In an LRB piece (Vol. 46 No. 17 · 12 September 2024) coming out of the publication earlier this year of a new edition of the classicist Jane Ellen Harrison’sReminiscences of a Student’s Life: A Memoir (first published in 1925 towards the end of her life), Mary Beard ponders the Harrison life stories as told by her, to be retold by others until the varied accounts thereof fused to be the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Or perhaps not. And if not, who cares, for Harrison’s life was remarkable in every way irrespective of questionable veracity, mischievous embellishment or the self-interested spin. Harrison knew that a woman of her time had to control their own narrative or no one else would – or worse, could easily find itself appropriated by a … bloke!
This is not the first time Mary Beard has considered Jane Harrison. She too is of course a fellow of Newnham College, Cambridge, where Harrison studied, was rejected by, and returned to – to become the archetype for generations of women academics. And, Professor Beard in fact hunted through archival material for her own book, The Invention of Jane Harrison (Harvard University Press) in 2000. (A review from the time at The Guardian can be read here.)
If written words are not enough, the LRB also included a conversation with Mary Beard about her article in their podcast (available on their website or embedded below from Spotify) where Harrison is stylized as ‘the cleverest woman in England’ (of that time).
I too have mentioned Jane Harrison before – here and again here, for instance, in respect to her being one of a particular group of intellectual women who happened to live for a time on Mecklenburgh Square in London, and as written about by Francesca Wade in her book Square Haunting (2020). Another of those was of course Virginia Woolf, and the Woolfs attendance at Harrison’s funeral (on 19th April 1928) is recorded in a 21st April 1928 diary entry that I make note of here. This, an event that does not appear to have moved VW terribly much but, just as she has afforded others who touched upon her world, her memorializing of Harrison is other – for her, a guest appearance in A Room of One’s Own. And what a memorial that is; one that assures a recognition beyond her time into the present.
Possibly Edith Hamilton (here her Wiki entry) is one of those extraordinary American women renowned only on their home turf and amongst those steeped in Classics education. Whatever, I only came across Hamilton by chance a few years ago whilst reading Jesmyn Ward’s Salvage the Bones in which the feisty young protagonist is given a copy of Mythology to read by a teacher, and finds solace in those ancient myths – and refuge from the cruel realities of poverty and despair in the Mississippi Delta.
I intermittently catch the BBC Radio 3 cultural program “The Essay”, and are often surprised by its content, but it actually took an article in the Frankfurter Allgemeine to alert me to these episodes (still available as I write on Sounds) about the circumstances surrounding the 1768 murder in Trieste of Johann Joachim Winckelmann – considered to be one of the first practitioners of what we would now call art history and archaeology. I say that, but it is more. The cultural historian, Seán Williams, is also telling the wider narrative of a celebrity “gay life” (and death) during the Enlightenment – what could be done and what not, where and with whom – and how it has been interpreted in the afterlife, both in respect to Winckelmann but in the myth building around cultural icons.
Johann Joachim Winckelmann (1717–1768) by Anton Raphael Mengs ca. 1777 (The Met object ID 437067)
Winckelmann interests me. He turns up in this blog post, in which I touch upon newer research and reconstruction methods in polychromy that supports the view that the artifacts of antiquity were very colorful indeed; running counter to the monochromatic orthodoxy which had first arisen during the Renaissance but the certainty about which began to crack during the Neoclassical period of the 18th century – a cultural movement and time of which Winckelmann was a “mover and shaker”. Under nearer scrutiny, traces of pigment were being observed for the first time on objects, and even Winckelmann (albeit belatedly) changed his stance. But, by the 20th century, and for whatever reason – racism, the aesthetic of fascism it has been suggested – all the scholarship and practical methodology of the 18th century was being rejected in favor of the marble white, purity narrative, and prevails still in the contemporary consciousness. The latter is hardly surprising when the artifacts and fragments on display in the museums of the world mostly have very little pigment remaining, and labels are not always explanatory.
As I say, Johann Joachim Winckelmann interested me anyway, but Sean Williams’ radio essay has added an extra dimension. (Here, in his own words, a short accompanying text.)
Still a topic of contention and with new evidence surfacing a hundred years on; the excavation of the tomb of Tutankhamun in November 1922 by a team under the patronage of George Herbert, 5th Earl of Carnarvon and led by the Egyptologist Howard Carter. As I mentioned here in discussing the Rosetta Stone and other artifacts strewn far and wide, this, perhaps the most famous of all plunderings, also remains a matter of heated debate between the governments of Egypt and the United Kingdom.
Howard Carter and a foremen working on the innermost coffin.
The archaeological record of the excavation was bequeathed on Carter’s death to The Griffith Institute at Oxford University which provides for a comprehensive online resource – original documentation, photos, drawings. What of course it does not do is delve into the nitty gritty of questions of ownership and restitution.
The British Government line for why they have maintained a relatively passive role in deciding the fate of the stolen Parthenon Marbles (I’ve always said “Elgin Marbles” – me thinks that ain’t exactly p.c. these days!) has always rested strongly on the reasoning that the spectacular artifacts were removed from the Acropolis and brought into the UK by Lord Elgin in the 19th century – that is, it was a historically private initiative, unhindered by the Greek officialdom and following international and diplomatic protocols in place at the time, and over which the Government had little to no influence then and presumably no legal liability now. In the light of this, a report in The Guardian a couple of days ago about research suggesting that the foreign secretary of the day, Viscount Castlereagh, was, in fact, very much involved in the initiative and in facilitating the import of the marbles, offers an interesting new angle in what must be one of the longest and most famous disputes concerning stolen antiquities.
My own photograph, British Museum, 2012.
The publication of these findings comes at a particularly timely moment it has to be said; coming on the back of a renewed campaign by the Greek government, partly inspired by the sudden change of stance by The Times at the beginning of the year and public opinion in the UK in general, and the British Museum showing signs of a willingness to explore compromise solutions (talk for instance of a so-called “Parthenon Partnership” and a new Parthenon Project.).
Staying at the British Museum: There is the matter of the Rosetta Stone – famously, the engraved artifact with which Jean-François Champollion went about his decoding of the hitherto puzzle of hieroglyphs. The physical object of course is one thing, but just as important, perhaps, is the way in which the astounding work of Champollion and others shone new light upon the richness of ancient Egyptian civilisation – their society, customs and belief systems. In recognition of Champollion’s scholarship there is a major exhibition Hieroglyphs: unlocking ancient Egyptat the British Museum through to 19 February 2023 (and I note an extended blog piece by the curator, Ilona Regulski). And another at the Louvre satellite in Lens, Champollion: La voie des hiéroglyphes (the webpage is only in French, but the objects can be looked at) until 16 January.
My (not very good!) photo of the Rosetta Stone, British Museum, 2012
Not quite as loudly as Greece, but Egypt too has called for the return of their “lost” heritage over the years. The loudest, though no longer in a governmental role, has been the renowned (and publicity savvy) Egyptian archaeologist Zahi Hawass who regularly pleads for the Stone’s restitution (as he likewise does for Nefertiti’s return from Berlin). In some ways this case is more complicated, in that the Rosetta Stone was amongst the many artifacts that were handed over to the British in a formal agreement as a result of the capitulation of Napoleon’s army in Egypt. Though one could conclude: Okay, so the French excavated, confiscated – maybe nicked – all this stuff and the Brits just help themselves to the spoils? What!
I admit to being a convert tending more to the ‘return’ side of the argument. Way back whenever I was amongst those (many, I believe) interested observers of the mounting controversies who just sort of presumed western museums (located in democratic countries, in more moderate climatic regions – both factors remain good – but not defining – arguments) had the space, financial and technical resources, expertise to best ensure the preservation of some of the treasures of world civilization. Unfortunately, it has to be said, many of these institutions (mostly led by an older generation and with the tacit support of their governments) have over decades been too reluctant to seriously engage with the claims made by the nations and peoples from whence many cultural objects have originated and, even when, have confronted the claimants with a sometimes patronizing, often impatient and nearly always paternalistic attitude. Ultimately, I think, one has to be prepared to accept the good will and intentions of those who seek restitution of their property and their right to make decisions that they deem in the best interest of the preservation and continuity of their cultural heritage. There are enough examples of how that may happen – with partnerships, exchanges, even new museums.
It seems, then, after years of bulwark tactics, the British Museum may be finally progressing towards an inclusive and respectful course of cultural and intellectual exchange. And it is not alone, for younger generations are taking on leadership roles at many other of the world’s great institutions; generations that are more diverse and with broader cultural visions. This, I think, is good news (something at a premium these days!) for the many nations that are reorganizing their cultural legacy in a post-colonial world.
This NYT article alerted me to the Metropolitan Museum of Art exhibition entitled Chroma: Ancient Sculpture in Color; an adaptation it seems of that which I viewed at the Liebieghaus (the home, so to speak, of many of the exhibits) in Frankfurt – there called “Gods in Color” – in February 2020, and about which I posted here. In fact, various versions have been touring the world over the last decade or so, but given the larger space available (not to mention, the budget) it is possible that the Met show is more ambitious. The Met web page is very informative (as was also that during the Frankfurt show) but new is an app than encourages virtual recreations and reflects the collaborative work of those behind the polychromy project. (And everybody knows nothing works without an app these days!)
Of course, times being as they are, it is inevitable that the conversation surrounding the content and merits of the show would be dominated by matters of identity. And given the particularities of the project and the issues that arise from the reconstructions of Vinzenz Brinkmann and Ulrike Koch Brinkmann, the pivot is not hard to make.
And the NYT piece certainly doesn’t let down in this respect; pointing out how the Brinkmann team’s reconstructions have led to degrees of disquiet in academic and research circles. It seems some would contend that these particular reconstructions have been afforded such celebrity in recent years that it is often overlooked that they, in fact, represent only the scholarship of one pair of researchers, and should not be seen as a definitive verdict. This further leads to wide-ranging debates (often motivated through self or particular interest) on variations of polychromy and, of course, whiteness – and not just during antiquity. In this respect, the Times points to an interesting 2017 blog post from the historian, Sarah E. Bond, and this very lengthy and very excellent 2018 New Yorker article.
The following YouTube video (also on the Met site) is an excellent introduction to the scholarly and technical background to the project.
Vinzenz Brinkmann and Ulrike Koch-Brinkmann on their research into ancient sculptural polychromy and their work in creating full-size reconstructions of original Greek and Roman artworks.
By the way, I was incredibly informed by the exhibition in Frankfurt – loved it, really; even if a favorite jacket came to grief in the cloakroom and it was to be my final cultural adventure before the pandemic took over our lives. If I knew anyone in New York I would highly recommend heading for Fifth Ave. (through March 26, 2023), and I am also fairly sure it will turn up elsewhere in the future – probably with new exhibits.
