Titian's "Flaying of Marsyas" in the Archiépiscopal Palace at Kromëriz*

Home , Dosso Dossi, Flaying, Giulio Bonasone, Marsyas, Satyr

Realism and Classicism in the Representation of a Painful Scene: Titian's "Flaying of Marsyas" in the Archiépiscopal Palace at Kromëriz*

PHILIPP FEHL

The "Flaying of Marsyas" by Titian (fig. 1) has been housed in the palace of the archbishop at Kromeffz ever since the seventeenth century.1 It is a work that suggests at first glance the mature style of the old Titian, it has an excellent pedigree of ownership (we find it mentioned in the inventory of the famous collection of the Earl of Arundel),2 and yet it has, on the whole, been given scant attention by historians of art. This appears to be due not only to its location off the beaten path of art-scholarly peregrinations, but also to the fact that it presents a scene so conspicuously bloody that it alienates even the rough-and-ready taste of a modern audience. The sight of the two dogs: one lapping up the blood that is streaming to the ground from the body of the victim hanging upside down like an animal in a butcher's shop, and the other ready to pounce on Marsyas, but restrained by a weeping boy; the eagerness of the executioner; and, above all, the fancy of the fiddler playing music to accompany the flaying - all these are elements that

* In Memoriam Katerina Reissova. 1 Acquired in 1673 by Bishop Karl Liechtenstein-Castelcorn. For the documen- tary evidence, cf. Antonin Breitenbacher, Dejiny arcibiskupske obrazarny v Kromeriz (Kromeriz, 1925-1927), passim. The picture is at present, for the purpose of restoration, in the depot of the National Gallery in Prague. About two years ago, in connection with the restoration of the work which was then already in progress, there appeared (in several languages) a book by Jaromir Neumann, which was accessible to me in its German edition, Tizian: Die Schindung des Marsyas (Prague, Artia, 1962). While my interpretation differs from Dr. Neu- mann's, and to some extent depends on the introduction of evidence he does not consider, I do wish gratefully to acknowledge - as every future writer on the work will have to - my indebtedness to his careful and sensitive study. 2 Bishop Karl Liechtenstein-Castelcorn bought three paintings by Titian (of which two are now lost), together with other paintings, from Franz von Imsten- raed, a nephew of the famous collector, Eberhard Jabach. A number of Imsten- raed pictures can be traced back to the collection of Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, and the inventory of the Arundel paintings lists a "Marsias Scortigato" by Titian. Cf. Neumann, op. cit., p. 9, and Lionel Cust, "Notes on the Collec- tions Formed by Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel and Surrey, K. G.", The Burlington Magazine, XX (1911), p. 284. 1388 Philipp Fehl seem designed to promote the happiness of characters in a cartoon by Charles Addams rather than the delight of a lover of the works of Titian. And, indeed, until recently, such discussions of the picture as there were restricted themselves primarily to the study of the brush strokes and the composition of the work.3 If one faced the subject matter at all, it was either to reject it as unworthy of Titian or, more often, to see in all this bloodiness not the punishment of Marsyas, but his martyr- dom.4 The victim of the scene, in other words, was turned into its hero. Moving as such an interpretation may be, it is simply not compatible with the nature of the subject as it presented itself to a Renaissance public. The ancient accounts of the story of Marsyas and its Renais- sance interpretations usually allow us, and even invite us, to find his fate pitiable, but they also take it for granted that the cruelty of Apollo derives from the wrath of an offended god and that Marsyas has brought his fate upon himself - either by impudence or, at least, by a lack of prudence and humility in the presence of a god.5 A modern viewer must learn to face the fact that Titian, just like Ovid, whose description of the scene he chiefly follows, is on the side of Apollo.6 A facile, but horribly monstrous, solution of our problem

3 For a list of relevant publications, cf. Neumann, op. cit., "Literaturnachweis", following p. 31. 4 For a comparison of Marsyas with St. Andrew, cf. Otto Benesch, "Die Fuerst- erzbischoefliche Gemaeldegalerie in Kremsier", Pantheon, I (1928), p. 23, and Neumann, op. cit., p. 10. For rejections of the painting as a work by Titian, cf. Theodor Hetzer in Ulrich Thieme and Felix Becker, Allgemeines Lexikon der bildenden Kuenstler von der Antike bis zur Cegenwart, vol. 34 (1940), p. 167, and Frederick Hartt, Giulio Romano (New Haven, 1958), vol. I, p. Ill, n. 8. 5 For a list of the antique literary accounts and references to the story, cf. the entry "Marsyas" (by G. Burckhardt), Paulys Real-Encyclopaedie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft, Neue Bearbeitung, vol. XIV (Stuttgart, 1930), cols. 1987- 1993. Exceptions to the position generally taken are found in Lucian in a burlesque reference (Dialog. Deorum xvi. 2), and Diodorus Siculus (iii. 58-59 and v. 75. 3), who says that Apollo later was so ashamed of having punished Marsyas excessively that he broke the strings of his lyre and for a time would have nothing to do with its music. Ovid (Met. vi. 382-401) presents the story as part of a cycle of stories of human beings who showed contempt for the gods and were punished for it. Cf. his own statement, Metamorphoses vi. 313-318. See also his Ibis 343, 551. In Regius' commentary on the Metamorphoses Marsyas is considered guilty of "audacia" (ed. Venice, 1565, p. 131). Andrea Alciati speaks of Marsyas' "arrogantia" and links his punishment with those of Niobe, Thamyris, and Arachne (Emblema LXVII: "Arrogantia", Emblemata, ed. Padua, 1661, pp. 296-301). 6 Mythological paintings by Titian which represent punishments comparable to that of Marsyas are "The Death of Acteon", "Diana and Callisto", and more remotely, "Sisyphus" and "Tityus". If I am not mistaken, the "Contest of Apollo and Marsyas" appears also (in the form of a classical relief) in the background The Representation of a Painful Scene 1389 would be to assume that in being shocked by the work, we are victims of sentimental delusions and that the horror of the work speaks strongly to the strong - that, in other words, it was made for a tougher genera- tion. Such cases have been construed, on occasion, in the "defence" of scenes of slaughter in Shakespeare, or even in Homer,7 but if, indeed, greatness in art rose from a disdain for or lack of sensibility, we should not wish for greatness in art. Fortunately, we know better, thanks to the inspired teaching in poetry by men like Gilbert Murray, who taught us again to make a distinction in essence between the compassionate representation of death and sorrow as we find it in the Iliad and the mere excitement of slaughter that we often find in the so-called "national" epics,8 and thanks, too, to the example of Thomas Masaryk whose life of Titian's portrait of a man (the so-called "Mendoza") in the Palazzo Pitti in Florence (Hans Tietze, Titian, Paintings and Drawings (Vienna, 1937), fig. 192). The figure on the right, who, (according to Tietze's description, ibid., p. 323) plays the lyre, would be Apollo, and the figure seated dejectedly on a rock, the defeated Marsyas. His flute lies on the ground before him. (For a comparable representation of the seated Marsyas, note the "Medici Carnelian", note 14 infra., and the relevant references given by Karl Hadaczek, "Marsyas",Jahreshefte des oesterreichischen archaeologischen Institutes, X (1907), pp. 314-317, and Rhys Carpenter, "Observations on Familiar Statuary in Rome", Memoirs of the Amer- ican Academy in Rome, XVII (New York, 1961), pp. 84-91). Titian's purpose in presenting the portrait figure directly in front of such a scene may have been to show that the sitter is a partisan and defender of the moral and musical prin- ciples represented by Apollo. Apollo and Marsyas may also be shown on the much-discussed relief on the base of St. Peter's throne in Titian's "Votive Picture of Jacopo Pesaro" in Antwerp (Tietze, op. cit., pl. 1). They would be the first two figures to the left of the center of the relief. For a bibliography of different explanations of this interesting relief, cf. Eugene B. Cantelupe, "Titian's Sacred and Profane Love's Re-examined", The Art Bulletin, vol. 46 (1964), p. 222, notes 23-27 7 For a sensitive and almost regretful (and therefore rare) recommendation of such a view, cf. C. A. Sainte-Beuve, "Qu'est-ce qu'un classique?", Causeries du Lundi Oct. 21 (1850), Paris, n.d. (Gamier Frères, 3rd éd.), vol. III, pp. 45-47. On the origins of the attitude, cf. the thoughtful and richly documented exposi- tion by Karl Borinski, Die Antike in Poetik und Kusttheorie (Leipzig, 1914), vol. II, pp. 198-264. See also A. L. Kroeber and Clyde Kluckhohn, Culture, a Critical Review of Concepts and Definitions (New York, 1952), esp. pp. 19-62. Ernst Robert Curtius notes the following statement by Simon Pelloutier (1694- 1757), a French Protestant clergyman in Berlin, as the first harbinger of the new persuasion: "L'ignorance et le mépris des lettres sont la véritable origine de la poésie", Europaeische Literatur und Lateinisches Mittelalter (Bern, 1948), pp. 397-398. See also pp. 326-327, ibid. On the position of Diderot, who despised squeamishness but detested brutality, and on his view of the sublime in art, cf. Jean Seznec, Essais sur Diderot et l'Antiquité (Oxford, 1957), pp. 58-78. 8 For succinct expositions, cf. Gilbert Murray, Hellenism and the Modern World (London, 1953), especially pp. 22-23 and Benedetto Croce, "War as Ideal", Germany and Europe, New York, 1944, pp. 70-71. J 390 Philipp Fehl and work demonstrated for us all the glory of that distinction in political practice.9 The interpretation of Titian's picture of the "Flaying of Marsyas" which I should like to propose rises from the assumption that, far from being "too soft" to follow Titian, we may have become too dull to comprehend the fineness of his art and its ultimate moral grandeur. I must confess, however, that what I have to say is based only on my knowledge of photographs of the work, and can therefore only be offered with all the reservations that this lack of first-hand knowledge imposes.10 The story of the contest of Apollo and Marsyas was frequently illustrated in popular prints such as our fig. 2, a woodcut from the Ovidio Vulgare of 1497.11 Its pictorial narration more or less follows a pattern familiar to us from our comic strips, except that the divisions between the different units in time and place are not marked by vertical lines. The story begins in the upper left-hand corner. Athena, who has invented the flute, which is here represented by the more elaborate bagpipe, shows off her new invention at the table of the gods on Mt. Olympus. The gods, however, instead of praising her, laugh at her because the blowing of the pipes inflates her cheeks so that her appear- ance is far from that becoming a goddess. Athena leaves the gods in anger and, coming upon a body of water, sits down by it to play. She sees her reflection in the water and, in disgust, throws away her pipes. The satyr Marsyas, here shown as a peasant,12 picks up the pipes, delights in the wonder of the instrument, and becomes so good at playing it that he eventually has the effrontery to ask Apollo, the master of heavenly harmony whose instrument is the lyre - here represented in the guise of the then-modern lira da braccio - for a test of skills. They agree that the victor in the contest may do with the loser what he likes. The judges

" It may here also be in order to refer to the position taken by Masaryk in the case of the Zelena Hora manuscripts. Cf. Karel Capek, President Masaryk Tells his Story (New York, 1935), pp. 153-156. 10 I take the liberty of presenting my view only because the problem I am dis- cussing is chiefly one of iconography. I had an opportunity to talk about the picture with Prof. H. Gerson, who had not long before seen it in the original. He assured me that I need have no apprehension regarding the soundness of its attribution to Titian. See also Neumann, op. cit., esp. pp. 8-9. 11 Ovidio methamorphoseos vulgare, trans, by Giovanni de' Bonsignori (Venice, 1497). On the sources and the influence of this first illustrated printed edition of the Metamorphoses in Italian, cf. Lamberto Donati, "Edizioni quattrocentesche non pervenuteci delle 'metamorfosi' ", Atti del Convegno Internazionale Ovidiano, Sulmona, Maggio, 1958, vol. I (Rome, 1959), pp. 111-124. 12 In the Italian text, the figure is called "uno villano", a peasant. The Representation of a Painful Scene 1391 are differently listed in different accounts of the story. They often in- clude Athena and the Muses and, on occasion, in a conflation of the story with that of the contest of Apollo and Pan, the mountain Tmolus (a local deity) and King Midas.13 With the exception of Midas, they all accord the victory to Apollo and Apollo chooses to execute Marsyas by flaying him alive. Out of the blood of the victim and the tears wept by the woodland creatures - the nymphs and Marsyas' fellow satyrs - a river is created which "to this day" is called Marsyas. Mentioned by Ovid and shown in some pictorial representations of the story is Olympus, a beautiful youth who was Marsyas' student in flute playing. His intercession moved Apollo enough to grant him the body of Marsyas for burial.14 It is said that Apollo hung Marsyas' flayed skin upon a tree and that it remained there as a sign of his victory. When the wind moved the skin, it gave forth a sound which reminded one of the playing of Marsyas' flutes.15 Naturally, a story like that has a moral. The lyre and the flutes, just like the god and the satyr, are seen as a contrasting pair. The lyre, with its well-attuned strings, readily represents harmony and law and order, while the pipes, which are made to emit sound by the pressure of the breath, stand for wild passion, sensuousness, and ultimate chaos.16 The

13 Athena and the Muses are named as judges by Apuleius, Florida i. 3. Hyginus Fab. 165, and others only name the Muses. On sarcophagi, Athena and the Muses frequently appear as judges or witnesses of the execution. (Cf. Karl Robert, Die antiken Sarkophagreliefs, vol. II pt. 2, (Berlin, 1904), Nos. 196-215). The conflation of the stories of Apollo and Marsyas and Apollo and Pan is legitimated, as it were, by Hyginus Fab. 191 ".. .eo tempore quo Apollo cum Marsya vel Pane fistula certavit ...". The most influential account of the contest of Apollo and Pan (in which Tmolus plays a prominent role) is that of Ovid (Met. xi, pp. 146- 193). 14 Hyginus Fab. 165, Pliny, Nat. Hist. v. 30. 106. In the Renaissance, the most famous antique representation of "Olympus imploring Apollo for the body of Marsyas" was a carving on a carnelian, now lost, which had once been owned by Cosimo dei Medici. For a list of surviving replicas and an elementary bibliography, cf. Leo Planiscig, Die estensische Kunstsammlung (Vienna, 1919), vol. I, p. 164. For a picture of the subject by Giulio Romano, cf. Hartt, op. cit., vol. I, p. 32, and vol. II, fig. 51. 15 According to Herodotus vii. 26. 3, the skin of Marsyas could be seen suspended in the forum of the city of Celaenae; see also Pausanias x. 30. 9. On the sounds given off by the skin, cf. Nonnos, Dionysiaca i. 42, and xix. 319-322; and Aelian, Var. Hist. xiii. 21. An allegorical explanation of the sounds is given by Aristides Quintilianus De Musica, ed. Marcus Meibom (Amsterdam, 1652), vol. II, p. 108. 10 In Plato's Republic (iii. 10. 391 D), the flute is not admitted into the city. "We are not innovating, my friend, in preferring Apollo and the instruments of Apollo to Marsyas and his instruments. 'No, by heaven!' he said, 'I think not.' 'And by the dog,' said I, 'We have all unawares purged the city which a little while ago we said was luxurious.' 'In that we show our good sense', he said." 1392 Philipp Fehl

(Ibid. 399 E, trans. Paul Shorey, (Loeb Classical Library), London, 1946, vol. I, p. 251). In the Minos (318 B), on the other hand, Marsyas and Olympus are named as "law-givers in regard to the laws of flute-playing... and their flute- tunes also are most divine, and alone stir and make manifest those who are in need of the gods ...". (Trans, by Wa R. M. Lamb, Plato, vol. VIII (Loeb Clas- sical Library, London, 1955), p. 409). The distinction between virtuous and cor- rupt kinds of music is developed at length in the second book of the Laws. The conflict between Apollo and Marsyas is also recalled (and, perhaps, reconciled) in the Symposium (215-217), when Alcibiades playfully and lovingly likens So- crates to Marsyas. He is quick to point out that the charm of Socrates, though it is as irresistible as the (sensuous) flute-playing of Marsyas, is a force emanating from Socrates' virtue. The "inner Socrates" is as beautiful as the forms of So- crates' features are ugly. Note also the account of Alcibiades' rejection of flute- playing in Plutarch, Alcibiades 2, 4-6 and Aulus Gellius, Noct. Att. xv. 17. In later literature, the flutes are, on occasion, comdemned categorically. St. Jerome, in attacking the critics of his translation of the Bible, alludes to the punishment of Midas in the story of the contest of Apollo and Pan when he says that "it is idle to play the lyre for an ass". (St. Jerome, Letters and Select Works, ed. Philip Schoff and Henry Wace, New York, 1893, Letter 27. 1, p. 44.) According to an interesting passage in Epiphanius (Adv. Haerenses 35), the flute player is the image of the archfiend who "causes everything, including the civilized world, to vanish into utter destruction, while left and right he brings perdition by his seductive tone" (Cf. W. G. Studdert-Kennedy, "Titian, the Fitzwilliam Venus", The Burlington Magazine (November, 1958), p. 351, n. 10.) St. Augustine, in his De Musica, seems to come closer to Plato's meaning when he establishes a hierarchy in music-making in terms of an "ascent from rhythm in sense to the immortal rhythm which is in truth." (Cf. Edward E. Lowinsky, "Epilogue: The Music in St. Jerome's Study", The Art Bulletin, 41 (1959), pp. 298-301, esp. p. 301.) For a hierarchy of musical instruments developed in terms of the contest of Apollo and Marsyas, cf. Aristides Quintilianus, ed. Meibom, vol. II, pp. 107-111. See also Fulgentius Mitol. iii. 9. An impressive and, in Renaissance musical theory, most influential reinterpretation of Plato's condemnation of the flute is offered by Plutarch, who says that Apollo was in fact the inventor of all music, whether the instrument be the flute or the lyre. The sense of Plato's words, he suggests, is rather that virtuous music is agreeable to the gods, while the "effe- minate musical tattling, mere sound without substance" of the modern artists is an abuse of the gifts of the gods (De Musica 14-15 and 30-32). On the blessings bestowed upon mankind by virtuous music, cf. De Musica 40-44. Plutarch's interpretation is essentially in keeping with the critical expansion of Plato's thesis by Aristotle. (Note especially Politics viii. 4.3-7.11). On the influence of antique views of the dignity of music on Renaissance musical theory, cf. D. P. Walker, Der Musikalische Humanismus im 16. und fruehen 17. Jahrhundert (Kassel, 1949), and Frances A. Yates, The French Academies of the Sixteenth Century (London, 1947), esp. pp. 36-37. On the conflict between the lyre and the flutes, note esp. Emmanuel Winternitz, "The Curse of Pallas Athena", Studies in the History of Art Dedicated to William E. Suida (London, 1959), pp. 186-195. On a level of popular instruction by proverb, the contrast between the two kinds of music is demonstrated neatly by two woodcuts in Sebastian Brant's Das Narren Schyff, 1st ed. (Basle, 1494). The first shows a fool earnestly playing the bagpipes and disregarding a lyre and a lute that are cast on the ground. The title reads: "Wem sack pfiffen freud/ kurtzwil gytt/ Und acht der harpff/ und luten nytt/ Der ghort wol uff den narren schlytt." The second shows the flaying of the fool who is held to merit his iust reward: "Der narr Marsyas der verlor/ Das man im Figure 1. Titian. "The Flaying of Marsyas". Archiépiscopal Palace, Kromériz. Figure 2. "Apollo and Marsyas". Woodcut from the Ovidio Volgare, Venice, 1497.

Figure 3. "Apollo and Marsyas". Relief from a Roman sarcophagus, Louvre, Paris.

Figure 4. Philippe Thomassin, "Dance of Apollo and the Muses". Engraving after a painting by Baldassare Peruzzi or Giulio Romano. Figure 5. Raphael, "Apollo and Marsyas". Stanza della Segnatura, Vatican. Figure 6. Domenichino, "The Flaying of Marsyas". National Gallery, London.

Figure 7. Jusepe de Ribera, "The Flaying of Marsyas". Museo Nazionale, Naples. Figure 8. Giulio Romano, "The Flaying of Marsyas". Palazzo del Te, Mantua.

Figure 9. Giulio Bonasone, "The Flaying of Marsyas". Engraving. Figure 10. Titian, "The Flaying of Marsyas". Detail of figure 1. Figure 11. Titian, "The Flaying of Marsyas". Detail of figure 1. Figure 12. Dosso Dossi, "Apollo and Daphne". Galleria Borghese, Rome. Figure 13. Titian, "Baptism of Christ". Pinacoteca Capitolina, Rome. Figure 14. Titian, "Venus and Cupid with a Lute Player". Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. The Representation of a Painful Scene 1393 musical contest of Apollo and Marsyas is comparable to that of the Muses and the Sirens, or the Pierides,17 and may even reflect an echo of the great battle between the gods and the giants in which the victory of the gods established the rule of law and order and beauty in the universe.18 The connection between the story and its allegorical meaning is immediate - the moral is part of the story as it is given. Antique pictorial representations of the story were transmitted to Renaissance artists in reliefs on sarcophagi,19 in works of sculpture in the round,20 and on gems.21 The presence of the story on a sarcophagus (fig. 3) by itself suggests a reference to a higher meaning, such as the triumph of light over darkness.22 The abstract or inner message of his story, however, did not tempt the antique artist to give his work an abstract character. The picture on the sarcophagus is lively and, within the terms of the conventions of antique narrative relief, naturalistic. There are actually two scenes contained within one frame. On the left is the contest. Athena is one of the judges; a nymph listens enraptured to the god; on Apollo's left, a Victory, who looks to one of the judges

abzoch hut und hör/ Hielt doch die sackpfiff/ noch als vor." (For reproductions, cf. Friedrich Winkler, Duerer und die Illustrationen zum Narrenschiff (Berlin, 1951), pis. 3 and 41). 17 Cf. Ovid, Met. v. 294-678. Pausanias ix, 34. 3. See also Walter Otto, Die Musen (Duesseldorf, 1956), p. 58. 18 Ibid., p. 63. 19 For references to characteristic representations, cf. Salomon Reinach, Réper- toire des reliefs Grecs et Romaines (Paris, 1909), vol. II, pp. 84, 122, 180, 249; vol. Ill, pp. 158, 232, 241, 291, 321, 338, 381. 20 Cf. Margarete Bieber, The Sculpture of the Hellenistic Age (New York, 1961), pp. 110-111, and figs. 438-440, and note 40 infra. 21 Cf. Adolf Furtwaengler, Die antiken Gemmen (Leipzig, 1900), pis. XXX, No. 36, pl. XLVI, No. 16 (probably a Renaissance copy of the gem referred to in note 14 supra). For additional information on antique representations of "Apollo and Marsyas', cf. Chr. Clairmont, "Studies in Greek Mythology and Vase-painting", Yale Classical Studies, 15 (1957), pp. 159-178, and Konrad Schauenburg, "Marsyas", Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archaeologischen Instituts, Roemische Abteilung, vol. 65 (1958), pp. 42-66, (gems are listed on p. 54, n. 85). See also Gianfilippo Carettoni, "Di un nuovo sarcofago con il mito d'Apollo e Marsia", Bulletino delta Commissione Archeologica Comunale di Roma, LXV (1937), pp. 61-71. 22 Cf. Franz Cumont, Recherches sur le symbolisme funéraire des Romains (Paris, 1942), pp. 17-20, 146-147, 316-318. For modifications of Cumont's approach, cf. A. D. Nock, "Sarcophagi and Symbolism", American Journal of Archaeology, 50 (1946), pp. 140-170 and Edgar Wind, Pagan Mysteries of the Renaissance (New Haven, 1958), pp. 134, n. 5. See also Erwin Panofsky, Tomb Sculpture (New York), n.d., pp. 23-38. The sarcophagus here reproduced is described by Robert, op. cit., n. 198. 1394 Philipp Fehl

(presumably, the mountain god Tmolus 23) for the expected sign of approval, is about to crown Apollo with a victor's wreath; and at Apollo's feet reclines a river god, probably Meander.24 The scene on the right depicts the subsequent development of the story. The verdict has been given and Marsyas is tied to a tree.25 At his feet we see the executioner sharpening his knife. The figure standing behind this busy man is engaged in pulling a rope which will stretch Marsyas more tight- ly against the tree.26 The allegorical implications of the Marsyas story were taken up with avidity in the Renaissance. We find the flaying illustrated, e.g., in a popular handbook of allegories such as Cartari's Imagini delli dei,27 or significantly referred to in an engraving by Thomassin after a well- known painting of the "Dance of Apollo and the Muses" in the Uffizi which is attributed to Giulio Romano or, by others, to Baldassare

23 Ovid, Met. xi. 156-193, Pliny Nat. Hist. v. 30. 110 (in conjuction with v. 30. 106). 24 Herodotus vii. 26; Pausanias ii. 7. 9; Pliny, Nat. Hist. v. 30. 106, v. 31. 113 and others. 25 According to Hyginus Fab. 165, Philostratus Jun., Imagines 2, and others, this was a pine tree. According to Pliny, it was a plane tree (Nat. Hist. xvi. 240). 28 The action is especially unmistakable on an antique sarcophagus fragment in the church of San Paolo fuori le Mura in Rome. Cf. Reinach, Reliefs, p. 321. (See also a coin of Antoninus Pius, reproduced in Metropolitan Museum Studies, III (1930/31), fig. 13 (facing p. 42) and figs. 11, 12 ibid.). It brings to mind a form of military punishment practised in the Austrian Army almost until the end of the First World War which was known as "anbinden". In that process, the arms were tied behind the victim's back and then pulled up. This form of torture, which was also used in concentration camps, may well represent a tradition which has had no difficulty surviving from antiquity. A mechanically refined version of the procedure is represented on a page of the Pandects, illuminated by Nicolo da Bologna, Vatican Library, Ms. Vat. lat., fol. 179 (reproduced in Encyclopedia of World Art, vol. VIII (New York, 1963), pi. 189). The Italian name for the torture is "la corda", the Spanish, "la garrucha", the French, "l'es- trapade". For details, cf. Franz Helbing (pseud, for David Haek), Die Tortur: Geschichte der Folter im Kriminalverfahren aller Zeiten und Voelker (Berlin, 1926), and R. Quantec, Die Folter in der Deutschen Rechtspflege (Dresden, 1900). 27 Vincenzo Cartari, Imagini delli dei de gl'antichi (Venice, 1647), reprint, Graz, 1963, p. 296. The illustration follows the representation on the Medici carnelian mentioned in note 14 supra. The most striking and influential reference to the flaying of Marsyas as allegory occurs in Dante's prayer to Apollo "Entra nel petto mio, e spira tue si come quando Marsia traesti de la vagina de le membre sue" (Paradiso i, 19-21). The full meaning of the passage has been debated, but the elementary sense seems to be that Dante, who considers himself unworthy of his great task, begs Apollo to free him, another Marsyas, from himself. Inspired with the furor of Apollo, he will be able to sing the praise of paradise with a pure passion. Note also Dante's reference to the victory of the Muses over the Pierides (Purgatorio i, 10-20). The Representation of a Painful Scene 1395

Peruzzi (fig. 4).28 In this dance is expressed, allegorically, at least, the life and joy of all that is noble in the arts.29 The quiver of Apollo is decorated with the head of a satyr, evidently that of Marsyas.30 The signif- icance would seem to be that Apollo's triumph over Marsyas makes possible the undisturbed continuation of the dance.31 The figures at the extreme ends of the picture are not musicians playing the tune of the dance, but the contestants, Apollo and Marsyas, shown at a moment in the past which is here made visible again simultaneously with the triumphal dance. The dance and the contestants are consecutive elements in the narration of the story. The narrative technique resembles somewhat that employed on the sarcophagus (fig. 3), but its principal effect is more like that of a "flash-back" in our modern movies.32 The

28 Georg Kauffmann, "Peruzzis Musenreigen", Mitteilungen des Kunsthistori- schen Instituts in Florenz, XI (December, 1963), pp. 54-61. 29 Regarding the extended meanings of the dance of the Muses, cf. Cartari, op. cit., p. 30. See also Otto, op. cit., pp. 54-57, 64, 76-77, and Edgar Wind, op. cit., p. 46, n. 5, and the pi. facing p. 46 ("The Music of the Spheres"). 30 This went unnoticed until pointed out by Kauffmann, op. cit., p. 58. 31 My view of this differs from that of Kauffmann, who takes the satyr mask to be an attribute of certain Dionysiac aspects of the character of Apollo, "als Hindeutung auf das auch untergruendig faunische seines Wesens" (ibid., p. 60). I regard the mask on the quiver rather as a kind of trophy similar to that of the head of the Medusa on the breast-plate of Minerva. The Muses are said to have attacked the Sirens after their victory over them in a singing contest and to have pulled out their feathers, from which they made themselves crowns (Pausanias ix. 34. 3; see also Cartari, op. cit., p. 30). For representations of the scene as it appears on sarcophagi, cf. Gisela M. Richter, The Metropolitan Museum of Art: Handbook of the Classical Collection (New York, 1930), fig. 220 and pp. 311- 312. Apollo's relation to Marsyas is more frightening but similarly direct. My contention may be supported by referring to two statues of Apollo in the Vatican. One shows the god resting his lyre on the head of a little figure of Marsyas at his feet, and the other (which was found together with seven Muses) holds a cithara decorated with the image of the hanging Marsyas. (Walther Amelung, Die Sculpturen des Vaticanischen Museums, vol. I, pi. 51, n. 292 B, and vol. Ill, pt. 1, pi. 7, n. 516. Attention to the detail on the latter statue is drawn by Car- penter, op cit., p. 88). Note also a statuette of Apollo holding up the severed head of Marsyas, as reproduced by Bernard de Monfaucon, L'Antiquité expli- quée et représentée en figures (Paris, 1722), vol. I, pl. 54, n. 3, facing p. 106. Even though the head is probably a restoration, the invention would still reflect a Renaissance response to the topic. Kauffmann also supports his thesis with the suggestion that the tree under which Marsyas stands might refer to Ceres and fertility and, thus, to Dionysiac rites (op. cit., p. 60, n. 3). The tree is, however, more likely sufficiently explained as an indication of the rustic scene in which the satyr is at home. If an identification must be pressed, then we may see in it (in keeping with the simple narrative of the story) the tree to which Marsyas soon will be tied in order to be flayed (cf. note 25 supra). 32 The occasion for the "invention" of this particular picture may perhaps have been provided by a sarcophagus showing the dance of the Muses on its long side 1396 Philipp Fehl

contest happened long ago: now the image of Marsyas' head adorns the quiver of the victor, and the arts, enlightened by Apollo, flourish, or dance, gracefully and nobly.38 So much for the background for looking at a picture representing the "Flaying of Marsyas" as one might take it for granted in the sixteenth century. An artist charged with the representation of the story necessarily had to concern himself with the manner in which he would represent the cruelty of the subject. Naturally, if the subject were to be merely an allegory, the problem would not exist, for then we would know that the figures before us are mere cyphers, hieroglyphics that cannot really be hurt, acting out a kind of proverb.34 But when art is able and wants to represent scenes that are actually believable, as if the and the contest of Apollo and Marsyas on the two short sides. A sarcophagus of the "Dance of the Muses", formerly in the Collection Pacca (Reinach, Reliefs, vol. Ill, p. 232), shows an arrangement suggesting something of this sort. The pictures on the short sides represent (a) "The Flaying of Marsyas" and (b) "The Contest of Apollo and Marsyas". A juxtaposition of Apollo and Marsyas, which, as I see it, is quite similar to that offered in Thomassin's engraving, appears on an emblem reproduced by Girolamo Ruscelli, Le lmprese lllustri (Venice, 1584), p. 391. Apollo and Marsyas are on the sides; the central scene is taken up by Apollo in the sky, driving his chariot and illuminating the world. 33 Kauffmann very plausibly draws attention to a likely connection between this picture and Mantegna's representation of a dance of the Muses in his "Parnassus" in the Louvre, (op. cit., p. 60). If this picture, as was recently proposed by E. H. Gombrich ("An Interpretation of Mantegna's Parnassus", Journal of the Warburg and Courtaul Institutes, XXVI ,1963), pp. 196-198), celebrates the rule of peace of Isabella d'Este as Venus, then the dance of the Muses is a reflection of her patronage of the fine arts. Since a companion picture shows her as Minerva driving the vices from her realm (Dora and Erwin Panofsky, Pandora's Box. The Changing Aspects of a Mythical Symbol (New York, 1956), p. 44, n. 13), and the vices there are represented in the forms of satyrs and related creatures, the two pictures together would also be in keeping with the sense of the triumph of Apollo over Marsyas. Minerva, Apollo, the Muses, and the Venus who subdues Mars, are all ranged on the same side, in opposition to the vices and ecstasies. In a drawing (and in an engraving made after it, probably by Zoan Andrea) called "Virtus Combusta", Mantegna also shows a strange satyr-type (with bats' wings and feet ending in birds' or sirens' claws) in the company of a seemingly blind youth with asses' ears (Midas, i.e., bad judgment, in another form?) who foolishly and wickedly guide people to their perdition by the music the satyr plays on his bagpipe. (For a summary of the interpretations offered (which do not, however, particularly regard the musical aspect of the work), cf. A. E. Pop- ham and Philip Pouncey, Italian Drawings in the Department of Prints and Drawings in the British Museum• The Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries (Lon- don, 1950), pp. 95-97, n. 157. See also A. M. Hind, Early Italian Engraving vol. V, part II, (London, 1948), pp. 27-29, n. 22 and Panofsky, Pandora's Box, pp. 44-48). Cf. "The Flaying of the Fool Marsyas", in Das Narrenschyff, referred to at the end of note 16 supra. The Representation of a Painful Scene 1397

event depicted were taking place before us, then the problem is quite real. There have been critics who felt that our subject was by nature not fit for the art of painting. "Who", says Lessing, "can recall the punishment of Marsyas, in Ovid, without a feeling of disgust?" 35 And, to be sure, when we look at the passage in Ovid, we are poor readers indeed if we are unable to share Lessing's sentiment.

" 'Help', Marsyas clamored! 'Why are you stripping me from myself? Never again, I promise! Playing a pipe is not worth this.' But in spite of his cries his skin was torn off the whole surface of his body; it was all in a raw wound. Blood flowed everywhere, his nerves were exposed, unprotected, his veins pulsed with no skin to cover them. It was possible to count the throbbing organs, and the chambers of his lungs, clearly visible within his breast... ." 39 Goethe's friend, the painter Heinrich Meyer, felt so strongly about the subject that he not only included it prominently in a list he once com- piled of subjects that go against the grain of painting (Widerstrebende

35 Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, Laocoon, trans. Ellen Frothingham (New York, 1957), chapter 25, p. 163. ("Wer kann die Strafe des Marsyas, beim Ovid, sich ohne Empfindung des Ekels denken?"). According to Lessing, the "loathsome details" may be used to advantage in literature, but they are quite inappropriate to painting (cf. p. 167, ibid.). 36 The Metamorphoses of Ovid, translated by Mary M. Innes (Penguin Books, Ltd., Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England), pp. 157-158. A demonstration ad oculos of the point made by Lessing is provided us in "The Flaying of Sisamnes" by Gerard David in Bruges (A. Janssens de Bisthoven, "Les Primitifs Flamands" Musée Communale des Beaux Arts, Bruges (Antwerp, 1959), pis. 59-86). This work is probably the most triumphantly efficient representation of a flaying. All the details of Ovid's description, such as they apply, are vividly and sickeningly shown in the exposed flesh of the victim's left leg (ibid., pi. 72). Reference to the "Flaying of Marsyas" as an "inspiration piece" is made in a medallion painted on a background wall of the companion picture, "The Seizure of Sisamnes" (ibid., pi. 51). The medallion, in turn, is derived from the "Medici Carnelian" (note 14 supra). Cf. Eugene Muentz, "Les Influences Classiques et le Renouvellement de l'Art", Gazette des Beaux Arts, vol. XIX (1898), p. 480 and Edward Gans and Guido Kisch, "The Cambyses Justice Medal", The Art Bulletin, vol. 29 (1947), pp. 122-123. Lessing realized, of course, that Ovid's purpose was not merely to shock or to display fine artistry in the presentation of a bizarre subject. For his justification of Ovid, cf. Laocoon, chapters 24-25. See also the reference to Diderot, note 7, supra. The unwritten, but indispensable, premise from which Lessing's somewhat complex argument rises is, perhaps, best presented in the words of Lord Shaftesbury: "Cruel spectacles, and Barbaritys are also found to please and in some Tempers, to please beyond all other Subjects. But is this Pleasure right? And shall I follow it, if it presents? Not strive with it. ..?" "Ad- vice to an Author", Characteristiks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times (London, 1732), vol. I, pi. 340). It was not until the coming of Romantic criticism that the sense of such injunctions was seriously questioned. Cf. E. H. Gombrich, "Moment and Movement in Art", Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, XXVII (1964), p. 295. 1398 Philipp Fehl Gegenstaende) but he declared that the man whom he regarded as the very god of painters, Raphael, would have been better advised to avoid the subject.37 Lest we think that such sensibility is but the ridiculous concern of overly-sensitive eighteenth-century stomachs, I quote a critic from classical antiquity who praises a great artist because he avoided showing the shedding of blood in a work of art. He refers to a subject, that of Medea murdering her children, but the point at issue is the same:

"When the hand of Timomachus painted baleful Medea, pulled in diverse directions by jealousy and love of her children, he undertook vast labour in trying to draw her two characters, the one inclined to wrath, the other to pity. But he showed both to the full look at the picture: in her threat dwell tears, and wrath dwells in her pity. The intention is enough, as the sage said. The blood of the children befitted Medea, not the hand of Timomachus." 38 However, the history of art would be a poor thing if artists had always done what critics advised them to do. Sometimes it is the very impos- sibility of a task that goads artists into undertaking it. Whereas, in the hands of mediocrity, the result is likely to lead to the disaster which the sensitive critic predicted, in the hands of genius, the solution of the artist may be the exact opposite of what the rules demanded, and yet - and this is what matters - it will affirm the validity of the very laws of reason and feeling from which the critic deduced his perhaps near-sighted, but not unjust, rule. After all, the great artist is a master of great critical insight. It is only the mediocre artist who would rather flay the critic than explain his position. How did Raphael deal with the cruelty of his subject? The picture (fig. 5) is on the ceiling of the Stanza della Segnatura in the Vatican, where it forms the connecting link between Raphael's great paintings of the "Parnassus" and the "Disputa". Its allegorical legitimation and purpose, placed as it is between "Poetry" and "Theology", is unmistak- 37 "Selbst in den Stanzen Des Vatikans, ist die Strafe des Marsyas von Rafael kein tauglicher Gengenstand fuer die Kunst, der Mahler hatte zwar freylich so viel Geschmack den Marsyas nur angebunden vorzustellen, ehe die blutige Operation des Hautabziehens beginnt, wobey Apollo die Rolle eines boesen Tyrannen spielen wuerde, wenn er auch blos befehlen und zusehen sollte; aber wofuer leidet der arme Satyr?" Heinrich Meyer, "Ueber die Gegenstaende der bildenden Kunst", Kleine Schriften zur Kunst. Deutsche Literaturdenkmale der 18. und 19. Jahrhunderte, vol. XXV (Heilbronn, 1886), p. 36. 38 The Greek Anthology xvi. 136 (Antiphilus). Trsl. W. R. Paton, Loeb Classical Library, vol. V, p. 239. See also Horace, De Arte Poetica, 185-189. For a dis- cussion of Diderot's thoughts on the subject, and for references to extant antique works of the type of Timomachus' painting, as well as to the treatment of the theme by Rubens, Van Loo, and Delacroix, cf. Seznec, op. cit., pp. 71-73. The Representation of a Painful Scene 1399 able,39 but the execution of the work is not at all detached from the obligations of realism. The figures are taken from classical examples, but the painter fills them brimful with life and with the passions appropriate to each character on the scene. A genius or, perhaps, a disciple, offers Apollo the crown of victory. Apollo lectures the hapless Marsyas and condemns him to death. Even the executioner is intimidated by the fury of the god - a fury which is a consummation of contradictions: it is at once boundless and unruffled - and he awaits the signal to commence the execution. Marsyas is tied to the tree in the painful position we saw before (fig. 3). His toes barely touch the ground - just enough to keep him from fainting (lest he cease to feel pain). At the same time, this position stretches his skin functionally so that the flaying will be an efficient and clean job.40 Raphael imprinted on the face of Marsyas the sorrow of death and defeat, and the quietude that distinguishes despair in its ultimate mo- ments. Just as Raphael spares us the sight of the blood by choosing the moment before the execution for his picture, so he spares Marsyas the degradation of his agony. He neither lies nor prettifies. Marsyas' pain is intense and real, but so is the melancholy dignity of his quietude.

38 For a recent study of the allegorical implications, cf. Wind, op. cit., pp. 142- 146. 40 The realistic aspect of Raphael's painting is usually denied or overlooked, perhaps because the popular notion that idealism in art is "classical" and naturalism "baroque" acts as a blindfold, especially where the work of Raphael - the most classical of modern painters - is concerned. Raphael's Marsyas is taken from an antique statue of the type discussed by Bieber, op. cit., pp. 110-111. A likely source is a Marsyas in red marble in the Uffizi, described in detail by Wilhelm R. Valentiner, Studies of Italian Renaissance Sculpture (London, 1950), pp. 102-106. This work was yet "improved" in its cruelty by Renaissance restora- tions (ibid., pp. 102, 105). The likeness to Raphael's "Marsyas", as well as Raphael's impressively different concern in the representation of the suffering of Marsyas may become apparent by a comparison of our fig. 5 with Valentiner's figs. 116 and 117 (op. cit., p. 104). For the position of the feet, cf. ibid., p. 118. Note also that Raphael's Marsyas is hanging from the tree with his arms merely stretched out above his head. On a number of the antique representations referred to above (the "red Marsyas" in the Uffizi included), the rendition of the armpits of the victim shows that the arms are completely out of joint - an indication that Marsyas was hung up with his arms tied behind his back in accordance with the torture referred to in note 26, supra. This is particularly evident in the Marsyas in the museum at Istanbul (Bieber, op. cit., fig. 438). This figure is perhaps also the most beautiful among the statues extant, the representation of the suffering of the victim reflecting the same feeling for the dignity of those doomed to die that distinguishes the Marsyas of Raphael. For diagram- matic representations of the dislocation of the joints of victims of the torture, cf. Helbing, op. cit., pp. 165, 353. 1400 Philipp Fehl

Above all, however, Raphael protects the sensibility of his audience by unfolding his story in front of a background painted in the form of a gold mosaic. This background gives us aesthetic distance, just as the liveliness of the figures convinces us of the reality of the scene. I do not wish to claim that Raphael cunningly calculated the bal- anced effect of distance and proximity in the presentation of his work. The balance surely grew from the givenness of the gold background of his ceiling paintings in the Stanza della Segnatura, but the tactfulness of his genius and his particular goodness must have guided him to uti- lize this situation to give us a "Flaying of Marsyas" which is at once truthful and conciliating. Raphael's solution of the problem naturally became exemplary. We find it observed, for example, in a picture by Annibale Caracci on the ceiling of the Palazzo Farnese.41 Here, the flaying of Marsyas is in progress - Apollo himself doing the work - but allowances are made for aesthetic distance, this time by the monochrome of the representation and by the smallness of the picture in comparison with the figures forming the frame. It is as if we were looking at the scene through in- verted opera glasses. There are other good-natured representations of the flaying. Domeni- chino, for instance, places the scene in a peaceful landscape (fig. 6), and gives so little emphasis to the horror of the occurrence that it is gently absorbed by the languid and perhaps idly musical disposition of the elements of the picture. The youth at the extreme right, leaning on his staff, is so beautiful and relaxed in his sorrow and so pointedly a quotation of a classical statue,42 that the sorrow in turn becomes quite unbelievable. He probably represents Olympus, the student of Mar- syas.43 We have here all the distance from the scene of the flaying that politeness can accomplish.44

41 Cf. Hermann Voss, Die Malerei des Barock in Rom (Berlin, 1924), pi. 173. 42 For references to related figures, cf. Bieber, op. cil., p. 26, n. 118; p. 38, n. 35. See also figs. 62 and 86 ibid., and Christian Huelsen, Das Skizzenbuch des Giovanntonio Dosio, Berlin, 1933, fig. 184, pi. 106. 43 Cf. Ovid Met. vi. 393-394, and note 14 supra. 44 In its original context the picture belonged to a series of paintings which all were a part of the decoration of the Sala del Parnaso in the Villa Aldobrandini at Frascati. All the pictures are set in an idyllic landscape and celebrate the deeds of Apollo. The overall effect of the room was naturally festive (cf. Voss, op. cit., p. 507 and Luigi Salerno, "A Domenichino Series at the National Gallery: The Frescoes from the Villa Aldobrandini", Burlington Magazine CV (1963), pp. 194-204). Among other "quiet" representations of the subject, two paintings by Claude Lorrain should be noted. They show the horror of the scene sub- merged to such a degree in the idyllic view of the landscape that at first the The Representation of a Painful Scene 1401

The sometimes studied avoidance of the element of shock in the presentation of the story is actually rarer in the history of painting. The temptation to make the most of the melodramatic opportunities of the story and to test one's skill in the representation of the gory details is great. After Titian's version became known, the temptation may even have been enhanched by the ready prestige of his presumed example. But, basically, the description in Ovid is quite enough to un- leash orgies of bloody performances in painting. In order to carry off such a performance with at least a modicum of respectability, it is necessary to make Marsyas the villain of the piece - quite ugly, low, and cunning, a stupid figure, whose suffering may shock us, but who is really beyond the reach of compassion. Such, it seems, was the position taken by Ribera in a fantastic work which we must imagine in the fullness of its red color (fig. 7).45 He is as much concerned with the task of showing the right of Apollo to feel nothing except contempt for the suffering of his victim, a right which he somehow suggests is intimately connected with his beauty, as he is with the details and the rush of agony of a simply ugly Marsyas.46 Is Titian's painting really a work of this sort? Before we look at it closely, we should look at one other representation of the "Flaying of Marsyas", this time by Giulio Romano, Raphael's

historical subject of the work is hardly noticed. This does not necessarily mean that Claude did not care about his story - he may, in fact, have cared enough to show its sorrow very gently muted. For illustrations, cf. Marcel Roethlisberger, Claude Lorrain (New Haven), 1961, vol. II, pis. 109, 176. 45 For a description, cf. Elizabeth du Gue Trapier, Ribera (New York, 1952), pp. 133-135. For another version (in Brussels) cf. pi. 85 and pp. 135-136, ibid. See also Ribera's etching, "The Flaying of St. Bartholomew", figs. 15 and p. 30, ibid. Although certain details of the work are as melodramatically anatomical as in the "Flaying of Marsyas", the effect of the picture is quite different, the victim here also being the hero of the scene. 46 The calm beauty of Apollo in this, as in many other representations of the scene, is that of the Apollo Belvedere, the foremost example of the likeness of the avenging god. The representation of Marsyas as an ugly brute is resorted to frequently even among the "classicists". Cf., e.g. Guido Reni's representations of the subject in Munich and Toulouse (Cesare Gnudi, Guido Reni, Florence 1955, plates 94, 93). Note also Marco Boschini's apologetic description of a rather deplorable painting by G. B. Langetti in Dresden: No se puol figurar con piu modestia. Quel Dio tuto di razi lumninoso Ne piu ferose al satiro rabioso Mezo homo, mezo capra, e tuto bestia.... For a reproduction of the painting, and for the complete text, consult Dedalo, vol. HI 2, p. 286. 1402 Philipp Fehl favorite student and heir (fig. 8).46a This work was painted about 1534, perhaps thirty-five years before Titian painted his picture.47 It is part of a once-famous fresco cycle in the Palazzo del Te in Mantua.48 Al- though it is in a very bad state of repair now, it is clearly the very source of Titian's painting.49 In fact, Titian sticks so close to the elementary pattern of the work that, were he to do anything of the sort today, he would be accussed of plagiarism or lack of originality. The masters of the Italian Renaissance, especially Titian, felt quite differently about these matters. When they saw a good thing, they made use of it.50 Their job was principally to bring the invention fully to life: to make it true, as it were. And if the piece to be improved upon was well-known, any elaboration upon it may even, on occasion, have been considered all the more valuable. So thought the ancients who used well-known myths as plots of their plays. The prologues of Renaissance plays similarily tell us what is going to happen, and we are the more delighted by the wonder of the work when we see the tale translated into the greater reality of the play. Three elements which strike us as radical or gruesome in Titian's work are actually prefigured in Giulio's painting. There is, first of all, Marsyas hanging upside down from the tree. To my knowledge, this is the first representation of this very unusual motif on record,51 though

46a Modern apologists usually stress the "pictorial" or coloristic effects of particularly bloody works. A painting by Jan Lys which presents a fairly calculated extreme of vulgarity in the treatment of the subject - the god looks like a curiously attired cowboy engaged in a wrestling match - interestingly enough was praised for its "Groesse des Bildgedanken". (Kurt Steinbard, Johann Liss (Vienna, 1946), pi. 34 and p. 34). 47 Hartt, op. cit., p. 96. Titian's painting, on the basis of the stylistic evidence, is dated around 1565-1570 (Neumann, op. cit., pp. 14, 18-19; E. Tietze-Conrat, "Titian's Workshop in his Late Years", The Art Bulletin, vol. 28 (1946), p. 85). 49 Hartt refers to a relatively large number of copies of some of the paintings in this cycle. Ibid., p. 112. 49 This was pointed out by Hartt, who, however, declares that the painting of this "grisly subject" in Kromefiz cannot be by Titian, cf. note 4, supra. 50 On Titian's use of the "inventions" of others, cf. Ruth Wedgwood Kennedy, Novelty and Tradition in Titian's Art, (Northampton, Mass., 1963), esp. pp. 11- 12; 14-16; 22, n. 62; 25, n. 77; 26, ns. 79 and 85; and plates 46, 47. See also Otto Brendel, "Borrowings from Ancient Art in Titian", The Art Bulletin, vol. 37 (1955), pp. 113-125. Titian's admiration of the work of Giulio Romano is spoken of by Pietro Aretino, Lettere (Paris, 1609), fol. 279 vo. (Hartt, op. cit., vol. I, p. XVI and doc. 239, p. 328.) Cf. also John Shearman, "Titian's Portrait of Giulio Romano", The Burlington Magazine, vol. CVII (1965), pp. 172-177. 51 Other examples of the use of this motif are a drawing in the Louvre (perhaps for a lost painting) by Andrea Schiavone, (cf. Lili Froehlich-Bum, "Andrea Mel- dolla genannt Schiavone", Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorischen Sammlungen des The Representation of a Painful Scene 1403

Giulio may have taken the idea from a relief sculpture on an antique sarcophagus now lost. The memory of such a relief appears to survive in an engraving by an associate of Giulio Romano, the print maker Giulio Bonasone (fig. 2).52 Coupled with this unusual position of the victim is the emphasis placed (in the engraving as well as in the two paintings) on the horror of the flaying itself. Then there is the satyr, who approaches timidly and grotesquely with a bucket in his hand. He is probably ready to pour water over the head of the fainting Marsyas,53 or he may have brought the water because he was pressed into service to wash the blood from Marsyas' body so that the executioners, like butchers, may see better how to carry on with their work. In any case, the satyr seems eager to demonstrate to Apollo that he wishes to gain his favor. Since, as we know, he grieves for Marsyas, the purpose of his solicitude can only be to stop the prolongation of Marsyas' torture and, perhaps, to obtain permission to bury the body of the doomed victim.54 allerhoechsten Kaiserhauses, vol. XXXI, fig. 8, p. 143); a lost painting by Paolo Veronese of which survive a drawing attributed to Veronese in the Kupferstich Kabinett in Dresden (Hans Tietze, Drawings of the Venetian Painters, p. 355, n. A 2166) and an engraving by François Joullain (Pierre F. Basan, Recueil d'Estampes d'après les plus beaux tableaux dans le Cabinet du Roi et dans celui de Mgr. le duc d'Orléans et dans d'autres cabinets.. . (Paris, 1763); and a painting in Arezzo attributed to Vasari, (reproduced in A. Del Vita, La Pinaco- teca di Arezzo, (Arezzo, 1921), pi. 37). 52 Adam Bartsch, Le Peintre Graveur, vol. XV, p. 136 number 91. The figures in the background are the Muses and other divinities. For a tell-tale mark of a sarcophagus relief, cf. the snake at the extreme right. Bonasone also made other engravings after antique reliefs (ibid., vol. XV, p. 135, number 88 p. 138 number 98, and others). Our fig. 9 does not seem to have been identified as a copy after an antique relief before. If the upside-down position of Marsyas here is correctly transmitted, then this is the only record testifying to the existence of such a motif in ancient art. The choice of this position may have been a matter of simple naturalism, that is, an imitation of the practice of butchers in the slaughtering of cattle. It is also possible that it may have referred (as well) to a version of the story according to which Apollo, as the contest wore on, played the lyre upside-down and then challenged Marsyas to do the same with his flutes (Hyginus Fab. 165; Lucian Dial. Deorum 16. 2; Apollodorus 4. 2. See also Cartari, op. cit., p. 295). Since Marsyas could not do that, he lost. Apollo may have chosen to have Marsyas tied to the tree upside-down in order to "make the punishment fit the crime". For Bonasone's "Anatomical Views", which contain a number of expertly flayed figures in elegant ballet poses, cf. Bartsch, op. cit. vol. XV, pp. 167-169, Nos. 329-341. 53 This need not necessarily be a boon to Marsyas. In the execution of a severe form of the military punishment referred to above (note 26), victims who fainted were brought back to life in this manner so that they might continue to feel the full measure of the ordained pains. 54 The action of the figure is not unrelated to that of the satyr in our figure 9 who is shown introducing a young boy (probably Olympus) to Apollo. On the 1404 Philipp Fehl

The water, of course, will mix with the tears and the blood, and help to form the river Marsyas.55 The bad state of preservation of Giulio's picture causes some difficulty in the interpretation of the work.56 The flaying is at the point of its final development. Marsyas' pipes, a melancholy trophy, are hanging from the tree to which Marsyas himself is tied. The tall figure holding up the victorious lyre and quietly contemplating the scene of slaughter is probably Apollo himself. This figure is now quite damaged, but it still sufficiently resembles the Apollo in the preceding scene, "The Contest of Apollo and Marsyas", which Giulio painted in the Palazzo del Te directly to the left of our picture, to urge this identification upon the viewer in situThe two figures performing the flaying would then be followers or votaries of Apollo.58 Each wears a narrow headband topic "Olympus imploring Apollo for the body of Marsyas" cf. note 14 supra. Giulio may have been influenced by the original sarcophagus from which Bona- sone's design was taken (or by a drawing of it) rather than by the engraving. (Cf. note 52, supra.) The possibility exists that Giulio, interpreting his model freely, turned the basket held by the child into a bucket carried by the satyr. The representation of the satyr (in the work of Titian as well as in Giulio's) as a figure at once grotesque and sorrowful agrees with Philostratus the Younger Imagines 2. 4. ("And look, please, at the band of Satyrs, how they are represented as be- wailing Marsyas, but as displaying, along with their grief, their playful spirit and their disposition to leap about." (Transl. Arthur Fairbanks, Loeb Classical Library, London, 1931, p. 279.) On Giulio's practice of using classical sources cf. Her- mann Dollmayr, "Giulio Romano und das classische Alterthum", Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorisclien Sammlungen des allerhoechsten Kaiserhauses, XXII (1901), pp. 179-220. 55 Ovid Met. v. 396-400. 5S Giulio's "Sala dei Metamorfosi" was for a long time part of the kitchen of the custode of the Palazzo del Te. (Cf. Hartt, op. cit., vol. I, p. 109 and Stefano Davari, "Descrizione del palazzo dell Te di Mantova, di Giacomo Strada, illu- strata con documenti tratti dall' archivio Gonzaga", L'Arte, vol. II (1899), p. 251). Old copies of Giulio's pictures exist (cf. note 48 supra), but I have not been able to consult them. 57 Cf. Hartt, op. cit., vol. II, fig. 171. On the other hand, Giulio's drawing of this scene in the Albertina, (ibid., fig. 170), would seem to allow the interpretation that the Apollo in our fig. 8 is the youthful personage in the foreground who is actively engaged in the flaying of Marsyas. This was also the impression of Davari who says that the picture represents "Apollo che leva a Marsia la pella" (op. cit., p. 251). If this interpretation is preferred, then the figure holding the lyre must be seen as an attendant to whom Apollo gives his lyre to hold while he goes about the flaying. 58 According to the texts the flaying is either performed by Apollo himself (Ovid Met. v. 385; Apollodorus i. 4. 2; Plutarch Alcibiades 2. 5) or by a Scythian slave (Hyginus Fab. 165; Philostratus the Younger Imag. 2. 2). Antique sarcophagi often show two slaves (usually youthful figures) as executioners (cf. note 19 supra). In Raphael's painting (our fig. 5) the two figures wear wreaths of ivy and may be identified as votaries of Apollo (Wind, op. cit., p. 142). On the The Representation of a Painful Scene 1405 which might well represent a poet's crown.30 One of them, he who pulls Marsyas' skin over his head, is so beautiful that he almost looks like a younger Apollo himself. The standing executioner recalls somewhat the pose of the Apollo in the engraving by Bonasone (fig. 9). To- gether, the two figures are, in their poses, not unlike the two executioners on the antique sarcophagus in the Louvre (fig. 3). The seated figure on the right is undoubtedly King Midas.00 His asses' ears (which Apollo bestowed upon him for his foolishness in preferring the music of Marsyas to his own)61 are quite formidable.62 The dark area in the lower-right foreground may well have originally represented a stretch of water, the origin of the River Marsyas.63 Titian, who in all likelihood worked from a drawing of this once famous painting,64 repeated almost all of its basic formal elements, but he also introduced some significant changes. If the action in Giulio's picture takes place in the never-never land of a classical stage setting,65 Titian brings it down to earth, directly into the realm of our personal experience. Marsyas is turned so that we face the full breadth of his wounded body. The two dogs, one of them absurdly precious and yet as eager for blood as the hunting dog on the right, are altogether an addition of Titian's, and so is the satyr boy who restrains the large dog

meaning of the poet's or the critic's crown of ivy, cf. J. B. Trapp, "The Owl's Ivy and the Poet's Bay", Journal of the Warburg and Courtaidd Institutes, vol. XXI (1958), esp. pp. 236, 243-253. 59 An identical band is also worn by Apollo. The picture is so damaged in the area directly above the band that it is hard to tell whether we are just looking at scratch marks or whether the figure is also wearing the wreath (on top of the band) with which Victory crowns Apollo at the contest in the picture painted by Giulio to the left of this picture (cf. note 57 supra). The form of the rim-like headband is taken directly from antique statuary, where it often graces the head of Homer and of other poets. Cf. Bieber, op. cit., figs. 180, 181, 182, 184, 598, 599; and Karl Schefold, Die Bildnisse der antiken Redner und Denker (Basel, 1943), plates 62, 64, 90, 138, 140, 142, 144, 158; and 78, fig. 3; 172, fig. 1; 172, fig. 37 (coins). 60 This is made quite clear by a comparison with the painting to the left. (Hartt, op. cit., vol. II, fig. 171.) 61 Ovid Met. xi. 174-179; Hyginus Fab. 191. 82 For their almost loving articulation as asses' ears, cf. the drawing in the Albertina, Hartt, op. cit., vol. II, fig. 170. 63 Ovid Met. vi. 400. 04 Cf. note 48, supra. 65 The picture "atticizes" not only in dress and gesture, but also by the shallow depth of the stage on which the action is performed. The story is told in a relief style. For Giulio's quotations of antique reliefs, cf. Dollmayr, op. cit., pp. 188- 202. 1406 Philipp Fehl and looks with tearful, hopeless eyes at us and connects us with the scene (fig. II).66 The standing executioner (fig. 10) is shown doing his work much more plausibly, more naturalistically, than in Giulio's work. He is all absorbed in what one must call the fineness of his labor.67 The way in which he throws back his head as he looks upon his work even suggests that he is a little far-sighted. Titian equips him with an apron 68 and with a scabbard for his butcher knife. The hat of the figure, also an addition by Titian, may be not only another naturalistic touch, but also a clas- sicistic one. It is probably no accident that it looks like an adaptation of the Phrygian cap frequently worn by at least one of the executioners in representations of the flaying of Marsyas on antique sarcophagi (fig. 3).6» The kneeling figure in Titian's painting who is cutting away merci- lessly at the satyr's hide and, with his left hand, is about to rip off a

66 The figure is very probably a satyr, but he may be a human boy. In any case, he bears a certain resemblance to the boy introduced by a satyr to Apollo in Bonasone's engraving, (fig. 9) A painting by Titian, in Rotterdam (Tietze, Titian, pi. 263), shows the identical figure next to a dog - only this time it is clearly a boy. Since the picture in Rotterdam is a fragment (ibid., p. 341), and records survive of another painting by Titian of the "Flaying of Marsyas" now lost (Neumann, op. cit., p. 10), it is possible that this picture is, in fact, a last remnant of Titian's lost painting. The boy, in that case, may represent Olympus, in correspondence with Ovid, Met. vi. 393-394. 67 When Henry IV was murdered, the butchers of Paris are said to have offered to flay Ravaillac wih such exquisite care that he could stay alive for twelve days. Cf. Carl Julius Weber, Demokritos, oder hinterlassene Papiere eines Lachenden Philosophen (Stuttgart, n.d.), vol. VI, p. 238. 68 Giulio Romano's counterpart of this figure appears to have tied his mantle so that it also forms a kind of apron. The picture is too ruined to allow more than a guess. 69 See also notes 19-21 supra. The scene is set in Phrygia (Ovid, Met. vi. 400). Furthermore, the executioners are at times described as Scythians (cf. note 58 supra) and one of the distinguishing marks of the Scyhian dress is a hat of conic shape (Herodotus vii. 64). Another change in the direction of an accuracy in which classicism and naturalism are united may be found in Titian's representation of the tree to which Marsyas is tied. In Giulio's work, it is merely a "tree", a kind of stage prop. Titian's tree, on the other hand, appears to be a plane tree, which would be in keeping with information supplied by Pliny (cf. note 25 supra). Pliny also tells us that a picture of "Marsyas religatus" by Zeuxis was once in the Temple of Concord in Rome (Nat. Hist. xxxv. 66). Since several of Titian's mythological paintings are "re-creations" of lost antique masterpieces (cf. Ruth W. Kennedy, op cit., pp. 13; 19, n. 17; 20, n. 29; 24, n. 71), our picture may perhaps be added to the list. Pliny's report is too short to describe Zeuxis' work, but Titian, if indeed he assumed that he was guided by the evidence of an antique relief (cf. notes 52 and 65 supra), may have connected the evidence of the relief with the report of Zeuxis' painting. But whether or not this was the case, one The Representation of a Painful Scene 1407 large piece of it, is beyond question Apollo himself (fig. 3).70 His hair shines like liquid gold, and a laurel wreath circles his brow.71 He is so intent upon his revenge that he does not even notice the approach of the satyr with the bucket (fig. 11).72 We may here wonder whether it is more natural, more appropriate to the divinity, to pursue revenge in red-hot anger or with the calm and collected disdain portrayed by Domenichino (fig. 6) and Ribera (fig. 7) or the expressionless quietude of Giulio's Apollo (fig. 8). Titian, at any rate, chose to show the angry god as not only beautiful, but also passionate. And just as Titian, in elaborating on Giulio's work, makes the horror of the scene more immediately vivid, so he also introduces into his picture an element of can say of Titian's work in general that it partakes of the classical character for which Zeuxis' work was praised in antiquity, the keen attention to naturalism in the creation of images of ideal perfection. (Pliny Nat. Hist. xxxv. 64, Cicero De Inventione ii. 1. 1-3.) 70 This has not always been recognized. Benesch, for example, takes him for a mere executioner (op. cit., p. 23). Note, however, apart from the character of the face, the old inventory reference to the work, "Marsias scorticato da Apolline" (Neumann, op. cit., p. 8). 71 For colored reproductions cf. Neumann, op. cit., plates facing pp. 8, 10, 12. Note also Ovid's description of Apollo in the contest with Pan: "Phoebus' golden head was wreathed with laurel of Parnassus, and his mantle, dipped in Tyrian dye, swept the ground" (Met. xi. 165-166, trans, by Frank J. Miller (Loeb Clas- sical Library, London, 1958), vol. II, pa 133. 72 Neumann supposes that the satyr wishes to wash the victim's wounds (op. cit., p. 11), but it seems unlikely, considering what he sees being done to Marsyas, that he could be under the misapprehension that Marsyas could be saved. For a suggestion of other motives for his action, cf. p. 14 and notes 53 and 54 supra. Neumann also points out that one can see Marsyas' skin hanging from the tree on the extreme right and that the satyr is pointing to it with his left hand (ibid., p. 11). He concludes, in accordance with the reported fact that Apollo hung up Marsyas' skin as a sign of his victory (cf. note 15 supra), that this part of the picture represents a later part of the action, when the flaying is already done with. A body of water which he reports can be seen in the background (it cannot be identified on the photographs) he takes to be the river Marsyas; again, a view, as it were, of the future. There is, however, no need to see the work as such a complex piece. The presence on the scene of a satyr with a water bucket would imply, after all, that a source of water is close at hand. If a river must be named, then it may be better to think of the Meander (cf. note 24 supra) than of the Marsyas, which is only now coming into existence. The satyr's skin hung up on the tree need not be all of Marsyas' skin. The supposition of the presence of a large strip of it would suffice for dramatic effect. If, as Neumann suggests, the satyr points to it, he does so, I think, to emphasize the argument that Marsyas has already suffered enough: May he now be allowed to die without further torture (Cf. p. 14 and note 67 supra). For reflections on the practice of commuting a sentence of death by torture to one of "mere" death, cf. Michel de Montaigne, Essais, vol. II, ch. 11, "De la Cruauté", ed. Maurice Rat (Paris, 1962), pp. 473-474. ludging by the outline of the incision on Marsyas' body, the strip of skin may have come from his chest and belly. 1408 Philipp Fehl pathos which is hardly hinted at, if it is not altogether missing, in Giulio's painting. The face of the hapless Marsyas shows the dignity, born of agony and resignation, of a victim in extremis, and King Midas, who is normally but a ridiculous figure, has been turned into a grand and pensive mourner (fig. 11).73 His asses' ears are not in evidence. The area in question is in deep shadow and, in addition, it appears that Titian covered the ears with the cloak that is wound around Midas' body,74 an act of mercy for which legitimation may be found in Ovid's text,75 but which, as far as I know, no other painter who represented Midas in this situation felt called upon to perform.78 Titian even succeeds in endowing the butcher at work, whose part in the story represents an invitation to depict vulgarity, with a certain plausible dignity of bear- ing. While he is not compassionate - compassion is not within the scope of his calling or function - he certainly does not take pleasure in his job, as, for example does the antique "knife grinder" in the Uffizi.77 Titian's work, then, is at once realistic and noble, frightening and compassionate, and even gentle. The dimension of this gentleness may become yet clearer to us if we look at the inspired musician (fig. 10) who looks up toward the heavens with a glance full of longing and sorrow. This figure has so far always been identified with Apollo, but if the kneeling figure is Apollo (a fact that has sometimes been overlooked),78 then, of course, we must find a reasonable explanation for the

73 According to Neumann (who attaches some importance to this point), this is a self-portrait of Titian (op. cit., p. 11 and passim-, "Anhang", figs. 4, 5). I do not think the likeness is obvious, as Neumann proposes. The face of Midas may just resemble that of the old Titian, as invented faces often resemble that of the inventor. This "family likeness" may also be discovered in the faces of the satyr, and (to a middle-aged Titian) in that of the standing executioner. For other studio faces of bearded men by Titian which bear a resemblance to the face of Midas, cf. Tietze, Titian, pi. 25; the plates facing pp. 46, 90, 133, 154, 215, and others. 74 Cf. the colored plates in Neumann, op. cit., facing pp. 20 and 21. Note that directly behind Midas' left temple, the full view of his golden crown is obstructed by some object. It appears to be a scarf or a piece of garment pulled over the back of the head, but it is conceivable that it may be one of Midas' asses' ears, after all, very delicately obscured by a shadow. 75 ". . . ille quidem celare cupit turpisque pudore témpora purpuréis temptat velare tiaris . . ." (Ovid, Met. xi. 180-181.) 76 An interesting exception would be the very attractive Midas without asses' ears in Tintoretto's "Apollo and Marsyas" in the Wadsworth Atheneum at Hart- ford, Conn. I believe it can be shown, however, that this figure is not Midas at all, but a portrait of Pietro Aretino (the original owner of the picture) who, quite unlike Midas, expresses his allegiance to the art of Apollo. I am preparing a note on the subject for The Art Bulletin. 77 Bieber, op cit., figs. 441-442 and p. 111. 78 See note 70 supra. The Representation of a Painful Scene 1409 double presence of the god in one picture. Tietze thought that the picture originally had been much larger and that the standing Apollo was all that was left over from a scene showing the musical contest of Apollo and Marsyas which, he posited, occupied the left part of the painting, in a manner not unlike that of the illustration in the Ovidio Vulgare (fig. 2).79 Neumann, however, has recently shown convincingly that the picture originally was only a few inches larger than it is at present.80 Neumann accounts for the presumed double presence of Apollo with a very sensitive, but complex, allegorical interpretation of the work, according to which the connection in time and space of some of the principial figures in the picture appears to be suspended.81 It is more likely, however, that the problem of the "double Apollo" has no legitimate existence at all. The standing musician does not necessarily have to be Apollo. In fact, if we compare him with the kneeling figure of Apollo, we notice a number of tell-tale differences which make it most unlikely that he too be Apollo. The two figures are differently dressed, the standing figure does not wear a laurel-wreath and, above all, the color of his hair is of a brownish, rather than a golden, hue.82 There are no brown-haired Apollos, and very few that are dressed in tunics. The following may well have happened. When Titian studied what- ever record of Giulio's painting it was that he had at his disposal (and especially if he did not know or did not have before him a record of Giulio's companion piece, "The Contest of Apollo and Marsyas"), he assumed that the figure bending over to pull Marsyas' skin over his head was Apollo. He would have been led to do this readily, not only be-

79 Hans Tietze, Titian, Leben und Werk, Vienna, 1936, vol. I, p. 247. 80 Neumann, op. cit., p. 12. To his argument may be added the fact that there is a close connection between the formal arrangement of Titian's "Flaying of Marsyas" and that of Giulio Romano's. 81 Neumann, op. cit., p. 11 and passim. 82 I am obliged to Dr. VI. Novotny, of the National Gallery in Prague, who very kindly described to me the colors which here matter: "The garment worn by Apollo playing the violin is brown, that is in the light parts brownish-red, caput mortuum and burned siena; in shaded parts warm brown, cassel brown and Van Dyck brown. His hair is also brown, but darker and somewhat rusty. The kneeling figure to the left is clad in a kind of brown shawl playing into greenish hues. The hair of this figure is of a lighter brown than that of the preceding figure - there are mostly ochres." (Letter of April 8th, 1957.) The colored photographs (taken, evidently, at a late stage in the restoration of the work) show that the hair of the kneeling figure turned out to be positively golden. (Cf. note 71 supra.) The "brown shawl playing into greenish hues" may originally have been purple with blue shadows. 1410 Philipp Fehl cause of the youthful character and beauty of the almost-nude figure, but also because in Ovid's account the flaying is actually performed by Apollo himself.83 Having thus established his Apollo, Titian would naturally see in the figure which, presumably, is Giulio's real Apollo, one of Apollo's assistants, whose job it is to hold Apollo's lyre while the god is occupied with the flaying. Instead of transferring this figure into his own painting in this somewhat gratuitous capacity, Titian chose, however, to transform its character. The figure is turned into a musician playing the lira da braccio or, perhaps even more likely, into a singer who accompanies himself (as was customary) on the lira da braccio.6* That an attendant of Apollo, or perhaps even Apollo himself, may be making music to accompany the flaying is out of keeping with the established iconography of the scene, and such savagery, furthermore, cannot easily be reconciled with the expression of longing or pathos that graces the performer's face. I believe that this musician, whoever he may be, is, as it were, standing outside the picture, and that he sings and plays on his lira da braccio a composition which recalls from the shadow of a distant past and brings back to life, as only a work of art can do, the sorrow of the scene before us. As I see it, there is here a picture within a picture: the singer and his song, or, if you like, a performance of a play on a stage within a stage. The secondary stage becomes the principal stage as the story unfolds, but the outer stage is present throughout the performance and casts its consoling spell of aesthetic distance upon the realism of the scene immediately before us. Titian may not have meant to represent in this figure a particular musician at all, but, if he did, he may have had in mind Olympus, Marsyas' promising and beautiful student who found favor in the eyes of Apollo when he begged him for the body of his master.83 According to Plutarch's De Musica, a work which was basic to the study of music in the Renaissance, Olympus composed a celebrated hymn

83 Ovid, Met. v. 385. Cf. also note 58 supra. 84 On the history and use of the lira da braccio, cf. Emanuel Wintemitz, "Lira da Braccio", Die Musik der Gegenwart, vol. VIII (I960), cols. 935-954. Note especially fig. 13, "Rezitation zur Lira da Braccio" and the contemporary description of the instrument as "Je plus propre pour chanter les histoires - et particulièrement des choses sublimes .. ." (Cols. 948, 951-952). See also the same author's "A Lira da Braccio in Giovanni Bellini's 'Feast of the Gods' ", The Art Bulletin, 1946, pp. 114-115, and his "The Inspired Musician", The Burlington Magazine, 1958, pp. 48-55. 85 Cf. note 14 supra. The Representation of a Painful Scene 1411 in praise of Apollo.66 He is supposed to have revised and greatly improved the playing by mortals of the flutes and of the lyre - the im- plication being that he ennobled it - and it was he who "first brought into Greece the laws of harmony".87 For Renaissance musicians, the reconciliation of the flute and the lyre may have been symbolized by the perfection of the string instruments, notably by the invention of the lira da braccio, or the "lira moderna", as it was then called.88 This instrument was much treasured at the time, its effect, one might say, combining (like that of a modern violin) the passion or ecstatic intimacy of the music of the pipes with the measured harmony of the instrument of Apollo. One often sees

«« Plutarch De Musica 15. A second Olympus (who was a descendant of the first) also composed a famous hymn in honor of Apollo (De Musica 7). On Plutarch's theory of music and its influence, cf. note 16 supra. 87 Plutarch De Musica 7 (Plutarch's Morals, ed. William Goodwin, Boston, 1871), vol. I, p. 108). Plutarch speaks of Olympus as a flute player in De Musica 7 and as a player on the lyre in De Musica 5, 18, 19. He praises him especially as the inventor of "enharmonic music" (De Musica 1 1, 29, 33). See also Martin Vogel, Die Enharmonik der Griechen (Duesseldorf, 1963), esp. vol. II (Der Ur- sprung der Enharmonik), pp. 9-53. On Renaissance efforts to reconstruct the enharmonic genus and on their moral purpose, cf. Walker, op. cit., pp. 21-29. On the problems raised by the term "harmony", cf. ibid., p. 71, and Heinrich Sanden, Antike Polyphonie (Heidelberg, 1957). On the nobility of Olympus' music see also Plato Ion 533; Aelian Var. Hist. xiii. 20. Olympus' eventual association with Apollo may also be the subject of a somewhat singular engraving by Marcantonio Raimondi, known as "Apollo and Hyacinth" (Bartsch, op. cit., IV, 260, 348), but perhaps better called "Apollo and Olympus". There is nothing in the picture, except a certain aura of amatory insinuation, to identify the youth next to Apollo as Hyacinth. On the other hand, the pipes hanging from the tree trunk in back may be those of the unfortunate Marsyas, and the two goats' feet which one can see dangling from the tree in the space directly between the two figures (the rest of the skin is covered by a mantle) may equally be the tokens of Apollo's victory and its gruesome consequence. 88 Cf. Winternitz, "Lira da Braccio", col. 935. For an appreciation of the various musical instruments as they compare with the effects produced by the human voice, and the position of the lira da braccio on such a scale, cf. Lodo- vico Zacconi, Prattica di Musica (Venice 1592), book IV, chapters 38-56 ("Delia convenienza et divisione de tutti gli instrument! musicali"), pp. 212-219. A somewhat puzzling bronze plaquette by Ulocrino (reproduced by Ulrich Middeldorf and Oswald Goetz, Medals and Plaquettes from the Sigmund Morgenroth Col- lection (Chicago 1944), pi. XVII, number 210) may perhaps also be of relevance here. It shows the contest of Apollo and Marsyas. Marsyas is tied to a tree, his flute is at his feet, and Apollo, who is seated, plays the lyre. On the ground, in front of Apollo, lies a lira da braccio. It is, I think, possible that this seemingly redundant instrument was placed there as a token of the eventual union of the lyre and the flute, or, alternatively, that Apollo is shown as the god of music, the master of the perfect instruments, and that the tied-up Marsyas (who is much smaller than Apollo) is to be understood as a kind of attribute, a reference to an event long past. (Cf. note 31 supra.) 1412 Philipp Fehl Renaissance representations of Apollo playing the lira da braccio. Often this may have been due simply to the naivete of the painter or the result of an allegorical concern, uncomplicated by a commitment to historical accuracy, that equipped the god of music with the best loved modern musical instrument. But sometimes the choice may have meant more. It is perhaps no accident that Raphael's Apollo, who plays the Greek lyre in the scene from the contest with Marsyas on the ceiling of the Stanza della Segnatura (fig. 5), plays the lira da braccio in the representation of Parnassus which is almost directly beneath it.89 Next to him there sits a Muse, and she holds the lyre, just as if Apollo with pleasure had taken up the better instrument, the "lira moderna", and made it his own. Be that as it may (I have to leave the study of this aspect to specialists in the history of music), what really matters here is not the praise of the lira da braccio, or even the identification of the musician, but the recognition of Titian's generosity in introducing the element of aesthetic distance to a story that demands, if it is to be well told, that it be told realistically. Basically, Titian, even here, follows the example of Ovid. Just as Ovid's presentation of the suffering of Marsyas is bloody, so is his introduction of the story swift, and so does he quickly move us away from the bloody scene and tell us that it all happened long ago.

Ovid, The introduction: ... When the story-teller, whoever he was, had related the disaster which befell the Lycians, another man remembered the tale of the satyr whom Apollo punished, after having defeated him in a competition on the reed- pipes, the instrument Minerva invented. .. .90

The end: ... The fertile earth grew wet with tears, and when it was sodden, received the falling drops into itself, and drank them into its deepest veins. Then, from these tears, it created a spring which it sent gushing down to the sea, hemmed in by sloping banks. It is the clearest river in Phrygia, and bears the name of Marsyas. As soon as these tales were told the people's thoughts returned to the present and they mourned the death of Amphion. .. .91

69 On the peculiarities of Apollo's instrument, cf. Winternitz, "Lira da Braccio", col. 953. See also idem, "Archeologia Musicale del Rinascimento nel Parnaso di Raffaello", Rendiconti della Pontificia Accademia Romana di Archeologia, voi. XXVII (1952-4), p. 378. 90 The Metamorphoses of Ovid, transi. Innés, p. 157. 91 Ibid., p. 158. The Representation of a Painful Scene 1413

Indeed, if Titian's musician is not Olympus, he may very well be Ovid.92 It remains for me to show that the presentation of two pictures in one, combining either two different realms of reality or two different periods of time in one scene, each reaching into the presence of the other, was not an unusual nor even a very dashing device in Renais- sance painting, but, instead, a natural way of joining, with the help of the imagination, elements which belonged together even though they could never be seen together in the matter-of-fact reality of the world that one sees in broad daylight. Let us recall the "Dance of the Muses" attributed to Giulio Romano or Baldassare Peruzzi (fig. 4). Here, the contest between Apollo and Marsyas goes on on a side stage, at a time long ago, while the dance of the Muses takes place on the main stage, from now until the end of time - unless, indeed, a new Marsyas (Apollo forbid!) should prove to be the victor in a new contest, this one unevenly weighted in favor of Marsyas. The story can be told in this way because the ever-present reality of memory makes plausible the visual simultaneity of both scenes.93 A somewhat enigmatic picture by Titian's contemporary, Dosso Dossi (fig. 12), may be understood similarly. It is called "Apollo and Daphne", but it does not show, as one might expect, Apollo running after Daphne and, at the moment of his reaching her, her metamorphosis into the laurel tree.94 Instead, we see Apollo already crowned with the laurel which forever reminds him of his Daphne.95 He is seated and playing

92 A strangely moving parallel to Titian's view of the musician may be found in Iliad vi. 354-358. These words, addressed by Helen to Hector, may also have been a source of inspiration for Ovid: "But come now and enter and sit on this throne, brother-in-law, since care encompasses your heart, on account of me and the folly of Paris, upon whom Zeus has put an evil fate, in order that hereafter we might be the subject of song among future generations." I owe this reference, and the translation of the passage, to Prof. Seth G. Benardete. 93 A plaquette with the "Flaying of Marsyas" by Guglielmo della Porta (Mid- deldorf and Goetz, op. cit., pi. XXIII, number 323; Planiscig, op. cit., number 407) should also be mentioned here. In the foreground, Marsyas is about to be flayed. In the left middle ground, Hercules and Mercury are approaching. Mer- cury points to the scene in the foreground and turns to Hercules, like a guide or an instructor pointing out a lesson. Since Hercules is an unlikely visitor at "The Flaying of Marsyas", the action in the foreground may more fittingly be seen to represent a self-contained scene the memory of which Mercury recalls, by narration, for the benefit of Hercules. 94 Ovid, Met. i. 452-567. »5 Ovid, Met. i. 557-563. 1414 Philipp Fehl the lira da braccio. He has just come to a great flourish. And in the distance, a distance not of space but of time, Daphne is turned into the laurel. We see what he plays; we see what he sees before his mind's eye; and we sympathize with his sorrow and delight in his music. In the work by Titian such an interplay of scenes also occurs, but - curiously enough - it has been little noted.96 Most obvious is the interplay of presences in his religious pictures, such as that of the "Baptism of Christ" in the Capitoline Museum in Rome (fig. 13). The man in the foreground is the donor (whose name happens to be known) Giovanni Ram.97 The Baptism takes place, we might say, before his mind's eye. Its being shown is an act of grace, a gentle favor, not a miracle. He is allowed to see the Baptism as it happened long ago, as if it were happening now, before him. Yet the topic of the picture is not Giovanni Ram looking at the Baptism, but, rather, the Baptism of Christ, together with a portrait of the donor. And the picture seems to express the silent wish that we all might be able to see the painting with the sense for the reality of the Baptismal scene that distinguishes the devotion of Giovanni Ram. Among Titian's secular paintings that are relevant here, I should like to name a particularly haunting one, "Venus and the Lute Player", in the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge (fig. 14). It, like The Flaying of Marsyas" and some of his other pictures which, I believe, present an interplay of two worlds in one scene, is a musical picture.98 Did Venus merely get a lute player to sit at her bedside so that she could amuse herself playing duets with him, or does Venus exist, present though she be in body, in a higher and separate world? Is the musician alone and does Venus, because he plays so well and sings of love, choose to re- veal herself to him? Is she the very subject of his song? Our opinion will, no doubt, be guided by our response to the loving, longing, and perhaps,

98 For an introduction to the problem, cf. my essay "The Hidden Genre: A Study of the 'Concert Champêtre in the Louvre' ", The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, XVI (1957), pp. 153-168. For a simple parallel to Dosso Dossi's picture (as far as the representation of distance in time is concerned), cf. Titian's "Allegory of the Battle of Lepanto" (Tietze, Titian, pi. 280). The war is already over, the trophy with the captured Turk is at the foot of the altar, and the king is offering his thanks unto God. In the background, however, present in memory, as it were, we can see the battle raging. " Tietze, Titian, p. 340. 98 "The Concert Champêtre" (if the attribution be uncertain, it is, in any case, a work close to Titian), the so-called "three Ages of Man", "The Andrians", "Venus and the Organ Player". On the difficulties in the interpretation of the music in "Venus and the Lute Player", cf. Studdert-Kennedy, op. cit., pp. 349-351. The Representation of a Painful Scene 1415 wistful glance of the youth toward Venus." The clue to the riddle may well be in the music the two figures are playing. Unfortunately, the text of the music (assuming that it was once legible) cannot now be read. But, whether Venus is visible or invisible, we do at least see here that there are times when the flute and the string instrument are not in mortal combat. It is no accident that Venus presides over such mo- ments.100

99 For a review of the problem as it is posed in different versions of this picture, and for a neo-platonic interpretation, cf. Otto Brendel, "The Interpretation of the Holkham Venus", The Art Bulletin, 28 (1946), pp. 65-67. See also the "re- joinder" by Ulrich Middeldorf, The Art Bulletin, 29 (1947), pp. 65-67 and Studdert-Kennedy, op. cit., p. 349. It may be of consequence in the interpretation of the picture that the mattress upon which Venus reclines somewhat immaterially is cut at the foot drastically enough to suggest a quite material division of the picture into two realms. A similar physical division seems to exist also in Titian's "Venus and the Organ Player". Since the organ player has the traits of Philip II of Spain (cf. Tietze, Titian, p. 318), the work would seem to do more justice to his rank (as well as to that of Venus) if the separate identities of the two worlds were regarded. In such a view the picture would, of course, lose nothing of its celebrated sex appeal, and it would gain in delicacy. 100 Love will even reconcile Pan and Apollo and the Muses. In Raphael's ceiling painting in the Loggia di Psiche of the Villa Farnesina, they can be seen making music together at the wedding banquet of Cupid and Psyche while Venus dances. Apuleius' text is a little more specific in this respect than Raphael's picture and slightly different: ". . . The Muses chanted the marriage hymn to the accom- paniment of flute and pipe music from the godlings Satyrus and Peniscus. Finally Apollo sang to his own lyre and the music was so sweet that Venus came forward and performed a lively step-dance in time to it.. ." (The Golden Ass of Apuleius, trans. Robert Graves, New York, 1954, p. 124.) It took Apollo's music, in other words, to get Venus, who only grudgingly had given her approval to the match, to come forward and dance. For a drawing by Giulio Romano of "Apollo and Pan" in which Apollo is shown playing, or trying to play, the pipes of Pan, somewhat, it seems, to Pan's amusement. Cf. Hartt, op. cit., fig. 378 (cat. no. 239) and A. E. Popham, The Italian Drawings of the XV and XVI Centuries in the Collection of his Majesty the King at Windsor Castle, London, 1949, p. 25, n. 349, fig. 77. Hartt calls the work "Apollo and Marsyas", but Pan can be identified by the large goat's head (in apposition to Apollo's griffin) near him. While there are times when the two gods will join forces or forget about their conflict, no such peace can be made between Apollo and Marsyas. If there is a reconciliation of the art of Apollo and that of Marsyas, it must be effected in the terms of a conversion like that of Olympus or of Dante (cf. notes 27, 86, 87 supra).