Time is a child
Heraclitus
playing draughts;
the kingship is a child’s.
On a trip to Kraków, I am delighted by a regal little dude in Wawel Castle. It is Johan Baptista van Uther’s portrait of Sigismund III Vasa, a future king of Poland, as a squat, moon-faced boy. Dressed in a black gown and ruff, he looks away from the viewer, with a hint of a smile. In his tiny hand he grasps an apple, a symbol of nurture, learning and growth.
Sigismund loomed large in my own childhood. In Warszawa, my home city, he stands in adult form atop a giant column near the old town, honoured for transferring the capital from Kraków in 1596. It wasn’t until I stood opposite Van Uther’s painting, however, that I learnt that Sigismund was born a prisoner: he spent the first year of his life captive in Gripsholm Castle in Sweden, along with his parents. This knowledge made the painting, which I at first found slightly incongruous — a toddler standing in regalia, an early modern boss baby — suddenly feel truer than more « realistic » efforts to convey the actual psychological experience of kingship.
This article is behind the paywall. Want to keep reading this article?
Subscribe to the European Review of Books, from as low as €4,16 per month.
Already a subscriber? Sign in