CHAPTER VIII.

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]