Scylla and Glaucus by Jacopo da Empoli; formerly attributed to Santi di Tito. About 1603.
Scylla and Glaucus
Glaucus and Scylla, Agostino Carracci. Farnese Gallery, Rome. 1597. This post explores this image more.
Scylla is usually shown as a half-marine monster, half woman in art, as the Odyssey is more well known than the story of her as a love-lorn nymph. (For that story, see the end of this post.)
Unfortunately for Scylla, her image of a fickle nymph gets a resurgence of attention in the Renaissance, as images of the unrequited love between Glaucus and Scylla were popular subjects for both large-scale oil paintings and woodcuts. This is probably because Thomas Lodge’s poem was published in the late 1500, which retells Ovid’s story— but adding his own touch. However, his retelling brings out the issues that the story had in the first place. Re-reading Ovid, Scylla’s only flaw was to have the nerve to tell a man “no.” And spoilers: I really, really, don’t like Glaucus. At this point, I’d say “let’s take a look!” But this post is mainly me complaining about Glaucus, with some paintings thrown in for good measure. Glaucus is also shown with a fish-tail, but I do not grant him the status of merman.
Glaucus and Scylla, by Bartholomeus Spranger. Between 1580 and 1582.
When Glaucus first sees Scylla, she’s bathing nude— and this glimpse is enough to drive Glaucus into lovesickness. To quote Ovid: “He sees the girl; he wants to have her.” He doesn’t consider that this private moment might be a bad time to approach her. Considering Glaucus has never spoken to Scylla, it’s safe to assume his only attraction is for her body, not her personality. No, his green-bearded self comes up and starts hitting on her. (Or gray-bearded, really. There's an obvious age gap here.) Is anyone surprised that Scylla runs off?
Scylla and Glaucus, Lauri Filippo, (1623-94). The painting with the most natural reaction, imo
Lodge’s version has Glaucus complaining bitterly about Scylla’s refusal, to an audience, for pages. I mean, pages. Occasionally, he even evokes the ancient Scylla imagery of caves and her dog-like voice:
“How oft have I (too often have I done so), In silent night when every eye was sleeping, Drawn near her cave, in hope her love were won so, Forcing the neighboring waters through my weeping...”
Glaucus and Scylla, about 1640–1644 by Laurent de La Hyre. French artist. (French, 1606 - 1656) The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles. Description from museum:
“The sea god Glaucus pulls aside his beard, revealing Cupid's arrow protruding from his chest. Looking up, he sees the maiden Scylla on a rocky cliff and pronounces his love for her.” Omg Glaucus can never take responsibility for his actions
Look, she’s just not that into you, Glaucus. Deal.
And when Scylla’s final undoing occurs, again the image of a cave is invoked:
“Echo herself, when Scylla cried out, O love! With piteous voice from out her hollow den...”
Glaucus and Scylla, Salvator Rosa. (1615-73). Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium, Brussels / photo: J. Geleyns - Art Photography.
Lodge also has the same thing happen to Scylla: Circe is jealous and wants Glaucus for herself, so when Glaucus asks her for a love potion, Circe gives him something that turns poor Scylla into a half woman, half-multiple dogs and tentacles monster. Renaissance art usually shows Scylla and Glaucus just together, but Peter Paul Rubens shows the moment Scylla begins her transformation:
Scylla and Glaucus, about 1636, Peter Paul Rubens. Musée Bonnat, by Photo by Derrecageix, Wikipedia.
Glaucus declares to Circe that seaweed would have to grow from mountain tops before his “love” for Scylla would change. Of course, he’s lying. After Scylla grows dogs for legs, he leaves her:
Right: Scylla turning into a monster while Glaucus watches, that jerk. 1586 Print made by: Philips Galle, Netherlandish. British Museum.
For the rest of my posts about Scylla's imagery, see here.
Further reading
For the poem, see: Lodge, Thomas. "Thomas Lodge ((1558?-1625)." In Sixteenth-Century Poetry: An Annotated Anthology, edited by Gordon Braden, 408-29. Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2005. For the first quote: Page 417, stanza 52. For the second quote: Page 427, stanza 117.
For the quote, see page 468: Ovid. "The Metamorphoses of Ovid." Trans. Mandelbaum, Allen. New York: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1993.
