Wednesday, November 28, 2018

 

Some Greek Words Written on a Skull

Salvator Rosa (1615-1673), Self-Portrait (New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, accession number 21.105):


Richard W. Wallace, "Salvator Rosa's Democritus and L'Umana Fragilità," Art Bulletin 50.1 (March, 1968) 21-32 (at 21-22, footnotes omitted):
The Self-Portrait has the skull, books, pen, and paper so often seen in paintings of St. Jerome as a solitary, scholarly penitent, and the inscription on the piece of paper declares that it was painted "nell'Eremo," in the retreat or hermitage, for Rosa's friend Giovanni Battista Ricciardi. The way in which the skull is held and contemplated is also reminiscent of Domenico Fetti's painting and Giovanni Benedetto Castiglione's etching of Melancholy, the latter of which was known to Rosa at the time the Self-Portrait was executed, and it is especially relevant to this discussion that both of these artists made their figures look like penitent Magdalenes (Figs. 4, 5). In addition, it seems likely that Rosa was here influenced by the well-established tradition of the portrait with a skull. Although examples of this portrait type are found in Italian Renaissance and Baroque art, they tend to be rather rare compared to their great popularity in Northern sixteenth and seventeenth century art, and it therefore seems quite possible that Northern models may have helped to shape Rosa's concetto.

If the inscription he writes on the skull, ἠνί ποῖ ποτέ—"Behold, Whither, When"—has the ambiguity usually associated with such declarations, the memento mori significance of the skull itself is perfectly clear, and is reinforced by the crown of funerary cypress that garlands his head. It would also seem that Rosa originally intended to refer to his own Stoicism, showing himself contemplating the death's head with Stoic calm and resignation, since the book upon which the skull rests has "Seneca" written on its spine, the letters now only faintly visible.
Here is a detailed view of part of the painting, showing more clearly the Greek words on the skull:


First, let's look at the accents. Normally we would place a grave accent on the final syllable of the first word (i.e. ἠνὶ rather than ἠνί) because the following word (ποῖ) is accented. Also, it appears that the artist is portrayed as placing an acute accent on the final syllable of the last word, i.e. ποτέ. Wallace seems, however, to have translated the interrogative πότε, a paroxytone. Greek also has the enclitic ποτε (at some time, once, some day), with no accent.

The first word (ἠνί) is problematic. You won't find it in Liddell-Scott-Jones (9th ed.) — the nearest you'll come to it is in the entry for ἤν (B):
Interject. see there! ἤν, οὐχ ἡδύ; Ar.Eq.26; "ἤν, μεθίεμεν" Id.Pl.75; "ἀλλ᾽ ἢν χιτών σοι" Men.148; ἤν, τότε βακχίαζε . . χθών Philod. Scarph.14; also ἢν ἰδού Pratin.Lyr.1.15, Ar.Ra.1390, Herod.1.4, Luc.DMort.10.10, Anach.1, Alciphr.Fr.6.6, cf. Theoc.8.26; folld. by καὶ δή, E.HF867, Ar.Pax327:—also ἠνίδε (i.e. ἢν ἴδε) Pl.Epigr. 20, Theoc.2.38, Call.Del.132; with τοι, Theoc.1.149, 3.10.

Update from Joel Eidsath:
It was in my Little Liddell, so I checked the 7th ed. Great Scott. f.l. = falsa lectio.


You will, however, find a discussion of ἠνί in Henri Estienne, Thesaurus Graecae Linguae, Vol. III (Paris: Firmin Didot, 1835), col. 212 (s.v. εἴδω):


If ἠνί is a real Greek word (and I'm not convinced it is), I wonder if the suffix -ί could be explained as iota demonstrativum (cf. νῦν and νυνί etc.).

Norbert Schneider, Atelierbilder: Visuelle Reflexionen zum Status der Malerei vom Spätmittelalter bis zum Beginn der Modern (Münster: LIT, 2018 = Karlsruher Schriften zur Kunstgeschichte, 14), p. 87, misquotes and mistranslates the Greek:
Bei Rosa, der das wohl alles kannte, war es speziell eine Orientierung an Seneca, also am Stoizismus, wie auf dem New Yorker Selbstbildnis die diesen antiken Philosophen nennende Inschrift des Buches erkennen lässt, auf dem der Totenkopf liegt, den denn einem finsteren Raum, der Kammer des antizipierten Todes, befindliche Künstler, der einen Zypressenkranz auf dem Kopf trägt und dem eine Träne aus dem Augenwinkel quillt, mit einem Stift bekritzelt, indem er einen fragmentierten griechischen Satz einträgt (ἠμί ποῖ ποτέ, „sage ich, ... wie lange ... wann“).
See also Wendy Wassyng Roworth, "The Consolations of Friendship: Salvator Rosa's Self-Portrait for Giovanni Battista Ricciardi," Metropolitan Museum Journal 23 (1988) 103-124.

Hat tip: Tim Ognisty.

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