Thais of Athens, page 39
“Bombaks!” Leptines exclaimed in astonishment. “They look alike.”
“I expected as much,” Lysippus said. “Similar purpose of their bodies and the equal level of harmonious development led to inevitable likeness. But let us take these features separately, in order to understand Agesander and his predecessors, who turned the fashion of Helenian sculpture toward foreign images and models. You, Cleophrades, shall correct me or add to my statements, as I am not a great connoisseur of feminine beauty. So shall you, Leptines, because while you are young, you clearly understand the true language of the body.
“We must not repeat a common mistake of the Helenian artists, which the sculptors and painters of Egypt and Crete managed to avoid. It is particularly important to remember that when you attempt to create a composite image, its purpose is to convey beauty to the entire people, not just to fulfill an order from one customer. If that is done, the image will be created to serve only two people: the client and the sculptor himself. When gods bestow the gift of vision and recreation upon an artist, and give him a tender, sensitive soul, they often take away some of his manliness.”
Lysippus hesitated, noticing that his listeners were flushed and frowning.
“I do not wish to accuse artists of lacking in manhood compared to an average person. I refer of that Herculean courage which exists in a wrathful soul, filling heroes and other remarkable people. Compared to them, you are fragile.”
“What is so bad about that?” Leptines said impatiently, interrupting his teacher.
“Nothing. But the demands are the same both from a hero and from a great artist, if he dreams of creating a truly great work of art. Lack of courage leads us toward errors in selection of a model and an image of a woman. We are discussing women, after all, and that is most important. Frequently the artist chooses a model and creates a sculpture of a maiden or a goddess with large facial features, very manlike, broad-shouldered and tall. A hero will never pick a woman like that, nor would a strong courageous man who is a leader to his people. A hero requires a woman filled with feminine power, capable of being his wife and companion and of bearing strong offspring.
Such lovers accompanied artists from the ancient times, for the artists themselves were also warriors, farmers and hunters.
“Watch and listen.” He turned toward the models, gesturing with his hands. “They are both of small, nearly identical, height, as appropriate for a Kharita. Thais is,” Lysippus squinted an exacting eye, ”three elbows and three palystas, Eris is taller by half a palysta. That is shorter than the modern standard, based on Persian and Finikian women.
“The second important feature is a combination of a small waist with rounded hips, forming uninterrupted lines of an amphora without a single chink. This has been celebrated by our poets since the ancient times and was once valued greatly by our sculptors. Nowadays, from Polycleitus to the newly-fashionable Agesander, women’s stomach muscles are portrayed to be the same as men’s, but the hips are forgotten. It is a serious mistake. Look here.” He approached Thais and ran his hands over her hips. ”The wide pelvis of a mother demands balance. How? By developing the muscles that are weak in a man, and less necessary of course. Instead of a thick layer of upper abdominal muscles, a well-built woman has deeply set muscles, here,” Lysippus pressed into Thais’ side, causing her to half-sigh, half-groan.
Lysippus went over to Eris and placed his hands, pale from working with wet clay, over her dark skin.
“See? She too has a very strong muscle that hides behind the oblique abdominal one. It spreads like a broad leaf from here, from the lower ribs to the pelvic bones and the pubic bone. Along its center line is another muscle in the shape of a pyramid. See how well it is outlined under the smooth skin?
“These muscles support the lower part of the stomach and press it between the convex front side of the hip, near the groin. This is also a result of their constant development. Remember this well, because this illustrates the proportions contrary to those of Agesander’s statue, whose stomach protrudes too much at the bottom. As I understand it, the delightful convexity of the hips is caused by exercising the muscles that lift the leg forward. But that is not enough.”
“She,” said the sculptor, going back to Thais, “has very strong, deep-set muscles that pull the leg up to the pelvis. Neither the Creto-Helenian or the Nubian women have a single flaw in the line where the leg connects to the pelvis. That is not an accident either. Some people possess this gift of the Kharitas since birth. The outline of Thais’ hips is even more pronounced from exercising the rear muscles that go up: this one in the middle, between the two big ones and some other ones that cannot be felt, but that lift up the layer of the top muscles. They all connect the pelvis and the hip, turn the leg, lift it back and to the side, as well as straighten the body. I would call those muscles “dancing muscles”, and those that press the legs together “riding muscles”.
“Remember, women must develop their deep muscles just as much as the men must develop their surface muscles. Keep that in mind, when you create an image that is beautiful, healthy and harmonious, strong without coarseness, as the daughters of Hellas should be. And not only those of Hellas, but those of the entire Ecumene. Agility without the loss of the power of Eros, and motherhood. That is an ideal and a standard removed as far from Agesander’s Melos statue as it is from the runners and Amazons by Polycleitus.
“A woman is not a delicate youth. She is his opposite, and stronger than him. Women of many nations have dances with undulations of the waist and rocking of the hips. These movements are natural for them, as they exercise the deep-set muscles, create a flexible waist and polish the internal organs of her womb, where a child is conceived and grown. Where such dances do not exist, or where they are forbidden, I have heard childbearing is painful and the offspring are weaker.”
The great sculptor finished his speech and stepped away, pleased. There was applause from his students who had listened intently and now expressed their overwhelming agreement.
Cleophrades rose from his seat and went to stand between Thais and Eris.
“No one could say it more clearly and wisely than you. I want to add only one thing, perhaps because I find Agesander’s Aphrodite to be an interpretation contrary to my own. Look. Here before you stand two beautiful women of different origins. The great Lysippus pointed out immediately how alike they are, as they were created by the gods according to one standard.
“But he forgot to mention one more feature that is important in the definition of beauty. Their breasts sit high, are both wide at the bottom and more rounded than those of Agesander’s model. His Aphrodite, despite the maturity of her body, has slightly sharpened breasts, as those of a young woman, and at the same time their centers are at least one dactyl lower than those of Thais and Eris. That is not a mistake of the artist, but a blind following of the model. Syrian women are often proportioned such.”
“You are right, Cleophrades, I memorized Agesander’s creation less well than you, and I agree with you,” Lysippus replied.
Both the great sculptor of Hellas and his friend, a nearly unknown creator of a few statues of women, would have been saddened if they could see into the future. Then they would discover that thousands of years later the improper representation of the feminine body by Agesander would be mistaken by artists for a true standard of Helenian beauty.
“Do you wish to add something, Leptines?” Lysippus asked.
The Ephesian sculptor nodded, then held out a hand, asking for silence. “You said nothing about the rear portion of the body.”
“There is nothing drastically different there compared to Agesander, or rather to the statue that inspired our debate,” Lysippus said with a frown.
“No. But there is, great master. You yourself spoke about the lowered and flat buttocks of Agesander’s Syrian model. As you can see, our model is sphayropigeon, round-bottomed.” He drew in the air, following Thais’ outline but not daring to touch her.
“Yes, of course. The reason is the same: the development of dancing muscles that bend the body backward and forward. Their greatest convexity is shifted higher and protrudes more, forming a pronounced roundness. The Milos statue is flat in the upper back, and the models of Polycleitus and Cresilaus are flat-backed as well. Looking at those models you can see clearly that they would never excel at dancing balarita or even eumelea. And our guests can perform even the most difficult of dances, is that not so, Thais?”
“Why ask the ‘fourth Kharita’?” Leptines exclaimed, then pointed at Eris. “What about her?”
“Eris, would you please show them something from the Great Mother’s dances?” Thais said. “They need to see.”
“Why?”
“To understand feminine strength and beauty, and to create images of goddesses that would captivate the imaginations of those not fortunate enough to see you in real life.”
“Very well, Mistress.”
Eris pulled out the dagger from her hair and handed it to Thais. Leptines tried to take a closer look at the weapon, but Eris glared at him so savagely that he pulled his hand away. She did however, reluctantly allow Lysippus to take the dagger and the great artist froze at the sight of the ancient treasure.
The narrow blade, made of the hardest black bronze and decorated with parallel golden grooves, was topped by a hilt made of electron in the shape of letter tau of delicate craftsmanship. The top horizontal bar of the hilt was slightly bent and had gryphon heads on each side. It was molded in one piece with the cylindrical handle slightly thicker in the middle, and carved with circular grooves. On the outside, the handle was decorated with three round black agates set between the grooves. Near the blade the handle split in two, hugging the base of the blade with two taloned gryphon paws. The weapon had been created by masters who had died many centuries before. It was worth a great deal of money, but all black priestesses were armed with the identical daggers.
Thais took the blade away from Lysippus, and Eris let out a sigh of relief. Turning toward Thais, she asked her to sing the morning anthem of the Mother of Gods.
“Start slowly, Mistress, and speed up the rhythm after each half-verse.”
“In the early spring I walk among white asphodel flowers,” Thais began. “The sun rises higher, shadow of the night slips away …”
Eris lifted her arms above her head, folding her hands in a peculiar way, with palms turned up. She started slowly bending backwards with her eyes fixed on her chest. When the dark tips of her breasts, as wide as the steppe hills, rose vertically as if pointing at the zenith, Eris turned her head to the right. Tapping the rhythm with her right foot, she started turning right to left, raising and stretching out her leg for balance. The dazzling, almost bluish whites of her eyes were visible in thin strips between her half-closed eyelids, and her mouth formed a menacing, toothy smile.
Thais increased the tempo of the song. Never changing her pose, Eris spun first one way, then the other, switching her feet imperceptibly.
Lysippus pointed at her, obviously pleased. Who else could have done this?
Thais clapped her hands, stopping Eris, who straightened in one movement and froze on the spot.
The fragment of the dance impressed the Indian artists. The eldest of them bowed and held out his arms. Eris hesitated. The man pulled out a jewel which glittered over his forehead in his turban, and held it out to Eris, saying something in his own language. Eris looked at her mistress for direction. Thais glanced at the interpreter.
“Our great master presents the only thing he has of value as a sign of his utmost admiration for the perfection of the soul, body and dance. These are all three components that make a chitrini,” the interpreter said.
“You see, Eris? You must take this gift. One cannot decline such a sign of respect. The foreigner recognized perfection of the soul in you. What did the Indian say? Chitrini? What is that?” Thais asked.
“Let us ask the honorable guest to explain,” Lysippus chimed in.
The elderly Indian asked for a board, covered with a layer of alabaster. Such pieces were used by artists for large sketches. The interpreter stepped forward, bowed, then raised his hands and folded them in front of his forehead. This was a sign of readiness, meaning he was prepare to serve the guest and the host.
“Worshiping a woman and her beauty is greater among our people, it seems,” the Indian began. “And the power of beauty is stronger in our country. We think that when a man and a woman come together in love, it increases the spirituality of both and improves their Psyche, the soul of any offspring they conceive. The greatest of gods don’t only obey the charms of the heavenly beauties, the apsaras, or hetaerae, as you call them, but also use them as powerful weapons. The main heavenly hetaera, Urvashi was designated to seduce the wise men when they achieved too high a level of perfection and power compared to the gods. Physical love in our country is elevated not only to serve beauty and the mysteries of nature, as in Hellas, but also to serve the gods, as it was among the ancestors of Indian people on Crete, in Asia and in Finikia.
“The scores of gods and goddesses include a multitude of celestial beauties of sunlight, including surasundari or apsaras, Urvashi’s helpers. One of their chief missions is to inspire artists to create beautiful things and to bring comprehension and comfort to all people. The celestial maidens bring their own image to us artists, and thus are called chitrini, from the word chitra, which is a painting, a statue, or a verbal poetic description. Imbued with the magical power of art and the ability to create the miracle of beauty, chitrini bring us all under the same law. He who cannot fulfill his task loses his power and becomes blind to the invisible, becoming a mere craftsman.”
“This is very close to the Orphic teaching of the muses,” Lysippus whispered to Thais. “There is a reason why, according to legend, Orpheus brought his knowledge from India.”
“Or from Crete,” the Athenian replied quietly.
“One of the main secrets of the artists’ skill,” the Indian continued, “is the inexhaustible wealth of colors and forms in the world. The soul of any man will always get an answer to his call, if he calls. The mystery will only increase his curiosity. But there are main forms and main gods. Their embodiment is the most difficult task and requires a heroic deed from the artist. His creation, however, lives longer than mountains and rivers on the face of the Earth, akin to the eternal life of the celestial world.
“That is why the entire multitude of chitrini possesses common features shared by them all. This feminine image was described by a poet fifteen hundred years ago.”
The Indian held out his arms and started reciting in another dialect, apparently quoting something. The interpreter looked around helplessly. Then another Indian started translating into a more common language he knew.
“This woman is a joyous dancer, a courageous lover, an agile and strong chitrini. She is of small height with a slender waist and curved hips, with a strong straight neck, with small hands and feet. Her shoulders are straight and more narrow than her hips, her breasts are firm and set high and close, because they are wide at the base. Her face is round, her nose is small and straight. Her eyes are large, eyebrows narrow, hair darker than Indian nights. Her only scent is the smell of honey. Her ears are small and set high.” The Indian caught his breath. “And now look at them,” he said suddenly, pointing at Thais and Eris. “The poet inspired by gods who died so long ago described them both. Do we need any more proof of the immortal beauty of chitrini?”
The Helenians gave loud exclamations of delight. Lysippus, who sent for a chest to be brought from another room, approached the speaker, carefully carrying a statuette made of ivory and gold.
“This is a gift to you, Indian, to confirm what you said,” Lysippus said, then lifted the sculpture in his palm.
Time had damaged the statuette of a semi-nude woman slightly around her face, headdress and right arm. With her left hand, the woman was pulling up the broad floor length skirt that flowed in waves. Deep gores appeared lower down the middle, in the shape of the letter mu. Her loose, wide sash sat at a slant, revealing almost all of her stomach, tiny waist and the top part of her curvy hips. Large, round breasts sat high and close but seemed too well-developed for the narrow torso and shoulders. Her face, though damaged by time, still held its round shape and a steadfast gaze of long widely set eyes.
“Chitrini?” Lysippus asked, smiling.
“Chitrini!” the Indian said, then nodded. “Where from?”
“From the island of Crete. Connoisseurs believe she is one thousand five hundred years old. That means she is a contemporary of your poet. Take it.”
“For me?” the Indian asked, stepping back in reverent awe.
“For you. Take it to your country where beliefs, standards of art and attitude toward women are so close to the great lost art of Crete.”
The Indian said something to his companions and they began chattering loudly and excitedly, raising his arms like Athenians at Agora.
“Today is a true holiday for us at your house, oh wise teacher,” the eldest Indian said. “We have long since heard of your fame as the most incorruptible and greatest artist of Hellas, who came to Asia with Alexander. We have now seen that there is far more glory in the depth and generosity of your knowledge, and we have met not one, but two surasundari — chitrini at your home. But this last gift is particularly special. Even with all of your wisdom you may not know of a legend, that there once was a land in the west which was wiped out by terrible earthquakes and underwater volcano eruptions.”
“I know this legend, and she does too,” Lysippus said, pointing at Thais. “And so do those of my students who have read Creteus and Timeus by Plato. There once was a rich and powerful seafaring country in the west. Its capital, the City of Waters, perished from the wrath of Poseidon and Gaea. Egyptian priests, from whom Plato learned this legend, did not give the precise location of that country, which was called Atlantis. Followers of Plato believe Atlantis to have been located to the west of the Pillars of Hercules in the great ocean. Creteus, unfortunately, remained unfinished, and we do not know what else the great scholar might have wanted to tell us.”
