Frank Paloma here reproduced. Mr. Del Mar thinks that the pagan goddess served the inhabitants of Melos as a Christian Virgin. He says:
“What more natural than for the pious islanders of Melos, terrified by the harsh edicts of Theodosius, to simply burn the pedestal and inscription belonging to their pagan goddess, and continue to worship under another name the same embodiment of that holy sentiment of love and maternity which they had hitherto been accustomed to adore.”
Mr. Del Mar relies on the testimony of Count Marcellus who finally concluded the bargain in the name of the French government and quotes him as saying in his Souvenirs de l’Orient, I, 255: “It can be demonstrated that the statue represented the Panagia or Holy Virgin of the little Greek chapel whose ruins I saw at Milo.”
It seems to us that the statue cannot have carried a child on her left arm because the marble would show more trace of pressure where the mother must have touched the babe, even when we make allowance for a polishing in the restored portions; and we would suggest further that the arm carrying the child would be held farther down. When a mother carries a child, her upper and lower arms are naturally at right angles and the position of having them at a very acute angle at the elbow appears quite artificial.
The haloes placed upon the heads of mother and child and the apple of empire in the infant’s hand are attributes belonging to the Christian era and so constitute other objections to Mr. Del Mar’s restoration. The halo is of late pagan origin, and in the form of rays it was first used to characterize gods of light, as for instance Helios and Selene. The round form of the nimbus is later still and seems to have arisen with the development of the art of painting. The apple of empire was not used in the days of antiquity but appears frequently in Constantinople and in early Christian symbolism.
Without entering into details we leave it to the taste of the reader whether he would select any of these restorations as a possible solution of the problem: we prefer to admire the statue as it appears now; for after all the broken figure still remains dearer to us in its wonderful and appealing beauty than any of the restorations. We ourselves believe that modern man will come to the conclusion that in this image in its present shape we have a noble martyr of ancient paganism. Even the original statue itself in all its perfection, if it could be restored to us as it came fresh from the artist’s workshop, could not replace the torso as we know it now.
This is the reason why we do not take a great interest in the various restorations of the Venus of Milo, and therefore are not inclined to undertake a close study of them or to enter into an elaborate recapitulation of these otherwise quite laudable attempts. We can only say that none of the restorations here discussed seems to solve the problem. Nevertheless we do not believe the problem to be beyond the possibility of solution, and we will state briefly what in our opinion the facts suggest.
We believe that among all the propositions made by restorers the simplest one, that of Veit Valentin, alone deserves our interest.
If we consider the dominating motive of the statue we must grant that it neither belongs to the very earliest times in which Venus was fully dressed, nor to the latest in which nudity, intensified in its suggestiveness by prudery, had nearly become the most characteristic feature of the deity of love. It takes its place in the midst of Greek art development when the first attempt was made to show the human form, and this is done in such a way as not to go to the extreme of a complete denudation but only suggests it and, as it were, with a protest on the part of the goddess. For the attitude of the statue plainly indicates that the goddess endeavors to retard the falling garment so as to give the right arm a moment’s time to grasp it and to hold it up. It is more than merely probable that the left arm was raised toward an unexpected intruder in warning not to approach. There is no fear in the expression of the face, no fright, no anticipation of danger. The whole attitude makes us suspect that the missing left hand was raised with a forbidding gesture, expressing the command, Ne prorsum! Ne plus ultra! Noli me tangere!