THE ALEXANDRIAN ERA AND ROMAN SPOLIATION.
That epoch in the art life of the Hellenic people associated with
the influences arising out of the career and conquests of Alexander
the Great, which we have now reached, was one scarcely inferior in
interest to that of the time of Pericles. Overflowing as was the
great Macedonian leader’s love of art and great as was his ambition
to leave behind him lasting monuments that should fittingly stand for
the artistic culture of his time, still, for reasons arising partly
out of his own career and partly from the ever-changing impulses of
human feeling and taste, the art culture of his time must bow to the
superiority of that of the time of Pericles, if, in respect to those
other features of his leadership and accomplishment, to which history
gives a superior rank, his genius is eclipsed by none in the chronicles
of civilization.
Alexander’s short life, so active in conquest and war, and so much
of it passed away from European associations or even the influences
of colonial Greece, necessarily gave him little time for indulgence
in the arts at home, while it permitted him to manifest it to some
considerable extent in founding cities and rearing temples in foreign
lands. To this self-imposed banishment, accompanied, as it was, by
large armies brought from Greece and her colonies, and the intermixing
of her people with foreigners of new tastes and habits of mind, may be
attributed that change of art feeling at home which began to assert
itself about this time. On the other hand, however, its effect was
beneficial to the conquered countries in introducing a more elevated
art standard than had existed within them before.
Personally, Alexander manifested a keen appreciation of the arts;
whether founded upon the same sincerity as that which appeared more
natural to the character of Pericles is a question; but we find that
Praxiteles, Lysippus and Apelles, the great artists of his time, were
no less publicly honored or more highly flattered than were Phidias or
Polycletus in the days of Pericles. It is related as an evidence of
Alexander’s enthusiasm for art, that he compensated Apelles for his
celebrated portrait of him by ordering that the artist’s reward should
be _measured out in gold_ instead of being _counted_, an order which
perhaps quite as much illustrated the theatrical impulses of which he
could be guilty as the calm expression of a genuine appreciation.
Even had Alexander been spared, and had returned to Greece to continue
a long life of usefulness to his people, instead of having been cut off
in his prime at Babylon, although he might have done much more for art
than he did, still he could not have accomplished for it what had been
attained by Pericles. This may be argued from his birth, schooling and
the stronger trend of his mind, which led in very different directions.
The Macedonian had not certainly the traditions of art culture in his
veins, as was the case with the more polished Athenian, and being
fonder of the dazzlement of pomp and show, natural to a leader who from
infancy had been almost continuously associated with the accoutrements
and regalia of armies, it is not likely that whatever he might have
accomplished for art more than that which he actually did, would have
manifested that purity of ideal, as well as refinement of execution
which so marked and dignified the work of Pericles.
As there is always some time which must elapse before the tide, having
reached its flood, turns once more to slowly ebb, so was there a
time to be expressed in a few years when the plastic arts of Greece,
reaching their highest development in the age of Pericles, remained
stationary, before ebbing away to so-called Roman degeneracy, and the
mixed influence of various comparatively uncultured nationalities.
The Alexandrian epoch marks the beginning of this turning-point. The
decadence took almost as many successive generations to the time
when Corinth was sacked by the Romans in 146 B.C., and the Italian
soldiers cast their dice upon the pictures of Aristides, as it had
taken to advance in the earlier ages of Greece, to the time when the
chryselephantine statues of Zeus and Athene, by Phidias, were the
recognized perfect standards of godlike majesty and beauty, and the
Doryphorus of Polycletus was accepted as the criterion of human grace
and proportion.
Of course the standard by which the perfection of architectural dignity
and purity can be measured is largely one of individual taste and
preferment, as is sometimes evidenced by the conflicting judgments of
the best critical authorities, but if we accept the conclusions of
centuries of the highest criticism, we must be prepared to concede that
the arts to which we refer reached their zenith as stated. However,
the expression, Roman degeneracy, is much too severe a one, if taken
in other than a comparative sense; for, whatever Grecian architecture
may have lost in ideal æstheticism by reason of Roman interference, it
must be granted the Romans that their own evolution in the appreciation
of the arts and the accomplishments of architecture resulted in a
magnificence which, when compared with our own time, gives them rank
second only to the Greeks, from whom they borrowed so much, and whom
they did not scruple to rob of nearly all their portable art treasures.
“Among the innumerable monuments of architecture constructed by the
Romans,” says Gibbon, “how many have escaped the notice of history, how
few have resisted the ravages of time and barbarism! And yet even the
majestic ruins that are still scattered over Italy and the provinces
would be sufficient to prove that those countries were once the seat
of a polite and powerful empire. Their greatness alone or their beauty
might deserve our attention; but they were rendered more interesting
by two important circumstances, which connect the agreeable history of
the arts with the more useful history of human manners. Many of these
works were erected at private expense, and almost all were intended for
public benefit.”
But the burnishing of the Romans to the high polish which they finally
attained in the arts was a slow process, and one which met with many
interruptions, according as their rulers were individually affected by
a love of the artistic—a fact which in itself would show that art was
not an inherent quality in the Roman nature to the like degree that it
was in that of the Greek. To admire the Grecian æsthetic culture was
at first considered an evidence of effeminacy, and even Cato exclaimed
against the arts not seventeen years after the taking of Syracuse. The
Consul Mummius, in 146 B.C., some hundred years later, after the battle
which resulted in the capture of Corinth, proved very conclusively that
he had very little appreciation of the merit of the treasures he found
there, for he not only destroyed a great many, but shipped to Rome
many more, for the simple reason that, recognizing how much they were
prized by the Corinthians, he wisely saw that they might be useful in
Rome. This sacking of Grecian cities was quite popular, and the Roman
generals, in their conquests, seemed to strive which should bring
away to Rome the greatest number of statues and pictures. The elder
Scipio despoiled Spain and Africa, Flamius Sylla and Mummius exported
shiploads of the art of Greece, Æmilius despoiled Macedonia, and Scipio
the younger, when he destroyed Carthage, transferred to Rome the chief
ornaments of that city.
In fact, the Roman generals were remarkable as art pilferers, using the
spoils not alone to adorn their public buildings and institutions,
but in some instances their private houses and palaces as well. It is
related of Scaurus that he embellished his temporary theatre, erected
for a few days’ use, with no less than three thousand statues. He also
returned to Rome with all the pictures of Sicyon, one of the most
eminent schools of painting in Greece, on a pretence that they would
compensate for a debt due the Roman people. From this habit of drawing
on foreigners it finally came to pass that private citizens took the
fever and entered upon the luxury. None was earlier in the field than
the Luculli, particularly Lucius Lucullus. Julius Cæsar was personally
a great collector, his hobby being gems, while his successor, Augustus,
displayed an acute interest in Corinthian vases.
Augustus did much for the architectural adornment of Rome, and his
much-quoted remark to the effect that he found Rome a city of bricks
and left it one of marble, was, to a great degree, true. In fact,
Augustus manifested an æsthetic nature in many respects. Spence says,
speaking of the arts, that “the flavor of Augustus, like a gentle dew,
made them bud forth and blossom; and the sour reign of Tiberius, like a
sudden frost, checked their growth, and killed all their beauties.” Men
of genius were flattered, courted and enriched under Augustus, as they
were some four hundred years’ earlier in Athens under Pericles, with
the result that Vergil, Horace, Ovid and other poets of the greatest
merit sprung forward. Rome became in this age the seat of universal
government also, its wealth was enormous, its architectural decorations
numerous and splendid, and even its common streets were decked with
some of the finest statues in the world. Other great architectural
epochs of Rome were those of the time of Trojan and Hadrian. But as
evidence of the intermittent character of her art development, very
little was realized, as very little could be expected under the reigns
of such monsters as Tiberius, Caligula and Nero. To Nero, however,
we must accord some little credit in having built a very remarkable
architectural composition, although undertaken for no public benefit,
but to satisfy his own profligate vanity. His “Golden Palace,” built
under the direction of the architects Celer and Severus, the most
eminent of their time, was ranked as the most “stupendous” structure
of its kind in all Italy. The palace was built after the conflagration
during which Nero is supposed to have amused himself with a violin.
Tacitus tells us that it was ornamented in every part with “pearls,
gems and the most precious materials,” especially gold, which was used
in reckless profusion. In the centre of a court adorned with a portico
of three rows of lofty columns, each row a mile long, stood a colossal
statue of that colossal sensualist and wicked monarch, which was one
hundred and twenty feet in height. Vespasian tore down the whole of
this piece of architectural vanity, restored the land which it had
occupied and by which it was surrounded to the people from whom it had
been stolen, and erected in its place the great public Coliseum and the
magnificent Temple of Peace.
In alluding to the public palaces of amusement, Curio, a Roman Prætor,
some few years before the Christian era, is said to have built two
wooden theatres close together, which turned on pivots. During the
day they were turned away from each other, and different plays were
performed in each; then, with all the spectators, they were turned
together, forming an amphitheatre in which combats took place. The zeal
of the Roman architects to win popular favor by something novel and
striking was often very great. In Pompey’s theatre water was made to
run down the aisles, between the seats, in order to refresh spectators
in the heat of summer.
But that the Roman architects were not always as careful in the
inspection of the buildings under their supervision as they should have
been, and, like some of our modern architects, permitted their works
to be used when in an unsafe condition, is shown from the unfortunate
catastrophe which resulted in the unexpected tumbling to pieces of the
theatre of Fidenæ near Rome. This accident happened in the reign of
Tiberius, and the name of the architect who suffered banishment for his
neglect was Attilius. The theatre was built of wood, and out of fifty
thousand people who were injured in the collapse twenty thousand are
said to have died.
Of all the Roman emperors none is more interesting to the student of
Grecian architecture than Hadrian, who was a great admirer of Greece,
seeking to introduce the Hellenic institutions and modes of worship
in Rome, as well as the art, poetry and learning of Greece. He also
undertook to restore Athens, which had suffered greatly during the four
or five hundred years which had elapsed between his time and that of
Pericles, to something of her former architectural grandeur. Pope’s
couplet might have been Hadrian’s inspiration:
“You, too, proceed! make falling arts your care,
Erect new wonders and the old repair.”
Indeed, he caused to be inscribed upon the Arch of Honor, which he
erected in Athens, after the restoration, two inscriptions which,
if not in the best of taste, were in harmony with their author’s
self-love, of which he possessed no inconsiderable share. Upon that
side of the arch which faced the ancient city he wrote: “This is
Athens, the old city of Theseus,” and on that which fronted upon the
new city of his restoration and adornment was inscribed: “This is the
city of Hadrian, and not of Theseus.” In other words, the visitor was
expected to make his own comparison and perhaps draw the conclusion
intimated that Theseus was not, after all, to be compared with the
Roman Hadrian.
Hadrian’s particular penchant was architecture, and his predominant
vices were vanity and jealousy, both of which were manifested in
his practice of that art. The magnificent villa which he erected at
Tiber, where he spent his declining years, and the ruins of which
even now cover a space equal to a large town, would indicate this,
as well as the grandiose mausoleum which towered high above the
banks of the Tiber at Rome, and which is now depleted of much of its
statuary and ornamentation, the Christian church of Saint Angelo. The
treatment which he accorded Trajan’s great architect, the accomplished
Apollodorus, is still another evidence of his vanity.
Hadrian, like Louis I. of Bavaria, found delight in practising
personally the profession of architecture, and drew plans of buildings,
which the people thought was unbecoming a prince. Possibly this
objection was raised to discourage their ruler rather than the more
truthful one that his plans were not up to the high standard of his
time. However that may be, he insisted upon their being executed, and
it is said was rather pleased if the architects found fault with them.
But this was not the case with Apollodorus, whether because of what he
had accomplished for his predecessor Trajan, or because of professional
jealousy.
Apollodorus was the architect of the Trajan column, composed of only
twenty-four stones, although one hundred and twenty-eight Roman feet
in height, and the square which surrounded it, considered the most
beautiful assemblage of buildings then known. The relief carvings which
were wound spirally around the Trajan column like a ribbon, represented
the incidents of the expedition against the Darians. The column
supported a statue of Trajan, which Pope Sextus V. substituted for one
of Saint Peter. A greater absurdity can hardly be conceived than that
of placing a peaceful apostle over the warlike representations of the
Dacian war.
Apollodorus was also the architect and engineer of the great bridge
which stretched across the Danube in lower Hungary, which was formed
of twelve piers and twenty-two arches, said to have been the grandest
use of the arch in such works. Each arch was sixty feet wide and one
hundred and fifty feet high. The total height of the bridge was three
hundred feet and its length a mile and a half. Hadrian destroyed this
magnificent work, some say through fear of its use by barbarians,
others through jealousy. Perhaps the circumstances attending the death
of Apollodorus would point to the second reason as the true one.
Hadrian had made the drawings of the double temple of Venus at Rome,
which he submitted to Apollodorus, doubtless for his commendation
rather than his criticism. The architect saw at a glance that the
sitting figures of the two goddesses, Roma and Venus, which the Emperor
had introduced in the little temple, were out of proportion, and so
large that if they stood up they would bump their heads against the
roof, if they did not take it off entirely. He called the Emperor’s
attention to this fact with the result that Hadrian became very angry,
or pretended to be so, and Apollodorus lost his head for his frankness.
The favorite architect of Hadrian was Detrianus, to whom he entrusted
many of his most important undertakings. We find that he restored the
Pantheon of Agrippa, the Basilica of Neptune, the Forum of Augustus
and the Baths of Agrippina. As original works he designed the Mausoleum
of Hadrian, to which we have already alluded; the bridge of Ælius,
ornamented with its covering of brass, and supported by its forty-two
columns, terminating at the top with as many statues, and the villa at
Tivoli. He also erected many structures for his royal patron in Gaul,
among which was the Basilica Plotina, the most superb building in that
country, and again other buildings in England. The Roman wall from Eden
in Cumberland to Tyne in Northumberland, a distance of eighty miles,
which was built as a defence against the Caledonians, is attributed
to Detrianus. In Greece he embellished the famous temple of Jupiter
Olympus, and in Palestine he rebuilt Jerusalem, erected a theatre
and various pagan temples out of the stone from the Jewish temples,
and completed his sacrilege there by placing a statue of Jupiter on
the spot where Christ rose from the dead, and one of Venus on Mount
Calvary. A feat, however, which has perpetuated his fame quite as much
as any other of his professional achievements was the removing of
the colossal bronze statue of Nero, which stood in the court of the
“Golden Palace.” This difficult task he is said to have accomplished
without changing the erect posture of the huge figure, which, it will
be remembered, was one hundred and twenty-eight feet high, by the
assistance of twenty-four elephants.
In returning once more to the Greek architects who have been left,
while a rather garrulous ramble has been made into the architectural
personality of Rome, it may be well not to attempt to do so at once,
but to pause for a moment, since we are so far from the chronology of
our subject, while the reader makes the acquaintance of two Hellenic
artists who, in the time of Quintius Metellus, 147 B.C., found
professional employment in Roman territory.
Metellus was one of the first Romans to favor magnificent architecture
in his home capitol, and with the booty gathered in his Macedonian
campaigns he erected two temples in Rome, said to have been the first
temples built of marble in that city, one of which was dedicated to
Jupiter Stator, and the other to the white-armed Juno. The interiors
were profusely ornamented with the works of the great Grecian masters,
Praxiteles, Polycletus and Dionysius figuring largely.
The names of the architects which Metellus brought or imported from
Greece for this work were Saurus and Batrachus, who may possibly have
been Ionians, inasmuch as they employed the Ionic order. These temples
were restored in the Corinthian style, under Augustus, two hundred
years later, by Hermodorus of Salamis, who was also the architect of
the temple of Mars in the Flaminian Circus.
It is told of Saurus and Batrachus that they were so much pleased with
their work that they asked for no reward other than the privilege of
having their names inscribed on the temples. But as this honor was
denied them, they resorted to expedient to effect the same end. As
the name Saurus stood for lizard and Batrachus for frog, they carved
lizards and frogs on the temples, and were comparatively satisfied. A
rather absurd mistake occurred in respect to these two temples after
they were completed. It seems that nothing remained to be done but to
add the statues of Jupiter and Juno to each respectively; but by some
strange oversight the figure of Jupiter was erected in the house of
Juno, and that of Juno before the shrine of Jupiter. However, as the
two deities were rather closely connected by marriage, the mistake was
conveniently attributed to a whim of the gods and was not remedied.
[Illustration: Decoration]