1
THE HONOR OF THE TROPHY
A Prussian Bronze in the Napoleonic Era
Alice Goff
Protect me from the surging horde
That pulls us against our will toward the maelstrom
No, lead me to the quiet corner of heaven
Where new joy blossoms for the poet aloneâŠ.
âGoethe, Faust, 1808
In November 1806, the members of the Academy of Sciences in Berlin gathered to draft a desperate plea. France had defeated Prussia a month earlier at the battles of Jena and Auerstadt, and Napoleon and his army were now occupying the city. In a by then well-established feature of French military policy in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, the occupiers sought out objects of cultural value from the vanquished state to transport back to France. The director of the MusĂ©e Napoleon, Dominique-Vivant Denon, led the endeavor, selecting works of art, coins, books, maps, and curiosities from the royal palaces and galleries in Berlin and Potsdam to enrich his museumâs collections in Paris. As the objects were readied for transport, the distraught members of the Academy in the Prussian capital decided to intervene with the French emperor himself.1 In the resulting petition, the members invoked one of the threatened objects to represent their plight. The most prized antiquity in the Prussian collections, an ancient bronze boy just over four feet tall with head raised and arms stretched upward, implored the mercy of its captors.
The only monument of the collection that could merit the honor of being taken away as a trophy is the âŠimage of an Adorans. He raises his eyes and his hands as if to implore the great and generous spirit of the victor. This beautiful bronze represents so well the state of the supplicant, and portrays so well our situation, to which we cannot add anything to express more strongly and more deeply our prayers and our hopes.2
It was a strange formulation. The artwork, with its arms outstretched, pleading to the French captors to spare it, was at the same time a worthy trophy. Stranger still, the Academy seemed to concede that the very gesture that made the boy such a fitting representative of their supplication also assured its own capture. The allegory of the praying statue had overshot its target. By embodying so perfectly the plight of the conquered, the statue was the perfect emblem of the conqueror. By interceding on its own behalf, the Adorans condemned itself.3
Figure 1.1. Bronze statue of a young man (Adorans), late 4th century BCE. Antikensammlung, Staatliche Museen Berlin, Sk. 2. Erich Lessing, Art Resource, New York.
This figurative sacrifice was too evocative for the classicist Aloys Hirt, a drafter of the appeal. To concede that âthe only monument âŠthat could merit the honor of being taken away as a trophyâ might give the impression that the sculpture was a fair prize, Hirt cautioned.4 While the bronze boy might be a fitting trophy, what that status should entail need not be so blatantly explicated. He thus proposed excising the mention of the actââthe honor of being taken awayââand replacing it with the more abstract âthe honor of a trophy.â âI believe it is better to wrap these matters in a kind of chiaroscuro,â Hirt wrote to his colleagues. âBesides, if the conqueror were to leave this ancient trophy in our hands, would this not be just as fitting a memorial to his victory and his greatness?â The director of philology at the Academy agreed, amending only the grammaticality of the construction into idiomatic French.5
For all their quibbling about language, the Academy members remained silent on the boldest aspect of their invocation of the Adorans, which is that they should call this object an Adorans at all. The statue, perhaps the most famous work in the Prussian collections, was widely known at the turn of the nineteenth century not as Adorans, but as Antinous, the favorite youth and lover of the Roman emperor Hadrian. By calling it an Adorans, an unnamed individual in an act of worship, the Academy was claiming an entirely new identity for the ancient bronze. In their last-ditch effort to save their collections from the French occupiers, why should they not only invoke but literally invent an artwork whose prayers would go unanswered? More than unanswered, an artwork whose prayers secured the very thing these strove to prevent? Of all the rhetorical tools, of all the metaphorical figures at the disposal of the most learned men of the Prussian capital, why this deeply flawed and, as Hirt himself recognized, deeply risky one?
This question, which will concern the following pages, is larger than it seems. Through the figure of the bronze statue made to pray, the Academyâs petition contained an argument about the power of art in a moment of political instability, material uncertainty, and upheaval. The devastating losses to the French in October 1806 and the subsequent two-year occupation created a crisis within the Prussian state, exposing the ineptitude of its military, the fragility of its economy, and the vulnerabilities of its government, which was fractured by local traditions and privileges.6 Drawing on the aesthetic theory of the eighteenth century, the learned bureaucrats addressing these problems in the aftermath of Prussian defeat saw the arts as a means of both social reform and spiritual uplift.7 The creation of the Adorans as such conveyed not only the position of the Academy mem...