A satyr meets an emperor

Since September, I have been based in the National Gallery in Washington DC (at its Center for Advanced Study in the Visual Arts). Over the years, I have had a lot to do with Museums, but I have never been embedded within one quite like this before (“at home” in a museum, you could say). And it makes a huge difference.

It means that, as you go about your daily business, you pass by things in the museum that you would never have actually searched out. In this way you get to see what is unfamiliar and surprising – including some of the Cinderellas of the museum world, that few people ever queue up to see. We can all name them: most post-antique ceramics, the majority of coins and medals, tapestries, even silverware. Not the crowd pullers.

So, by accident of my routes through the gallery, I have been spending a bit of time in front of Renaissance medals and bronze figurines, many of which – though perhaps a bit dull at first sight – come to life when you give them some classical input. One that has become a favourite is a medal featuring Nero, by the fifteenth-century medallist Filarete.

© Penta Springs Limited/Alamy

It shows Nero on the left sitting under a palm tree, facing a man in a pot. There used to be some discussion about who the man in the pot was. One idea, for example, was that it depicted a successful athlete to whom Nero was presenting a “vase” as a prize (but, if so, why is the man standing inside the pot?). Of course, it has become obvious that Nero here must be confronting his ex-tutor Seneca, who was forced to suicide after conspiring against the emperor. It was said that he was so old and emaciated that the blood would not flow from his veins when he tried to kill himself by severing them. In the end he had to get into a warm bath to release the blood, which is what we see here. The palm tree probably reflects the medieval idea that Seneca’s death was a proto-martyrdom (a palm branch being a symbol of the triumph of Christian martyrs). It’s a wonderfully dense scene when you unpick it (and significantly similar to Filarete’s version of Nero presiding over the martyrdom of Peter and Paul on the great bronze doors of St Peter’s).

But it can be harder to unpick the meaning (classical of otherwise) of some of the bronzes. I am floored by the one illustrated at the top of this post. It is a small piece by Severo da Ravenna, a few decades later than Filarete’s medal, clearly showing a kneeling satyr: the mythical half man, half goat (with an almost uncontrollable sexual appetite). But, weirdly, in the satyr’s hand is what looks for all the world like the figure of a Roman emperor. What on earth was Severo trying to say about satyrs or emperors? Have I missed something?

Suggestions gratefully received.

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