I meet him in the Prado Museum in Madrid. His bust stands in the corner of the hall LXXIV. He looks down to the floor with his empty, carved eyes. His hair is thick; his lips are sensuously formed; his marble body is nicely muscled and his nose is straight. If you hear ‘classical ancient male beauty’, it refers to him, Antinous.
He seems to be lonely. There are fewer visitors at the ancient Greek halls than at the Spanish painters’ wing. It is forbidden to take photographs in the Prado so I have to come back to him three times to find the expedience to take secret photos. He is happy to see me again. The first time he talks about his life before becoming a sculpture.
He was born into a Greek family in the Roman territory. He was very young when he met Emperor Hadrian the first. He sent him to Rome to the most prestigious school in the empire to study. After about three years, the emperor brought Antinous to him. They traveled around the whole Roman Empire; they had countless adventures together like the one with the lion in Egypt.
He never mentions to me whether he was Hadrian’s lover or not but I feel from his voice how beautiful memories they had shared. Not for long, sadly, because on a November day, when they sailed on the river Nile in 130 A.C., Antinous fell off the ship and drowned. He said he was nineteen. He did not know how it happened.
Hadrian went crazy after Antinous’ death. He founded a new city and named it Antinopolis; he ordered hundreds of busts of his favorite companion to display them in every city in the empire. He even created a new god based on him. When he heard that Jewish people destroyed every Antinous statue in Jerusalem on purpose, he started a bloody massacre ending with almost 600,000 dead. He did not get solace though.
After eight years of Antinous’ death, Hadrian begged for death and when no one killed him he drank himself to death. But before he did, he wrote a last poem to Antinous.
“Where are you going now-Naked, rigid, pale,
No longer laughing, being alone?”
The bust of Antinous is still looking down at the floor in the Prado Museum as he continues his story. He tells me he was standing in Hadrian’s Villa at Tivoli and then under its ruins for about 1400 years until somebody dug him out and set him in his palace but later transferred him to Madrid where he is now. He did not care. He always loved to travel.
Antinous’ beauty is eternal thanks to Hadrian and we can admire him in every notable museum around the world. You can meet him in the Louvre in Paris, in London, in Copenhagen, in Florence or in Malibu at the Getty Villa. He is a kind person; he never asked Hadrian for any favors. He is smart and strong, I know, because he is carved from the same marble of Carrara as was Michelangelo’s David.
It is almost eight, the museum soon to be closed. Only a few visitors wander in the halls. The ancient sculpture room is empty. I tell Antinous how moving his story is but he just stands in the corner with his empty, carved eyes. He is naked, rigid and pale. Before I leave the hall LXXIV, I promise Antinous to come back soon as I promised it to the Prado Museum and to my wonderful serendipity, Madrid. Volverte a ver.
