Excursions in Art and Letters

by William Wetmore Story

Again, in respect to the authorship of some of the statues of which he speaks, he at times differs from other writers, and at times unquestionably mistakes. Thus, to cite only examples in the case of Phidias, the statue of Athena, at Elis, he attributes to Phidias, while Pliny says it was by Kolotes. Again, the statue of Æsculapius, at Epidaurus, he attributes to Thrasymedes of Paros, while Athenagoras says it was the work of Phidias. In like manner, the statue of the Mother of the Gods, which Pausanias and Arrian give to Phidias, Pliny declares to be the work of Agoracritos. Still more, Pausanias distinctly affirms that the Nemesis at Rhamnus was executed by Phidias; while Pliny, on the contrary, asserts it to be the work of Agoracritos. And in this assertion Pliny is borne out by Zenobius, who gives us the inscription on the branch in the hand of Nemesis: ΑΓΟΡΑΚΡΙΤΟΣ ΠΑΡΙΟΣ ΕΠΟΙΗΣΕΝ. Strabo, however, hesitates between Agoracritos and an unknown Diodotos, and says it was remarkable for beauty and size, and might well compete with the works of Phidias; and to confuse matters still more, at a later time Pomponius Mela, Hesychius, and Solon agree with Pausanias. There would seem, after weighing all authorities, to be little doubt that the Nemesis was the work of Agoracritos.

Nothing could more clearly show the easy way in which traditions grow like barnacles upon artists and works of art, than the story connected with this statue. Pliny says that Agoracritos contended with Alcamenes in making a statue of Venus; and the preference being given to that of Alcamenes, he was so indignant at the decision that he immediately made certain alterations in his own statue, called it Nemesis, and sold it to the people of Rhamnus, on condition that it should not be set up in Athens. This is absurd enough. After a statue of Venus is finished, what sort of change would be required to make a Nemesis of it? But let us see how well this statue would have represented Aphrodite. Pausanias says that “out of the marble brought by the barbarians to Marathon for a trophy Phidias made a statue of Nemesis, and on the head of the goddess there is a crown adorned with stags and images of victory of no great magnitude; and in the left hand she holds the branch of an ash-tree, and in her right a cup, on which the Æthiopians are carved—why, I cannot assign any reason.” Now, in the first place, the assertion that it was a work of marble brought to make a trophy at Marathon is a myth. In the next place, these are certainly peculiar characteristics for an Aphrodite. The statue itself was undoubtedly a noble statue, however, and the best work of Agoracritos. As it was not the custom for sculptors in Greece to inscribe their names on their statues, it may have happened that it soon came to be popularly attributed to Phidias, according to the general rule, that to the master is ascribed the best work of his pupil and his school. Then it was, probably, that the inscription was placed on the statue, reclaiming it for its true author. However this may be, Photias, Suidas, and Tzetzes, as late as from the tenth to the twelfth century, are determined that Phidias shall have it, despite the inscription; and accordingly they report and publish, many long centuries after—and gifted by what second-sight into the past who can tell?—that though it is true that the statue is supposed to have been executed by Agoracritos, yet in fact it was made by Phidias, who generously allowed Agoracritos to put his name on it, and pass it off as his own.

In further illustration of this parasitic growth of legend and tradition may be also cited in this connection the story told by Tzetzes the Grammarian, some seventeen centuries after the death of Phidias. According to him, Alcamenes and Phidias competed in making a statue of Athena, to be placed in an elevated position; and when their figures were finished and exposed to public view near the level of the eye, the preference was decidedly given to the figure of Alcamenes; but as soon as the figures were elevated to their destined position, the public declared immediately in favor of that of Phidias. The object of the writer of this story is to prove the extraordinary skill of Phidias in optical perspective, and to show that he had calculated his proportions with such foresight, that though the figure, when seen near the level of the eye, appeared inharmonious, it became perfectly harmonious when seen from far below. Now all that any artist could do to produce this effect would be, perhaps, to give more length to his figures in comparison with their breadth. This, however, would be not only a doubtful expedient in itself, but entirely at variance with the practice of Phidias. His figures, like all those of his period, were stouter in proportion to their breadth, and particularly stouter in the relation of the lower limbs to the torso, than the figures of a later period. The canon of proportion accepted then was that of Polyclitus; and the proportions were afterward varied and the lower limbs were lengthened, first by Euphranor, and subsequently still more by Lysippus. Any distortion or falsification of proportion would be effective solely in a statue with one point of view, and exhibited as a relief; for if it were a figure in the round, and seen from all points, the perspective would be utterly false, unless the proportions were harmonious in themselves and true to nature. Tzetzes is a great gossip, and peculiarly untrustworthy in his statements; but his story is of such a nature as to please the ignorant public, and it has been accepted and repeated constantly, though he does not give any authority for it, and plainly invented it out “of the depths of his own consciousness,” as the German savant did the camel.

One cannot be too careful in accepting traditions about artists or their works. The public invents its facts, and believes what it invents. Very few of the pleasing anecdotes connected with artists will bear critical examination, any more than the famous sayings attributed on great occasions to extraordinary men; still the grand phrase of Cambronne is as gravely repeated in history as if it had some foundation in fact, and everybody believes that Da Vinci died in the arms of Francis I. Perhaps it is scarcely worth while to break up such pleasant traditions, and certainly the public resists such attempts. It is so delightful to think that the gallant and accomplished King of France supported the great Italian artist, and soothed his last moments, that it seems sheer brutality to dissipate such an illusion; yet, unfortunately, we know that Leonardo died at Cloux, near Amboise, on May 2, 1679,—and from a journal kept by the king, and still (disgracefully enough) existing in the imperial library in Paris, we know that on that very day he held his Court at St. Germain-en-Laye; and besides this, Lomazzo distinctly tells us that the king first heard the news of Leonardo’s death from Melzi; while Melzi himself, who wrote to Leonardo’s friend immediately after his death, makes no mention of such a fact.

But to return from this digression to a consideration of the list of works attributed to Phidias. We have already seen that in regard to six of the statues there are, to say the least, strong doubts as to his authorship; but still more must be eliminated. The Zeus of the Olympieum at Megara “is said,” according to Pausanias, “to have been made by Theocosmos, with the assistance of Phidias.” This again is mere tradition, which is so weak that it only pretends that Phidias assisted Theocosmos. Phidias assisting Theocosmos has a strange sound; and it is plain that Theocosmos is the real author of this statue, even granting that the great master may have helped the lesser one.

Again, Pausanias tells us that of the two marble statues called Pronaoi at the entrance of the Ismenion, that representing Athena was made by Scopas, and the other of Hermes was made by Phidias. These so-called Pronaoi were statues standing at the entrance of the building, opposite each other, a chief decorative ornament to the façade. Is it not strange that the statue on one side should be made by Phidias, and the opposite pedestal remain unoccupied until the time of Scopas, nearly a century later? Is it not plain that the temple would not have been considered finished until both statues were placed there? And is it probable that the Greeks would have allowed it to remain thus incomplete for a century? Besides, does it not seem singular, in view of the fact that Phidias was peculiarly celebrated for his statues of Athena, while Scopas was celebrated for his heroic figures and demigods, that the Athena should have been assigned to Scopas, and the Hermes to Phidias? When we also add the fact that these statues were in marble,—a material in which, as we shall presently see, Phidias certainly worked only exceptionally, if he ever worked at all, while Scopas was a worker in marble,—it will, I think, be pretty clear that Pausanias is mistaken in attributing this statue of Hermes to Phidias.

Again, “The Golden Throne” must probably be considered as a name for the Athena of the Parthenon, since there is no golden throne of which we have any knowledge ever made by Phidias. In like manner it is most probable that the Athena mentioned by Pliny as being in Rome near the temple of Julian, and dedicated by Paulus Æmilius, was the Athena Lemnia in bronze, taken from the Acropolis. These statues, which are reckoned as four, must therefore in all probability be considered as only two.

There remains one other statue in the list which certainly must be struck out—the Horse-Tamer, still existing in Rome at the present day, under the name of “Il Colosso di Monte Cavallo.” This statue, or rather group, stands on the Quirinal Hill, and on its pedestal are inscribed the words “Opus Phidiæ.” It is cited by Dr. Smith in his Dictionary as a work of Phidias, and he thinks it may be the “altrum colossicon nudum” of which Pliny speaks. But Pliny cited this “colossicon nudum” in his chapter on bronze works; and as this is in marble, he could not have referred to it. Independent of all other considerations, however, there is one simple fact that makes it almost impossible that it could have been the work of Phidias, though curiously enough this simple fact has apparently escaped the observation of critics. It is, that the cuirass which supports the group is a Roman cuirass and not a Greek cuirass, such as Phidias would necessarily have made.

The legend about this group and its companion, attributed with equal absurdity to Praxiteles, is curious. In “Roma Sacra, Antica e Moderna,” which was published in Rome in the latter part of the sixteenth century, and constantly reprinted for at least a hundred years, we are told that these two statues were made, one by Phidias, and the other by Praxiteles, in competition with each other,—that they represent Alexander taming Bucephalus, and were brought to Rome by Tiridates, King of Armenia, as a present to Nero,—and that they were afterwards restored and placed in the Thermæ of Constantine, from which place they were transported to the Quirinal, and again restored and set up by Sixtus V., with inscriptions, stating, that they were brought by Constantine from Greece.

The inscriptions were as follows: under the horse of the statue professing to be by Phidias, was inscribed: “Phidias, nobilis sculptor, ad artificii præstantiam declarandam Alexandri Bucephaalum domantis effigiem e marmore expressit.” On the base was inscribed: “Signa Alexandri Magni celebrisque ejus Bucephal ex antiquitatis testimonio Phidiæ et Praxitelis emulatione hoc marmore ad vivam effigiem expressa a Fl. Constantino Max. e Græcia advecta suisque in Thermis in hoc Quirinali monte collocata, temporis vi deformata, laceraque ad ejusdem Imperatoris memoriam urbisque decorem, in pristinam formam restituta hic reponi jussit anno MDXXXIX Pont. IV.” Under the horse of Praxiteles was inscribed: “Praxiteles sculptor ad Phidiæ emulationem sui monumenta ingenii relinquere cupiens ejusdem Alexandri Bucephalique signa felici contentione perficit.”