Who let the frogs out?
Kings and queens, historic battles, the trials of Noah, Jesus on the cross, the birth of Venus, the fall of Babylon, Latona turning the Lycian peasants into frogs …
I didn’t guess that the last one was on the list of Great Art Themes until Sotheby’s let me know it had a painting about it. Its made-you-look title makes you go look up the story. Fetch the ancient book, please.
And once again I’m a babe emerging from a dark room. There are several well-known depictions of Latona and her witchcraft. It’s not a forgotten chapter from Grimm’s fairytales after all.
The one atop the post and in details below is attributed to the Dutchman Nicolaas Verkolje (1673-1746), one of two sons who followed their busy dad into life’s studio.
Further investigation turns up a few juicy surprises — this is no stagnant pond of a story. “Real horror show,” as Alex put it in “A Clockwork Orange”.
We’re deep into Swamp Thing territory with this warts-and-all section of Greek and Roman mythology. Here’s the program:
Meet Leto (to the Greeks) or Latona (to the Romans), daughter of the Titans Coeus and Phoebe.
Incumbent god of all gods Zeus/Jupiter beds her, and she’s going to give birth to twins — these will be Apollo and Artemis/Diana. But where can Leto go to have her babies?
“Latona Turning the Lycian Peasants into Frogs”, 1730, by Johann Georg Platzer (Austrian, 1704-61)
Mrs Hera Zeus/Mrs Juno Jupiter is furious at her husband and naturally takes it out on Leto. She gets the serpent god, aptly named Python, to harass her, and has Terra, the Earth, arrange it so Leto has “neither resting place nor asylum” anywhere on this mortal orb.
Fortunately Poseidon/Neptune is a kind, wet soul, and he “raises a floating island” called Delos in the Aegean Sea for Latona, to which she flies in the form of a quail.
After she’s made use of her unanchored island, according to Ovid’s “Metamorphoses”, Leto is chased off Delos by Juno and, wandering, reaches Lycia, where it’s so hot she could do with a sip of water from a pond. The peasants there are draining the marsh, though, and, being “rude clowns”, the stop her from drinking by stirring up the mud.
So Leto, quite understandably, has Jupiter turn them into frogs. “May they never quit that pool, but pass their lives there!” is her supposed curse, though an interpreter with a better head for rhyme made it nicer:
“And may you live,” she passionately cried, “Doom’d in that pool for ever to abide.”
The goddess has her wish: for now they choose
To plunge and dive among the wat’ry ooze,
Sometimes they show their head above the brim,
And on the glassy surface spread to swim;
Often upon the bank their station take,
Then spring and leap into the cooly lake.
Still, void of shame, they lead a clam’rous life,
And, croaking, still scold on in endless strife;
Compell’d to live beneath the liquid stream,
Where still they quarrel, and attempt to scream.
Now, from their bloated throat, their voice puts on
Imperfect murmurs in a hoarser tone;
Their noisy jaws, with bawling now grown wide,
An ugly sight! extend on either side;
Their motley back, streak’d with a list of green,
Join’d to their head, without a neck, is seen;
And, with a belly broad and white, they look
Mere frogs, and still frequent the muddy brook.
“Latona and the Lycian Peasants”, ca 1605, by Jan Brueghel the Elder
Leaving the creatures behind in the Black Lagoon, Latona/Adrienne Barbeau gets on with life, raising a fine pair of devoted children, so devoted, in fact, that when Niobe, the daughter of Tantalus, pridefully declines to pay homage at their mum’s shrine, they murder Niobe’s husband and seven children, using the well-taught archery skills that will make Diana such a good hunter and Apollo such a successful all-purpose hitman.
Widowed and childless, Niobe turns to stone. That taught her.
“Latona, with her Children Apollo and Diana, Turning the Lycian Peasants into Frogs” by Antonio Carracci (Venetian, 1583?-1618)
This one really could use a bit of dusting.
What, no frogs? Yes, a couple off in one corner.
There are the remains of a shrine to Latona on Delos, although it’s long since been established that the Greek island is quite solidly attached to the planet and almost certainly was when Greece was ancient too.
There are shrines, or “sanctuaries”, in several places, in fact, each called Letoon. Probably worshippers at each one charged admission and insisted that theirs was the one and only. The Letoon above is in Turkey.
“A Landscape with Latona Turning the Lycian Peasants into Frogs”, 1603, Roelandt Savery (Flemish, 1576-1639)
This painting is jaw-droppingly detailed. You have to see it up close, which fortunately you can do online at Sphinx Fine Art.
The Bassin de Latone — the 1665-vintage fountain that forms the nose of the Lego Mickey Mouse head at the Palace of Versailles near Paris — depicts Mum shielding Apollo and Diane from the taunts and stylised spit of the muck-raking bumpkins, and Jupiter is already on the job, turning them into lizards and tortoises. Any reptile will do.
And, finally, I’ve read about a 16th-century wedding chest on display at London’s Courtauld Gallery, on which Jacopo Tintoretto portrayed both the swamp scene and the slaying of Niobe’s children. A curiously alarming gift for a bride, the writer pointed out, but, even with its gore and mutation, a celebration of maternal virtue!
A sketch for a painting of the Toadsville nightmare by Marcantonio Franceschini (1648-1729)
Very informative article thanks !