An old master of the art of a beggar philosopher

Aesop is one of the most familiar names in the history of literature, and the tales of animals behaving like humans that are attributed to him have resonated across cultures and through the centuries.

The details of his biography are obscure and apparently almost entirely legendary, but the legend too is memorable: he is said to have been a slave, hunchbacked and ugly but equally clever, living in the 7th and 6th centuries BC.

Aesop is supposed to have been associated with the proverbially wealthy Lydian king Croesus and knew Athenian philosopher Solon. This, together with the moral insights of his tales, is probably what earns him the right to be considered a philosopher, as he is represented in this painting, one of a specialist 17th-century genre of naturalistic portraits in the Caravaggesque manner, presented as imaginary effigies of ancient thinkers.

The figure is identified as Aesop by an inscription on the spine of a volume at the lower left, but once the picture is recognised as belonging to the beggar philosopher category, no other candidate matches the ugly features – which, as one scholar points out, recall Giambattista della Porta’s diagram of the pig-like physiognomy (1586) – and the crutch marks the individual as a cripple.

Jusepe de Ribera’s Aesop' (c.1625)

Jusepe de Ribera (1591-1652), a Spaniard who worked in Naples, was known for subjects of this kind, and there are many versions even of this painting, which makes it hard to know which is or are by the master’s own hand: a painter such as Ribera might copy his own work or have a copy executed by his workshop, with or without his own finishing touches.

Judging only from a photograph at this point, the work acquired by the Art Gallery of NSW appears to be of high quality and there seems no reason to doubt that it is authentic. It also has been recognised as such by eminent Italian scholar Nicola Spinosa, former director of the Museo di Capodimonte in Naples. Another Italian scholar, Roberta Lapucci, writes that this version and one in Mdina in Malta appear to be the two best, and ours is typical of Ribera’s manner in the 1630s while the Mdina painting looks like his work before 1620.

This is a commendable acquisition that adds to the gallery’s holdings in one of the most important periods of art history, the 17th century. It is also a reminder, in an age of grossly inflated art prices, that old master paintings still represent generally reasonable value, as well an interest and appeal that will not fluctuate with fashion.