Apelles was a celebrated painter of Cos, a little island in the Egean Sea. The date of his birth is not known, but he painted many portraits of Philip, and was still nourishing in the time of Alexander, who honored him so much that he forbade any other artist to draw his picture. His chief master was Pamphilius, a famous painter of Macedon. He was so attentive to his profession, that he never spent a day without employing his pencil,—whence the proverb of Nulla die sine linea. His most perfect picture was the Venus Anadyomene, which, however, was not wholly finished when the painter died.

He executed a painting of Alexander, holding thunder in his hand, so much like life, that Pliny, who saw it, says that the hand of the king with the thunder seemed to come out of the picture. This was placed in Diana's temple at Ephesus. He made another picture of Alexander; but the king, on coming to see it after it was painted, appeared not to be satisfied with it. It happened, however, at that moment a horse, passing by, neighed at the horse in the picture, supposing it to be alive; upon which the painter said, "One would imagine that the horse is a better judge of painting, than your majesty." When Alexander ordered him to draw the picture of Campaspe, one of his favorites, Apelles became enamored of her, and the king permitted him to marry her. He wrote three volumes on painting, which were still extant in the age of Pliny,—but they are now lost. It is said that he was accused, while in Egypt, of conspiring against the life of Ptolemy, and that he would have been put to death, had not the real conspirator discovered himself, and thus saved the artist. Apelles put his name to but three pictures; a sleeping Venus, Venus Anadyomene, and an Alexander.

Apelles appears to have been not only an excellent artist, but a man of admirable traits of character. Being once at Rhodes, he met with the productions of Protogenes,[10] which so greatly delighted him that he offered to purchase the whole. Before this, Protogenes was entirely unappreciated by his countrymen, but the approbation of one so distinguished as Apelles, brought him into notice, and his fame soon became established.

Another story of Apelles is told as having given rise to the well-known maxim, Ne sutor ultra crepidam: Let the shoemaker stick to his last. Apelles placed a picture, which he had finished, in a public place, and concealed himself behind it, in order to hear the criticisms of the passers-by. A shoemaker observed a defect in the shoe, and the painter forthwith corrected it. The cobbler came the next day, and being somewhat encouraged by the success of his first remark, began to extend his censure to the leg of the figure, when the angry painter thrust out his head from behind the figure, and told him to keep to his trade.

Apelles excelled in grace and beauty. The painter, who labored incessantly, as we have seen, to improve his skill in drawing, probably trusted as much to that branch of his art, as to his coloring. We are told that he only used four colors. He used a varnish which brought out the colors, and at the same time preserved them. His favorite subject was the representation of Venus, the goddess of love,—the female blooming in eternal beauty; and the religious system of the age favored the taste of the artist.

Apelles painted many portraits of Alexander the Great, who, we are told, often visited his painting room. It is not easy to reconcile his rambling life with this account, unless we suppose that Apelles followed him into Asia; a conjecture not altogether improbable, if we read the account of the revelries at Susa, after Alexander's return from India, and of the number of all kinds of professional artists then assembled to add to the splendor of the festival.