This Valentine’s Day I got thinking about all those little naked babies flying around in Western art, so today we’re going to take a look at just who they are, and what the different words for them actually mean.
Cupid - Cupid is the Roman god of desire and erotic love. His name derives from the Latin word for “desire,” and started being used in English writings in the late 14th century. Allegedly Cupid is winged because lovers are flighty, and is portrayed as a child because love is irrational. He carries arrows because love wounds, and in some Roman myths he actually had arrows of aversion with lead tips as well as arrows of desire with golden tips. He is often shown as mischievous. But somewhere along the line this one god began to multiply himself into various aspects of love. Cicero said there were three Cupids, and during the renaissance writers imagined thousands of the little guys frolicking about
and causing a certain amount of mayhem. Generally speaking, if you see a naked boy with wings and he’s got a bow and arrows, it’s a cupid.
Erotes - The Romans probably got their idea of multiple Cupids from the Greeks, who had the Erotes, a group of gods associated with love and sex, who usually hang out with Aphrodite. In Greek mythology there are several names associated with distinct Erotes, but they are also often portrayed more generically. The word is the plural of Eros, the singular Greek god of desire, and the Greek equivalent of Cupid. As such, in art erotes is usually pretty much just a synonym for multiple cupids. Yet another word for little love god babies is amoretti, entering English in the 16th century from the Italian diminutive of Amore, from Latin for "love."
cherub - Originally a cherub was an angel, arriving in English in the late fourteenth century by way of Latin and Greek, but originally from Hebrew kerubh meaning “winged angel,” which is why the angels have the Hebrew plural cherubim. There is not a lot of agreement about the nature of the angels, how highly they’re ranked, their function in heaven, the number of their wings, or whether they’re even human-shaped… There is a theory that the word cherub is cognate with the word griffin. In the early eighteenth century, however, we
begin to see the word used to mean “beautiful child,” and for reasons that I cannot explain, the word came to be conflated with the winged babies so beloved of art. I guess it was just the mushing together of the connotations of “child” and “angel.” When cherub is used in this way, the plural is the ordinary English form cherubs. If you see a naked baby with wings clustering around the throne of God or adoring a saint, it’s a cherub.
putto - The proper term for gratuitous chubby tots in art is putto, and because they usually come in multiples, it’s more common to see the plural which, because the word derives from Italian, is putti. The word arrived in English in the 1640s, well after the figures arrived in artwork, and derives ultimately from Latin for “young boy.” (It shares its root with puerile, “childish.”) Putti originated in classical art, but had a revival when Donatello (Florence, c.1386-1466) began using them in his work, blending the classical connotations of Cupid and the Christian connotations of cherubim, but using them primarily as decorative motifs rather than primarily for their symbolic meaning. They are often shown around the edges of artworks and not taking part in the main action. If you see a naked baby with wings (or sometimes without wings) peeking around the edge of an architectural element, or chilling on a cloud off to the side of the sky, it’s a putto.
But keep in mind that these categories of naked babies with wings are far from distinct, and there are many contexts in which it’s not at all clear whether your winged tot is meant to be angelic or erotic, to symbolize love or innocence, or to be merely decorative. What about when there’s no bow or arrow, but it’s clearly associated with lovers? What about when it’s playing Cupid’s lyre but is clearly celebrating a Christian saint? Who knows… probably even the artist wasn’t thinking all that clearly about it, and just liked the way it looked. I’ve never done any pictures of them myself, but it’s very evident that artists enjoy depicting naked babies with wings no matter what word you use to describe them.
(And if you still want more, to learn how money can buy you love, check out previous post Seller of Cupids, or see a few different styles of cherubim and other angels at Herald Angels.)
[Pictures: Terra, engraving by Michiel Mosijn after Cornelis Holsteyn, 1640-55 (Image from Rijksmuseum);
Illustration by Gustave Doré from Orlando Furioso by Ariosto, 1877 (Image from Wikimedia Commons);
Cupid, engraving by Jean Daullé after C. A. Coypel, 1755 (Image from Met Museum);
Title page of Missale Romanum, engraving by anonymous artist, 1639 (Image from Skoklosters Slott);
Adoration of Christ, painting by Lucas Cranach the Elder, 1545 (Image from Wikimedia Commons);
Detail from Assumption of the Virgin, painting by Andrea del Sarto, 1530 (Image from Wikimedia Commons);
Study for a painted wall decoration, drawing by Antonio de’Dominici, c.1730 (Image from Cooper Hewitt museum);
Detail of sea chart of the English Channel, hand-colored engraving, after 1681 (Image from Wikimedia Commons);
Detail of a panel of ornament, engraving by Master of the Die after Perino del Vaga, 1530-60 (Image from Met Museum); Five putti blowing bubbles, engraving by Louis Fabritius Dubourg, ca. 1741 (Image from Rijksmuseum).]
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