di Jerzy MIZIOLEK
The Fall of Troy and the Death of Priam by Tadeusz Kuntze
To Prof. Kazimierz Lewartowski on the 70th anniversary of his birth
The story of the siege of Ilion (Troy) by the Greeks and its subsequent fall continues to captivate audiences even in our times. A good example is the film Troy (2004) featuring a multitude of famous actors, including Brad Pitt as Achilles and Diane Krüger as Helen. It is evident that Homer’s Iliad was not depicted in a particularly faithful manner in this film, however, film art is governed by its own distinct set of rules.
Furthermore, the depiction of the fall of Troy in the painting signed and dated TADEUS KUNTZE P: ROMA 1756, is also far from archaeologically accurate. The letter ‘P’ is probably an abbreviation for Polonus or Polacco (fig. 1), thus denoting a term of nationality.
In Rome, where Kuntze lived for almost forty years, he is known as Taddeo Polacco (Loret 1929: 22–30; Rybko 1990: 775; Petrucci 2021). This outstanding painter, who has been somewhat overlooked in recent decades, received a special mention in the past year, following the purchase of his self-portrait for the renowned collection of portraits at the Galleria degli Uffizi in Florence (fig. 2).
It is also probably that the artist portrayed himself as a young man in one of his earlier works dated 1754, which is currently on permanent display at the National Museum in Warsaw (figs. 3–4) (Karpowicz 1976).
Prior to this, the painting by Kuntze, depicting the Fall of Troy, was not known in Poland. The canvas, created in Rome in 1756, deriving from an Italian private collection was acquired by the Wawel Royal Castle in Kraków in November 2012. It is an oil painting measuring 99 x 136 cm, and is in very good condition. Prior to its purchase, the subject of the painting was unknown – the title was described very generally as an ‘Ancient Scene’. In Kraków the subject of this beautiful yet sombre painting was intuitively construed the death of King Priam of Troy, however no literary source could be identified to substantiate this interpretation.
Against the background of the burning city, imagined by the artist as being modern, not ancient, in character, we observe on the right – on the terrace in front of the palace – a golden throne and a terrified woman standing next to it, dressed in white gilded robes with a diadem on her head (fig. 5). Next to her, in front of a pedestal with a stone vase, we see three children hugging each other and, opposite them, the insignia of power lying on the ground – a royal mantle, crown and sceptre (fig. 6).
These insignia belong to the elderly man depicted in the centre of the painting, who is being seized by his curly hair by an assailant preparing to deliver a fatal blow with a sword (fig. 7). It seems reasonable to assume that we are indeed observing the assassination of the ruler of Troy being murdered by a warrior who has already killed the young man lying at the feet of his unfortunate father and his pursuer. To the left of the composition, several women are praying to a statue of Zeus shown with a bundle of thunderbolts in his right hand (figs. 8–9).
One of the women has climbed onto the plinth and, embracing the statue of the deity, awaits salvation, which unfortunately does not come. In the background further acts of rape and murder are depicted. One particularly intriguing aspect of this interesting composition, painted in bright colours, is the large black dog positioned in front of the statue of Zeus, seemingly poised to leap upon the assassin Priam.
The subject of Kuntze’s painting was interpreted in 2012, yet the source of inspiration behind it remained unclear, with no indication of a literary reference. The Iliad, writes one researcher, ‘does not come into play here, as this one ends before the conquest of Troy. In all probability, it can be assumed that the texts of Greek epics of the seventh and sixth centuries BC, developing the themes of the Iliad and the Odyssey, were at the basis of the painting’s plot’ (Kuczman 2013). Indeed, neither of Homer’s masterpieces contains a narrative that aligns with the subject matter depicted in the painting, nor is it to be found in the vaguely mentioned Greek epics.
In a brief article published in Polish in 2013 in the magazine of the Podkarpackie Museum (the Subcarpathian Museum) in Krosno and its branch, the Karpacka Troja (the Carpathian Troy) archaeological museum, I pointed to a specific literary source (Miziołek 2013). In the aforementioned article, I also put forth a potential resolution to the enigma surrounding the black dog depicted in the painting. There is no doubt that the painting’s principal literary source is a fragment of Book II of the Aeneid, which contains the following verses:
And maybe you ask, what was Priam’s fate. /When he saw the end of the captive city, the palace doors wrenched away,/ and the enemy among the inner rooms, the aged man clasped his long-neglected armour on his old, trembling shoulders, and fastened on his useless sword,/ and hurried into the thick of the enemy seeking death./In the centre of the halls, and under the sky’s naked arch,/was a large altar, with an ancient laurel nearby, that leant/ on the altar, and clothed the household gods with shade. / Here Hecuba, and her daughters, like doves driven/ by a dark storm, crouched uselessly by the shrines,/huddled together, clutching at the statues of the gods….Pyrrhus chases after him (Polites), eager to strike him,/ and grasps at him now, and now, with his hand, at spear-point./ When finally he reached the eyes and gaze of his parents,/ he fell, and poured out his life in a river of blood./ Priam … threw his ineffectual spear/ without strength, which immediately spun from the clanging bronze/ and hung uselessly from the centre of the shield’s boss. / Pyrrhus …. dragged him, trembling, and slithering in the pool of his son’s blood, to the very altar,/ and twined his left hand in his hair, raised the glittering sword/ in his right, and buried it to the hilt in his side./ This was the end of Priam’s life… (Aeneid, II, 509–550; D. West’s transl.; Virgil 1991).
In the aforementioned verses we find all the characters both deceased (Polites) and as yet alive (Hecuba and her daughters) as well as motifs (including Priam’s spear lying on the ground) depicted by Kuntze. The only exception is the black dog. The only ancient author who makes reference to this animal is Hyginus, a Roman writer and mythographer who lived during the time of Octavian Augustus. He writes in his Myths how Hecuba, after being taken captive following the fall of Troy, threw herself into the sea and turned into a dog. In the painting, therefore, we see her in two distinct guises – once as a woman shown in a diadem next to the throne and a second time as an animal throwing itself at Pyrrhus. The following in an excerpt from the text of Hyginus:
When Ulysses was taking into servitude, Priam’s wife, daughter of Cisseus, or according to some writers, daughter of Dymas, she threw herself into the Hellespont, and is said to have been changed into a dog. The place is called Cyneus from this (Hyginus, CXI, M. Grant’s transl.).
It is worth noting that in her commentary on this passage Grant (1960, pp. 95–96) writes:
‘The transformation of Hecuba into a dog and the related explanation of the place name … appear already in the Hecuba of Euripides. In the Exode of that play the blinded Polymnestor reveals to the savage old queen her fate, told him once by the god Bacchus.’
So either our painter was a true erudite or, more likely, he received detailed instructions from the commissioner of the painting, about whom, unfortunately, nothing is known. The fall of Troy and the death of Priam were also painted by two French painters, Jean Baptiste Regnault in 1785 and Jules Levebvre in 1861. Lefebvre’s canvas is now in the collections of the Beaux-Arts de Paris (fig. 10). However these two painters were much more neoclassical in style, and neither of them features the metamorphosis of Hecuba into a black dog.
Tadeusz Kuntze (1727–1793) was a native of Silesia, but spent the majority of his life working in Rome, where he is still – as has been noted – known as Taddeo Polacco (Petrucci 2021). He was born in Zielona Góra, but went to Kraków, most probably because of the war between Prussia and Austria (1740) in his early youth (Wnuk 1995 & 2000). It was here that his considerable talents were recognized; Andrzej Stanisław Załuski, Bishop of Płock and Canon of Kraków, became the talented boy’s patron. According to one legend, Tadeusz as a boy was said to have assisted the cook in the Bishop’s house and drew various figures on the wall, which were quickly noticed.
Thanks to Bishop Załuski, between 1747 and 1752 Kuntze studied at the French Academy in Rome. For his patron, he painted two canvases intended for Wawel Cathedral in 1754 – Saint Casimir and The Martyrdom of Saint Adalbert, and two allegorical representations – Fortune and Art (all four signed and dated). The latter two canvases, now in the National Museum in Warsaw, are characterized – like The Fall of Troy – by the same bright colours. It is likely that they were intended for the Załuski Library in Warsaw, established in 1747. Following the death of Bishop Załuski in 1758, Kuntze settled in Rome, where he lived and worked until his death. He had connections with Spain, and in the early 1770s he hosted the young Francisco Goya, who lived in his Roman flat for over a year. Kuntze played an important role in the development of Goya’s artistic skills (Mangiante 1992 & 2008). Kuntze’s output is considerable in both fresco and easel painting. His works adorn several churches in Lazio and Rome (Petrucci 2021). Following the creation of numerous paintings in the spirit of the Rococo, such as the aforementioned paintings, Kuntze proceeded to make works that were more neoclassical in nature. Among the best are those executed during the last phase of his life in the heart of Rome, at the Palazzo Bonaparte, where Napoleon I’s mother, Letizia Buonaparte, lived from 1818 to 1836 (Schleier 1981; Rudollph 1983: 779; Petrucci 2020).
We mentioned Kuntze’s signature on the painting with the story of Priam and Hecuba, which clearly suggests his strong links with Poland, a country that has numerous works by this painter, including the painting in the main altar in the Church of the Visitation in Warsaw which depicts the Visitation. The artist placed his signature and the date on the painting in the collection of the Royal Castle on the edge of the shield lying between the black dog and the scene of Priam’s death. Similarly, the two allegorical paintings, Art and Fortune, are also signed (Karpowicz 1976; Dolański 1993: 45). It is noteworthy that this version of the artist’s name is essentially Polish, indicating that the painter, while abroad, demonstrated his Polish identity from the outset. The painting, purchased in Rome and belonging to the Wawel National Art Collection since November 2012, is an outstanding work in terms of its composition, colour and the originality of its treatment of the subject. Kuntze’s entire oeuvre, encompassing both his works in the Rococo style and those in the spirit of neoclassicism, is characterized by an exceptionally high artistic level. It awaits, along with the oeuvre of two other painters active in 18th-century Rome – Szymon Czechowicz and Franciszek Smuglewicz – much higher recognition than it has received to date (The Genius of Baroque 2020; Miziołek 2024). The work of these three artists shows that long before the real triumph of Polish painting in the second half of the 19th century, there were foreshadowings of its birth and development through the influence of Rome.
Jerzy MIZIOLEK Varsavia 1 Dicembre 2024
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