3 66 HERMANN VON HELMHOLTZ 



modesty. Let us suppose, since an allegory does not bind us 

 to historical accuracy, that up to the time of Pheidias no one 

 had a chisel hard enough to work on marble with complete 

 mastery of form. At most they could knead clay or carve 

 wood. Then a clever smith discovered that the chisel could be 

 tempered. Pheidias rejoiced over the improved tool, fashioned 

 his divine statues with it, and manipulated his marble as none 

 had done before. He was honoured and rewarded. But great 

 geniuses are, I have observed, most modest, just in that wherein 

 they excel all others. That particular thing is so easy to them 

 that they hardly understand why others cannot do it as well. 

 With the highest endowments there is always associated a 

 corresponding sensitiveness to the defects of the artist's own 

 work. Accordingly, Pheidias in an access of noble modesty 

 says to the smith: "Without your aid I could not have done all 

 this. Yours is the honour and the glory." The smith can but 

 reply : " I could not have done it with my chisel ; you without 

 any chisel would nevertheless have modelled wonderful works 

 in clay. I must decline the renown and glory if I am to remain 

 an honourable man." Then Pheidias was taken away from the 

 world ; his friends and scholars, Praxiteles, Paionios, and others 

 survived him. They all used the chisel of the smith ; the world 

 was filled with their works, and the glory of them. They 

 determined to honour the memory of the deceased with a 

 wreath, to be bestowed on him who had done most for art, and 

 in the art of statuary. The beloved master had often praised 

 the smith as the author of their great successes, and at last they 

 decided to award the wreath to him. " It is well," replied the 

 smith, " I consent. You are many, and among you are clever 

 people ; I am only one. You declare that I have been of great 

 service to you, and that there are sculptors in many places who 

 adorn the temples with copies of our divine statues, which 

 without the tools I gave you, would have been less well 

 fashioned. I must believe you since I have never chiselled 

 marble, and I thankfully accept what you award me. I myself 

 should have voted for Praxiteles or Paionios." ' 



While Frau von Helmholtz was tied by one of the long and 

 wearisome illnesses of her son Robert, Helmholtz planned a 

 few days at Interlaken with his daughter Ellen, but became 

 seriously ill as soon as he arrived there, in consequence of the 



