If you're talking about this statue, it certainly wasn't in a basement when I visited the Getty Villa about two months ago.
Posted on 07/11/2008 6:29:54 PM PDT by SunkenCiv
If you're talking about this statue, it certainly wasn't in a basement when I visited the Getty Villa about two months ago.
I could be remembering wrong. If so I stand corrected or sit corrected actually. Thanks.
The Capitoline Venus
by
MARK TWAIN
CHAPTER I
[Scene-An Artist’s Studio in Rome.]
“Oh, George, I do love you!”
“Bless your dear heart, Mary, I know that—why is your father so
obdurate?”
“George, he means well, but art is folly to him—he only understands
groceries. He thinks you would starve me.”
“Confound his wisdom—it savors of inspiration. Why am I not a money-
making bowelless grocer, instead of a divinely gifted sculptor with
nothing to eat?”
“Do not despond, Georgy, dear—all his prejudices will fade away as soon
as you shall have acquired fifty thousand dol—”
“Fifty thousand demons! Child, I am in arrears for my board!”
CHAPTER II
[Scene-A Dwelling in Rome.]
“My dear sir, it is useless to talk. I haven’t anything against you, but
I can’t let my daughter marry a hash of love, art, and starvation—I
believe you have nothing else to offer.”
“Sir, I am poor, I grant you. But is fame nothing? The Hon. Bellamy
Foodle of Arkansas says that my new statue of America, is a clever piece
of sculpture, and he is satisfied that my name will one day be famous.”
“Bosh! What does that Arkansas ass know about it? Fame’s nothing—the
market price of your marble scarecrow is the thing to look at. It took
you six months to chisel it, and you can’t sell it for a hundred dollars.
No, sir! Show me fifty thousand dollars and you can have my daughter—
otherwise she marries young Simper. You have just six months to raise
the money in. Good morning, sir.”
“Alas! Woe is me!”
CHAPTER III
[ Scene-The Studio.]
“Oh, John, friend of my boyhood, I am the unhappiest of men.”
“You’re a simpleton!”
“I have nothing left to love but my poor statue of America—and see, even
she has no sympathy for me in her cold marble countenance—so beautiful
and so heartless!”
“You’re a dummy!”
“Oh, John!”
Oh, fudge! Didn’t you say you had six months to raise the money in?”
“Don’t deride my agony, John. If I had six centuries what good would it
do? How could it help a poor wretch without name, capital, or friends?”
“Idiot! Coward! Baby! Six months to raise the money in—and five will
do!”
“Are you insane?”
“Six months—an abundance. Leave it to me. I’ll raise it.”
“What do you mean, John? How on earth can you raise such a monstrous sum
for me?”
“Will you let that be my business, and not meddle? Will you leave the
thing in my hands? Will you swear to submit to whatever I do? Will you
pledge me to find no fault with my actions?”
“I am dizzy—bewildered—but I swear.”
John took up a hammer and deliberately smashed the nose of America! He
made another pass and two of her fingers fell to the floor—another, and
part of an ear came away—another, and a row of toes was mangled and
dismembered—another, and the left leg, from the knee down, lay a
fragmentary ruin!
John put on his hat and departed.
George gazed speechless upon the battered and grotesque nightmare before
him for the space of thirty seconds, and then wilted to the floor and
went into convulsions.
John returned presently with a carriage, got the broken-hearted artist
and the broken-legged statue aboard, and drove off, whistling low and
tranquilly.
He left the artist at his lodgings, and drove off and disappeared down
the Via Quirinalis with the statue.
CHAPTER IV
[Scene—The Studio.]
“The six months will be up at two o’clock to-day! Oh, agony! My life is
blighted. I would that I were dead. I had no supper yesterday. I have
had no breakfast to-day. I dare not enter an eating-house. And hungry?
—don’t mention it! My bootmaker duns me to death—my tailor duns me—
my landlord haunts me. I am miserable. I haven’t seen John since that
awful day. She smiles on me tenderly when we meet in the great
thoroughfares, but her old flint of a father makes her look in the other
direction in short order. Now who is knocking at that door? Who is come
to persecute me? That malignant villain the bootmaker, I’ll warrant.
Come in!”
“Ah, happiness attend your highness—Heaven be propitious to your grace!
I have brought my lord’s new boots—ah, say nothing about the pay, there
is no hurry, none in the world. Shall be proud if my noble lord will
continue to honor me with his custom—ah, adieu!”
“Brought the boots himself! Don’t wait his pay! Takes his leave with a
bow and a scrape fit to honor majesty withal! Desires a continuance of
my custom! Is the world coming to an end? Of all the—come in!”
“Pardon, signore, but I have brought your new suit of clothes for—”
“Come in!”
“A thousand pardons for this intrusion, your worship. But I have
prepared the beautiful suite of rooms below for you—this wretched den is
but ill suited to—”
“Come in!”
“I have called to say that your credit at our bank, some time since
unfortunately interrupted, is entirely and most satisfactorily restored,
and we shall be most happy if you will draw upon us for any—”
“COME IN!”
“My noble boy, she is yours! She’ll be here in a moment! Take her—
marry her—love her—be happy!—God bless you both! Hip, hip, hur—”
“COME IN!!!!!”
“Oh, George, my own darling, we are saved!”
“Oh, Mary, my own darling, we are saved—but I’ll swear I don’t know why
nor how!”
CHAPTER V
[Scene-A Roman Cafe.]
One of a group of American gentlemen reads and translates from the weekly
edition of ‘Il Slangwhanger di Roma’ as follows:
WONDERFUL DISCOVERY—Some six months ago Signor John Smitthe, an American
gentleman now some years a resident of Rome, purchased for a trifle a
small piece of ground in the Campagna, just beyond the tomb of the Scipio
family, from the owner, a bankrupt relative of the Princess Borghese.
Mr. Smitthe afterward went to the Minister of the Public Records and had
the piece of ground transferred to a poor American artist named George
Arnold, explaining that he did it as payment and satisfaction for
pecuniary damage accidentally done by him long since upon property
belonging to Signor Arnold, and further observed that he would make
additional satisfaction by improving the ground for Signor A., at his own
charge and cost. Four weeks ago, while making some necessary excavations
upon the property, Signor Smitthe unearthed the most remarkable ancient
statue that has ever bees added to the opulent art treasures of Rome.
It was an exquisite figure of a woman, and though sadly stained by the
soil and the mold of ages, no eye can look unmoved upon its ravishing
beauty. The nose, the left leg from the knee down, an ear, and also the
toes of the right foot and two fingers of one of the hands were gone,
but otherwise the noble figure was in a remarkable state of preservation.
The government at once took military possession of the statue, and
appointed a commission of art-critics, antiquaries, and cardinal princes
of the church to assess its value and determine the remuneration that
must go to the owner of the ground in which it was found. The whole
affair was kept a profound secret until last night. In the mean time the
commission sat with closed doors and deliberated. Last night they
decided unanimously that the statue is a Venus, and the work of some
unknown but sublimely gifted artist of the third century before Christ.
They consider it the most faultless work of art the world has any
knowledge of.
At midnight they held a final conference and, decided that the Venus was
worth the enormous sum of ten million francs! In accordance with Roman
law and Roman usage, the government being half-owner in all works of art
found in the Campagna, the State has naught to do but pay five million
francs to Mr. Arnold and take permanent possession of the beautiful
statue. This morning the Venus will be removed to the Capitol, there to
remain, and at noon the commission will wait upon Signor Arnold with His
Holiness the Pope’s order upon the Treasury for the princely sum of five
million francs is gold!
Chorus of Voices.—”Luck! It’s no name for it!”
Another Voice.—” Gentlemen, I propose that we immediately form an
American joint-stock company for the purchase of lands and excavations of
statues here, with proper connections in Wall Street to bull and bear the
stock.”
All.—”Agreed.”
CHAPTER VI
[Scene—The Roman Capitol Ten Years Later.]
“Dearest Mary, this is the most celebrated statue in the world. This is
the renowned ‘Capitoline Venus’ you’ve heard so much about. Here she is
with her little blemishes ‘restored’ (that is, patched) by the most noted
Roman artists—and the mere fact that they did the humble patching of so
noble a creation will make their names illustrious while the world
stands. How strange it seems this place! The day before I last stood
here, ten happy years ago, I wasn’t a rich man bless your soul, I hadn’t
a cent. And yet I had a good deal to do with making Rome mistress of
this grandest work of ancient art the world contains.”
“The worshiped, the illustrious Capitoline Venus—and what a sum she is
valued at! Ten millions of francs!”
“Yes—now she is.”
“And oh, Georgy, how divinely beautiful she is!”
“Ah, yes but nothing to what she was before that blessed John Smith broke
her leg and battered her nose. Ingenious Smith!—gifted Smith!—noble
Smith! Author of all our bliss! Hark! Do you know what that wheeze
means? Mary, that cub has got the whooping-cough. Will you never learn
to take care of the children!”
THE END
The Capitoline Venus is still in the Capitol at Rome, and is still the
most charming and most illustrious work of ancient art the world can
boast of. But if ever it shall be your fortune to stand before it and go
into the customary ecstasies over it, don’t permit this true and secret
history of its origin to mar your bliss—and when you read about a
gigantic Petrified man being dug up near Syracuse, in the State of New
York, or near any other place, keep your own counsel—and if the Barnum
that buried him there offers to sell to you at an enormous sum, don’t you
buy. Send him to the Pope!
The amount I don't know about them is frightful. I only know a thimble full. My memory for such things gets jumbled.
Your links to the ancient art and architecture are fascinating. I have never seen most of those castles and cathedrals. In my life I have spent about 10 days in Rome and one glorious day in Pompeii. That link to the Pompeii art conjurs up some of that memory. I recall wanting our guide to run so we could see more. I knew our time there was ticking.
The amount I don't know about them is frightful. I only know a thimble full. My memory for such things gets jumbled.
Your links to the ancient art and architecture are fascinating. I have never seen most of those castles and cathedrals. In my life I have spent about 10 days in Rome and one glorious day in Pompeii. That link to the Pompeii art conjurs up some of that memory. I recall wanting our guide to run so we could see more. I knew our time there was ticking.
Although not "ancient" Winterthur (Henry DuPont's collection of Americana) has a whole wing devoted to fakes that they bought unwittingly. They even give a class for curators there.
Sort of like the miracle of the loaves and fishes. Lots more where that came from.
I had thought the Getty kouros was taken down but another poster corrected me. Still some of the fakes are really pretty good work and to this art “philistine” show as much talent as the real thing.
It’s an interesting side to the art world. thanks.
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