Our Biggest Monuments Have an Ancient Legacy
Building a Colossus
On the 28th of August, 1886, crowds thronged the southern shores of Manhattan, and boats braved the fog to witness the dedication of the world’s largest statue.
It was a belated centenary gift from the French Republic to the United States of America, titled ‘Liberty Enlightening the World.’ It soon became known simply as the ‘Statue of Liberty.’ President Grover Cleveland accepted the gift from Ferdinand de Lesseps, Suez Canal engineer, Internationalist, and long-term project supporter.
On the viewing platform at the statue’s crown, Frederic Auguste Bartholdi, the sculptor, was waiting patiently to unveil the statue. Bartholdi had designed a classical female form in a flowing gown to represent the dreams of a modern republic. It was a motif inspired by the enduring beauty of Ancient Greece and Rome bronze statues.
Bartholdi had never worked on a large scale but always had the bold vision to build a new ‘Colossus’ modeled on the gigantic statues of the ancient world. The largest of these ancient works is believed to have been a bronze statue of Emperor Nero that stood beside the Roman Amphitheatre. So memorable was this behemoth that the Amphitheatre was always known as the Colosseum.
The French sculptor had been inspired by monumental works on his travels through Egypt 30 years before. In 1867, as the Suez Canal neared completion, he spruiked the concept of a modern Colossus to the ruling Khedive of Egypt. This was to be a giant figure holding a torch at the canal's entrance, a new wonder for a new nation to match the Pharos of Alexandria built for Classical Egypt.
Models of the proposed figure show a female with a raised right arm, but mindful of a Middle Eastern audience. It was draped more like the Virgin Mary than a Greek Goddess. Ferdinand de Lesseps, the engineering entrepreneur responsible for the Canal, admired the vision but was more realistic about the Khedive’s finances. The project stalled at the concept stage.
However, the US centenary offered another opportunity, championed by parts of the political establishment in France. The gift of a republican symbol to the century-old American Republic was a subtle attack on the Parisian Bonapartist and Monarchist parties. According to Bartholdi, the idea preceded the Egyptian venture, receiving little traction until the fall of the Second French Empire after its defeat by Prussia in 1870 at the Battle of Sedan. The new French Republic arose from the ashes, secure enough by 1875 to publicly air the idea of a national gift to the United States. Only one year from the American centenary, it was never possible to complete such a huge statue on time. Instead, it was a promise to be fulfilled.
Bartholdi was a driven optimist. He had visited New York in 1871 and had already chosen a small island at the southern entrance of Hudson Bay for his giant work. He had worked out how and where. All he needed were the funds. When the new French Republic supported the statue, he built an outstretched arm bearing a torch, which he completed in time for the American Centennial. Shrewdly, it was fitted with a viewing platform for paying customers. The arm was erected initially in Philadelphia and then in Manhattan.
The American response was wary curiosity. What were the French up to? The United States was not keen on recognising French support for their canonised Revolution, preferring to downplay the French backing against Britain. It took until 1877 before Congress accepted the gift, but there was an apparent reluctance to stump up funds for a pedestal. Appropriation bills failed to pass the legislature, and Grover Cleveland, then State Governor, vetoed New York’s contribution. Only a nationwide newspaper campaign, run by a recent Hungarian immigrant, Joseph Pulitzer, of eponymous prize fame, lit the flame that future President Cleveland would bask in.
Undaunted, Bartholdi modelled the head for the 1878 Paris Exposition, claiming that he used his mother's face. Once again, he included a viewing platform and charged admission.
Donors also came forward, including Pierre Eugene Secretan, who provided over 100 tonnes of the purest-grade copper. Secretan saw endless opportunities for copper. In the 1880s, with a syndicate of bankers, he tried to corner world supply, doubling prices in one year. He was bankrupt and in gaol by 1889 leaving the Statue of Liberty as his only enduring copper legacy.
‘Liberty’ is modelled in thin sheets of copper, chosen as a lighter alternative to bronze. Forty-six metres from toe to outstretched arm, it is still the largest copper statue in the world. There are larger bronze memorials, using the stronger, more expensive alloy, including many Buddhas. It is unusual to use pure copper because it is harder to work with than bronze. Bartholdi had to use a traditional decorative technique known as repoussé, where sheets of copper were heated and beaten over molded formwork. The form works were shaped in wood.
Bartholdi produced a 1.25 metre[1] model that was carefully measured and enlarged in three painstaking stages. The final full-size plaster was used to form the ‘negative’ wooden molds, produced like the panels of an enormous model ship. The beaten copper panels are held in place by an internal framework sitting on an intricate tracery of metal strap work, rather than held on by rivets. The original architect had planned a brick formwork, but on his death, the task fell to Gustav Eiffel, who championed wrought iron and was already planning his Parisian tower. Eiffel took any and every opportunity to use and advertise his iron beams. It was beneficial to both parties because Eiffel’s pioneering solution for the Statue of Liberty provides remarkable flexibility against wind and temperature expansion/contraction.
The temple-like granite pedestal, nearly equal in height to the statue, was built on Bedloe Island, the site of an old harbor fortress. It was the first mass use of concrete on the American continent. Copper cables carried electricity to the flaring torch, but the commemorative committee only had funds to light it for one night. Later it was officially designated as a lighthouse and maintained by the Army.
The finished statue stood orange-red on the harbour edge. It took thirty years for the copper to oxidise and change to what is now officially recognised on the colour palette as ‘Liberty Green.’ In 1906 the Army planned to paint it, only to be stopped by a storm of protest. The oxidised patina offers protection as well as character.
With its glowing light, it is not surprising that commentators of the day did compare the Statue of Liberty to The Pharos of Alexandria, but its true comparison amongst the Seven Wonders is the Colossus of Rhodes. Bartholdi certainly intended it to be so. He records that the Rhodian statue offered the most celebrated example of a colossal statue of Antiquity and he proudly set out to better its recorded height. The Colossus of Rhodes is long lost and only exists in the imagination of the modern world. Not even archaeologists have been able to provide much information. Ancient accounts have fuelled speculation of a bronze figure standing astride the harbour of Rhodes. More sober scholarship describes a 30-metre-high figure of the Sun God Helios, forged in bronze, with the sections supported and held by internal limestone blocks. Completed in 280 BC, the name of the sculptor, Chares, has survived, but little is known of his life or his other works. The fading of Chares’ fame is salutary reflection for the keepers of Bartholdi’s legacy.
As mentioned, the Colossus of Rhodes was not the largest of the Classical statues. However, it captured the imagination of travellers and chroniclers who compiled the cosmopolitan Roman Empire’s' must-see' lists. All the more remarkable since travellers only saw it after it had tumbled from its giant marble base, felled by an earthquake only 60 or so years after its completion. Instructed by the Delphic Oracle to leave the fallen God where he lay, the giant bronze limbs and upper body were even more impressive on the ground. Legend has it that they lay there until the 7th Century AD, when a conquering Arab army sold them to a Jewish merchant from Edessa and carted it away on 900 camels.[ii] For what it is worth, the meticulous Greek chronicler Philo records that 11.3 tonnes of bronze, including roughly 10 tonnes of copper, were used to construct the Colossus. (2) Paltry compared to over 81 tonnes of copper for the Statue of Liberty.
If it wasn’t the biggest, what made the Colossus of Rhodes so memorable? Statues are erected for a purpose and have a history that can elevate them further than their pedestal. The Colossus of Rhodes was a war memorial. It was a monument to the successful resistance to an epic ‘David against Goliath’ siege, where the maritime Rhodians heroically fought off the Macedonian inheritors of Alexander’s dissolving Empire. The Rhodians took the spoils and used the giant siege towers to build a remarkable trophy. Even more heroic in the telling than in deeds, the siege was a tale that captured the imagination of the ancient world. Heroic trophies and monuments were popular tourist attractions in the ancient world. The most famous was the 8-metre bronze ‘serpent column’ erected at Delphi to commemorate the Persian defeat at the battle of Platea in 479 BCE. In the 4th Century AD, its fame caused its removal to Constantinople when the city was founded as the new Capital of the Roman Empire. Its broken remains still stand in the space of the Hippodrome in Istanbul.
Historical context explains part of the fame of the Colossus of Rhodes, but the Romans also appreciated beauty and form. Chares was a native of Rhodes who reputedly fought in the siege. He was also a student of one of the greatest Greek sculptors — Lysippus of Sicyon. Lysippus was famed for the realism and emotion he brought to his works. He depicted Heracles exhausted by his labours rather than triumphant, haunted by the crime of killing his children. Unfortunately, only copies of the reported 1500 works of Lysippus remain, but they capture athletes in moments of reflection, scraping the oil from tired bodies or quietly tying victory garlands. Lysippus was chosen by Alexander the Great for his official statues. Copies of these works show a thoughtful monarch with eyes cast downward rather than proudly gazing like a conquering hero. We have no verifiable image of the Colossus of Rhodes. The images of a giant straddling the harbour are the confections of Renaissance engravers. However, Chares, following the inspiration of his master, would have given it movement, life, and realism. Impressive on the pedestal and equally so on the ground.
How confident can we be of the artistic merit of the Colossus of Rhodes? We only have marble copies of Lysippus’s works and the fragmentary comments of ancient critics. Copper and bronze were too valuable and too easy to recast to survive the centuries. It is sobering to contemplate that Chares’s wonderful creation, lost to the recycling furnaces, probably reappeared in pots, pans, coins and furniture items.
However, the concept of a Colossus has not only survived, it has brought new wonders to the modern world.
References
[1] Lane A ‘The Statue of Liberty’ London 1976
[2] Romer J ‘The Seven Wonders of the World’ Michael O’Mara Books Ltd 1995
