Cardinal de Richelieu's discovery of purple: political and emblematic antecedents of a topos

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The Russian Academy of National Economy and Public Administration

Cardinal de Richelieu's discovery of purple: political and emblematic antecedents of a topos

M.S. Neklyudova

Russia, Moscow

Аннотация

So far I have been treating Boissiere's devices as purely verbal inventions. Yet he makes it clear that many of them were actually realized, i. e., that his descriptions served as blueprints for artists. For instance, he claims that he provided several devices for the Palais-Royal Galleries but refuses to put them in the book because they are “public enough” [Boissiere 1654: 85]. Does it mean that the ones he published were just ekphrastic exercises? There is at least one piece of evidence that suggests the opposite. In Les entretiens d'Ariste et d'Eugene (1671) Dominique Bouhours mentions seeing in the “Gallerie du Palais Royale” a number of devices that marked Richelieu's promotion to the cardinalate, and among them “un Bouton de Rose avec ce Mot, Fra le spine impurpurisco ”“A rosebud and this word: Among the thorns I redden” [Bouhours 1671: 398]. which (as we know) belonged to Boissiere. We can tentatively locate it in the Gallerie des hommes illustres because by Bouhours' time the other one, La Petite Gallerie, was demolished. Considering that Boissiere used the plural `galleries', his creations must have graced both of themFor a concise account of Palais-Royal's construction see: [Sauvel 1960: 169-190].. It would be tempting to imagine Boissiere's discovery of purple in La Petite Gallerie, among Italian landscapes and next to the “beautiful naval frieze”“cette belle frise marine” [Sauval 1724: 164]., but more likely he was asked to supply the mottos for the representation of Richelieu's virtuesSee the description of that part of the Gallery [Sauval 1724: 164-165]..

The only emblems from La Gallerie des hommes illustres that survived its demolition in 1727 were the ones attached to the portraits of historical personages that reflected Richelieu's vision of a national Pantheon and his own place in itCf.: [Kirchner 2009].. These devices were not Boissiere's invention but belonged to Jean Guisse, who in 1637 published their descriptions, mottos and explanations in a short booklet, Symbola herotca. Fortunately for us, there is also a visual record: a decade later Zacharie Heince (not to be confused with Zacharias Heyns) and Francois Bignon made a series of engravings that reproduced both the portraits and their settings, i. e. the emblems and the miniature scenes from the subjects' life. In 1650 these engravings were printed together with necessary explanations and short biographies of each historical personage composed by Marc de Vulson, sieur de La Colombiere. According to an eyewitness who had a chance to compare the actual Gallery to its paper version, Heince and Bignion did an excellent job, but their skills, sufficient for the emblems, fell short of the originals when it came to Champaigne's and Vouet's paintingsCf.: [Sauval 1724: 166]. According to Sauval, every portrait in the Gallery was also “accompanied by two marble busts”.. To this testimony I would like to add another, that in a way fills the gap between Guisse's book and Les Portraits des hommes illustres Frangois. In 1644 Vulson de La Colombiere published a treatise on heraldry, La Science herotque, where he declared Guisse's emblems for the Gallery “mostly excellent” and worthy to be quoted in full. At the same time he warned his readers that “many of them have changed” since 1638 [Vulson de La Colombiere 1644: 468].

Indeed, if we compare Guisse's published devices with the ones presented in La Science herotque, and then with what we actually see on the engravings, there are some noticeable differences. For instance, one of the emblems listed by Guisse for cardinal de Lorraine (Fig. 3) is “the mountain Parnassus with two peaks to house the Muses” because Charles de Lorraine founded two universities [Guisse 1638: 14]. In La Science herotque Vulson de La Colombiere describes it differently: “The horse Pegasus jumping from one mountain to another”, although the motto remains the same, “Praebet iuga bina Camoenis” (“Provides two summits for the Muses”)“Un cheval Pegas qui saute d'une montagne a l'autre” [Vulson de La Colombiere 1644: 470].. When we turn to Les Portraits, the relevant engraving does show Pegasus flying from a big mountain to a smaller one with two peaks. Yet the explanation of this device does not correspond to that image but follows Guisse's original version with some minor stylistic changesCf.: “Le Mont Parnasse. Praebet iuga bina Camoenis. Ce Mont a deux sommets pour la demeure des Muses” [Guisse 1638: 14]; “Le Parnasse. Praebet iuga bina Camoenis. Son double Sommet sert de demeure aux Muses” [Vulson de La Colombiere 1650: Gg^V]. It is quite possible that these changes were made by Guisse. According to Sauval, in 1644 Guisse's authorship of the mottos etc., was contested by Pierre de Montmaur, who held the position of the intendant des devises et inscriptions pour les batiments royaux de France. Montmaur's goal was to block what he saw as an infringement of his official rights, but it definitely put Guisse on the defensive. See [Sauval 1724: 166].. Another significant discrepancy has to do with the number of cardinal de Lorraine's emblems: Guisse lists four, Vulson describes five, and the actual engraving includes four -- but they are not the same as in Guisse's booklet. For instance, in Heince's and Bignion's layout there is no image of the bell that, according to both Symbola herotca and La Science herotque, was present in the Gallery to invoke Lorraine's participation in the Council of Trent and the Colloquy at Poissy“Une Cloche. Synodos mittitque vocatque” [Guisse 1638: 14], cf.: [Vulson de La Colombiere 1644: 470].. Vice versa, the engraving shows an emblem that Guisse did not acknowledge but Vulson saw in the Palais-Royal. It represents an obelisk enwrapped by ivy, with the motto “Te stante virebo” (“While you stand, I will flourish”) [Vulson de La Colombiere 1644: 470]. Unlike other devices associated with cardinal de Lorraine, this one is historically accurate because it really belonged to him. As Claude Paradin recounted in Devises heroiqu.es (1557), when Charles de Lorraine became the Abbot of Cluny, this emblem was put above the monastery's entrance [Paradin 1557: 72-73].

Fig. 3. Zacharie Heince and Francois Bignon, engraved portrait of Charles de Lorraine, in Les Portraits des hommes illustres frangois qui sont peints dans la gallerie du Palais cardinal de Richelieu (1650)

Vulson de La Colombiere's transcription of what was actually present in the Gallery around 1644 helps to put into perspective both the verbal and the visual evidence provided by Guisse's book and by Heince's and Bignon's engravings. It seems that some of Guisse's original concepts were found impractical either by the audience (headed by RichelieuAccording to Sauval, Richelieu delighted in such inventions and liked to listen to Champaigne's explanations of allegories that represented his own life: “il prenoit plaisir quelquefois de faire reciter a Champaigne l'histoire de sa vie que ce Peintre avoit representee dans la voute, d'un bout a l'autre” [Sauval 1724: 164].) who could not decipher them without additional explanations, or by the artist who created the images, thus the insertion of Pegasus in Parnassus' emblem. Moreover, not all of Guisse's emblems, publicly displayed at the Palais-Royal, made it into Les Portraits. The opposite is also true: not all of the emblems recorded by Heince and Bignion were invented by Guisse. Finally, we cannot disregard artistic concern with order and uniformity of representation that is definitely present in Les Portraits. Again, if we look at the portrait of cardinal de Lorraine, it is framed by seven historical scenes (the Council of Trent and the Colloquy at Poissy are among them) and four emblems. This layout, the same for all portraits, clearly privileged historical tableaux over allegorical ones, and limited the latter's number. In other words, Heince and Bignon did not simply depicted the Gallery `as it was' but made an informed selection from the available images or were advised which ones to use.

I have singled out cardinal de Lorraine's emblematic assemblage for several reasons. First and foremost, his ecclesiastic dignity underscores both the similarities and the differences in the devices chosen for his portrait and for Richelieu's usage. Second, right from the start Guisse designed for him a full set of emblems, whereas for cardinal d'Amboise, another prince of the Church whose likeness was commissioned for the Gallery, he managed to come up with only two, the unicorn and St. Peter's keysSee: [Guisse 1638: 21-22]. It was suggested by the nineteenth century heraldrists that the unicorn was cardinal d'Amboise's device.. In 1644 Vulson confirmed their existence without adding anything to the list, so we can assume that this scarcity was not remediedOf course there is a chance that at this particular point Vulson simply reproduces Guisse's text but so far his information was quite reliable. See: [Vulson de La Colombiere 1644: 471].. However, in Les Portraits the image of unicorn disappeared but three more emblems took its place -- a papal tiara, a crane and a saffron crocus. That begs the question, were they actually present in the Gallery (but for some reason ignored by Vulson), or invented to balance the composition? If the latter is true that makes d'Amboise's emblematic set less useful for my purpose than the one associated with Charles de Lorraine.

Finally and most importantly, it is among Lorraine's emblems that we find an image of “the fish from which extract the purple” with motto “Nobiscum purpura nata est” (“Born with purple”) (Fig. 4)“le poisson dont on tire la pourpre” [Guisse 1638: 14].. As Guisse succinctly explains, the creature's blood produces purple, and so does the blood of the house of Lorraine which `produced' two cardinals in a row (first Jean de Lorraine, and then his nephew Charles). This invention is too close to Boissiere's device, both structurally and ideologically, to be considered a simple coincidence. Moreover, even if we discard the possibility that Hercules' dog and the murex were represented among other promotional emblems mentioned by Bouhours, the fact remains that Boissiere contributed to the decoration of both Galleries, and thus was involved in this undertaking. For that reason I propose to treat Guisse's invention as a development and, in some sense, correction of Boissiere's original device. But considering that this time we are dealing not only with ekphrastic description but with the actual image, I will start with a short and necessary limited excursus into emblematic tradition to see if Guisse's (and Boissiere's) murex has other antecedents.

Fig. 4. Zacharie Heince and Francois Bignon, engraved portrait of Charles de Lorraine (detail)

Dux fremina facti

Sea-creatures covered with shell do not seem to be overly popular with emblemmakers. Apart from Alciato's emblem “Captivus ob gulam” (“Caught by greed”) that shows a rodent with its head enclosed in a large clamThe story comes from the Anthologia graeca: a mouse has tried to nibble on a half-opened oyster and got caught when the shell closed. See: [Alciato 1534: 91] and subsequent editions., they rarely put in an appearance. But there is at least one significant exception: in Devises hernques (1557) Claude Paradin presents “the fish called a Purple” that both benefits and suffers from its huge tongueInformation about the murex's tongue goes back to Aristotle's Historia de animalibus, most likely via the Renaissance bestiary tradition. Cf.: [Aristotle 1619: 570-571].. With it “shee getteth her living”, and “by the same she may in- curre the danger of death, and become a pray [sic! -M.N.] to the fishers”. Therefore, this fish is an apt metaphor for the blabbers and slanderers whose poisoned tongues may be compared “to the tongue of a great purple fish because there cleaveth to the palit of her mouth a purple, red humor, signifying allegorically a cruel poison of an evill speaker, a backbiter, and a bloodie fellow”I am citing an English translation [Paradin 1591: 207] which was made not from the French original but from the Latin version, so there are some minor discrepancies between these texts. For the original see: [Paradin 1557: 163].. The engraving (Fig. 5) shows an oblong sea-shell and the head of the creature that looks like a snail (with an unusually big tongue). It is complemented by the motto “Sic praedae patet esca sui” (“So her meat lyeth open to her own destruction”).

Fig. 5. “Sicpraedaepatet esca sui”, in Claude Paradin, Devises heroiques (1557)

Paradin's use of the murex appears completely unrelated to Tyrian legend, and as such provides a good counterpoint to Guisse's invention. The Devises were highly appreciated by the publishers and by the public, and continued to circulate well into the seventeenth century. There were at least two Parisian editions in 1621-1622, and a considerable number of earlier reprints, both in French and in Latin, which means that Guisse had ample opportunity to acquaint himself with this treatise. It is quite possible that the image of the murex from Paradin's book served as a reference for the artist who realized Guisse's invention. Although Heince's and Bignon's engraving is not big enough to make a reliable comparison, it does show an oblong shell and the head of the creature which has a certain similarity with Paradin's `fish', only this time it resembles more a lobster than a snail and does not have a visible tongue.

Yet I am not absolutely certain that Paradin's decision to use the murex has nothing to do with the discovery of purple. Later Filippo Picinelli in his encyclopedic Mondo Simbolico (1653) had no problem switching from the negative meaning of “porpora” which he characterized as “crapula” (gluttony) to the positive one, where an image of a crushed murex served as an allegory of Christian deathThe latter example refers to Orazio Spinola's funerary emblem [Picinelli 1653: 224].. Moreover, in the first edition of Paradin's Devises, which came out in 1551 and contained only the images and mottos, there was a rather enigmatic device that may be related to that legend. It represents a dog holding a clam in its mouth, with the motto “Dux femina facti” (Fig. 6). This image was not included in the second edition, and consequently we do not know what exactly Paradin wanted to convey by it. The motto -- a much quoted line from the Aeneid (“A woman was the leader of the deed”) -- was frequently used to celebrate female leadershipFor instance, it was written on a 1588 medal that commemorated Queen Elizabeth I's triumph over the Spanish Armada.. In the poem it referred to Dido's achievements, i. e., her successful flight from Phoenicia and the founding of Carthage. Now, the nymph from Pollux's legend also comes from Phoenicia and is clearly connected to the city's origins, as she shares her name with Tyre. Moreover, it is her sudden fancy that prompts Hercules to move from an accidental discovery made by his dog to the actual use of purple dye. In some sense, Tyro was the leader of the deed.

Fig. 6. “Duxfaminafacti'', in Claude Paradin, Devises heroiques (1551)

The major drawback of this hypothesis comes from the fact that in Paradin's device the dog is holding the wrong kind of shell. As we have seen in “Sic praedae patet esca sui”, the engraver knew how the murex should look, and that image did not correspond to what was represented in “Dux femina facti” device. But these two images did not belong to the same assemblage: the fish with an evil tongue appeared only in the second edition of Devises from which the dog with the clam was excluded. If my reading of the latter device is correct, then perhaps the artist initially had a vague idea how to represent purpura and copied the clam from Alciato's “Captivus ob gulam” emblem. Linguistically it made sense, because in Alciato's text the sea-creature that captured the mouse was called `oyster', and the same name was often given to the murex. That fact was already pointed out in Brunetto Latini's Li livres dou tresor“Une autre coquille est en mer qui a non murique ou conche, et li plusor l'apelent oisre...” [Latini 1863: 187]., and in the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries Latin purpura was frequently rendered into French as `l'huitre'. The same Guisse who in 1638 used the word `poisson' to describe his subject, in 1650 (assuming that was still him) switched to the oyster: “l'huistre, purpura, dont on tire la pourpre”. So when Paradin decided to add the allegory of the evil tongue, he dispensed with the discovery of purple -- otherwise the stories would have clashed -- and corrected the artist's misconception.

There is also a possibility that both emblems were designed to convey a warning. Let us assume that Paradin went against the prevalent interpretation of “Dux femina facti” and used it in a misogynistic sense. After all, the dog with the clam looks rather sheepish and the wording of murex's narrative is ambiguous. The Latin motto hints at female frailty (“So her meat lyeth open to her own destruction”), and even though the French commentary firmly stays with masculine pronouns (“il prent la mort”, etc.) and speaks of sin in general terms, the whole could have been read as a gender-specific invective. Significantly, when working with this text, the English interpreter slipped from masculine to feminine pronouns: “The great com- moditie which the fish called a Purple receiveth by his tongue, is so much to be esteemed, because thereby shee getteth her living”.

To bring this purely conjectural issue to a close, I would suggest that if there was a connection between Paradin's images of two shells, it stemmed from the reference to female power/influence. That seems to be atypical for representations of the discovery of purple, even when the stress is put on Hercules' courtship. For instance, much later, in 1663, Claude-Francois Menestrier used this legend to decorate one of the triumphal arches that he devised for the celebration of Francoise-Madeleine d'Orleans's marriage to Charles Emmanuel II, Duke of Savoy. As he painstakingly explained, because the dog discovered purple, its master was able to gift his beloved with the precious garment, and that makes this story “an emblem of Loyalty and Love”. Nevertheless the actual image -- judging from its description -- showed only Hercules “sitting and petting his dog, whose muzzle is all purple”, with the motto “Fidelite merite Amour” (“Loyalty deserves Love”)“...le premier [embleme] represente Hercules assis, & caressant son chien, qui a le museau tout teint de pourpre avec cette Ame “Fidelite merite Amour”. Nous apprenons des anciens que ce fut le chien de ce Hero qui trouva le pourpe, & qu'en ayant fait teindre un habit, il en fit present a une Nymphe de Tyr qu'il aimoit: ce qui fait de cet embleme un embleme de Fidelite & d'Amour” [Menestrier 1663: 23].. Even in this nuptial context the woman (Tyro/nymph) was superseded by the dog, and her explicit desire for the colored dress became a passive acceptance of Hercules' gift. Moreover, the emblem had a rather curious prefiguration. A year earlier Menestrier published a treatise, L 'Art des emblems (1662), where he already proposed the motto “Fidelite merite Amour” in conjunction with a slightly different image, “A Dog petted by a Nymph”“Un Chien, qu'une Nymphe caresse” [Menestrier 1662: 125].. The dog signified devotion to the beloved who rewarded it with her affection. We can assume that for some reason it was deemed inappropriate for the ducal pair, consequently Hercules replaced the nymph, and the whole was rather hastily associated with the discovery of purple legend.

Fig. 7. Giovanni Battista Cavalieri, “Tyro Hercolis uxor”, in Antiquarum statuarum urbis Romae, primus et secundus liber (1585)

The last part of my conjecture may be wrong: it is quite possible that Hercules and his dog did belong to the same thematic assemblage as the nymph and the dog, and that both types of images were linked to Pollux' story. But the evidence to support that claim comes from a slightly different area of artistic expertise, even though it also involves interpretation of images, this time ancient ones. In the middle of the sixteenth century, the architect Pirro Ligorio, on request of Ippolito II d'Este, began to excavate Villa Adriana. Among his finds were two copies of a Greek statue that he identified as `Tyro'. It represented a sitting woman with a big dog under her chairOr two sculptures of the same type: for more information see [Hulsen 1917: 102].. One of these sculptures was brought to Villa d'Este and used to decorate the garden [Hulsen 1917: 92]. In the same decade or just a bit later its image was captured in Giovanni Battista de' Cavalieri's engraving entitled “Tyro Hercolis uxor” included in his Antiquarum Statuarum Urbis Romae series (Fig. 7)I am using the 1585 edition of Antiquarum Statuarum Urbis Romae and unable to verify if `Tyro' was present in the earlier prints that appeared since 1561.. The woman in the engraving shows no discernable affection for the dog and seems to be oblivious to its presence, but as sixteenth-century antiquaries were more attuned to the texts than to the visual signs, just a combination of particular personae was sufficient for them to associate this monument with Hercules' and Tyro's legend from the Onomasti- con. This misnomer opens up a possibility that we failed to identify some visual or ekphrastic interpretations of that story. Menestrier's 1662 emblem with a nymph is a case in point: it could refer to the discovery of purple, and the subsequent substitution of a nymph for Hercules just made it more recognizable for the less learned public.