over here and that whilst your Archivist is not untrained in the pinnacle of the Liberal Arts (i.e., Art History), some of the iconological musings contained herein are conjecture based primarily on the materials at hand. Think of this post as a nascent study requiring further research, an invitation to my scholastically inclined readers, um, perusers, to meander further down the path.
One of the most entertaining aspects of myths and folktales is that their stories evolve, transmute, and combine, especially when left in the hands of such untrustworthy narrators as authors and artists. In considering our Medusian personages, we can see some common threads that run through them: unfettered anger, poisonous thoughts, and of course, snakes. Lots of snakes. It should not be surprising then, that in subsequent representations of these figures there is some conflation, if not confusion. So, with such a potential for incertitude between the ophidian characters, we begin with an introduction to establish our cast of serpentine sirens.
Medusa and The Gorgons (not to be confused with Josie and the Pussycats)
Heading up (or off?) our dramatis personæ is Medusa who, along with her two sisters Euryale and Stheno, were known collectively as the Gorgons. Medusa began her career as a beautiful priestess of Athena but owing to an indiscretion with some guy she met at the beach (Poseidon, if memory serves), she was punished for her dalliances. Athena cursed her former priestess with hair comprised of writhing snakes a and a visage so hideous, that anyone beholding her would be turned to stone. As if this weren’t enough, Athena later guided an upstart named Persius in decapitating Medusa so that he might brandish her head about as a weapon against various men and monsters. Eventually Persius gave Medusa’s head to Athena to use as a decoration on her shield. Oh, the indignity.
The Kindly Ones
So terrifying are these three, that this euphemistic phrase is often used in place of their collective name. The Erinyes were a trio of underworld goddesses of vengeance whose role was to bring down terrible justice upon those who committed egregious crimes. The sisters were named Allecto (Anger), Tisiphone (Avenger of Murder), and Megaera (Jealous). When not visiting madness, disease, and death upon evildoers on the mortal plane, The Furies oversaw the torment and torture of souls in Hades. The whip-wielding sisters were described as ugly in appearance, with serpents entwined about their hair, arms, and waists.
Eris, a.k.a. Strife
The Goddess Eris (or Discordia to friends, Romans, and countrymen) is a bit of a trickster best known for her shenanigans that initiated the Trojan War. Into a bevy of influencers and goddesses, Eris tossed a golden apple on which was inscribed “for the most beautiful one”, causing some spirited debate as for whom the prize was intended. A hapless mortal was chosen to select the winner, and well, let’s just say he might have chosen more wisely. Eris also appears in one of Aesop’s fables. On one of his walkabouts, Herkules’ path was obstructed by what appeared to be an apple on the ground and, being Herkules, he tried to smash it with his club. The more he smashed, the larger it became (a lesson for Dr. Banner, perhaps?). Athena counseled Herkules that he was battling strife (Eris), which stayed small when left alone, but grew when fought.
Discord & Envy (Allegorical Figures)
While not identical in symbolic meaning, the allegorical representations of Discord and Envy typically appear as snake-haired women. Often, but not exclusively, with sagging breasts and aged faces. In his Iconologia, the Sixteenth Century author Cesare Ripa describes the personification of Envy as “aged and ugly... with shriveled breasts” with “snakes on her head [that] are the evil thoughts of envy” (E. Maser, tr. Baroque and Rococo Pictorial Imagery. 1971). She is further described as eating her own heart (i.e., self-consumed in jealousy), often near a lean dog which is a symbol of envious selfishness. One characteristic which appears to distinguish Envy from Discord is that the latter is often depicted holding a burning torch, symbolizing the devastation of war.
Medusa’s Manuscripts
While not overflowing with books on the topic at hand (excluding, of course, more generalist Renaissance mythographies of which, of course, there are more than a few), The Library does possess a sufficient number to present for your review.
Medusa, Solving the Mystery of the Gorgon. 2000. Hardcover book by Stephen R. Wilk. Oxford University Press. About 16 x 24 cm. 278 pp.
The author approaches the subject of Medusa as a folkloric and artistic mystery and discusses origins and exemplars of the gorgonic face across multiple cultures.
The First Medusa. Caravaggio. 2000. Hardcover book edited by Ermanno Zoffili. 5 Continents Editions. About 29 x 31 cm. 168 pp.
Everything you ever wanted to know about Caravaggio’s Medusa, and then some (e.g., microanalysis of the paint, et al.). This oversized volume provides a highly detailed analysis of the striking painting by the other Michelangelo, the Bad Boy of the Late Renaissance who Baroque all the rules.
The Medusa Reader. 2003. Softcover book edited by Marjorie Garber and Nancy J. Vickers. Routledge. About 16 x 23 cm. 310 pp.
Although your Archivist generally considers Routledge publications to be outrageously overpriced, there remain some in The Collection owing to their specificity of content unavailable elsewhere (thus the pricing, I suppose). This book collects 73 writings on Medusa from Classical to contemporary times along with 32 small black and white illustrations. The bibliography is particularly useful for those wishing to delve further into the viper’s pit.
Medusa, In the Mirror of Time. 2013. Hardcover book by David Leeming. Reaktion Press. About 14 x 22 cm. 128 pp.
This volume provides a succinct overview of Medusa, the woman, the myth, the archetype... It includes some brief ellipses on such topics as triplets and the Evil Eye.
Sous le regard de Méduse. De la Grèce antique aux arts numériques. 2013. Hardcover exhibition catalogue by Alexis Merle du Bourg and Emmanuelle Delapierre. In Fine éditions d'art. About 23 x 29 cm. 344 pp.
Balancing out the text-heavy volumes above, this exhibition catalogue is filled with full-page color reproductions of Medusa throughout the ages. A welcome remedy for those seeking to look rather than read (an unsatiated desire likely shared among many readers of this blog).
The Prints and the Gorgon
Medusa and her kin appear to be rather prevalent in print culture, especially during the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries when Emblem Books of allegorical representations were particularly popular.
Allegory of Envy. 1580. Engraving on paper. Omnia emblemata by Andrea Alciati. Antwerp. About 11 x 16 cm.
Although a legal scholar of some renown, Alcaiti is best known for his handy book of emblems which proved to be enormously popular, especially amongst slothful artists and writers who are always looking for new iconography to appropriate. Unlike her later sistren who sport serpentine hair, here Envy is shown “eating the flesh of vipers”. In her hand, she grasps her heart, perhaps planning on having it for a snack after she’s finished with her snake salad.
Envy at Her Cave. 1612. Engraving on paper. Hand colored at a later date. Q. Horatii Flacci Emblemata by Otto van Veen. Antwerp (?). About 20 x 25 cm.
In the foreground of this engraving is Envy, lying on the ground while biting a serpentine lock in jealous anguish. Beside her stands a lean dog, looking intently at a goat. In the background is depicted the execution of Perilaus in the Brazen Bull. Don’t know this one? It’s a classic in the annals of cruelty. It seems that, seeking to impress the king, the sculptor Perilaus crafted a hollow bonze bull for the tyrant Phalaris so that he could enjoy the torment of his captives in a tasteful manner. A captive would be placed inside the bronze bull, and then a fire would be lit beneath it. The screams of the inhabitant were to be channeled through pipes to simulate the bellows of a bull. While it all seemed like a good idea at the time, Perilaus offered to demonstrate for Phalaris how the whole thing worked, and, well, you can guess the rest. Presumably the effects of self-consuming evil are reflected in this visual couplet.
Envy Yields to Death Alone. 1646. Engraving by Pierre Daret after Otto Vaenius on paper. ‘La Doctrine des Moeurs...’ printed by Louys Sevestre for Pierre Daret. Paris. About 22 x 31 cm.
Before Wordle and other such distractions, the intelligentsia of the past enjoyed puzzling out the meanings of emblems (quotes and passages accompanied by allegorical images) and other symbolic pictures. Your Archivist is not beyond engaging in such revelry and offers this interpretation. This print illustrates a typological-style comparison between a mythological “event” and an allegorical concept. Herkules’ victory over the many-headed Lernaean Hydra represents the conquest over venomous (i.e., destructive) vices in snake-like form. This parallels Death’s triumph over Envy, who is the embodiment of vice with a head of writhing snakes. In both instances, the vices may only be beaten (sometimes literally) through their demise.
Medusa with Harpies. 1675. Engraving on paper by Georg Christoph Eimmart, the Younger. (1638-1705). Nuremburg. About 25 x 37 cm.
Based on the verso text (not illustrated), this leaf appears to be from Carel van Mander’s Schilderboeck, the Netherlandish counterpart to Vasari’s Lives of the Artists, first published in 1604. Here Medusa’s snake-encircled head is supported by wings, held aloft on either side by harpies (the likely subject of another post). The text below cautions against hate and envy, the latter causing the greatest heartache. With these couplets, Medusa is associated both with filth and envy.
Discord in the Forge. c. 1680. Engraving on paper. Unknown source. About 18 x 22 cm.
The iconography of this print is rather unusual. Here Discord is shown beside a forge, raising a blazing hammer to strike a statue of a youthful figure. Your Archivist’s interpretation is that Discord is striking at her (Eris’) counterpart, Harmonia. Instead of holding a smoldering torch, Discord holds a flaming hammer, an equally apt symbol of destruction.
The Furies in Hades. 1690. Engraving on paper by Johann Ulrich Kraus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Augsburg. About 13 x 19 cm.
In a cavernous and stygian setting, two Kindly Ones, withered breasts exposed, sit and speak amongst themselves while a third looks at the viewer from a standing position. Interestingly, she wears a tunic and holds a burning torch, more like Eris than a Fury. In the left background is Sisyphus (rock on, bro!), while in the center background is depicted Ixion (big wheel keep on turnin’).
Portrait of Huldrych Zwingli. 1690. Engraving on paper by Gaspar Bouttats after the drawings of Henricus Verbruggen. 'Opgang, voortgang, en nedergang, der ketteryen deser eeuwe... by Florimond de Raemond. Published by H. Verdussen, Antwerp 1690. About 20 x 31 cm.
The leaf is from a counter-reformation history of Protestant heresy, compete with portraits of villainous heretics. In this instance, the vile apostate depicted is one Huldrych Zwingli (1484-1531), a biblical originalist and major figure in the Swiss Reformation. At the upper right of the portrait is what appears to be a harpy, while on the lower left (sinister) side is a depiction of Envy, shown eating her own heart. Before her are a colony of rats which gnaw at the pages of books and scrolls. Here the moralizing use of evil in the form of Envy is applied quite specifically.
Perseus Beheading Medusa. 1732. Engraving on paper by Philipp van Gunst from The Metamorphoses by Ovid. Amsterdam. About 30 x 23 cm. (cutting)
This print depicts the Evil Deed- Perseus’ decapitation of Medusa. Both Perseus and his steed Pegasus turn their heads away from Medusa’s arresting gaze; the blood dripping from her head touches the ground and in an act of spontaneous generation, creates serpents. Here Medusa’s body retains its youthful form. Absent is the decay exhibited by Eris and Discord.
Allegory of Justice. 1719. Engraving by Hubertus Quellinus on paper. Architecture, peinture et sculpture de la Maison de Ville d’Amsterdam, representeeen CIX figures en taille-douce (…). Amsterdam. About 36 x 271 cm.
Inside Amsterdam’s Great City Hall (now the Royal Palace) was a centrally-located Tribunal. It was in this room that death sentences were issued, and the decorative program of this room, visible only to the judges seated inside, reflected its somber nature. Among the Old Testament allegories of justice are striking sculptures of the heads of Medusa and a Fury, their faces framed by sinuous serpents. This print, by the brother of the sculptor, reproduces the two heads in their terrifying glory. Their expressions are the very epitome of shock and anger.
Evil Gods (Including The Kindly Ones). 1735. Engraving on paper by Jacobus Houbraken. Hieroglyphica of Merkbeelden der oude Volkeren by Romeyn de Hooghe. Amsterdam. About 23 x 30 cm.
The heavily-illustrated Hieroglyphica serves as a veritable who’s who of ancient deities and this print of Evil Gods does not disappoint. Situated in Hades, this print depicts amongst other personages the ferryman Charon, a chimera, a sphinx and in the forefront, the three Kindly Ones. The Furies hold serpents and torches of varying types, ready to punish any transgressors.
Allegory of Love and Lust. c. 1736. Engraving on paper. "Emblems, Divine and Moral; Together with Hieroglyphics of the Life of Man" by Francis Quarles. London. About 16 x 9 cm.
In this diminutive print, the snake-haired figure of Envy is replaced by another Deadly Sin- Lust. The accompanying text bemoans the loss of a Golden Age that has been supplanted by one of sin and libidinous pursuits. Here Lust personified (appropriately) lacks the sagging breasts of Envy and Discord, but she does brandish a whip (as did The Kindly Ones), in this case comprised of several snakes grouped in a hydra-like fashion.
Portrait of Maximilian II Emmanuel Elector of Bavaria. Mid-18th Century. Engraving on paper by Hieronymus Sperling. Netherlands. About 18 x 29 cm.
This allegorical print depicts a lively conflict between Fortuna and Discord, where the actual portrait is almost a secondary ornament. On the left, the sun shines brightly over a verdant landscape. Fortuna stands contrapposto with her emblematic wheel. On the right, a stormy sky issues bolts of lightning above a barren scene. Discord, cloaked in shadow, actively seeks to topple the column while her flaming torch rests on the ground. Hey, it’s a two-handed job.
The Fable of Discord. 1786. Engraving on paper. Fables Choisies, mises en vers by Jean de La Fontaine. Paris. About 13 x 20 cm.
La Fontaine was a highly-popular Seventeenth Century collector of fables, which he published in witty verse. This print illustrates a fable about Discord who, expelled from Olympus, was all too happily embraced by humankind. The poem mentions both personified versions of Renown and Peace, but as both are typically depicted as women, it is not clear who the winged figure is in the print.
Allegory of Indivisibility. 1795. Engraving on paper by Hendrik Roosing after a design by August Christian Hauck after a drawing by Cornelis Bakker. Rotterdam. About 37 x 32 cm.
Well, this one’s got it all. Allegorical figures of Freedom (holding a lance), and Abundance (holding a cornucopia) are beset (from left to right) by Deception, Defamation, and Envy, each of whom have their own putti with whom to contend. The subject of our study, Envy, tears at Abundance’s cornucopia, causing fruit to tumble to the ground. An opposing point will soon be made.
Four Allegorical Figures, Including Discord. 1799 Engraving on paper. Iconology; or, a collection of emblematical figures, moral and instructive. Exhibiting the images of the elements and celestial bodies, the seasons and months of the year, the hours of the day and night, the quarters of the world, the principal rivers, the four ages. Illustrated by a variety of Authorities from Classical Authors, Selected and composed from. Ancient Egyptians, Greeks and Romans, and from the compositions of Cavaliere Cesare Ripa by George Richardson. London. About 29 x 37 cm.
You know your Archivist just loves those “everything but the kitchen sink” titles. Here, amongst panels depicting Concord, Liberty, and Servitude, stands the allegorical figure Discord. She is fully-robed (so as not to upset those delicate Georgian sensibilities) and holds a burning pot instead of a torch. At least they got the “snakes for hair” part right.
Medusa with Ornaments. c. 1800. Engraving on paper after Vincenzo Brenna. About 30 x 42 cm.
Signore Brenna (d. 1820), after whose designs this print was made, was a rather nefarious architect and painter who worked in Italy and Russia, where he was, for a time, the House Architect of Paul I. That is, until he stole a bit too much from the State Treasury to go ignored. This print exhibits all the over-the-top classicizing elements one would come to expect (and love) about Russian Imperial Neoclassicism. Two serpents arise from Medusa’s head, while flame-like hair encircles her face (clearly the effects of too much mousse).
Travelers Beset by Jealousy. c. 1800. Engraving on paper by Laralle after Pierre Peyron. Le Temple De Gnide, Suivi D'arsace Et Isménie. by Charles de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu. Paris. About 23 x 31 cm.
While you may know Montesquieu as the originator of the separation of powers doctrine (now considered passé in those beastly colonies we so wisely deaccessioned back in 1783), he also wrote this novel about a couple chaps seeking true love. Here their fidelity is tested, allegorically at least, by Jealousy. Not to worry; a sacrifice to Bacchus, and all ended well.
Pallas and Discord. 1800. Engraving on paper by Louis-Joseph Masquelier after Jean-Baptiste Le Prince from The Metamorphoses by Ovid. Paris. About 14 x 24 cm.
In a rather convoluted story, Athena (a.k.a. Pallas), becomes angry with her sisters Aglauros and Herse and commands Envy (Eris) to make the former jealous of the latter when a mercurial suiter comes a’ calling. Here Eris resembles a Fury with her serpentine belt.
Allegorical Figure of Discord. Mid-Nineteenth Century. Lithograph on paper, signed by John Brandard, published by M. & N. Hanhart. London. Exposed portion about 24 x 32 cm. (covered by a matte)
The son of a copperplate engraver, Brandard carried on the family tradition, albeit in a more modern format. Here Discord holds a flaming torch above her head. Intertwined in her hair is a nest of serpents, and two large snakes form a belt across her waist. On her breastplate is an image of Medusa. Her very footfall causes the earth to burst into flames.
The Modern Medusa. 1893. Print on paper. Punch Magazine. London. About 21 x 27 cm.
Well at least the artist of this late Nineteenth Century print made it easy for us to interpret, with everything nicely labeled. A classically armored soldier brandishes a sword “Law” and a shield “Justice”. The crest of his helmet identifies him as “Civilization”. The Medusian figure on the ground is identified as “Anarchy”. While the cartoon’s title is “A Modern Medusa”, the anarchic figure is more an amalgamation of classical characters than a strict representation of Medusa. She holds a flaming torch (Discord) and has a clawed hand (Harpy), while her legs trail off into two serpentine tails (an Anguipede, the topic, of course, of another post at some future date). A little something for everyone.
A Medusian Miscellany
And lest you think The Collection’s Medusiania consists solely of printed materials, we present a few more substantial pieces for your edification and bemusement.
Head of Medusa Hatrack. Late 19th Century (?). Bronze hatrack. France. About 36 cm wide by about 24 cm. tall
In this piece, we see Medusa’s plight put to practical use. The oversized serpents springing forth from her head now serve as hooks for hats. One does wonder, however, what those serpents whisper into the chapeau that alight upon them, and what poisonous thoughts, in turn, the toppers confer upon their wearers.
Head of Medusa Inkwell. c. 1900 (?). Bronze lidded inkwell of the Head of Medusa on a marble base. France? About 10 cm. tall
Now Medusa can finally flip her top over her poor lot in life and afterlife. Beneath her neck, serpents conveniently coil so as to form pen holders. Just the thing for poison pen letters.
Medusa Tray. C. 2010. Porcelain tray. Versace by Rosenthal. Germany. About 14 cm square.
“In mythology, the Medusa can petrify people with a look - which is a good thing, I think. But the Medusa is a unique symbol - something strong. It's about going all the way.”
- Donatella Versace
Versace chose Medusa for the brand’s symbol and the design house produces a large and wide-ranging line of products bearing the gorgon’s idealized image, already turned to stone, for your convenience.
And, in closing, for those not yet wearried of thought or blearried of vision, our final entry, a Medusa of an antierly idffenet nature.
Bell Medusa. 1795. Hand colored engraving on paper. The Naturalists' Miscellany, Or, Coloured Figures of Natural Objects; Drawn and Described Immediately from Nature by George Shaw and Frederick and Richard Nodder. London. About 14 x 23 cm.
Medusa lives! Tentacles replace the serpentine locks on this jellyfish, but its capacity to captivate remains unchanged as the partially-engorged grimacing fish will attest.
I hope that you enjoyed this anfractuous entry, an iconographic cornucopia of emblematic images, a discourse on discord. The Collection (unsurprisingly) has additional examples that are not represented here, so for that, you may be grateful.
With so many themes yet untouched, one truly wonders what could be next for this ethereal collection of exhibition catalogues to unexhibited shows. A touch of frivolity may be in order before we continue our path to Perdition through erudition. Curious?
Thank you for visiting.
Most sincerely yours,
le Compte Paul Gregoire de Gustibus
“Nothing is but what is not.”
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