The cult statue ofJupiter is a striking exception to the general rule that every attempt was made to replace the contents of the sanctuary with the greatest possible accuracy. For, in this case, the Romans seem to have been happy to replace the original schema with a type that had the greatest possible recognition around the Mediterranean world, namely, the Olympian Zeus by Pheidias. Not much is known about the appearance of the original, sixth-century b. c.e. statue of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. What we do know is that the original was made by the workshop of the Etruscan Vulca of Veii, that it carried a thunderbolt, and that on festival days it was painted red with cinnabar or minium (Ov. Fast. 1.201-203; Pliny HN 35.157).29
After one of the fires, probably that of 83 b. c.e., Vulca’s terracotta cult statue was replaced with a work that imitated the Olympian Zeus: it was enthroned, and held a scepter in its left hand, and its upper body was largely nude except for a mantle draped over the left shoulder. Also like the Olympian Zeus, this statue was chryselephantine.30 The evidence is fragmentary but ultimately persuasive that the fire of 83 b. c.e. was the occasion for the adoption of the new type. First, a few ancient sources may hint at the possibility.31 Second, in this period the master sculptor, Pasiteles, produced an ivory statue of Jupiter for the Temple of Jupiter Stator in the Porticus Metelli (Plin. HN 36.40). Apparently, some contemporary Romans had a taste for such statues, and the technical expertise was available. In addition, because the fire of 83 b. c.e. was seen as an opportunity to use more extravagant materials for the temple itself, this seems the most likely occasion to abandon terracotta in favor of ivory and gold.
Two kinds of evidence are, however, particularly persuasive on the question of when the statue of Jupiter became Pheidian in its appearance. One is a denarius from Gaul, minted in 69 c. e. but before the fire that destroyed the Capitoline Temple in Jupiter of that year (Fig. 6.5). The denarius gives evidence of the Pheidian disposition, with Jupiter depicted according to the Olympian formula, and the legend reads, “I(uppiter) O(ptimus) MAX(imus) CAPITOLINUS.”32 Second, Pliny’s discussion of the use of minium on the cult statue suggests that the statue was already chryselephantine when he was writing the Natural History. In two passages, he mentions that the face of the terracotta Jupiter was painted on festival days. Citing Varro, Pliny makes it clear with the word ideo that the ritual of painting the statue’s face was logically connected to the fact that the figure was made of terracotta, fictilem eum fuisse et ideo miniari solitum (Plin. HN 35.157). Elsewhere, he relies on Verrius’ quotation of earlier authors “whom one must believe” (quibus credere necesse sit) for the fact that the censors undertook to have the statue colored (Plin. HN 33.111). Pliny’s citation of earlier authorities, along with the assertion that one must believe them, suggests that there is a great deal of chronological distance between him and the terracotta statue that was painted red on festival days.33 He would surely not have cited Varro, or a list of authors in Verrius, for a ritual that he could have witnessed himself, had the statue still been terracotta right up until the fire of 69 c. e. Instead, it seems most logical to argue that the first-century B. C.E. statue was already Pheidian in style and material, and that the change of material had occasioned a change in ritual: neither the first chryselephantine statue nor its successors were painted on festival days, for the obvious reason that this will have been an inappropriate way of treating a material as precious as ivory.
6.5. Silver denarius from Gaul, 69 C. E. Reverse legend: I O MAX CAPITOLINUS. © The Trustees of the British Museum.
It appears, therefore, that one feature of the original, archaic temple that was not reproduced with fidelity after the fire of 83 b. c.e. was the terracotta statue by Vulca. The impulse to abandon the old type and follow Pheidias’ example surely derived, in part, from the near-universal consensus that the Zeus at Olympia was a pinnacle of aesthetic achievement. A passage in Chalcidius’ fifth-century c. E. commentary on Plato’s Timaeus is striking for what it reveals about how a chryselephantine Jupiter was interpreted by later generations. Perhaps it can even give us some insight into the initial rationale for the adoption of the new type:
Ut enim in simulacro Capitolini Iovis est una species eboris, est item alia, quam Apollonius artifex hausit animo, ad quam directa mentis acie speciem eboris poliebat-harum autem duarum specierum altera erit antiquior altera: sic etiam species, quae silvam exornavit, secundae
Dignitatis est. illa vero alia, iuxta quam secunda species absoluta est, principalis est species, de qua sermo habetur ad praesens.
For, just as in the image of Capitoline Jupiter there is one Form which is made of ivory, there is another, corresponding one which the artisan, Apollonius, imbibed with his soul, and with reference to which, by the direct vision of his mind, he gave finish to the ivory Form. Moreover, of these two Forms the one will be antecedent to the other: the Form which beautified matter is of lesser honor. That other one, concerning which we currently speak, truly is the original one. (Chalcidius, commentary on Plato’s Timaeus 338 C, p. 361, ed. Wrobel).
We do not know for certain if Chalcidius was describing the first-century B. C.E. statue, as some believe, or if he was describing its Domitianic replacement, the one he would have been able to see. Chalcidius’s language and thinking in this passage reflect the ancient theory of phanta-sia.34This theory held that particularly gifted artists created their works after their visions or visualizations, which were divinely inspired and, in some fundamental sense, even true.35 In many ancient texts, it was the Pheidian Zeus that served to illustrate this theory. Cicero, for example, had claimed that Pheidias, when he was creating his statue, “did not look at something from which he might trace a likeness; instead a vision of exceeding beauty settled in his mind. Examining this and remaining focused on it he guided his skill and hand” (Cic. Orat. 9).36
It was essential to phantasia theory that the artist’s vision be divinely inspired. If it was, and if the subject matter was a god, the result would necessarily be a beautiful work of art that inspired reverence.37 We therefore find Quintilian asserting that the beauty (pulchritude) of the Olympian Zeus actually added something to traditional religious feeling (adiecisse aliquid etiam receptae religieni videtur, Quint. Inst. 12.10.9). Therefore, Catulus was not simply engaging in conspicuous consumption when he commissioned a chryselephantine Jupiter; nor was his desire for a Pheidian type likely to have been “merely” aesthetic. Rather, the theories that associated beauty with divinity suggest that reverence was also a genuine motivation for adopting the new statue type.
The choice to follow a Pheidian model was clearly considered a happy one. After Vulca’ s type was abandoned, subsequent replacements seem to have adhered to the Pheidian type. The evidence for the appearance of the cult statue after 69 C. E. is secured by a sestertius of Vespasian
6.6. Sestertius depicting the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, reign of Vespasian. American Academy in Rome, FU 4265 F, FU. Roma. IUPO.15.
(Fig. 6.6) which depicts the Capitoline Jupiter in the basic, Pheidian schema described above, although with his right hand he holds a thunderbolt in his lap instead of the Nike that was in the hand of the Pheidian Zeus. Again, it is quite clear from the numismatic evidence that the cult statue after the fire of 80 c. e., presumably a replacement, generally followed the schema of the Olympian Zeus. Once the Romans discovered the ideal formula for depicting their best and greatest god, they did not abandon it.
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