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A tale of nude statues
Nov. 18th, 2020 10:10 amYou may or may not have heard about the controversy regarding the the new statue honoring Mary Wollstonecraft. One of the questions I've seen repeatedly raised was: "Which famous male writer and philosopher would be displayed in the nude?" I see your general point, but the answer to this one is obviously Voltaire, in his own life time, no less.
This is a story which I came across in the course of the last year in my current fandom, but it's entertaining enough to be told to a more general audience. And because most people involved were fond of writing, we can, in this case, answer the question "what were they thinking?" precisely. So: it's April 1770. Voltaire hasn't lived in France for many years (though he will return to his city of birth, Paris, a few months before his death). He's living in Ferney, Switzerland, in fact, writing and involving himself as vividly as ever, but he's old, and definitely a living legend. A couple of younger enlightenment writers - among them Diderot, D'Alembert, Helvetius, Melchior Grimm - as well as the sculptor Pigalle - are having dinner in Madame Necker's salon.(Suzanne Necker: currently hostess of one of the most sought after salons in Paris. Wife of Necker the banker and future minister, mother of future writer Germaine de Stael.) And that's when they decide they'll erect a statue to a living writer - which has not been done before in France - to wit, Voltaire. In the nude, symbolizing the quest for truth and echoing what was then believed to be a depiction of Roman philosopher Seneca as he was dying, though the statue in question today is known as "Old Fisherman") (and also in the louvre, as the Voltaire statue).
Voltaire had his vanities, but pride of his physical appearance wasn't among them. He was deeply sceptical when Madame Necker first broke the news to him (and asked whether Pigalle could come to Switzerland for a sitting or several). Quoth he: Monsieur Pigalle is supposed to come to model my face, but, Madame, for this I would need to have a face. One hardly guesses where it lies hidden. My eyes lie three inches deep, my cheeks are old paper, which is badly put on bones that can't hold anything together anymore. What few teeths I had left are gone.
D'Alembert the encyclopedist wrote to soothe him: Genius has, as long as it breathes, a face that can be rendered by the genius of his brother, and Monsieur Pigalle will take the fire from the two diamonds nature has made your eyes and use it to awaken his statue to life. I can't tell you, dear honored comrade, how flattered Monsieur Pigalle is to have been chosen to create this monument for his and the glory of the French nation.
When Pigalle showed up in Ferney, Voltaire just could not sit still, either moved too much, dictated, came and went, or grimaced, and then finally Pigalle lucked out by drawing him into a discussion about the golden calf in the bible. Voltaire said no way the Israelites could have created a statue of gold within four hours, and Pigalle explained to him how such a statue was created and that it usually took six months at least. Voltaire listened, sitting quietly and attentively, and Pigalle was delighted, because at last he had the chance to model him.
(His face, that is. The nude body depicted in the finalized statue was that of an old soldier who modelled for Pigalle later, but the sensational part was that it was indeed shown as physically old.)
Then there was the question of financing the entire enterprise. Not only was Pigalle a sought after arist, but he intended to use Carrara marble. The very material from which Michelangelo had made his statues. This was expensive; he needed 1,5000 livres to purchace the marble in Italy, and that was without transport costs or his own salary. So the enlightenment crowd decided to make it a matter of subscriptions, asking patrons for their money.
Now, Voltaire by 1770 had of course his share of highly placed admirers (along with the even greater share of enemies). The most (in)famous of which was Frederick II. of Prussia; if you want to refresh your memory of the love/hate Friedrich/Voltaire trainwreck, check out these posts. (Or you could just read my story.) Frederick was also famously thrifty - even when he was in the early flush of Voltaire adoration, before their arguments, he had haggled with Voltaire about Voltaire's travel expenses - , and of course, you could never tell on any given day whether he'd praise Voltaire to the skies or curse him as the scum of humanity (usually both). When Madame Necker asked him to sign up as a subscriber, he did ask "how much?" first, and was told "your name and an Ecu" (i.e. the equivalent of a penny) would do. So he signed on, and did fork more money than that, because Voltaire's old school mate the Duc de Richelieu (great grand nephew of the famous Cardinal) was ready to contribute 50 Louisdor. Richelieu then was told this made everyone else look bad, so he diplomatically adjusted it to 20 Louisdor. By then, Friedrich had gotten even, and also contributed what we'd call a "blurb" for the entire project, to wit: The Greece of the ancients would have made him a God, one would have built him a temple: we only erect a statue to him as a pale recompense for all the persecutions he has suffered.
Presumably by "presecutions" Friedrich meant events like Voltaire's several stints in the Bastille, not the time he himself had Voltaire arrested in Frankfurt am Main (which wasn't Prussian territory, and where he had no business arresting people in any fashion whatsoever) just to get his (i.e. Frederick's) poems back. (The poems satirized virtually all over European monarchs, so they were tricky contraband.) In any event, the grand project went on, Pigalle started with his work, and by the spring of 1771, there was a model that already predictably scandalized people (both because of the nudity in general in the depiction of a living person, and the decrepit nudity in particular). King Gustav III. of Sweden (no stranger to scandals himself, and a future that involved being assassinated at a masque ball) asked sarcastially whether he should donate a coat, which was fairly typical as a reaction. There was massive pressure on Pigalle to change his design for the statue. Voltaire himself, having worked through his doubts, had Pigalle's back and said: “Pigalle must remain the absolute master of his statue. It is a crime, in fine art, to cause hindrances to genius. It is not without reason that genius is depicted with wings: it must fly where and how it wants. I ask you to presently see M. Pigalle, and to tell him what I think, to assure him of my friendship, my gratitude and my admiration. All that I can say, is that I have only succeeded, in the arts I have undertaken, when I listened only to myself.”
Pigalle finished the statue in 1776, two years before Voltaire's death. It is dedicated to "“Monsieur de Voltaire, by the people of letters, his compatriots and contemporaries.”. And for many years, it gathered dust, first in Pigalle's studio, as Voltaire's niece and heir, Madame Denis, didn't want it, then in a variety of places including the Academie Francaise. Today, it's in the Louvre, in the Richelieu Wing (and placed in the centre of the Pigalle Room).
Now whether the Wollstonecraft statue will have a similar fate, who knows....
This is a story which I came across in the course of the last year in my current fandom, but it's entertaining enough to be told to a more general audience. And because most people involved were fond of writing, we can, in this case, answer the question "what were they thinking?" precisely. So: it's April 1770. Voltaire hasn't lived in France for many years (though he will return to his city of birth, Paris, a few months before his death). He's living in Ferney, Switzerland, in fact, writing and involving himself as vividly as ever, but he's old, and definitely a living legend. A couple of younger enlightenment writers - among them Diderot, D'Alembert, Helvetius, Melchior Grimm - as well as the sculptor Pigalle - are having dinner in Madame Necker's salon.(Suzanne Necker: currently hostess of one of the most sought after salons in Paris. Wife of Necker the banker and future minister, mother of future writer Germaine de Stael.) And that's when they decide they'll erect a statue to a living writer - which has not been done before in France - to wit, Voltaire. In the nude, symbolizing the quest for truth and echoing what was then believed to be a depiction of Roman philosopher Seneca as he was dying, though the statue in question today is known as "Old Fisherman") (and also in the louvre, as the Voltaire statue).
Voltaire had his vanities, but pride of his physical appearance wasn't among them. He was deeply sceptical when Madame Necker first broke the news to him (and asked whether Pigalle could come to Switzerland for a sitting or several). Quoth he: Monsieur Pigalle is supposed to come to model my face, but, Madame, for this I would need to have a face. One hardly guesses where it lies hidden. My eyes lie three inches deep, my cheeks are old paper, which is badly put on bones that can't hold anything together anymore. What few teeths I had left are gone.
D'Alembert the encyclopedist wrote to soothe him: Genius has, as long as it breathes, a face that can be rendered by the genius of his brother, and Monsieur Pigalle will take the fire from the two diamonds nature has made your eyes and use it to awaken his statue to life. I can't tell you, dear honored comrade, how flattered Monsieur Pigalle is to have been chosen to create this monument for his and the glory of the French nation.
When Pigalle showed up in Ferney, Voltaire just could not sit still, either moved too much, dictated, came and went, or grimaced, and then finally Pigalle lucked out by drawing him into a discussion about the golden calf in the bible. Voltaire said no way the Israelites could have created a statue of gold within four hours, and Pigalle explained to him how such a statue was created and that it usually took six months at least. Voltaire listened, sitting quietly and attentively, and Pigalle was delighted, because at last he had the chance to model him.
(His face, that is. The nude body depicted in the finalized statue was that of an old soldier who modelled for Pigalle later, but the sensational part was that it was indeed shown as physically old.)
Then there was the question of financing the entire enterprise. Not only was Pigalle a sought after arist, but he intended to use Carrara marble. The very material from which Michelangelo had made his statues. This was expensive; he needed 1,5000 livres to purchace the marble in Italy, and that was without transport costs or his own salary. So the enlightenment crowd decided to make it a matter of subscriptions, asking patrons for their money.
Now, Voltaire by 1770 had of course his share of highly placed admirers (along with the even greater share of enemies). The most (in)famous of which was Frederick II. of Prussia; if you want to refresh your memory of the love/hate Friedrich/Voltaire trainwreck, check out these posts. (Or you could just read my story.) Frederick was also famously thrifty - even when he was in the early flush of Voltaire adoration, before their arguments, he had haggled with Voltaire about Voltaire's travel expenses - , and of course, you could never tell on any given day whether he'd praise Voltaire to the skies or curse him as the scum of humanity (usually both). When Madame Necker asked him to sign up as a subscriber, he did ask "how much?" first, and was told "your name and an Ecu" (i.e. the equivalent of a penny) would do. So he signed on, and did fork more money than that, because Voltaire's old school mate the Duc de Richelieu (great grand nephew of the famous Cardinal) was ready to contribute 50 Louisdor. Richelieu then was told this made everyone else look bad, so he diplomatically adjusted it to 20 Louisdor. By then, Friedrich had gotten even, and also contributed what we'd call a "blurb" for the entire project, to wit: The Greece of the ancients would have made him a God, one would have built him a temple: we only erect a statue to him as a pale recompense for all the persecutions he has suffered.
Presumably by "presecutions" Friedrich meant events like Voltaire's several stints in the Bastille, not the time he himself had Voltaire arrested in Frankfurt am Main (which wasn't Prussian territory, and where he had no business arresting people in any fashion whatsoever) just to get his (i.e. Frederick's) poems back. (The poems satirized virtually all over European monarchs, so they were tricky contraband.) In any event, the grand project went on, Pigalle started with his work, and by the spring of 1771, there was a model that already predictably scandalized people (both because of the nudity in general in the depiction of a living person, and the decrepit nudity in particular). King Gustav III. of Sweden (no stranger to scandals himself, and a future that involved being assassinated at a masque ball) asked sarcastially whether he should donate a coat, which was fairly typical as a reaction. There was massive pressure on Pigalle to change his design for the statue. Voltaire himself, having worked through his doubts, had Pigalle's back and said: “Pigalle must remain the absolute master of his statue. It is a crime, in fine art, to cause hindrances to genius. It is not without reason that genius is depicted with wings: it must fly where and how it wants. I ask you to presently see M. Pigalle, and to tell him what I think, to assure him of my friendship, my gratitude and my admiration. All that I can say, is that I have only succeeded, in the arts I have undertaken, when I listened only to myself.”
Pigalle finished the statue in 1776, two years before Voltaire's death. It is dedicated to "“Monsieur de Voltaire, by the people of letters, his compatriots and contemporaries.”. And for many years, it gathered dust, first in Pigalle's studio, as Voltaire's niece and heir, Madame Denis, didn't want it, then in a variety of places including the Academie Francaise. Today, it's in the Louvre, in the Richelieu Wing (and placed in the centre of the Pigalle Room).
Now whether the Wollstonecraft statue will have a similar fate, who knows....
