UvA-DARE (Digital Academic Repository) Nassau on horseback: Meaning, form and function of Nassau equestrian imagery in the Netherlands since the 16th century Rijkens, P.R. Publication date 2015 Document Version Final published version Link to publication Citation for published version (APA): Rijkens, P. R. (2015). Nassau on horseback: Meaning, form and function of Nassau equestrian imagery in the Netherlands since the 16th century. General rights It is not permitted to download or to forward/distribute the text or part of it without the consent of the author(s) and/or copyright holder(s), other than for strictly personal, individual use, unless the work is under an open content license (like Creative Commons). Disclaimer/Complaints regulations If you believe that digital publication of certain material infringes any of your rights or (privacy) interests, please let the Library know, stating your reasons. In case of a legitimate complaint, the Library will make the material inaccessible and/or remove it from the website. Please Ask the Library: https://uba.uva.nl/en/contact, or a letter to: Library of the University of Amsterdam, Secretariat, Singel 425, 1012 WP Amsterdam, The Netherlands. You will be contacted as soon as possible. UvA-DARE is a service provided by the library of the University of Amsterdam (https://dare.uva.nl) Download date:06 Oct 2021 166 7. Beatrix: revival of equestrian imagery in new media William’s stumble had a final twist. There is a small molehill reproduced in the base of a posthumously commissioned statue by John Bacon (1740 -1799). It apparently alludes to ‘the little gentleman in the black velvet waistcoat…’ who is reputed to have caused the king’s riding accident.1 Jacobites in the 18th century thus toasted William’s end. The statue’s genesis goes back to before William’s death, when the residents of the very exclusive St. James’s Square in London wanted to replace the central pond with a commemoration of their benefactor. Nothing much happened until 1724, when Samuel Travers, a member of parliament, showed renewed interest in the project. He left an endowment for ‘an equestrian statue in brass to the glorious memory of my master William the Third.’2 In 1794, Christ’s Hospital, the holder of the endow- ment, finally approached John Bacon, whose son John Jr. (1777-1859) finished the work in 1808 (fig. 2).3 Placed on a high pedestal, William’s horse neither trots nor rears, but seems startled, leaning back on its haunches as it raises its right front leg—was it the molehill? Its head points in the air with manes and tail curled in action. Also William appears surprised, with his right arm raised more for balance than command. He is dressed as Roman; surely an ex- hausted motif by now, though Bacon may have followed Kneller without having understood the Aeneas context. It is not a convincing image, and one may ask the question of what the statue’s message is? Bacon was out to decorate, and not to commemorate. The statue matches none of the archetypical compositions and motifs: he did not follow the age-old image tradition of the man directing his horse as he would his people; or rearing in triumph whilst leading his troops. Instead, Bacon produced an 18th century equivalent of a Walt Disney-type action hero. William looks the part, as the sculptor has not bothered to reproduce his likeness (fig. 2a), and the pretty horse with its dazzling stance and Image facing page: fig. 1, Queen Beatrix at Katwijk, 29 May 2005. 1 Quoted in Kiste, John van der. William and Mary. Gloucestershire, 2003: p. 255 (see molehill fig. 2, below left hind leg). 2 Heuven van Nes 2004: pp. 114-117. 3 Interestingly, there are more equestrian statues of William III in Great Britain than of any other public figure, including Wellington. These are by: Grinling Gibbon (1648- 1721), 1701. Bronze, over life-size. Dublin, blown-up in 1929; Michael Rysbrack (1693- 1770), 1733-1736. Bronze, over life-size. Bristol; Peter Scheemakers (1691-1781), 1733. Gilded bronze, over life-size. Hull; anonymous, 19th century, Glasgow; John Cheere (1709-1789), 19th century. Bronze, over life-size. Petersfield; and that of John Bacon in London. See for these Heuven van Nes 2004: pp. 92; 100-103; 109-110; 114-116, respec- tively. For Glasgow, see McKenzie, Raymond. Public Sculpture of Glasgow. Liverpool, 2002: p. 68. 167 huge tail hardly looks battle hardened. The pedestal does not fulfil its purpose either, being far too high: how well Michelangelo had under- stood that the distance between ruler and ruled should not be too great. For, though he should not be touched, the ruler surely must be within reach. But, Bacon was not out to establish that interdependence. It must have been his goal to make an ensemble that fitted the local ambiance, and produced a pleasant decoration (borne out by the molehill quip). St. James Park is quiet where visitors rest. They probably notice the horse, and wonder why it seems startled, for that is the motion they sense. But they cannot see the molehill, and are spared the irony of a sculptor who failed to honour William’s memory, yet left a mark of his death. Function has changed form and context it’s meaning. Other 19th century statues share this contextual incongruity. Jo- seph Bonaparte, for instance, commissioned Antonio Canova (1757-1822) to produce an equestrian statue of his brother. The work so displeased Napoleon that Canova remodelled it to represent Charles III of Spain (how reminiscent of Bernini’s Louis XIV).4 Like Bacon’s William III, Canova dressed Charles as Roman. But, Charles disliked war and tried to modernize a kingdom his generals had occupied: Naples. The statue was devalued to a mere decoration in a city not his own, in a land divided. These examples are amongst the hundreds of devalued equestrian symbols that encumbered the art of the past centuries. Rulers such as Louis XVI, acting in the name of Divine Right, had increasingly been troubled by the gradual demystification of their being.5 Besides, with the ascent of parliamentarian democracy there was diminishing credibility for their justification of power. Of course, rulers continued to use equestrian imagery to propagate authority, but with a few exceptions, these would never again attain the functional focus, or aesthetic quality obtained dur- ing the Renaissance. In Europe, but elsewhere too, painting as medium of the rulership message lost its exclusivity as commoners joined the ranks of the aristocracy in being portrayed on horseback. At the same time, equestrian statues of rulers became ever more popular as provincial councils rediscovered how these objects could enhance their city centres. Worldwide there are over 900 equestrian statues in 76 countries.6 Consequently, through overexposure this medium also lost its unique aura and communication function. As earlier stated: decorations rather than propagations. 4 Antonio Canova, Equestrian Monument of Carlo III, 1807-1819. Bronze, over life-size. Naples, Piazza del Plebiscoto. See Liedtle 1985: pp. 318-319, pl. 205. 5 For the change of strategy by Louis XIV and his political and cultural advisors during the second half of the 17th century in regards as to how the king was to be presented, see Burke 1987: pp. 125-133. 6 Worldwide list of equestrian statues found in the Wikipedia. 168 Old media - no message: Dutch equestrian imagery 1749-1980 This final chapter of the study of Nassau on Horseback concerns eques- trian objects employed as visual rulership communication after the Sec- ond Stadholderless Period when Prince Willem IV (1711-1751) became stadholder in all the provinces of the Dutch Republic in 1749, until the investiture of Prince Willem-Alexander (1967) on April 30th 2013.7 Dur- ing this period ca. 22 paintings, prints, and photographs were made, two short films, and 11 memorial statues (6 in Great Britain, Appendix 2), which constitutes only 17% of all Nassau equestrian imagery ever made. Not only was there a decline in the use of equestrian rulership imagery, but also in its effectiveness, as exemplified by the statue of Wilhelmina (1880-1962), for though it meets the archetypical composition, it fails in its public function. Queen Beatrix (fig. 1) also used equestrian imagery to shape her royal image, albeit limited and with new media. The equestrian statues of King Willem II in Luxemburg by An- tonin Mercié (1845-1916) and The Hague (a copy) are merely decorative, for the king looks like a gentleman with a hat in his hand (fig. 3).8 It fol- lows a similar gesture in an earlier painting by Jan Willem Pieneman (1779-1853, fig. 5), and also found in a portrait by Nicaise de Keyser (1813-1887, fig. 4). De Keyser’s equine ensemble is reminiscent of Jan Wyck’s portrayal of William III at the Boyne (fig. 6, and Chap. 6, note 108). In these, both men ride white rearing stallions with their respective battlefields depicted below. But, whilst William III points his sword commandingly forward, Willem II just greets his troops with a hat instead of a sword; which gesture hardly is a persuasive propaganda motif. Left to right representations of Willem II, by resp. fig. 3. Mercié; fig. 5. Pieneman; fig. 4. De Keyser; and William III, Chap. 6, fig. 6. Wyck. This case is vexing for Willem II had been successful at Water- loo in 1815. Having received his military training in Prussia (where the 7 Between 1702 and 1749 the office of stadholder was left vacant in the provinces of Hol- land, Zeeland, and Utrecht, though in other provinces that office was filled by members of the House of Nassau-Dietz (later called Orange-Nassau) during various periods.