Anthemion?

Why call the blog of the JCB Anthemion? An athemion is an architectural motif derived from the traditional lotus and bud of Egypt, Assyria, and India. The anthemion displayed above in the header for this John Carter Brown Library blog is an actual photograph taken of an actual anthemion of the actual John Carter Brown Library. It isn’t surprising that such an motif (said to have been selected because of its resemblance to indigenous Brazilian headdresses) would have been placed on the Beaux-Arts temple of the bibliophile Brown family. What is surprising is that the photographer of the above-pictured ornament (which exists, after all, on the roof of the Library so far in the air), was able to stand so close to it. The only way one can gain such intimate access to the anthemia of the Library (short of jetpacks, ladders, or other elevating devices) is by climbing the interior hatch to the roof.

I had such an opportunity to climb onto the roof last week. It was on the one splendid day of an otherwise month-long spell of extraordinarily drizzly weather. Workmen were on the roof! Grabbing the camera, I climbed the ladder and took a volley of photographs. I was interested to see that each individual anthemiom is protected by a lead carapace, unseen by the ordinary observer. But what was even more astonishing was the view ...

The all too human life of a saintly man

We generally think of the life of a saint being difficult–the temptations of sin, the denial of mortal flesh, and other acts of private, not to mention public, martyrdom. Further down on the list of difficulties for that saint is the posthumous difficulty of being anointed a saint by the Catholic Church. The putative, and alas deceased, saint’s claim is often forwarded by writers who describe the candidate’s virtuous works and miracles.

One of the more interesting of these hagiographies is Mateo Ximénez’s Coleccion de estampas que representan los principales pasos, hechos y prodigios del Bto. Frai Sebastian de Aparizi, Rome, 1789. A sort of early precursor of a graphic novel, it shows many important scenes from the good Aparicio’s life (over 120 images!). Sebastian de Aparicio was born in Spain and made his fortune in Mexico in the transportation business; he joined the Franciscans as a lay brother when he was 70 and was beatified in 1787. He never made it any further on the sainthood ladder (his two marriages–even though reportedly chaste–worked against his application). The book, in addition to reporting on Aparacio's saintly life, shows ordinary life in eighteenth-century Mexico [or more probably Italy or Spain] beautifully–the older novitiate hoeing his cabbages in a monastic garden, the humble family receiving guests into their farmhouse, a man sheltering under a cart during a snow storm [in Mexico?].

The book also illustrates a vivid struggle of man battling the forces of evil in the world. Aparicio was sorely tempted by demons who pestered him continually. One large one bothers him even as he lies in humility on his bed of planks! These devils show no mercy. To reveal how very tormented Aparacio was–and also how very human–he is shown here throwing the urine in his chamber pot at a particularly annoying demon. The contents splash on the winged beast, surprising it greatly. And in the background, Aparicio is shown confessing his sin of exasperation to his abbot and scourging himself in expiation of his sin.

It is these little details of humanity which make a book such as this so appealing. All the images from this book may be seen on the JCB's Archive of Early American Images.