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| Auguste Rodin, “The Gates of Hell,” modelled 1880–1917, cast 1926–28. Rodin Museum, Philadelphia. Photo: Wikimedia Commons. |
Stand back first. The doors are more than six metres high, and they seethe with bodies, more than 180 of them, climbing, clinging and tumbling into the dark.
Now look up. At the very top, three identical men lean their heads together, pointing down. And just below them sits the poet, small and still, the one calm figure in the storm.
Rodin never called the doors finished, and they were never cast in bronze during his lifetime. They existed only as a vast plaster model in his studio at Meudon, outside Paris, which is now in the Musée d’Orsay.
The first bronze casts came after his death. In 1925, Jules Mastbaum, an American cinema owner who was building a Rodin museum in Philadelphia, ordered two sets of the doors: one for his own museum and one for the Musée Rodin in Paris.
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| Detail of “The Gates of Hell,” Rodin Museum, Philadelphia. Photo: Wikimedia Commons. |
But the doors had already given birth to something else. Rodin kept taking figures off the doors and turning them into works of their own. A pair of lovers from Dante’s poem became The Kiss.
And the poet on the lintel became The Thinker. Rodin first showed him on his own in 1888, then had him enlarged to more than life size. In 1904 the giant version was shown in Paris to great acclaim.
Admirers then raised money by public subscription, and in 1906 the bronze was installed in front of the Panthéon, where France buries its great men. In 1922, it moved to the garden of the Musée Rodin, where it sits today.
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| Auguste Rodin, “The Thinker,” monumental bronze cast 1904. Musée Rodin, Paris. Photo: Wikimedia Commons (CC BY 2.0). |
In other words, the most famous image of thought in the world was never meant to stand alone. He was a poet looking down at Hell, and we took him away from it.
Separated from Dante, he became anyone at all… a philosopher, a worker, a student before an exam. That openness is why the statue has been copied, parodied and cast again and again, and why Rodin himself rests beneath one at his grave in Meudon.
The first time I sat on a bench in the Musée Rodin’s garden, I tried the pose. It is surprisingly uncomfortable. His right elbow rests on his left knee, which twists the whole body. The calm you see is actually tension, held very still.
For more, the Musée Rodin’s own page on the statue traces his journey from the doors to the Panthéon: The Thinker, Musée Rodin →
The doors to Hell were never finished, and the museum was never built. But the poet climbed down from the lintel… and has been thinking for all of us ever since.
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