The “Discobolus” of Myron represents the Pentathlete in the act of throwing the discus. Lucian speaks of “the discus-thrower, bending into position for the cast: turning towards the hand holding the discus, and all but kneeling on one knee, he seems as if he would straighten himself up at the throw.” The statue is a consummate proof of Myron’s skill in the rendering of vigorous movement. The copies in the Vatican and the British Museum are in marble. In the original bronze the discus-thrower looked back, not at the ground, as in the restoration. The correct attitude can be seen in the recently discovered replica, now in the possession of the Italian Government, or, still better, in the fine bronze cast in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, which dispenses with the disfiguring support necessary in a marble copy. Both these statues of discoboli are distinguished above all for the rhythm of their composition—a rhythm which is the expression in bronze of the beautifully balanced and magnificently full lives of the Athenians of the Periclean age. Polyclitus invested his figures with a natural vigour and dignity which won for him the suffrages of his Peloponnesian countrymen. But even allowing for the fact that we judge the Argive from late copies, while such originals as the Parthenon frieze remain to witness to the achievements of the rival school, it cannot be doubted that the Athenian ideal was the nobler and its attainment worthier of praise. Nor can we attribute the difference to anything else than the more vitalising atmosphere in which Athenian art was nourished—a fact which will be clear when we have estimated the circumstances which led to the erection of the Parthenon. CHAPTER II THE PARTHENON AND THE TEMPLE STATUARY OF GREECE (470 B.C. TO 420 B.C.) On the vast canvas of recorded history one half-century has always stood out. The clearer the vision of the observer and the larger his view, the more every line in the composition has appeared to converge upon and lead up to that central point. Ever and again the imagination of man, fascinated by some new beauty, has been tempted away. It has always returned with a new wonder. The advance of knowledge has changed the world’s estimate of this and that part of the glowing record of human action and endeavour. But the relative importance of those fifty years has been preserved throughout the ages. This, we believe, represents the true position of Athens during the fifth century before our era in the scheme of general history. But a great art is only the expression of a nation’s moods. As the Greek epigram puts it: “I sang those songs that gain so much renown: I, Phœbus; Homer merely wrote them down.”