to the cheek-bones, and from the cheek-bones to the
cheek, the remains of the mouth and chin,—all
this testifies to an extraordinary fineness of chiselling.
The entire face has a solemn serenity and a sovereign
goodness.” Leaving aside all consideration
of the artistic merits of other Egyptian colossi,—those
at Memphis, Thebes, Karnac and Luxor, with the twin
marvels of Amenophis-Memnon—we turn to the
most famous colossus of antiquity, that at Rhodes,
only to find that we have even less evidence on which
to base an opinion as to its quality than is available
in the case of the numerous primitive works of Egypt
and of India. We know its approximate dimensions,
the material of which it was made, and that it was
overthrown by an earthquake, but there seems to be
reason to doubt its traditional attitude, and nothing
is known as to what it amounted to as a work of art,
though it may be presumed that, being the creation
of a Greek, it had the merits of its classic age and
school. Of the masterpieces of Phidias it may
be said that they were designed for the interiors
of Temples and were adopted with consummate art to
the places they occupied; they have been reconstructed
for us from authentic descriptions, and we are enabled
to judge concerning that majestic and ponderous beauty
which made them the fit presentments of the greatest
pagan deities. I need say nothing of the immortal
statues by Michael Angelo, and will therefore hasten
to consider the modern outdoor colossi which now exist
in Europe—the St. Charles Borromeo at Arona,
Italy, the Bavaria at Munich, the Arminius in Westphalia,
Our Lady of Puy in France. The St. Charles Borromeo,
near the shore of Lake Maggiore, dates from 1697,
and is the work of a sculptor known as Il Cerano.
Its height is 76 feet, or with its pedestal, 114 feet.
The arm is over 29 feet long, the nose 33 inches,
and the forefinger 6 feet 4 inches. The statue
is entirely of hammered copper plates riveted together,
supported by means of clamps and bands of iron on an
interior mass of masonry. The effect of the work
is far from being artistic. It is in a retired
spot on a hill, a mile or two from the little village
of Arona. The Bavaria, near Munich, erected in
1850, is 51 feet high, on a pedestal about 26 feet
high, and is the work of Schwanthaler. It is of
bronze and weighs about 78 tons. The location
of this monstrous lump of metal directly in front
of a building emphasizes its total want of sculptural
merit, and makes it a doubly lamentable example of
bad taste and bombast. The Arminius colossal,
on a height near Detmold in Westphalia, was erected
in 1875, is 65 feet high, and weighs 18 tons.
The name of the sculptor is not given by any of the
authorities consulted, which is perhaps just as well.
This statue rests on “a dome-like summit of
a monumental structure,” and brandishes a sword
24 feet long in one hand. The Virgin of Puy is
by Bonassieux, was set up in 1860, is 52 feet high,
weighs 110 tons, and stands on a cliff some 400 feet