DOI issue:
Nr. 3-4
DOI article:Fehl, Philipp P.: Death and the sculptor's fame: artists' signatures on Renaissance tombs in Rome
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.48916#0218
PHILIPP FEHL
University of Illinois and Patican Library
Death and the Sculptors Famę: Artists’ Signatures
on Renaissance Tombs in Romę
Living as we do in the midst of a frenzy of eager
writing - „publish or perish” - which threatens
to destroy the memory of the Humanities by the
sheer multiplication of new conceits regarding
ancient truths, it is hard to believe that in antiąuity authors
seriously debated the propriety of signing their works, if
and when, that is, they had decided that they were good
enough to be published in the first place.
But so it was and (as Ernst Robert Curtius showed) so it
remained as a point of debate and reasoned choice in the
Middle Ages, the Renaissance and beyond, almost to the
horizon of our own days.1 What writers throughout this vast
stretch of time wished to avoid was to broadcast their
names, for it was a sign of vanity or pride. They
distinguished between suitable occasions to go public and
wrong ones. It all depended on what one was writing about,
how one did it and to whom one was addressing oneself.
Propriety was an aspect of the writer’s purpose. Obviously
many authors merely affected modesty while they were
buming with the desire for famę, but it is comforting to
know that they had to go through an exercise of self-denial
in order, as it were, to fulfil themselves. The imposture only
confirmed the morał superiority, the dignity and the
worthiness of those whom they falsely imitated.
Pliny the Elder, in a passage in the Preface to his Natural
History that was to affect nearly all Renaissance artists and
their successors in the way in which they signed their works,
pointed out that the conventions of artists and authors had
much in common in the way in which they encouraged an
essential modesty in the creation of their works. In fact, he
said, artists might serve as an example to writers in the
probity of their practice.2
The passage is often cited but we must see it in its context
to appreciate the fuli impact of his words. Pliny dedicates his
book to the Emperor Titus, not, he explains, because he
thinks of it as a masterpiece, but because it might be useful.
To have even attempted to do his subject justice is in itself
a beautiful and gallant thing. Livy, he says, amazes me when,
somewhere in his history of Romę, he declares that he had
already reaped glory enough for himself by writing and only
went on with his book, because his restless soul fmds a kind
of pasture in his work. Surely, Pliny asks rhetorically, the
glory of the Roman victories, and the Roman name, which
are Livy’s theme, are of greater significance than the glory
of the writer. Should Livy not have endeavored to finish his
history for the sake of the Roman people rather than for his
own satisfaction?
As for himself, Pliny continues, he does not regret the
modest title of his book. He does not care to imitate the
fetching claims of so many brilliant Greek writers, but
rather would follow the example of the masters of the visual
arts.
The key passage, in the translation of Franciscus Junius
(1638), reads:
The founders of painting and casting, sayth Pliny,
inscribed their accomplished works, and such as can
never satisfie our admiration, with an uncertaine title,
saying, ‘Apelles faciebat aut Polycletus’, Apelles or
Polycletus madę it: to make the world thinke that the art
was but begun and left imperfect, that the Artificer
likewise by this means might looke for pardon, even as
if he should have mended all, unlesse he had been
intercepted by an untimely death. So was it then a
custom fuli of modesty and it did show in them a
wonderful veneration of these Arts, that they would
have posteritie look upon all their workes as if they were
their last workes, and that the fatall houre had taken
them away before they could make a fuli end.3
The truth of these words is nowhere morę self-evident
than at the grave. Sculptors who elaborately sign their
names to tombs they erect, if ever they responded seriously
Biuletyn Historii Sztuki
R.LXI, 1997, Nr 3-4
196
University of Illinois and Patican Library
Death and the Sculptors Famę: Artists’ Signatures
on Renaissance Tombs in Romę
Living as we do in the midst of a frenzy of eager
writing - „publish or perish” - which threatens
to destroy the memory of the Humanities by the
sheer multiplication of new conceits regarding
ancient truths, it is hard to believe that in antiąuity authors
seriously debated the propriety of signing their works, if
and when, that is, they had decided that they were good
enough to be published in the first place.
But so it was and (as Ernst Robert Curtius showed) so it
remained as a point of debate and reasoned choice in the
Middle Ages, the Renaissance and beyond, almost to the
horizon of our own days.1 What writers throughout this vast
stretch of time wished to avoid was to broadcast their
names, for it was a sign of vanity or pride. They
distinguished between suitable occasions to go public and
wrong ones. It all depended on what one was writing about,
how one did it and to whom one was addressing oneself.
Propriety was an aspect of the writer’s purpose. Obviously
many authors merely affected modesty while they were
buming with the desire for famę, but it is comforting to
know that they had to go through an exercise of self-denial
in order, as it were, to fulfil themselves. The imposture only
confirmed the morał superiority, the dignity and the
worthiness of those whom they falsely imitated.
Pliny the Elder, in a passage in the Preface to his Natural
History that was to affect nearly all Renaissance artists and
their successors in the way in which they signed their works,
pointed out that the conventions of artists and authors had
much in common in the way in which they encouraged an
essential modesty in the creation of their works. In fact, he
said, artists might serve as an example to writers in the
probity of their practice.2
The passage is often cited but we must see it in its context
to appreciate the fuli impact of his words. Pliny dedicates his
book to the Emperor Titus, not, he explains, because he
thinks of it as a masterpiece, but because it might be useful.
To have even attempted to do his subject justice is in itself
a beautiful and gallant thing. Livy, he says, amazes me when,
somewhere in his history of Romę, he declares that he had
already reaped glory enough for himself by writing and only
went on with his book, because his restless soul fmds a kind
of pasture in his work. Surely, Pliny asks rhetorically, the
glory of the Roman victories, and the Roman name, which
are Livy’s theme, are of greater significance than the glory
of the writer. Should Livy not have endeavored to finish his
history for the sake of the Roman people rather than for his
own satisfaction?
As for himself, Pliny continues, he does not regret the
modest title of his book. He does not care to imitate the
fetching claims of so many brilliant Greek writers, but
rather would follow the example of the masters of the visual
arts.
The key passage, in the translation of Franciscus Junius
(1638), reads:
The founders of painting and casting, sayth Pliny,
inscribed their accomplished works, and such as can
never satisfie our admiration, with an uncertaine title,
saying, ‘Apelles faciebat aut Polycletus’, Apelles or
Polycletus madę it: to make the world thinke that the art
was but begun and left imperfect, that the Artificer
likewise by this means might looke for pardon, even as
if he should have mended all, unlesse he had been
intercepted by an untimely death. So was it then a
custom fuli of modesty and it did show in them a
wonderful veneration of these Arts, that they would
have posteritie look upon all their workes as if they were
their last workes, and that the fatall houre had taken
them away before they could make a fuli end.3
The truth of these words is nowhere morę self-evident
than at the grave. Sculptors who elaborately sign their
names to tombs they erect, if ever they responded seriously
Biuletyn Historii Sztuki
R.LXI, 1997, Nr 3-4
196