Part 2

The inscription on the pedestal of M. Debay’s drawing reads:

...--ΑΝΔΡΟΣ ΗΝΙΔΟΥ ... ΙΟΧΕΥΣΑΠΟΜΑΙΑΝΔΡΟΥ ΕΠΟΙΗΣΕΝ

“ ... andros son of Menides of [Ant]iochia on the Maiandros.”

Since of the last missing letter before the Α the lowest stroke of a Greek Ξ or of an Σ is discernible in the drawing, the name must have read “Alexandros” or “Agesandros.” This man cannot have lived before the third century B. C. because his native city Antioch on the Maeander was founded by Antiochus I, the second of the Diadochs (280-261 B. C.) According to Professor Kirchhoff’s view the character of the letters belongs to the first century and may in his opinion be dated back at most to the middle of the second century B. C.

We have no information whatever why the plinth was joined to the statue. All we know about it is that it appears on the Debay drawing and is lost now, but it continues to be a mystery to archeologists.

Some consider it as genuine and denounce the authorities of the Louvre for their extraordinary carelessness in having allowed so important a document to be lost, and others see no reason why this

piece of marble which possessed no significance whatever should be so highly treasured.

If the piece of the pedestal with the inscription belonged to the statue, for which assumption, as we have seen, there is no reason whatever, the statue would be of a comparatively late date, but we really do not know what the plinth bearing the name “ ... andros” has to do with the statue.

Archeologists have discovered other heads showing a remarkable similarity in their features to the Venus of Milo. Among them is a head discovered in Tralles, Asia Minor, which shows almost the same face as the Venus of Milo. So close is the resemblance that both seem to have been made after the same model. It may be that one has been copied from the other or both chiseled from a common prototype. We here reproduce the heads of both, after half-tone pictures published by Saloman.[4]

Overbeck believes that the Venus of Milo is not an original. He says: “It seems permissible to doubt the originality of this composition, and to refer it back to an older original which we can no longer determine, as the common prototype of the statue of Milo and of other similar statues. For this reason there would be no objection to assigning the origin of our statue to the period of imitation. Although I deem the dependence of the statue upon an older original assured, I am disinclined to deny a certain degree of originality, but in those very features which I deem to be original are the very marks of a late revision.”

Conze[5] compares our Venus of Milo with the style of the Pergamene sculptures, and in his essay on the results of the excavation at Pergamum, page 71, he calls attention to the fact that the warm tone of the skin and the sketchy method of the treatment of the hair seem characteristic of a later period, pointing out the similarity of a piece of Pergamene sculpture with the head of the Venus of Milo.

Shall we assume that this head of Tralles is older than the Venus of Milo and that we must look upon the art of Pergamum as the school in which our artist, Agesander or Alexander or whoever he may have been, drew his inspiration? We have no positive proof on either side but internal evidence speaks in favor of regarding the Venus of Milo as original, and we cannot place any confidence in the genuineness of the plinth in the Debay drawing, so may regard the statue as the work of a classical, though unknown, Athenian artist, or at least one who worked for Athens and her temples.

A DESCRIPTION OF THE STATUE.

We have before us in the statue of the Venus of Milo one of the greatest masterpieces of ancient Hellas, and it is of secondary importance whether or not it was the artist’s intention to represent the goddess of love and beauty. Surely this work of art represents womanhood at its best--a noble feminine figure in full maturity, not a maiden but fully developed, a wife or mother; and yet not as a mother with a child, nor as a wife with her husband, but simply as a woman.

There is nothing frivolous about her, no coquetry, nothing amorous. Her eyes betray not the slightest touch of a sensual emotion, not that sentimental moistness, τὸ ὑγρόν as the Greeks called it, and thereby the artist succeeded in transfiguring naked beauty by a self-possessed chastity unrivaled in the art of statuary.

The consensus of art admirers, which is almost, though not quite, universal, sees in this marble the great mother-goddess, _das ewig Weibliche_, idealized femininity, the goddess of beauty and love, whom the Greeks called Aphrodite and the Romans Venus.

The goddess (if we may so call her) stands before us erect in queenly dignity. Her dress is falling down leaving the upper body entirely uncovered, and yet in spite of the nudity of the figure we are struck with its unparalleled purity and nobility of expression.

The statue has suffered many injuries. Both arms have been broken off and are now lost, and so is the left foot. The tip of the nose has been restored, and there are scratches and cudgel marks all over the body which could not be mended without destroying the original work in the general treatment of the skin. The ears are pierced, so there must originally have been earrings which robbers had torn away before the statue was secreted in the cave.

A line in the hair of the statue shows holes which prove plainly that on top of the head there must have been a coronet like that commonly worn by Greek goddesses and called by the Greeks σφενδόνη, “sling,” because with the strings attached it resembles a sling. It was worn especially by the Queen of Heaven, Hera (the Juno of the Roman pantheon).

Since the arms have been broken off and lost, the artist’s conception with regard to the posture can only be surmised. The face is calm and without passion. It wears a commanding expression, apparently with a suggestion of surprise, even of self-defence.

Judging from the muscles of the left shoulder the left arm must have been raised. Sometimes it has been claimed that the broken hand with the apple, which with other debris was found in the neighborhood, belonged to the statue; and that the apple being the emblem of Venus and at the same time that of the island of Milo as well, the statue represented the patron goddess of the island, but this is very doubtful. Archeologists are not in full accord upon this point for the mere reason that the fragment of the hand with the apple is of rough workmanship and is commonly judged as not worthy of the statue; at best it might be regarded as the work of an ancient restoration. All critics, however, are pretty well agreed that the right hand must have grasped for the falling garment, preliminarily held up by the raised knee.

The Venus of Milo is at present the pride of the Louvre at Paris, and the place where she stands on account of her presence alone may be likened to an ancient pagan shrine, comparable to the room in the Dresden gallery where the Sistine Madonna stands, the latter being a Christian counterpart of the former.

Our Blessed Lady of Milo, as we may call this beautiful representative of Greek paganism in imitation of Veit Valentin’s name _Die hohe Frau von Milo_, has always a group of admiring visitors sitting quietly before her, and there is often a hush in the room which recalls the sanctity of religious chapels attended by quiet worshipers. There is a sacred atmosphere surrounding the statue and even the hurried globe-trotter feels that he has come into the presence of some divinity that exerts her influence upon the world not by might, but by beauty, grace and loveliness.

RESTORATIONS.

Many attempts have been made to restore the statue of the Venus of Milo, and we here reproduce a number of them, but none of them have proved successful. It almost seems, as the German poet Heinrich Heine somewhere says, that the Venus of Milo in her helpless condition with her arms broken off appeals more to our sympathy than in her original condition of glory when she received the homage of faithful worshipers, and it is true the very mutilated form is extremely attractive in its present dilapidated state. Broken by fanatics of a hostile faith, she represents in dignity and beauty the natural charm of Greek religion at its best. The hordes of bigoted monks vented their hatred with especial wrath against the goddess of love and also against her son, Eros, as may be seen from a figure of this god represented in his daintiest youthfulness. Here too the marks of the clubs of a furious mob are visible, betraying the same spirit as in the treatment of the Venus of Milo. It is the fanaticism of ascetic frenzy in the bitterness

of its wrath against nature in general and love in particular that showed itself in these iconoclastic demonstrations.

We regret now the destruction of the Greek idols as a barbaric warfare waged upon art. We have begun to sympathize with the vanquished gods, and archeologists are trying to restore what early Christianity ruthlessly destroyed or mutilated.

Those restorers of the Venus of Milo who reject the genuineness of the right hand holding an apple enjoy the greatest liberty in their work of reconstruction, and we find some of them representing our Venus as holding a shield on her knee and writing upon it. Others assume that her right hand holds a mirror, while still others who claim that there is no necessity of interpreting the statue to be a Venus, believe her to be a Victory or Niké, and put wreaths in her hands.

Hasse and Henke have treated the problem of restoration from the standpoint of anatomy, and plausibly claim that the left hand should be raised higher than other restorers have proposed.

The restoration of Furtwängler, according to which the goddess rests her left arm on a column and holds an apple in her hand, has for a long time

been considered the most probable, and yet even this can scarcely be regarded as satisfactory.

Mr. Geskel Saloman, a Swedish archeologist, also places a column at her left side and uses it for her elbow to rest on. In consideration of some ancient descriptions of a dramatic ceremony performed

at Corinth he places a dove on her right hand. The idea is that having received the apple as the prize of beauty she sends out the dove to her worshipers to announce her triumph and inform them that they may celebrate the victory.

Veit Valentin attempts to construct his restoration out of the data furnished by the marble itself and seems to come nearest to the truth. He assumes that the goddess, when in the act of undressing for a bath, finds herself surprised by an intruder. There is no fear or alarm in her attitude, but she raises her hand in protest with a self-poised assurance and grasps with her right hand the falling garment which she attempts to support by a hurried motion of her left knee. We regret that we have not seen either a picture or a statue of this restoration, but we are deeply impressed that this idea is most probably correct.

The latest restoration comes from Francisca Paloma Del Mar (Frank Paloma) who places a child on the left arm of the goddess, and this conception is defended in a special pamphlet by Alexander Del Mar.[6]

Mr. Del Mar brings out the idea that the reverence in which the great mother goddess was held among the pagans was not substantially different in piety from Christian Madonna worship, and this view is brought out in the painting by the artist

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!_

RECENT THEORIES.

The statue discovered on the island of Milo acquired a fame beyond the greatest expectations, and the intense interest taken in it frequently gave rise to bitter discussions about its history and the causes of its mutilation. Thus it happened that the authorities of the Louvre, or even the French government itself, were held responsible for the sad state of desolation in which it now appears.

Accusations were made that this venerable piece of classic art had been treated with inexcusable neglect, that important inscriptions belonging to it had been lost, and the claim was even made that the statue was whole at the time it was found. The dissatisfied parties interpreted M. Dumont d’Urville’s report in the sense that he had seen the statue whole, quoting from his description: “It represented a nude woman whose left hand was raised and held an apple and the right supported a garment draped in easy folds and falling carelessly from her loins to her feet.” This in their opinion meant that M. d’Urville had seen the statue complete in this posture when he bought it. The sentence which runs, “Both hands have been mutilated and are actually detached from the body,” according to this contention is to be interpreted that this must have happened before the French party delivered the statue to the Louvre, probably at the time when the French marines forced its transfer from the Turkish brig to the French warship “Estafette.”

The points raised in this discussion overlook some significant facts which if duly considered dispose of the claim that the statue was whole and unmutilated when discovered and sold to M. Dumont d’Urville. Viscount Marcellus enumerates the objects discovered in the cave and mentions fragments of the statue found in the field nearby. Could he, an eye witness, have believed that it was whole and unmutilated when he assumes that a number of separate fragments belonged to it?

It is not impossible that the quarrel between the French marines and the Turks was a regular fight; that they came to blows, but scarcely to shots. If there had been any fatalities we would have heard of it in the first report of the acquisition of the statue; but no serious wounds in the struggle are mentioned even in the later report, although in it we learn of a fight on the beach about the possession of the statue, and this later became humorously exaggerated into a battle involving drawn cutlases and a bleeding ear.

The discussion was renewed in 1912 by M. Alcard who laid much emphasis upon the testimony of Lieutenant Matterer, a comrade of M. Dumont d’Urville. He is claimed to have felt such disgust about the endless disputes on the original form of the Venus of Milo that he wished to put an end to them. He says: “When I saw the statue in the hut of Yorgos Bottonis on whose field it was found, the left arm was attached to the bust and held an apple over her head.”

This positive statement stands in plain contradiction to the older records and it seems that the imagination of the valiant naval officer played his memory a trick after the lapse of nearly half a century. Perhaps it is impossible to evolve the exact truth definitely, but it seems to me that we must not estimate these later testimonies too highly, for it would be more difficult then to explain the actual condition of the statue and its agreement with the older descriptions, than now to account for these later depositions of a few excitable and imaginative men who feel that they have something of great importance to declare. Moreover, the most important witness, Lieutenant Matterer, is characterized in these accounts as “an officer of great merit but no literary cultivation,” which does not seem to make his opinion especially reliable.

The _Sunday Record-Herald_ of Chicago (Nov. 24, 1912) contains a summary of this later phase of the discussion as to the condition of the Venus of Milo from which we quote a few passages that in spite of the sensational character of the account may be of interest. The American reporter, relying on his French sources, says:

“The great Thiers began his start in journalism by a study of this Venus and the riddle of her arms. So when he became president of the French republic he ordered the ambassador to Greece, Jules Ferry, to make a trip to Melos and pick up local tradition. Ferry did better. He found the son and nephew still alive, Antonio and Yorgos Jr. ‘They have grown to be beautiful old men--white-bearded, ruddy, robust and bright-eyed,’ reported Ferry. ‘Examined separately before the French vice-consul at Castro they declared steadily, with minute details and explanatory gestures and poses, that Venus, when they found her, was standing upright on her pedestal, her right arm sustaining her draperies and her left arm raised and extended, its hand holding an apple.’”

I assume that the old Greek peasants spoke Greek, and so M. Ferry probably understood their meaning mainly from their “explanatory gestures and poses” which might as well have expressed their idea of the original attitude of the statue as the way in which they actually saw it.

“The popular story of the countryside also,” continued Ferry’s report, “is a tale of battle. At fifty years’ distance the recollection remains and tradition is not yet born. The discovery of the Venus Victrix, the dispute of which she was the object, the fight on the beach, the victory of the French and her final abduction violently impressed the islanders--and the impression remains.”

“The battle of the beach” is described in sensational terms. The French war-schooner “Estafette” had reached Melos in May 1820, when her commander Robert saw the Greek brig “Galaxidion” (flying the Turkish flag) anchored nearby, and to the consternation of himself and Marcellus, the secretary of the French embassy at Constantinople, there appeared on shore at the foot of the hill a crowd of Greek and Turkish sailors laboriously transporting the upper half of the statue toward that same Turkish brig. The account continues:

“The Greeks and Turks advanced slowly, changing shifts and reposing. Marcellus and Robert looked in each other’s eyes. ‘There’s just time,’ said Robert. They armed a long-boat full of marines, Marcellus and Robert with them in command, and reached the shore just as men from a Turkish long-boat came running to protect their brethren. From the hill of Castro M. Brest, the French vice-consul, was making good time to the _mêlée_. Cutlasses and clubs opened the dance.

“The Turks dropped the marble idol. Around Venus it was slash and parry, kick, bite, jab, gouge and roll. A cutlass takes off a Turkish ear. Enough carnage! When you fly the Turkish flag you don’t soak the sands with your life-blood for a graven image made against the law of the Prophet. The Turks pull for the brig. The French have copped the peerless one, Venus Victrix, impassive, stares past them at the white-capped sea, where she was born. Is there a faint smile of satisfaction on the lovely lips?