{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_36427/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_36427","id":"gutenberg_36427","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36427","summary":null,"tags":["Art","Category: Art","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Painting"],"text":"</pre>\n\nE-text prepared by Chris Curnow and the Online Distributed Proofreading\nTeam (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by\nInternet Archive (http://www.archive.org)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 36427-h.htm or 36427-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/36427/pg36427-images.html)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/36427/36427-h.zip)\n\n\n      Images of the original pages are available through\n      Internet Archive. See\n      http://www.archive.org/details/artprincipleswit00goverich\n\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Detail from \"The Pursuit\" of Fragonard.\n  (_Frick Collection_)]\n\n\nART PRINCIPLES\n\nWith Special Reference to Painting\nTogether with Notes on the\nIllusions Produced by the Painter\n\nby\n\nERNEST GOVETT\n\nWith Thirty-one Illustrations\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nG. P. Putnam's Sons\nNew York and London\nThe Knickerbocker Press\n1919\n\nCopyright, 1919\nby\nErnest Govett\n\nThe Knickerbocker Press, New York\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThis book is put forward with much diffidence, for I am well aware of\nits insufficiencies. My original idea was to produce a work covering all\nthe principles of painting, but after many years spent in considering\nthe various recorded theories relating to aesthetic problems, and in\ngathering materials to indicate how the accepted principles have been\napplied, I came to the conclusion that a single life is scarcely long\nenough for the preparation of an exhaustive treatise on the subject.\nNevertheless, I planned a work of much wider scope than the one now\npresented, but various circumstances, and principally the hindrance to\nresearch caused by the war, impelled me to curtail my ambition. Time was\nfading, and my purpose seemed to be growing very old. I felt that if one\nhas something to say, it is better to say it incompletely than to run\nthe risk of compulsory silence. The book will be found little more than\na skeleton, and some of its sections, notably those dealing with\nillusions in the art, contain only a few suggestions and instances, but\nperhaps enough is said to induce a measure of further inquiry into the\nsubject.\n\nThat part of the work dealing with the fine arts generally is the result\nof long consideration of the apparent contradictions involved in the\nnumerous suggested standards of art. In a little book on _The Position\nof Landscape in Art_ (published under a nom de plume a few years ago),\nI threw out, as a _ballon d'essai_, an idea of the proposition now\nelaborated as the Law of General Assent, and I have been encouraged to\naffirm this proposition more strongly by the fact that its validity was\nnot questioned in any of the published criticism of the former work; nor\ndo I find reason to vary it after years of additional deliberation.\nI have not before dealt with the other propositions now put forward.\n\nThe notes being voluminous I have relegated them to the end of the book,\nleaving the feet of the text pages for references only.\n\nWhere foreign works quoted have been translated into English, the\nEnglish titles are recorded, and foreign quotations are given in\nEnglish, save in one or two minor instances where the sense could not\nbe precisely rendered in translation.\n\n                                                                 E. G.\n\n  NEW YORK, January, 1919.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                    PAGE\n\n  INTRODUCTION                                                         1\n\n    Definitions of \"Art\" and \"Beauty\"--Aesthetic systems--The\n    earliest Art--Art periods--The Grecian and Italian\n    developments--National and individual \"Inspiration\"--\n    Powers of imagination and execution--Nature of \"Genius\"--\n    The Impressionist Movement--Sprezzatura--The broad manner--\n    Position in art of Rembrandt and Velasquez--Position of\n    Landscape in art.\n\n\n  _BOOK I_\n\n    CHAPTER\n\n    I.--CLASSIFICATION OF THE FINE ARTS                               52\n\n        The Arts imitative of Nature--Classified according to\n        the character of their signs--Relative value of form in\n        Poetry--Scope of the Arts in the production of beauty.\n\n    II.--LAW OF RECOGNITION IN THE ASSOCIATED ARTS                    59\n\n        Explanation of the Law--Its application to Poetry--To\n        Sculpture--To Painting--To Fiction.\n\n    III.--LAW OF GENERAL ASSENT                                       72\n\n        General opinion the test of beauty in the Associated\n        Arts.\n\n    IV.--LIMITATIONS OF THE ASSOCIATED ARTS                           78\n\n        Production of beauty in the respective Arts--Their\n        limitations.\n\n    V.--DEGREES OF BEAUTY IN THE PAINTER'S ART                        83\n\n    VI.--EXPRESSION. PART 1.--THE IDEAL                               86\n\n    VII.--EXPRESSION. PART 2.--CHRISTIAN IDEALS                       91\n\n        The Deity--Christ--The Madonna--Madonna and Child.\n\n    VIII.--EXPRESSION. PART 3.--CLASSICAL IDEALS                     106\n\n        Ideals of the Greeks--Use of the ancient divinities\n        by the Painter.\n\n    IX.--EXPRESSION. PART 4.--GENERAL IDEALS                         135\n\n    X.--EXPRESSION. PART 5.--PORTRAITURE                             141\n\n        Limitations of the Portrait Painter--Emphasis and\n        addition of qualities in portrait painting--Practice\n        of the ancient Greeks--Dignity--Importance of\n        Simplicity--Some of the great masters--Portraiture\n        of women--The English masters--The quality of\n        Grace--The necessity for Repose.\n\n    XI.--EXPRESSION. PART 6.--MISCELLANEOUS                          167\n\n        Grief--The Smile--The Open Mouth--Contrasts--\n        Representation of Death.\n\n    XII.--LANDSCAPE                                                  192\n\n        Limitations of the Landscape Painter--Illusion of\n        opening distance--Illusion of motion in Landscape--\n        Moonlight scenes--Transient conditions.\n\n    XIII.--STILL-LIFE                                                214\n\n    XIV.--SECONDARY ART                                              219\n\n        Paintings of record--Scenes from the Novel--From\n        the written drama--From the acted drama--Humorous\n        subjects--Allegorical paintings.\n\n    XV.--COLOUR                                                      228\n\n\n  _BOOK II_\n\n    INTRODUCTORY.--ILLUSION IN THE PAINTER'S ART                     236\n\n    CHAPTER\n      I.--ILLUSION OF RELIEF                                         239\n     II.--ILLUSION OF MOTION WITH MEN AND ANIMALS                    249\n    III.--ILLUSION OF SUSPENSION AND MOTION IN THE AIR               259\n\n\n  NOTES                                                              273\n\n\n  INDEX OF ARTISTS AND WORKS OF ART MENTIONED IN THIS BOOK           357\n\n\n  GENERAL INDEX                                                      369\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF PLATES\n\n\n                                                                    PAGE\n  FRONTISPIECE.--DETAIL FROM FRAGONARD'S THE PURSUIT (FRICK\n    COLLECTION, NEW YORK).\n\n    This work, which is one of the celebrated Grasse series of\n    panels, offers a very fine example of the use of an ideal head\n    in a romantic subject. (See Page 139.)\n\n  PLATE 1.--THE EARLIEST GREAT SCULPTURES                              6\n\n    (a). Head from a statue of Chefren, a king of the 4th Egyptian\n    Dynasty, about 3000 B.C. (Cairo Museum.)\n\n    (b). Head from a fragmentary statuette of Babylonia, dating\n    about 2600 B.C. (Louvre: from Spearing's \"Childhood of Art.\")\n\n    The first head is generally regarded as the finest example of\n    Egyptian art extant, and certainly there was nothing executed\n    in Egypt to equal it during the thirty centuries following the\n    5th Dynasty. The Babylonian head is the best work of Chaldean\n    art known to us, though there are some fine fragments remaining\n    from the period of about a thousand years later. It will be\n    observed that the tendency of the art in both examples is\n    towards the aims achieved by the Greeks. (See Page 7.)\n\n  PLATE 2.--\"LE BON DIEU D'AMIENS\", IN THE NORTH PORCH, AMIENS\n    CATHEDRAL                                                         18\n\n    This figure by a French sculptor of the thirteenth century,\n    was considered by Ruskin to be the finest ideal of Christ in\n    existence. It is another example of the universality of ideals,\n    for the head from the front view might well have been modelled\n    from a Grecian work of the late fourth or early third century\n    B.C. (See Page 319.)\n\n  PLATE 3.--AFTER AN ANCIENT COPY OF THE CNIDIAN VENUS OF PRAXITELES.\n    (VATICAN)                                                         30\n\n    It is commonly agreed that this is the finest model in existence\n    after the great work of Praxiteles, which itself has long\n    disappeared. The figure as it now stands at the Vatican, has the\n    right arm restored, and the hand is made to hold up some metallic\n    drapery with which the legs are covered, the beauty of the form\n    being thus seriously weakened. (See Pages 111 _et seq._)\n\n  PLATE 4.--VENUS ANADYOMENE                                          42\n\n    (a). Ancient Greek sculpture from the design of Venus in the\n    celebrated picture of Apelles. (Formerly Chessa Collection, now in\n    New York.)\n\n    The immense superiority of the sculpture over the painting (Plate\n    5), from the point of view of pure art, is visible at a glance. It\n    is an indication of the far-reaching scope of the sculptor when\n    executing ideals. (See Page 113.)\n\n  PLATE 5.--VENUS ANADYOMENE, FROM THE PAINTING BY TITIAN.\n    (BRIDGEWATER COLLECTION.) Compare with the Sculpture on\n    Plate 4. (See Page 115)                                           42\n\n  PLATE 6.--VENUS REPOSING, BY GIORGIONE. (DRESDEN GALLERY)           54\n\n    This is the finest reposing Venus in existence in painting. It was\n    the model for the representation of the goddess in repose used by\n    Titian, and many other artists who came after him. (See Page 116.)\n\n  PLATE 7.--DEMETER                                                   66\n\n    (a). Head from the Cnidos marble figure of the fourth century B.C.,\n    attributed to Scopas. (British Museum.)\n\n    (b). Small head in bronze of the third century B.C. (Private\n    Collection.)\n\n    In each of these heads the artist has been successful in maintaining\n    the ideal, while indicating a suggestion of the sorrowful\n    resignation with which Grecian legend has enveloped the mind picture\n    of Demeter. Nevertheless, even this slight departure from the\n    established rule tends to lessen the art, though in a very small\n    degree. (See Page 122.)\n\n  PLATE 8.--RAPHAEL'S SISTINE MADONNA (DRESDEN GALLERY), WITH THE FACE\n    OF THE CENTRAL FIGURE IN FRAGONARD'S THE PURSUIT SUBSTITUTED FOR\n    THAT OF THE VIRGIN                                                80\n\n    This and the two following plates show very clearly that in striving\n    for an ideal, artists must necessarily arrive at the same general\n    type. (See Pages 138 _et seq._)\n\n  PLATE 9.--RAPHAEL'S VIRGIN OF THE ROSE (MADRID), WITH THE FACE\n    OF THE FIGURE REPRESENTING PROFANE LOVE IN TITIAN'S PICTURE\n    SUBSTITUTED FOR THAT OF THE VIRGIN                                92\n\n  PLATE 10.--RAPHAEL'S HOLY FAMILY (MADRID), WITH THE FACE OF LUINI'S\n    SALOME SUBSTITUTED FOR THAT OF THE VIRGIN                        102\n\n  PLATE 11.--THE PURSUIT, BY FRAGONARD. (FRICK COLLECTION, N. Y.)    114\n\n    A detail from this picture forms the Frontispiece. It will be\n    observed that in the complete painting the central figure apparently\n    wears a startled expression, but that this is entirely due to the\n    surroundings and action, is shown by the substitution of the face of\n    the central figure for that of the Virgin in the Sistine Madonna,\n    Plate 8. (See Page 139.)\n\n  PLATE 12.--PORTRAIT HEADS OF THE GREEK TYPE, FOURTH CENTURY, B.C.\n    (See Page 145)                                                   130\n\n    (a). Head of Plato. (Copenhagen Museum.) (b). Term of Euripides.\n    (Naples Museum.)\n\n  PLATE 13.--PORTRAIT HEADS OF THE TIME OF IMPERIAL ROME. (SEE PAGE\n    145)                                                             146\n\n    (a). Vespasian. (Naples Museum.) (b). Hadrian. (Athens Museum.)\n\n  PLATE 14.--SACRIFICE OF IPHIGENIA, FROM A POMPEIAN FRESCO. (ROUX\n    AINE'S HERCULANUM ET POMPEI, VOL. III)                           160\n\n    This work is presumed to be a copy of the celebrated picture of\n    Timanthes, in which the head of Agamemnon was hidden because the\n    artist could see no other way of expressing extreme grief without\n    distorting the features. (See Pages 168 and 339.)\n\n  PLATE 15.--ALL'S WELL, BY WINSLOW HOMER. (BOSTON MUSEUM, U. S. A.) 176\n\n    An instance where the permanent beauty of a picture is killed by an\n    open mouth. After a few moments' inspection, it will be observed\n    that the mouth appears to be kept open by a wedge. (See Page 176.)\n\n  PLATE 16.--HERCULES CONTEMPLATING DEATH, BY A. POLLAIUOLO. (FRICK\n    COLLECTION, NEW YORK.)                                           190\n\n    The only known design of this nature which appears to exist in any\n    of the arts. (See Pages 190 and 343.)\n\n  PLATE 17.--ARCADIAN LANDSCAPE, BY CLAUDE LORRAINE. (NATIONAL\n    GALLERY, LONDON)                                                 198\n\n    A fine illusion of opening distance created by the precise rendering\n    of the aerial perspective. The illusion is of course unobservable in\n    the reproduction owing to its small size and the want of colour.\n    (See Page 198).\n\n  PLATE 18.--LANDSCAPE, BY HOBBEMA. (MET. MUSEUM, NEW YORK)          210\n\n    A fine example of Hobbema's work. A strong light is thrown in from\n    the back to enable the artist to multiply his signs for the purpose\n    of deepening the apparent distance. (See Page 202.)\n\n  PLATE 19.--LANDSCAPE, BY JACOB RUYSDAEL, (NATIONAL GALLERY,\n    LONDON)                                                          220\n\n    Example of an illusion of movement in flowing water. (See Page 204.)\n\n\n    PLATE 20.--THE STORM, BY JACOB RUYSDAEL. (BERLIN GALLERY) 232\n\n    Exhibiting an excellent illusion of motion, due to the faithful\n    representation of a series of consecutive movements of water as the\n    vessel passes through it. The illusion is practically lost in the\n    reproduction, but the details of design may be observed. (See Page\n    206.)\n\n  PLATE 21.--THE LITTA MADONNA, BY LIONARDO DA VINCI. (HERMITAGE)    240\n\n    This is perhaps the best example known of an illusion of relief\n    secured by shading alone. (See Page 240.)\n\n  PLATE 22.--CHRIST ON THE CROSS, BY VAN DYCK. (ANTWERP MUSEUM)      252\n\n    A superb example of relief obtained by the exclusion of accessories.\n    Van Dyck took the idea from Rubens, who borrowed it from Titian,\n    this artist improving on Antonella da Messina. The relief of course\n    is not well observed in the reproduction because of its miniature\n    form. The work is usually regarded as the finest of its kind in\n    existence. (See Page 244.)\n\n  PLATE 23.--PATRICIA, BY LYDIA EMMET. (PRIVATE POSSESSION, N. Y.)   264\n\n    A very excellent example of the plan of securing relief described\n    in Book II, Chap. I. Here also the relief is not observed in the\n    reproduction, but the original is of life size and provides an\n    illusion as nearly perfect as possible. (See Page 247.)\n\n  PLATE 24.--THE CREATION OF ADAM, BY MICHELANGELO. (VATICAN)        276\n\n    Instance of the use of an oval form of drapery to assist in\n    presenting an illusion of suspension in the air. (See Page 260.)\n\n  PLATE 25.--THE PLEIADS, BY M. SCHWIND. (DENNER COLLECTION.)        288\n\n    One of the finest examples of illusion of motion in the air.\n    (See Page 269.)\n\n  PLATE 26.--ST. MARGARET, BY RAPHAEL. (LOUVRE)                      302\n\n    Perhaps the best example in existence of a painted human figure in\n    action. It will be seen that every part of the body and every fold\n    of the drapery are used to assist in the expression of movement.\n    (See Page 250.)\n\n  PLATE 27.--DIANA AND NYMPHS PURSUED BY SATYRS, BY RUBENS. (PRADO)  318\n\n    A good example of an illusion of motion created by showing a number\n    of persons in different stages of a series of consecutive actions.\n    (See Page 254.)\n\n  PLATE 28.--AUTOMEDON WITH THE HORSES OF ACHILLES, BY H. REGNAULT.\n    (BOSTON MUSEUM, U. S. A.)                                        334\n\n    The extraordinary spirit and action of these horses are above the\n    experience of life, but they do not appear to be beyond the bounds\n    of possibility. In any case the action is perfectly appropriate\n    here, as the animals are presumed to be immortal. (See Page 256.)\n\n  PLATE 29.--MARBLE FIGURE OF ARIADNE. (VATICAN)                     348\n\n    This work, of the Hellenistic period, illustrates the possibility of\n    largely varying the regular proportions of the human figure without\n    injury to the art, by the skilful use of drapery. (See Page 329.)\n\n\n\n\nArt Principles\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nIn view of the many varied definitions of \"Art\" which have been put\nforward in recent times, and the equally diverse hypotheses advanced for\nthe solution of aesthetic problems relating to beauty, it is necessary\nfor one who discusses principles of art, to state what he understands by\nthe terms \"Art\" and \"Beauty.\"\n\nThough having a widely extended general meaning, the term \"Art\" in\ncommon parlance applies to the fine arts only, but the term \"Arts\" has\nreference as well to certain industries which have utility for their\nprimary object. This work considers only the fine arts, and when the\nwriter uses the term \"Art\" or \"Arts\" he refers to one or more of these\narts, unless a particular qualification is added. The definition of\n\"Art\" as applied to the fine arts, upon which he relies, is \"The\nproduction of beauty for the purpose of giving pleasure,\" or as it is\nmore precisely put, \"The beautiful representation of nature for the\npurpose of giving disinterested pleasure.\" This is, broadly, the\ndefinition generally accepted, and is certainly the understanding of\nart which has guided the hands of all the creators of those great works\nin the various arts before which men have bowed as triumphs of human\nskill.\n\nThere has been no satisfactory definition of \"Beauty,\" nor can the term\nbe shortly interpreted until there is a general agreement as to what it\ncovers. Much of the confusion arising from the contradictory theories of\naestheticists in respect of the perception of beauty is apparently due to\nthe want of separate consideration of emotional beauty and beauty of\nmind, that is to say, the beauty of sensorial effects and beauty of\nexpression respectively.[1] There are kinds of sensorial beauty which\ndepend for their perception upon immediately preceding sensory\nexperience, or particular coexistent surroundings which are not\nnecessarily permanent, while in other cases a certain beauty may be\nrecognized and subsequently appear to vanish altogether. From this it is\nobvious that any aesthetic system based upon the existence of an\nobjectivity of beauty must fall to the ground. On the other hand,\nwithout an objectivity there can be no system, because in its absence a\nline of reasoning explaining cause and effect in the perception of\nbeauty, which is open to demonstration, is naturally impossible. Nor may\nwe properly speak of a philosophy of art.[2] We may reasonably consider\naesthetics a branch of psychology, but the emotions arising from the\nrecognition of beauty vary only in degree and not in kind, whether the\nbeauty be seen in nature or art. Consequently there can be no separate\npsychological enquiry into the perception of beauty created by art as\ndistinguished from that observable in nature.\n\nIt must be a natural attraction for the insoluble mysteries of life that\nhas induced so many philosophers during the last two centuries to put\nforward aesthetic systems. That no two of these systems agree on\nimportant points, and that each and every one has crumbled to dust from\na touch of the wand of experience administered by a hundred hands, are\nwell-known facts, yet still the systems continue to be calmly presented\nas if they were valuable contributions to knowledge. Each new critic in\nthe domain of philosophy carefully and gravely sets them up, and then\ncarefully and gravely knocks them down.[3] An excuse for the systems has\nbeen here and there offered, that the explanations thereof sometimes\ninclude valuable philosophical comments or suggestions. This may be, but\nstudents cannot reasonably be expected to sift out a few oats from a\nbushel of husks, even if the supply be from the bin of a Hegel or a\nSchopenhauer. Is it too much to suggest that these phantom systems be\nfinally consigned to the grave of oblivion which has yawned for them so\nlong and so conspicuously? Bubbles have certain measurements and may\nbrilliantly glow, but they are still bubbles. It is as impossible to\nbuild up a system of philosophy upon the perception of beauty, which\ndepends entirely upon physical and physiological laws, as to erect a\nsystem of ethics on the law of gravitation, for a feasible connection\nbetween superstructure and foundation cannot be presented to the mind.\n\nWe may further note that a proper apprehension of standards of judgment\nin art cannot be obtained unless the separate and relative aesthetic\nvalues of the two forms of beauty are considered, because the beauty of\na work may appear greater at one time than at another, according as it\nis more or less permanent or fleeting, that is to say, according as the\nbalance of the sensorial and intellectual elements therein is more or\nless uneven; or if the beauty present be almost entirely emotional,\naccording as the observer may be affected by independent sensorial\nconditions of time or place. Consequent upon these considerations, an\nendeavour has been made in this work to distinguish between the two\nforms of beauty in the various arts, and the separate grades thereof.\n\nIt will be noticed that the writer has adopted the somewhat unusual\ncourse of including fiction among the fine arts. Why this practice is\nnot commonly followed is hard to determine, but no definition of a fine\nart has been or can be given which does not cover fiction. In the\ndefinition here accepted, the art is clearly included, for the primary\nobject of fiction is the beautiful representation of nature for the\npurpose of giving disinterested pleasure.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nArt is independent of conditions of peoples or countries. Its germ is\nunconnected with civilization, politics, religion, laws, manners, or\nmorals. It may appear like a brilliant flower where the mind of man is\nan intellectual desert, or refuse to bloom in the busiest hive of human\nenergy. Its mother is the imagination, and wherever this has room to\nexpand, there art will grow, though the ground may be nearly sterile,\nand the bud wither away from want of nourishment. Every child is born a\npotential artist, for he comes into the world with sensorial nerves, and\na brain which directs the imagination. The primitive peoples made\nbeautiful things long before they could read or write, and the\nrecognition of harmony of form appears to have been one of the first\nunderstandings in life after the primal instincts of self-preservation\nand the continuation of the species. Some of the sketches made by the\ncave men of France are equal to anything of the kind produced in a\nthousand years of certain ancient civilizations, commencing countless\ncenturies after the very existence of the cave men had been forgotten;\nand even if executed now, would be recognized as indicating the\npossession of considerable talent by the artists. The greatest poem ever\nwritten was given birth in a country near which barbaric hordes had\nrecently devastated populous cities, and wrecked a national fabric with\nwhich were interwoven centuries of art and culture. That the author of\nthis poem had seen great works of art is certain, or he could not have\nconceived the shield of Achilles, but the laboured sculpture that had\nfired his imagination, and the legends which had perhaps been the seed\nof his masterpieces were doubtless buried with his own records beneath\nthe tramp of numberless mercenaries. Fortunately here and there the\nhuman voice could draw from memory's store, and so the magic of Homer\nwas whispered by the dying to the living; but even his time and place\nare now only vaguely known, and he remains like the waratah on the\nbleached pasture of some desert fringe--a solitary blaze of scarlet\nwhere all else is drear and desolate.\n\nStrong is the root of art, though frail the flower. Stifled in sun-burnt\nground ere it can welcome the smile of light; fading with the first\nblast of air upon its delicate shoots; shrivelling back to dust when the\nbuds are ready to break; or falling in the struggle to spread its\nbranches after its beautiful blossoms have scattered their fragrance\naround: whatever condition has brought it low, it ever fights\nagain--ever seeks to assure mankind that while it may droop or\ndisappear, its seed, its heart, its life, are imperishable, and surely\nit will bloom again in all its majesty. Sometimes with decades it has\nrun a fitful course; sometimes with centuries; sometimes with\nmillenniums. It has heralded every civilization, but its breath is\nfreedom, and it flourishes and sickens only with liberty. Trace its\ncourse in the life of every nation, and the track will be found parallel\nwith the line of freedom of thought. A solitary plant may bloom\nunimpeded far from tyranny's thrall, but the art and soul of a nation\nlive, and throb, and die, together.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 1 (See page 7)\n  Head of Cephren, 4th Egyptian Dynasty (_Cairo Museum_)\n  Chaldean Head: About 2600 B.C. (_Louvre_)]\n\nEgypt, Babylon, Crete, Greece, Rome, tell their stories through\ndeathless monuments, and all are alike in that they demonstrate the\ndependence of art expansion upon freedom of action and opinion. An art\nrises, develops another and another, and they proceed together on their\nway. Sooner or later comes catastrophe in the shape of crushing\ntyranny which curbs the mind with slavery, or steel-bound sacerdotal\nrules which say to the artist \"Thou shalt go no further,\" or\nannihilation of nation and life. What imagination can picture the\nexpansion of art throughout the world had its flight been free since the\ndawn of history? Greece reached the sublime because its mind was\nunfettered, but twenty or thirty centuries before Phidias, Egyptian art\nhad arrived at a loftier plane than that on which the highest plastic\nart of Greece was standing but a few decades before the Olympian Zeus\nuplifted the souls of men, while whole civilizations with their arts had\nlived and died, and were practically forgotten.\n\nIt is to be observed that while in its various isolated developments,\nart has proceeded from the immature to the mature, there has been no\ngeneral evolution, as in natural life, but on the other hand there seems\nto be a limit to its progress. So far as our imagination can divine, no\nhigher reaches in art are attainable than those already achieved. The\nmind can conceive of nothing higher than the spiritual, and this cannot\nbe represented in art except by means of form; while within the range of\nhuman intelligence, no suggestion of spiritual form can rise above the\nideals of Phidias. Of the purely human form, nothing greater than the\nwork of Praxiteles and Raphael can be pictured on our brains. There may\nbe poets who will rival Homer and Shakespeare, but it is exceedingly\ndoubtful. In any case we must discard the law of evolution as applicable\nto the arts, with the one exception of music, which, on account of the\nspecial functioning of its signs, must be put into a division by\nitself.[a]\n\n  [a] See Chap. III.\n\nBut although there has been no general progression in art parallel with\nthe growth of the sciences and civilization, there have been, as already\nindicated, many separate epochs of art cultivation in various countries,\nsometimes accompanied by the production of immortal works, which epochs\nin themselves seem to provide examples of restricted evolution.[4] It is\ndesirable to refer to these art periods, as they are commonly called,\nfor the purpose of removing, if possible, a not uncommon apprehension\nthat they are the result of special conditions operating an aesthetic\nstimulus, and that similar or related conditions must be present in any\ncountry if the flame of art there is to burn high and brightly.[5] The\nwell-defined periods vary largely both in character and duration, the\nmost important of them--the Grecian development and the Italian\nRenaissance--covering two or three centuries each, and the others, as\nthe French thirteenth century sculpture expansion, the English literary\nrevival in the sixteenth century,[6] and the Dutch development in\npainting in the seventeenth, lasting only a few decades. These latter\nperiods can be dispensed with at once because they were each concerned\nwith one art only, and therefore can scarcely have resulted from a\ngeneral aesthetic stimulus. But the Grecian and Italian movements applied\nto all the arts. They represented natural developments from the crude to\nthe advanced, of which all nations produce examples, and were only\nexceptional in that they reached higher levels in art than were attained\nby other movements. But there is no evidence to show that they were\nbrought about by special circumstances outside of the arts themselves.\nWhile there were national crises preceding the one development, there\nwas no trouble of consequence to herald the other, nor was there any\nparallel between the conditions of the two peoples during the progress\nof the movements. A short reference to each development will show that\nits rise and decline were the outcome of simple matter-of-fact\nconditions of a more or less accidental nature, uninfluenced by an\naesthetic impulse in the sense of inspiration.\n\nThe most common suggestion advanced to account for the rise in Grecian\nart, is that it was due to the exaltation of the Greek mind through the\nvictories of Marathon, Plataea, and Salamis. That a people should be so\ntrampled upon as were the Greeks; that their cities should be razed,\ntheir country desolated, and their commerce destroyed; that\nnotwithstanding all this they should refuse to give way before enemies\noutnumbering them twenty, fifty, or even a hundred to one; and that\nafter all they should crush these enemies, was no doubt a great and\nheroic triumph, likely to exalt the nation and feed the imagination of\nthe people for a long time to come; but that these victories were\nresponsible for the lofty eminence reached by the Greek artists, cannot\nbe maintained. From what we know of Calamis, Myron, and others, it is\nclear that Grecian art was already on its way to the summit reached by\nPhidias when Marathon and Salamis were fought, though the victories of\nthe Greek arms hastened the development for the plain reason that they\nled to an increased demand for works of art. And the decline in Grecian\nart resulted purely and simply from a lessened demand. Though this was\nthe reason for the general decay, there was a special cause for the\napparent weakening with the commencement of the fourth century B.C. In\nthe fifth century Phidias climbed as high in the accomplishment of\nideals as the imagination could soar. He reached the summit of human\nendeavour. Necessarily then, unless another Phidias arose, whatever in\nart came after him would appear to mark a decline. But it is scarcely\nproper to put the case of Phidias forward for comparative purposes. He\ncarried the art of sculpture higher than it is possible for the painter\nto ascend, and so we should rather use the giants of the fourth\ncentury--Scopas, Praxiteles, Lysippus, Apelles--as the standards to be\ncompared with the foremost spirits of the Italian Renaissance--Raphael\nand Michelangelo--for each of these groups achieved the human ideal,\nthough failing with the spiritual ideal established by Phidias.\n\nIt must be remembered that all good art means slow work--long thinking,\nmuch experiment, tedious attention to detail in plan, and careful\nexecution. Meanwhile men have to live, even immortal artists, and rarely\nindeed does one undertake a work of importance on his own account. It is\ntrue that in the greater days of Greece the best artists were almost\nentirely employed by a State, or at least to execute works for public\nexhibition, and doubtless the payment they received was quite a\nsecondary matter with them, but nevertheless few could practise their\nart without remuneration. During the fifth and fourth centuries great\nevents were constantly happening in Greece, and in consequence there\nwere numberless temples to build and adorn, groves to decorate, men to\nhonour, and monumental tombs to erect. Innumerable statues of gods and\ngoddesses were wanted, and we must not forget the wholesale destruction\nof Athenian and other temples and sculptures during the Persian\ninvasion. In fact for a century and a half after Plataea, there was\npractically an unlimited demand for works of art, and it was only when\nthe empire of Alexander began to crumble away that conditions changed.\nWhile Greece was weakening Rome was growing and her lengthening shadows\nwere approaching the walls of Athens. Greece could build no more temples\nwhen her people were becoming slaves of Rome; she could order no more\nmonuments when defeat was the certain end of struggle. And so the\ndecline was brought about, not by want of artists, but through the\ndearth of orders and the consequent neglect of competition.\n\nIn the case of the Italian Renaissance the decadence was not due to the\nsame cause. The art of Greece declined gradually in respect of quantity\nas well as quality, while in Italy after the decay in quality set in,\nart was as nourishing as ever from the point of view of demand. The\nchange in the character of the art was due entirely to Raphael's\nachievements. As with the early Greek, nearly the whole of the early\nItalian art was concerned with religion, though in this case there were\nvery few ideals. The numerous ancient gods of Greece and Rome were long\ngone, to become only classical heroes with the Italians, and their\nplaces were taken by twenty or thirty personages from the New Testament.\nIncidents from the Old Testament were sometimes painted, but nearly all\nthe greater work dealt with the life of Christ and the Saints. The\npainters of the first century of the Renaissance distributed their\nattention fairly equally among these personages, but as time went on and\nthe art became of a superior order, artists aimed at the highest\ndevelopment of beauty that their imaginations could conceive, and hence\nthe severe beauty that might be shown in a picture of Christ or a\nprominent Saint, had commonly to give way to a more earthly perfection\nof feature and form, which, suggesting an ideal, could only be given to\nthe figure of the Virgin. And so the test of the power of an artist came\nto be instinctively decided by his representation of the Madonna. No\ndoubt there were many persons living in the fifteenth century who\nwatched the gradually increasing beauty of the Madonna as depicted by\nthe succession of great painters then working, and wondered when and\nwhere the summit would be reached--when an artist would appear beyond\nwhose work the imagination could not pass, for there is a limit to human\npowers.\n\nThe genius arose in Raphael, and when he produced in the last ten or\ntwelve years of his life, Madonna after Madonna, so far in advance of\nanything that had hitherto been done, so great in beauty as to leave his\nfellow artists lost in wonder, so lofty in conception that the term\n\"divine\" was applied to him in his lifetime, it was inevitable that a\ndecadence should set in, for so far as the intelligence could see,\nwhatever came after him must be inferior. He did not ascend to the\nheight of Phidias, for a pure ideal of spiritual form is beyond the\npower of the painter,[b] but as with Praxiteles he reached a perfect\nhuman ideal, and so gained the supreme pinnacle of his art. But while\nthere was an inevitable decadence after him, as after Praxiteles, it\nwas, as already indicated, only in the character of the art, for in\nItaly artists generally were as busy for a hundred years after Raphael,\nas during his time. Michelangelo, Titian, and the other giants who were\nworking when Raphael died, kept up the renown of the period for half a\ncentury or so, but it seemed impossible for artists who came on the\nscene after Raphael's death, to enter upon an entirely original course.\nThe whole of the new generation seemed to cling to the models put\nforward by the great Urbino painter, save some of the Venetians who had\na model of their own in Titian.\n\n  [b] See Chap. IX.\n\nThus it is clear that the rise and decline of the Grecian and Italian\nmovements were due to well ascertained causes which had nothing to do\nwith a national aesthetic impulse; nor is there evidence of such an\nimpulse connected with other art developments.\n\nThe suggestion that a nation may be assisted in its art by emotional or\npsychological influences arising from patriotic exaltation, is only an\nextension of an opinion commonly held, that the individual artist is\nsubject to similar influences, though due to personal exaltation\nconnected with his art. It is as well to point out that there is only\none way to produce a work of art, and that is to combine the exercise of\nthe imagination with skill in execution. The artist conceives an idea\nand puts it into form. He does nothing more. He can rely upon no\nextraneous influence. It is suggested that to bring about a supreme\naccomplishment in art, the imagination must be associated with something\noutside of our power of control--some impulse which acts upon the brain\nbut is independent of it. This unmeasured force or lever is usually\nknown by the term \"Inspiration.\" It is supposed that this force comes to\ncertain persons when they have particular moods upon them, and gives\nthem a great idea which they may use in a painting, a poem, or a musical\ncomposition. The suggestion is attractive, but in the long range of\nhistorical record there is no evidence that accident, in the shape of\ninspiration or other psychological lever, has been responsible in the\nslightest degree for the production of a work of art. The writer of a\nsublime poem, or the painter of a perfect Madonna, uses the same kind of\nmental and material labour as the man who chisels a lion's head on a\nchair, or adds a filigree ornament to a bangle. The difference is one of\ndegree only. The poet or painter is gifted with a vivid imagination\nwhich he has cultivated by study; and by diligence has acquired\nsuperlative facility in execution, which he uses to the best advantage.\nThe work of the furniture carver or jeweller does not require such high\npowers, and he climbs only a few steps of the ladder whose uppermost\nrungs have been scaled by the greater artists.\n\nIf in the course of the five and twenty centuries during which works of\nhigh art have been produced, some of them had been executed with the\nassistance of a psychological impulse directed independently of the\nwill, there would certainly have been references to the phenomenon by\nthe artists concerned, or the very numerous art historians, but without\na known exception, all the great artists who have left any record of the\ncause of their success, or whose views on the subject are to be gained\nby indirect references, have attributed this success to hard study, or\nmanual industry, or both together. We know little of the opinion of the\nancient Greeks on the matter, but the few anecdotes we have, indicate\nthat their artists were very practical men indeed, and hardly likely to\nexpect mysterious psychological influences to help them in their work.\nSo with the Romans, and it is noticeable that the key to the production\nof beauty in poetry, in the opinion of Virgil and Horace, is careful\npreparation and unlimited revision. This appears to be the view of some\nmodern poets, and if Dante, Shakespeare, and Milton, had experienced\nvisionary inspiration, we should surely have heard of it. Fortunately\nsome of the most eminent painters of modern times have expressed\nthemselves definitely upon the point. Lionardo observed that the painter\narrives at perfection by manual operation; and Michelangelo asserted\nthat Raphael acquired his excellence by study and application. Rubens\npraised his brushes, by which he meant his acquired facility, as the\ninstruments of his fortune; and Nicholas Poussin attributed his success\nto the fact that he neglected nothing, referring of course to his\nstudies. According to his biographers, the triumphs of Claude were due\nto his untiring industry, while Reynolds held that nothing is denied to\nwell directed labour. And so with many others down to Turner, whose\nsecret according to Ruskin, was sincerity and toil.\n\nIt would seem to be possible for an artist to work himself into a\ncondition of emotional excitement,[7] either involuntarily when a great\nthought comes to him, or voluntarily when he seeks ideas wherewith to\nexecute a brilliant conception; and it is comprehensible that when in\nthis condition, which is practically an extreme concentration of his\nmental energy upon the purpose in hand, images or other aesthetic\nsuggestions suitable for his work may present themselves to his mind.\nThese he might regard as the result of inspiration, but in reality they\nwould be the product of a trained imagination operating under\nadvantageous conditions.\n\nNor can any rule be laid down that the character or temperament of an\nartist influences his work, for if instances can be given in support of\nsuch an assertion, at least an equal number may be adduced which\ndirectly oppose it. If we might approximately gauge the true characters\nof Fra Angelico and Michelangelo from a study of their work, it is\ncertain that no imagination could conjure up the actual personalities of\nPerugino and Cellini, from an examination of the paintings of the one\nand the sculptures of the other. What can be said on the subject when\nassassins of the nature of Corenzio and Caravaggio painted so many\nbeautiful things, and evil-minded men like Ribera and Battistello\nadorned great churches with sacred compositions? If the work of Claude\nappears to harmonize with his character, that of Turner does not.\n\"Friendless in youth: loveless in manhood; hopeless in death.\" Such was\nTurner according to Ruskin, but is there any sign of this in his works?\nNot a trace. If any conclusion as to his character and temperament can\nbe drawn from Turner's paintings, it is that he was a gay, light-hearted\nthinker, with all the optimism and high spirits that come from a delight\nin beautiful things. The element of mood is unquestionably of importance\nin the work of an artist, but it is not uncommon to find the character\nof his designs contrary to his mood. Poets, as in the case of Hood, or\npainters as with Tassaert, may execute the most lively pieces while in\nmoods verging on despair. With some men adversity quickens the\nimagination with fancies; with others it benumbs their faculties.\n\nThe tendency of popular criticism to search for psychological phenomena\nin paintings, apparently arises largely from the difficulty in\ncomprehending how it is that certain artists of high repute vary their\nstyles of painting after many years of good work, and produce pictures\nwithout the striking beauty characterizing their former efforts.\nSometimes when age is beginning to tell upon them, they broaden their\nmanner considerably, as with Rembrandt and others of the seventeenth\ncentury, and many recent artists of lesser fame. The critic, very\nnaturally perhaps, is chary of condemning work from the hand of one who\nhas given evidence of consummate skill, and so seeks for hidden beauties\nin lieu of those to which he has been accustomed. A simple enquiry into\nthe matter will show that the change of style in these cases has a\ncommonplace natural cause.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 2 (See page 319)\n  \"Le Bon Dieu d'Amiens\" (_Amiens Cathedral_)]\n\nTo be in the front rank an artist must have acquired a vast knowledge of\nthe technique of his art, and have a powerful imagination which has been\nhighly cultivated. But the qualifications must be balanced. Commonly\nwhen this balance is not present the deficiency is in the imagination,\nbut there are instances where, though the power of execution is supreme,\nthe imagination has so far exceeded all bounds as to render this power\nof comparatively small practical value. The most conspicuous example of\nthis want of balance is Lionardo, who accomplished little though he was\nscarcely surpassed in execution by Raphael or Michelangelo. His\nimagination invariably ran beyond his execution; his ideas were always\nabove the works he completed or partly finished: he saw in fact far\nbeyond anything he could accomplish, and so was never satisfied with the\nresult of his labour. At the same time he was filled with ideas in\nthe sciences, and investigated every branch of knowledge without\nbringing his conclusions to fruition. During the latter part of his\nlife, Michelangelo showed a similar defect in a lesser degree, for his\nunfinished works of the period exceed in number those he completed.\nNaturally such intellectual giants, whose imaginations cannot be\nlevelled with the highest ability in execution, are few, but the lesser\nluminaries who fail, or who constantly fail, in carrying out their\nconceptions, are legion, though they may have absorbed the limit of\nknowledge which they are capable of acquiring in respect of execution.\nIt is common for a painter to turn out a few masterpieces and nothing\nelse of permanent value. This was the case with numerous Italian artists\nof the seventeenth century, and it is indeed a question whether there is\none of them, except perhaps Domenichino, whose works have not a\nconsiderable range in aesthetic value.\n\nThere have been still more artists whose powers of execution were far\nbeyond the flights of their imaginations. They include the whole of the\nseventeenth century Dutch school with Rembrandt at their head, and the\nwhole of the Spanish school of the same period, except El Greco,\nZurbaran, and Murillo. When an artist is in the first rank in respect of\nexecution, but is distinctly inferior in imaginative scope, his work in\nall grades of his art, except the highest, where ideals are possible,\nseems to have a greater value than it really possesses because we are\ninsensibly cognizant that the accomplishment rises above the idea upon\nwhich it is founded. On the other hand his work in the highest plane\nappears to possess a lower value, because we are surprised that ideals\nhave not been attempted, and that the types of the spiritual and\nclassical personages represented are of the same class of men and women\nas those exhibited in works dealing with ordinary human occupations or\nactions. This is why the sacred and classical pictures of Rembrandt,\nVermeer of Delft, and the other leading Dutch artists, appear to be\nbelow their portrait and genre work in power.\n\nThe course of variation in the work of a great painter follows the\nrelative power of his imagination and his execution. Where there is a\nfair balance between the two, the work of the artist increases in\naesthetic value with his age and experience; but when his facility in\nexecution rises above the force of his imagination, then his middle\nperiod is invariably the best, his later work showing a gradual\ndepreciation in quality. The reason is obvious. The surety of the hand\nand eye diminishes more rapidly than the power of the mind, which in\nfact is commonly enhanced with experience till old age comes on. Great\nartists who rely mostly upon their powers of execution, and exhibit\nlimited fertility in invention, such as Rembrandt, have often a manner\nwhich is so interwoven with the effects they seek, that they are seldom\nor never able to avail themselves of the assistance of others in the\nlesser important parts of their work. A man with the fertile mind of a\nRubens may gather around him a troupe of artists nearly as good as\nhimself in execution, who will carry out his designs completely save\nfor certain details. Thus he is not occupied with laborious toil, and\nthe decreasing accuracy of his handiwork troubles him but little. On the\nother hand a Rembrandt, whose merits lie chiefly in the delicate\nmanipulation of light effects and intricate shades in expression,\nremains tied to his canvas. He feels intensely the decreasing facility\nin the use of his brush which necessarily accompanies his advancing\nyears, and his only recourse from a stoppage of work is an alteration in\nmanner involving a reduction of labour and a lessened strain upon the\neyesight. With few exceptions the great masterpieces of Rembrandt were\nproduced in his middle period. During the last ten or fifteen years of\nhis life he gradually increased his breadth of manner. He was still\nmagnificent in general expression, but the intimate details which\nproduced such glorious effects in the great Amsterdam picture, and fifty\nor more of his single portraits, could not be obtained with hog's\nhair.[8]\n\nDisconnecting then the work of the artist with inspiration or other\npsychological force, we may now enquire what is mean by \"Genius,\"\n\"Natural gift,\" or other term used to explain the power of an artist to\nproduce a great work? It would appear that the answer is closely\nconcerned with the condition of the sensorial nerves at birth, and the\nprecocity or otherwise of the infantile imagination. From the fact that\nwe can cultivate the eye and ear so as to recognize forms of harmony\nwhich we could not before perceive, and seeing that the effect of this\ncultivation is permanent, it follows that exercise must bring about\ndirect changes in the nerves associated with these organs, attuning them\nso to speak, and enabling them to respond to newer harmonies arising\nfrom increased complexity of the signs used.[9] It is matter of common\nknowledge that the structure of the sensorial nerves varies largely in\ndifferent persons at birth, and when a boy at a very early age shows\nprecocious ability in music or drawing, we may properly infer that the\ncondition of his optic or aural nerves is comparatively advanced, that\nis to say, it is much less rudimentary than that of the average person\nat the same age; in other words accident has given him a nerve\nregularity which can only be gained by the average boy after long\nexercise. The precocious youth has not a nerve structure superior in\nkind, but it is abnormally developed, and so he is ahead of his\nconfreres in the matter of time, for under equal conditions of study he\nis sooner able to arrive at a given degree of skill.\n\nBut early appreciation of complex harmony, and skill in execution, are\nnot enough to produce a great artist, for there must be associated with\nthese things a powerful imagination. While the particular nerves or\nvessels of the brain with which the imagination is concerned have not\nbeen identified, we know by analogy and experience that the exercise of\nthe imagination like that of any other function, is necessary for its\ndevelopment, and according as we allow it to remain in abeyance so we\nreduce its active value. Clearly also, the seat of the imagination at\nbirth is less rudimentary in some persons than in others. From these\nfacts it would appear that when both the sensory nerve structure and the\nseat of the imagination are advanced at birth, then we have the basis\nupon which the precocious genius is built up. With such conditions,\npatient toil and deep study are alone necessary to produce a sublime\nartist. Evidently it is extremely rare for the imagination and nerve\nstructure to be together so advanced naturally, but commonly one is more\nthan rudimentary, and the deficiency in the other is compensated for by\nstudy.[10]\n\nOf course these observations are general, for there arises the question,\nto what extent can the senses and imagination be trained? We may well\nconceive that there is a limit to the development of the sense organs.\nThere must come a period when the optic or aural nerves can be attuned\nno further; and is the limit equal in all persons? The probability is\nthat it is not. The physical character of the nerves almost certainly\nvaries in different persons, some being able to appreciate more complex\nharmonies than others, granted the limit of development. This is a point\nwhich has to be considered, particularly in the case of music wherein as\na rule, the higher the beauty the more complex the combinations of\nsigns. There is a parallel problem to solve in respect of the\nimagination. We can well believe that there was something abnormal in\nthe imagination of Shakespeare, beyond the probability that in his case\nthe physiological system controlling the seat of the imagination was\nunusually advanced at birth. It is quite certain that with such a man a\ngiven training would result in a far greater advance in the functioning\ncapacity of the imagination, than in the vast majority of persons who\nmight commence the training on apparently equal terms; and he would be\nable to go further--to surpass the point which might be the limit of\ndevelopment with most persons.\n\nThese questions are of the highest importance, but they cannot be\ndetermined. We are acquainted with certain facts relating to the general\ndevelopment of the sense organs, and of the imagination; and in regard\nto the former we know that there is a limit within comprehensible\nbounds, but we see only very dimly anything finite in the scope of the\nimagination. With what other term than \"limitless\" can we describe the\nimagination of a Shakespeare? But in all cases, whatever the natural\nconditions at birth, it is clear that hard work is the key to success in\nart, and though some must work harder than others to arrive at an equal\nresult, it is satisfactory to know that generally Carlyle was right when\nhe described \"genius\" as the transcendent capacity for taking trouble,\nand we are not surprised that Cicero should have come to the conclusion\nthat diligence is a virtue that seems to include all the others.\n\nSeeing that the conclusions above defined (and some to be later drawn),\nare not entirely in accord with a large part of modern criticism based\nupon what are commonly described as new and improved forms of the\npainter's art, it is necessary to refer to these forms, which are\ngenerally comprehended under what is known as Impressionism.[c] Alas, to\nthe frailty of man must we ascribe the spread of this movement, which\nhas destroyed so many bright young intellects, and is at this moment\nleading thousands of gentle spirits along the level path which ends in\ndespair. For the real road of art is steep, and difficult, and long.\nYear upon year of patient thought, patient observation, and patient\ntoil, lie ahead of every man who covets a crown of success as a painter.\nHe must seek to accumulate vast stores of knowledge of the human form\nand its anatomy, of nature in her prolific variety, of linear and aerial\nperspective, of animals which move on land or through the air, of the\nlaws of colours and their combinations. He must sound the depths of\npoetry, and sculpture, and architecture; absorb the cream of sacred and\nprofane history; and with all these things and many more, he must\nsaturate his mind with the practical details of his art. Every artist\nwhose work the world has learned to admire has done his best to gain\nthis knowledge, and certainly no great design was ever produced by one\nwhose youth and early manhood were not worn with ardent study. For\nknowledge and experience are the only foundations upon which the\nimagination can build. Every new conception is a rearrangement of known\nsigns, and the imagination is powerless to arrange them appropriately\nwithout a thorough comprehension of their character and significance.\n\n  [c] The varied interpretations of Impressionism are referred to\n    elsewhere (see page    ). When using the term in this book\n    without qualification, the writer means thereby the subordination\n    of design to colour, which definition covers all the forms of the\n    \"new art\" without going beyond any of them.\n\nThis then is the programme of work which must be adopted by any serious\naspirant to fame in the art of the painter, and it is perhaps not\nsurprising that the number of artists who survive the ordeal is strictly\nlimited. In any walk of life where years of struggle are necessary for\nsuccess, how small the proportion of men who persevere to the end; who\npresent a steel wall to misfortune and despair, and with an indomitable\nwill, overcome care, and worry, and fatigue, for year after year, till\nat last the clouds disappear, and they are able to front the world with\nan all-powerful shield of radiant knowledge! But unfortunately in the\npainter's art it is difficult to convince students of the necessity for\nlong and hard study, because there is no definite standard for measuring\nsuccess or failure which they can grasp without long experience. In\nindustries where knowledge is applied to improvement in appliances, or\nmethods with definite ends, or to the realization of projects having a\nfixed scope, failure is determined by material results measured commonly\nby mathematical processes of one kind or another. A man produces a new\nalloy which he claims will fulfil a certain purpose. It is tested by\nrecognized means: all concerned admit the validity of the test, and\nthere the matter ends. But in the arts, while the relative value of the\nrespective grades is equally capable of demonstration, the test is of a\ndifferent kind. Instead of weights and measures which every man can\napply, general experience must be brought in. The individual may be\nright in his judgment, and commonly is, but he is unable to measure the\nevidence of his senses by material demonstration, and as he has no means\nof judging whether his senses are normal, except by comparison, he is\nliable to doubt his own experience if it clash with that of others.\nThus, he may find but little beauty in a given picture, and then may\nread or hear that the work has a high aesthetic value, and without\ncalling to mind the fact that no evidence in the matter is conclusive\nunless it be based on general experience, he is liable to believe that\nhis own perception is in some way deficient.\n\nThus in the arts, and particularly in painting, there is ample scope for\nthe spread of false principles. Poetry has an advantage in that the\nintellect must first be exercised before the simplest pictures are\nthrown on the brain, so feeble or eccentric verse appeals to very few\npersons, and seldom has a clientele, if one may use the word, outside of\nsmall coteries of weak thinkers. It is difficult also in sculpture to\nput forward poor works as of a high order, because this art deals almost\nentirely with simple human and animal forms in respect of which the\nknowledge is universal, and so as signs they cannot be varied except in\nthe production of what would be immediately recognized as monstrosities.\nBut in painting an immense variety in kind of beauty may be produced,\nfrom a simple colour harmony to the representation of ideal forms\ninvolving the highest sensorial and intellectual reaches, and there is\nample scope for the misrepresentation of aesthetic effects--for the\nsuggestion that a work yielding a momentary appeal to the senses is\nsuperior to a high form of permanent beauty.\n\nIt is to the ease with which simple forms of ephemeral beauty may be\nproduced in painting that is due the large number of artists who should\nnever have entered upon the profession. Nearly every person of average\nintelligence is capable with a few lessons of producing excellent\nimitations of natural things in colour, as for instance, flowers, bits\nof landscape, and so on, and great numbers of young men and women,\nsurprised at the facility with which this work can be done, erroneously\nsuppose that nature has endowed them with special gifts, and so take up\nthe art of painting as a career. Hence for every sculptor there are\ntwenty painters. Now these youthful aspirants usually start with\ndetermination and hope, but although they know the value of studious\ntoil, they rarely comprehend that this toil, long continued, is the only\nkey to success. Most of them seem under the impression that inspiration\nwill come to their assistance, and that their genius will enable them to\ndispense with much of the labour which others, less fortunate, must\nundertake. They do not understand that all painters, even a Raphael,\nmust go through long years of hard application.\n\nWe need not be surprised that there should be occasional eruptions in\nart circles tending to the exaltation of the immature at the expense of\nthe superior, or even the sublime, for we have always with us the\nundiligent man of talent, and the \"unrecognized genius.\" But hitherto,\nmovements of the kind have not been serious, for with one exception they\nare lost in oblivion, and the exception is little more than a vague\nmemory. That the present movement should have lasted so long is not\ndifficult to understand when we remember the modern advantages for the\nspread of new sensations--the exhibitions, the unlimited advertising\nscope, and above all the new criticism, with its extended vocabulary,\nits original philosophy, and its boundless discoveries as to the\npsychological and musical qualities of paint. That history is silent as\nto previous eruptions of the kind before the seventeenth century is a\nmatter of regret. It is unlikely that the greatest of all art epochs\nexperienced an impressionist fever, for one cannot imagine the spread of\nspurious principles within measurable distance of a State (Thebes) which\nwent so far as to prohibit the representation of unbeautiful things. In\nrespect of poetry we know that the Greeks stood no nonsense, for did not\nZoilus suffer an ignominious death for venturing upon childish criticism\nof Homer? In Rome eccentric painters certainly found some means to\nthrive, for where \"Bohemian\" poets gathered, who neglected the barber\nand the bath, and pretended an aesthetic exclusiveness, there surely\nwould painters of \"isms\" be found in variety. Naturally in the early\nstages of the Renaissance, when patronage of the arts was almost\nconfined to the Church, and so went hand in hand with learning, inferior\nart stood small chance of recognition; and a little later when Lorenzo\ngathered around him the intellectual cream of Italy; when the pupils of\nDonatello were spreading the light of his genius; when the patrician\nbeauties of Florence were posing for Ghirlandaio and his brilliant\nconfreres, and when the minds of Lionardo and Michelangelo were\nblooming; who would have dared to talk of the psychological qualities of\npaint, or suggest the composition of a fresco \"symphony\"?\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 3 (See page 111)\n  Ancient Copy of the Cnidian Venus of Praxiteles (_Vatican_)]\n\nBut another century and more passed away. The blaze of the Renaissance\nhad gone down, but the embers were kept alive, for Italy still seemed to\nvibrate with a desire to paint. Simultaneously in Flanders, in Holland,\nin France, and in England, private citizens appeared to develop a sudden\ndemand for pictures, and quite naturally artists multiplied and fed the\nflame. Outside of Italy the hustle and bustle in the art world were\nnovelties to the general public, though pleasant ones withal, and for\nhalf a century or more they delighted in the majestic designs of Rubens\nand Van Dyck, the intimate scenes of the Dutch artists, and the delicate\nlandscapes of Claude and Poussin and their followers, which were\ncontinually finding their way from Rome. The simplicity of the people\nprotected the arts. They knew the hard labour involved in the production\nof a picture; the worries, the struggles, the joys of the painters; and\ndaily saw beautiful imitations of every-day life in the shops and\nmarkets. They must have been proud of them--insensibly proud of the\nvalue of human endeavour. For them the sham and immature had no place:\nthere is not a single example of spurious art of the first three\nquarters of the seventeenth century that has come down to us from\nHolland or Flanders. But while the Dutch school was at the height of its\nfame, a change was marking Italian art conditions. The half score of\nacademies scattered through the country were still in a state of\nactivity, carrying on, as far as they could, the traditions of the\nRenaissance: from all parts of Europe students were still pouring in,\nendeavouring to glean the secrets of the immortals; and there was no\napparent decrease in the demand for pictures from the religious\nfoundations and private buyers. But the character of the art produced\nwas rapidly declining: the writing on the wall was being done by the\nhand that wielded the brush. As a necessary consequence the trader was\ncalled in and art began to be commercialized. Worse still, fashions\nappeared, guided by successive masters in the various centres, often\nwith an influence quite out of proportion with their merits.\n\nBy the middle of the century a general fall in activity and enthusiasm\nwas noticeable. The disciples of the Roman school, largely through the\npernicious influence of Bernini, had nearly forgotten the great lessons\ntaught by the followers of Raphael, and later by the three Carracci, and\nwere fast descending below mediocrity; the Florentine school included\nhalf a dozen good painters, mostly students of Berritini: Venice was\nfalling into a stagnation in which she remained till the appearance of\nLonghi and Tiepolo and their brethren; Bologna was living on the\nreputation of the Carracci, and had yet to recover with the aid of\nCignani: Milan and Genoa as separate schools had practically faded away;\nand the Neapolitan school was relying on Salvator Rosa, though Luca\nGiordano was growing into an inexhaustible hive of invention. This was\nthe condition of Italian art, while political and other troubles were\nfurther complicating the position of artists. For most of them the time\nwas gloomy and the future dark. A few turned to landscape; others\nextended the practice of copying the early masters for the benefit of\nforeign capitals, while some sought for novelty in still-life, or in the\nthen newly practised pastel work. But there was a considerable number\nwho would have none of these things; some of them with talent but\nlacking industry, and others with industry but void of imagination. What\nwere these to do at a time when at the best the outlook was poor?\n\nAn answer came to this question. A new taste must be cultivated, and for\nan art that required less study and trouble to produce than the sublime\nforms with which the Renaissance culminated. So whispers went round that\nRaphael was not really so great a master as was supposed, and that with\nMichelangelo he was out of date and did not comprehend the real meaning\nof art--very similar conclusions with which the modern impressionist\nmovement was heralded.[11] The discovery was made in Rome, but the news\nexpanded to Florence and Naples, and Venice, and behold the\nresult--Sprezzatura, or to use the modern word, Impressionism, that is\nto say, the substitution of sketches for finished pictures, though this\nis not the definition usually given to it. But fortunately for the art\nof the time the innovation was chiefly confined to coteries. All that\ncould be said or done failed to convince the principal patrons of the\nperiod that a half finished work is so beautiful as a completed one, and\nso the novelties rarely found entrance into great collections, nor were\nthey used to adorn the interiors of public buildings. But a good many of\nthem were executed though they have long ceased to interest anybody. Now\nand again one comes across an example in a sleepy Italian village, or in\nthe smaller shops of Rome or Florence, but it is quickly put aside as a\nmelancholy memento of a disordered period of art when talented painters\nhad to struggle for fame, and the untalented for bread.\n\nThe cult of Sprezzatura faded to a glimmer before the end of the\nseventeenth century. Bernini was dead, and Carlo Maratta with a few\nothers led the way in re-establishing the health if not the brilliancy\nand renown of Italian art. Nor did a recurrence of the movement occur in\nthe next century. During this period there was comparatively little call\nfor art in Italy, and at the end of it, when political disturbances made\nhavoc with academies and artists, the principal occupation of Italian\npainters with talent was precisely that of their skilled brethren in\nHolland and Flanders--the manufacture of \"old\" masterpieces. It was\nreserved for the second half of the nineteenth century for Sprezzatura\nto make its reappearance, and this time Italy followed the lead of\nFrance.\n\nThere are many methods and mannerisms which go under the name of\nImpressionism, but they are mostly suggestions in design or experiments\nin tones which were formerly produced solely as studies to assist\nartists in executing their complete works, or else eccentricities which\nare obviously mere camouflage for lack of skill.[12] Sometimes the\nsketches are slightly amplified with more or less finished signs, and\nnow and then novelties are present in the shape of startling colour\neffects; but in all cases the impartial observer sees in the pictures\nonly sensorial beauty of a kind which is inevitably short lived, while\nhis understanding is oppressed with the thought, firstly that the\npicture is probably the result of a want of diligence on the part of the\nartist, and secondly that its exhibition as a serious work is somewhat\nof a reflection upon the intelligence of the public.\n\nObviously the fundamental basis of Impressionism is weak and illogical,\nfor in our conception of nature it invites us to eliminate the\nunderstanding. What the impressionist practically says is: \"We do not\nsee solid form; we see only flat surface in which objects are\ndistinguished by colours. The artist should reproduce these colours\nirrespective of the nature of the objects.\" But the objects are\ndistinguished by our knowledge and experience, and if we are to\neliminate these in one art, why not in another? Why trouble about\ncarving in the round when we only actually see in the human figure a\nflat surface defined by colour? There is no scene in nature such as the\nimpressionist paints, nor can such a scene be thrown upon the mind of\nthe painter as a natural scene. Except in absolute deserts there are no\nscenes without many signs which are clearly defined to the eye, and\nwhich the artist can paint. He cannot of course produce all the signs in\na view, but he can indicate sufficient of them to make a beautiful\npicture apart from the tones, and there can be no valid aesthetic reason\nfor substituting for these signs vague suggestions of colour infinitely\nless definite than the signs as they appear in nature. Nor is there any\nsuch atmosphere in nature as the impressionist usually paints. We do not\nsee blotched outlines of human figures, but the outlines in nature,\nexcept at a considerable distance, appear to us clear and decisive\nthough delicately shaded, and not as seen through a veil of steam. Nor\nhas any valid reason been advanced for juxtaposing pure colours instead\nof blending them before use.[13] Why should the eye have to seek a\nparticular distance from a painting in order that the colours might\nnaturally blend, when the artist can himself blend them and present a\nharmony which is observable at any reasonable distance? We do not carve\na statue with blurred and broken edges, and then tell the observer that\nthe outlines will appear correct if he travel a certain distance away\nbefore examining them.\n\nIn giving nearly his whole attention to colour the impressionist limits\nhis art to the feeblest form, and produces a quickly tiring, ephemeral\nthing, as if unconscious of natural beauty. Sylvan glades and fairy\ndales, where the brooks ripple pleasantly as they moisten the roots of\nthe violet, and gently lave the feet of the lark and the robin; where\nshady trees bow welcome to the wanderer; where the grassy carpet is\nsprinkled with flowers, and every bush can tell of lovers' sighs! Does\nthe impressionist see these things? Offer him the sweetest beauties of\nnature, and he shows you in return a shake of a kaleidoscope. Mountain\npeaks towering one above the other till their snowy crests sparkle the\nazure sky; mighty rivers dividing the hills, crumbling the granite\ncliffs, or thundering their course over impeding rocks; cascades of\nflowing crystal falling into seething seas of foam and mist; the angry\nocean convulsively defying human power with its heaving walls and\nfearsome caverns! Nature in her grandest form: sublime forces which\nkindle the spirit of man: exhibit them to the impressionist, and he\npresents to you a flat experiment in the juxtaposition of pure colours!\nAnd the majesty of the human form, with its glorious attributes; the\nnoble woman and courageous man; incidents of self-sacrifice; the realms\nof spiritual beauty, and the great ideals which expand the mind to the\nbounds of space and lift the soul to Heaven! What of these? Ask the\nimpressionist, and he knows nothing of them. For his pencil they are but\nrelics of the past, like the bones of the men who immortalized them in\nart.\n\nThis is perhaps an overstatement of impressionism as applied to the\nworks of a large number of artists, who although commonly sacrificing\nform to colour, infuse more or less interest in the human poses and\nactions which are nominally the subjects of their pictures. But one can\nonly deal generally with such a matter. The evil of Impressionism does\nnot lie in the presentation of colour harmonies as beautiful things, for\nthey are unquestionably pleasing, though the beauty is purely sensorial\nand of an ephemeral character. The mischief arises from the declaration,\novert or implied, that these harmonies represent the higher reaches of\nthe painter's art, and that form or design therein is of secondary\nimportance. Let something false in thought or activity be propagated in\nany domain where the trader can make use of it, then surely will the\nevil grow, each new weed being more rank than its predecessor.\nImpressionism is not a spurious form of art, but seeing that its\nspurious claims were widely accepted, with substantial results, there\nsoon appeared innumerable other forms inferior to it. There is no\nnecessity to deal here with these forms, with the crude experiments of\nCezanne, the vagaries of Van Gogh,[14] the puerilities of Matisse, or\nthe awful sequence of \"isms,\" commencing with \"Post-Impressionism,\" and\nending in the lowest depths of art degradation; but it is proper to\npoint out that so long as Impressionism puts forward its extravagant\npretensions, these corrupt forms will continue to taint the realm of art\nto the detriment of both artists and public.\n\nThe significance of Impressionism is alleged by its advocates to be of\nsuch considerable import that in the public interest they should have\nbrought forward the most cogent arguments for its support. But we have\nno such arguments, nor has any logical reason been advanced to offset\nthe obvious practical defects of the innovation, namely, that in the\ngeneral opinion the art is incomplete and decidedly inferior, and that\nthe leading critics of every country have ignored or directly condemned\nit as an immature form of art. Nevertheless, although there has been no\ndetermined attempt to upset the basis of art criticism as this basis has\nbeen understood for more than twenty centuries; although the whole of\nthe arguments in support of the various forms of Impressionism have\nfailed to indicate any comprehensible basis at all, but have dealt\nentirely with vague sensorial theories, and psychological suggestions\nwhich have no general meaning; although it has never been remotely\nadvanced that the beauty produced by means of Impressionism is connected\nwith intellectual activity, as any high form of art must necessarily be:\nnotwithstanding all this, there has been gradually growing up in the\npublic mind, a vague and uncertain signification of the comparative\nforms of art, which tends to the general confusion of thought amongst\nthe public, and a chaos of ideas in the minds of young artists.\n\nThe root of these spreading branches of mysticism is to be found in the\ninsistent affirmation that the broad manner of painting is necessary for\nthe production of great work, and that only those old masters who used\nthis manner are worthy of study. It is, as if the advocates of the new\ndeparture declare, \"If we cannot demonstrate the superiority of our\nwork, we can at least affirm that our methods are the best.\" Where a\nsmall minority is persistent in advocating certain views, and the great\nmajority do not trouble about replying thereto, false principles are\nlikely to find considerable area for permeation among the rising\ngeneration, who are easily impressed with the appearance of undisputed\nauthority. In the matter we are discussing, the limited authority is\nparticularly likely to be recognized by the inexperienced of those\nmostly concerned, that is to say, young artists, because it sanctions a\nmethod of work which reduces to a minimum the labour involved in\narriving at excellence by the regular channels.\n\nNow the artist is at liberty to use any method of painting in producing\nhis picture providing he presents something beautiful. There is no\nspecial virtue in a broad manner, a fine manner, or any other manner,\nand the public, for whom the artist toils, is not concerned with the\npoint. It is as indifferent to the kind of brushwork used by the\npainter, as to the variety of chisel handled by the sculptor. The\nobserver of the picture judges it for its beauty, and if it be well\npainted, then the character of the brushwork is unconsidered. If,\nhowever, the brushwork is so broad that the manner of painting protrudes\nitself upon the observer at first sight, then the work cannot be of a\nhigh class. All the paintings which we recognize as great works of art\nare pictured upon the brain as complete things immediately they are\nbrought within the compass of the eye, and to this rule there is no\nexception. If, when encompassed by the sight we find that a picture is\nso broadly painted that we must move backwards to an unknown point\nbefore the character of the work can be thoroughly comprehended as a\ncomplete whole, then it is distinctly inferior as a work of art,\nbecause, being incomprehensible on first inspection, it is necessarily\nunbeautiful, and the act of converting it into a thing of beauty, by\nmeans of a mechanical operation, complicates the picture on the brain\nand so weakens its aesthetic value.[15] This is axiomatic. There are\nproportions and propriety in all the arts, and the good artist is quite\naware of the lines to be drawn in respect of the manner he adopts. Jan\nVan Eyck's picture of Arnolfini and his Wife, and Holbein's Ambassadors,\nboth painted in the fine manner, are equally great works of art with\nTitian's portraits; and Raphael's portrait of Julius II. (the Pitti\nPalace example),[16] which is in a manner midway between that of Holbein\nand Titian, is superior to the work of all other portrait artists.\n\nBut the most remarkable outcome of the spread of Impressionism is not\nthe extravagant use of the broad manner, for vagaries of this sort will\nalways find support among immature minds and undiligent hands, but the\nestablishment of a species of cult connected with certain old masters\nwho are not in the very first rank, and the attempted relegation to the\nbackground of public opinion, of the few sublime painters whose colossal\ngenius and superiority are recognized by well balanced minds wherever\nthe breath of man can open the door of his soul. It is unnecessary to\nenter upon a long enquiry as to the validity of these proceedings, but\nthe new position in which two great masters have been placed can\nscarcely be ignored. These masters are Rembrandt and Velasquez, who\nappear to have been set upon the loftiest of pedestals in order that\nsome of their glory may be shed upon the new varieties of Sprezzatura.\nIt has been frequently said that these masters were the first of\nimpressionists, but the connection between their work and Impressionism\nis hard to find.[17] Not only is Rembrandt entirely distinct in his\nmanner from Velasquez; not only were they both portrait painters\nprimarily, while the great bulk of impressionist work is landscape; but\ntheir aims, their ideas, and the whole of their works are as far removed\nfrom the new school as the poles are asunder. The work of the two great\npainters deals almost entirely with expression, that of the\nimpressionists with colour harmonies. In the one case intellectual\nbeauty is sought to accompany the sensorial, in the other the production\nof beauty which is not purely or almost entirely sensorial, is not even\npretended. While these differences are obvious, and while no man of\nordinary intelligence is likely to be confused in his mind in respect of\nthem, the fact remains that the movement, which was born with\nImpressionism some forty years ago, to raise Rembrandt and Velasquez to\nan elevation in art to which they are not entitled, has met with much\nsuccess amongst that considerable section of the community which is\ninterested in art and appreciates its value, but suffers from the\ndelusion that special knowledge, which it has not acquired, is necessary\nfor the recognition of high aesthetic merit. No definite propositions\nhave been laid down in support of the movement: there has been no line\nof reasoning for the critic to handle, nor have the old standards been\nupset in the slightest degree: the position has been brought about\nchiefly by a continuous reiteration of vague assertions and mystic\ndeclarations, and by the glamour arising from the enormous prices paid\nby collectors for the works of the masters named, consequent upon the\nskilful commercial exploitation of this exaggerated approbation.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 4 (See Page 113)\n  Venus Anadyomene (_Sculpture after the painting of Apelles_)]\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 5 (See page 115)\n  Venus Anadyomene (_The painting of Titian_)]\n\nPortraiture is necessarily on a lower scale of art than historical\npainting (using this term in its higher application), firstly because\nideals are not possible therein, and secondly in that the imagination of\nthe artist is very restricted. The greatest portrait ever painted is\nimmeasurably below a picture where a beautiful ideal form, with ideal\nexpression is depicted; as far below in fact as the best ancient\nsculptured busts were inferior to the gods of Praxiteles. Neither\nRembrandt nor Velasquez was capable of idealization of form, and so\nneither left behind him a single painted figure to take its place as a\ntype. Rembrandt was a master of human expression, and in the\nrepresentation of character he was perhaps unsurpassed by any painter,\nbut if we analyze the feeling that is at the bottom of the appreciation\nof his portraits, we find that it largely consists of something apart\nfrom admiration of them as things of beauty. There enters into\nconsideration recognition of the extraordinary genius of the artist in\npresenting character in such a way that the want of corporeal beauty\nseems to be unfelt. Instead of observing that the expression in a\ncountenance harmonizes with the features, we involuntarily notice\nthat the features harmonize perfectly with the expression, which seems\nin itself to be the picture. Of course inasmuch as the expression\ninvariably appeals to the good side of our nature, it means intellectual\nbeauty, but as the depth of any impression of this kind of beauty\ndepends upon the development of the mind, the admiration must, except\nwhere the artist presents corporeal beauty, be confined generally to the\ncultivated section of the community. From the point of view of pure art,\nhis fame as a great painter can only rest upon those of his pictures\nwhich are also appreciated for the corporeal beauty exhibited.\n\nThe extraordinary power of Velasquez lay in the sure freedom of his\nexecution, and in this he was equal to Titian. He was besides a master\nof balance, and so every portrait he painted is one complete whole, and\nhas exactly the effect that a portrait should have--to direct the mind\nof the observer to the subject, and away altogether from the painter.\nBut these high qualities as portrait painters do not place Rembrandt and\nVelasquez on a level with Raphael, and Michelangelo, and Correggio.\nWhatever the individual opinion, it is impossible to move aside from the\nlong path of experience and the laws dependent upon natural functions,\nand so long as the world lasts, a work of ideal beauty, whether it be a\nMadonna by Raphael, a Prophet by Michelangelo, or a symbolical figure by\nFragonard, will live in general estimation, which is the only test of\nhigh beauty, far above portraits from life and scenes of every day\nlabour, however they may be painted. The beauty of the one is eternal\nand exalting; and of the other, sympathetic and more or less passive.\nThe appreciation of Raphael and Michelangelo is universal, spontaneous,\nemphatic; of Rembrandt and Velasquez, sometimes imperative, but usually\ndeliberative and cultivated. In fact it is only amongst a section of\ncultivated people, that is to say, a small percentage of the community,\nthat Rembrandt and Velasquez are given a status which is not, and cannot\nbe, accorded them if we adhere to the natural and time-honoured\nstandards of judgment accepted by the first artists and philosophers\nknown to the world since art emerged from the prehistoric shade. To\nplace these artists above, or on a level with, the Italian artists\nnamed, is to cast from their pedestals Homer, Phidias, Praxiteles,\nApelles, Shakespeare, Dante, and every other admittedly sublime genius\nin art of whom we have record.\n\nAnother baneful result of Impressionism is the attempt to raise\nlandscape to a higher level in art than that to which it is properly\nentitled. This is perhaps a natural consequence of the elevation of\ncolour at the expense of form, for the movement is based upon new\nmethods of colouring, and the significance of colour is vastly greater\nin landscape than in any other branch of art. Elsewhere the disabilities\nof the landscape painter are pointed out, and it will be seen that fixed\nand unalterable restrictions compel an extreme limitation to his work.\nIt is because of these restrictions that the very greatest artists have\nrefrained from paying close attention to this branch of art as a\nseparate department.\n\nFrom indirect records we may presume that landscape painting was well\nunderstood in the days of ancient Greece, but there is no evidence that\nit then formed a separate branch of art. In Roman times according to\nPliny, landscape was used for mural decoration. Of its character we can\nonly judge from the examples exposed during the excavations at Pompeii\nand Herculaneum, which indicate that the pictures had but a\ntopographical interest, or formed settings for the representation of\nindustrial pursuits or classical adventures. Certainly there is no\ninstance in Greek or Roman art recorded or exhibited, of any landscape\nas we understand it, that is, a work built up as a beautiful\nrepresentation of nature, to be instantly recognized by the observer as\na complete whole, as one sign in fact. The artists of the Italian\nRenaissance did not paint landscapes as separate pictures unless by way\nof study or experiment. They evidently considered landscape signs purely\nas accessories, and composed their natural views with special reference\nto figure designs. Some of them, particularly the leaders of the\nVenetian School, occasionally painted pictures in which landscape\nappears to play an important part, but in these cases the landscape is\nreally subsidiary, though essential to the design; and the works cannot\nbe compared in any way with those of Claude and others who often added\nfigures to their landscapes in order to comply with the wishes of their\npatrons. The fifteenth century Flemish artists also dealt with landscape\npurely as background, and so with Martin Schongauer, Duerer, and other\nearly German painters. But all the great painters down to the decline\nof the Renaissance, closely studied landscape, as is evidenced by the\nnumerous sketches still existing, and the finished pictures remaining\nclearly indicate that by the middle of the sixteenth century artists had\nlittle or nothing to learn in landscape art, save the management of\ncomplex aerial perspective.\n\nSince landscape painting was introduced as a separate art towards the\nend of the sixteenth century, it has only commanded general attention\nwhen the higher art of the painter has appeared to decline. In Flanders\nthe spurt in landscape due to Paul Bril was terminated with the last of\nthe Breughels by the overpowering splendour of Rubens in historical\nwork, and the attempts of even Rubens himself to create a greater\ninterest in landscape signally failed. There were some good landscape\npainters in Holland during the flourishing period of the Dutch school,\nbut it was only when Rembrandt, Dow, Terburg, and the rest of the bright\nconstellation of figure painters had passed their zenith, or were\nresting in quiet graves, that landscape painting became in any way\ngeneral. Then it was that Hobbema, Jacob Ruysdael, and their numerous\nfollowers, with coast painters like Van der Cappelle, and sea painters\nas William van de Velde, turned out the many fine works which are now so\nhighly prized.\n\nThe Italians of the seventeenth century were too close to Raphael, and\nMichelangelo, and Titian, to permit of a landscape being generally\nreceived as a great work of art, but there appeared at this time in\nRome numerous foreigners from France, and Flanders, and Holland, who\nwere devoted to landscape, and amongst them the greatest genius known in\nthe art--Claude Lorraine. He was the first to put the sun in the sky on\ncanvas for the purpose of pure landscape; the first to master thoroughly\nthe intricate difficulties of aerial perspective; the first to adorn the\nearth with fairy castles and dreamy visions of nature, such as we might\nsuppose to have been common in the days of the Golden Age, ere yet men\nfought for power, or toiled from morn to eve for daily bread. With his\nmagic wand he skimmed the cream of natural beauty and spread it over the\nRoman Campagna, transforming this historic ground into a region of\npalaces, terraces, cascades, and glorious foliage. At the same time\nNicholas Poussin was also using the Campagna for the landscape settings\nof his classical compositions--such perfect settings that it is\nimpossible to imagine the figures separated from their surroundings.\nThese two artists with their disciples, and many Flemish and Dutch\npainters headed by Berghem and the two Boths, formed a landscape colony\nof considerable importance, but no Italian landscape school was founded\nfrom it. In the next century there was little pure landscape in Italy.\nSome fine works of topographical, and a few of general interest were\nproduced by Canaletto and his followers, and a kind of landscape school\nwas maintained in Venice for half a century or more, but elsewhere in\nItaly the cultivation of landscape was spasmodic and feeble.\n\nIn England and France, landscape as a separate art has only made\nconsiderable headway quite recently, though there have been local\nschools, as the Norwich and Barbizon, which followed particular methods\nin design. Meanwhile England produced some isolated giants in landscape,\nas Wilson, Gainsborough, Turner, and Constable, Turner standing out as\nthe greatest painter of strong sun effects on record. It will be seen\nthat until the last generation or so, in no country has landscape been\nadmitted to high rank as a separate art, universal opinion very properly\nrecognizing that the highest beauty in the handiwork of man is to be\nfound in the representation of the human figure. Profound efforts of the\nimagination are not required in landscape, for it consists of a\nparticular arrangement of inanimate signs which have no direct influence\nupon the mind, and cannot appeal to the higher faculties. There is no\nscope therein for lofty conceptions, and consequently the sensorial\nbeauty exhibited must be very high to have more than a quickly passing\neffect upon the observer. This high beauty is most difficult to obtain,\nand can only be reached by those who have a supreme knowledge of the\ntechnique of their art; who have made a long and close study of natural\nsigns and effects; and who are possessed of uncommon patience and\nindustry. We need not be surprised that scarcely one out of every\nhundred landscape painters executes a work which lasts a generation, and\nnot one out of a thousand secures a permanent place on the roll of art.\nThe man who does not give his life from his youth up, to his work,\nconcentrating his whole energy upon it, to the exclusion of everything\nelse, will paint only inferior landscapes. The four greatest landscape\npainters known to us are Claude and Turner in distance work, and Hobbema\nand Jacob Ruysdael in near-ground. Claude was labouring for twenty-five\nyears before he succeeded in accomplishing a single example of those\nlovely fairy abodes so forcibly described by Goethe as \"absolute truth\nwithout a sign of reality.\" Turner took more than twenty years to master\nthe secrets of Claude; Jacob Ruysdael spent a quarter of a century in\nworking out to perfection the representation of flowing water, and\nHobbema passed through more than half of his long life before arriving\nat his superlative scheme of increasing his available distance by\nthrowing in a powerful sunlight from the back of his trees. And a long\nlist of landscape painters of lesser lustre might be given, who went\nthrough from fifteen to thirty years of painstaking labour before\nexecuting a single first-class picture.\n\nGreat landscapes of the pure variety are of two kinds, and two kinds\nonly. The highest are those where an illusion of opening distance or\nother movement is provided, and the second class are where natural\nscenes of common experience, under common conditions of atmosphere, are\nfaithfully reproduced. The lighter landscapes representing phases, as\nthe sketches of the Barbizon school,[18] with the moonlight scenes, and\nthe thousand and one sentimental colour harmonies unconcerned with human\nmotives, which are turned out with such painful regularity every month,\nserve their purpose as wall decorations of the moment, but then die and\nfade from memory like so many of the unfortunate artists who drag their\nweary way to the grave in the vain struggle for fame by means of them.\n\nNo landscape of the phase class can be anything more than a simple\nharmony of tone and design, more ephemeral than the natural phase\nitself. The quiet harmony is restful for the fatigued eye, and every eye\nis fatigued every day; and because the eye feels relieved in glancing at\nthe picture, the conclusion arises to the unthinking that it must be a\ngreat work of art. Glowing eulogies were pronounced upon Whistler's\nNocturne, in the Metropolitan Museum of New York, when it was first\nplaced there, but is there anything less like a work of beauty than the\ndark meaningless patch as it is now seen? And the same thing has\nhappened with a thousand other landscapes of the kind--first presented\nto the tired eyes of business and professional men, and then placed in\ncollections to be surrounded by permanently beautiful works. All these\nphase pictures must quickly lose their beauty in accordance with natural\nlaws which cannot be varied. Let it not be supposed that the writer\nmeans to suggest that these simple works should not be executed. They\nare surely better than no decoration at all in the many homes for which\nreally fine pictures are unavailable, but it is entirely wrong to\nendeavour to pervert the public judgment by putting them forward as\nworks of high art.\n\nAnd what of the struggling artists? Look around in every city and see\nthe numbers of bright young men and women wearing away the bloom of\ntheir youth in vain endeavours to climb the heights of art by the easy\ntrack of glowing colours! It is the call of Fame they think, that leads\nthem along, for they know not the voice of the siren, and see not the\ngaping precipice which is to shatter their dreams. There is but one sure\npath to the top of the mountain, but it is drab-coloured, and many are\nthe slippery crags. Few of the strongest spirits can climb it, but all\nmay try, and at least they may direct their minds upwards, and keep ever\nin front of them a vision of the great idealists wandering over the\nsummit through the eternal glow of the fires they lit ere death\nconsecrated their glory.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nClassification of the fine arts\n\n     The arts imitative of nature--The arts classified according to the\n     character of their signs--Poetry not a compound art, primarily--The\n     extent to which the arts may improve upon nature.\n\n\nSince art uses natural signs for the purpose of representing nature, it\nis necessarily mimetic in character.[19]\n\nPoetry represents all that the other arts imitate, and in addition,\npresumed divine actions. Specially it imitates human and presumed\nspiritual actions, with form and expression; expression directly, form\nindirectly.\n\nSculpture imitates human and presumed spiritual form and expression;\nform directly, expression indirectly. It also represents animal forms,\nand modifications of natural forms in ornament.\n\nPainting imitates natural forms and products, and specially human form\nand expression; form directly, expression indirectly.\n\nFiction imitates human actions, and form and expression; expression\ndirectly, form indirectly.\n\nMusic imitates natural sounds and combines them and specially represents\nhuman emotional effects.\n\nArchitecture is the least imitative of the arts, its freedom in the\nrepresentation of nature being restricted by the necessity of serving\nthe end of utility. It combines geometrical forms, and in the positions\nand proportions of these, is compelled to represent what we understand\nfrom experience of nature as natural balance.\n\nThe poet may give to a character sublime attributes far above\nexperience, or expand form as Homer raises the stature of Strife to the\nheavens, but he cannot provide attributes beyond experience in kind, or\nany part of a form outside of nature. He may combine or rearrange, and\nenlarge or diminish as he will, and so may the painter, the sculptor, or\nmusician, but he is powerless to create signs unknown to nature. It\nfollows then, that he who imitates nature in the most beautiful way,\nthat is to say, he who combines the signs of nature to form the most\nbeautiful whole, produces the greatest work of art.\n\nIt would appear that upon the character of their principal signs is\ndependent the relative position of the arts in respect of the\nrecognition of beauty therein. Of the six fine arts, namely, Poetry,\nSculpture, Painting, Fiction, Music, and Architecture, the first four,\nwhich hereafter in this work will be known as the Associated Arts, have\nfor their principal sign the human figure, to which everything else is\nsubordinate; while in music the signs consist of tones, and in\narchitecture, of lines.\n\nAll the other arts whose object is to give pleasure, as the drama,\ndancing, etching, are either modifications of one of the fine arts, or\ncombinations of two or more of them. In recent times it has been held\nthat poetry is a combined art, owing to the almost invariable use of a\nsimple form of music in its construction, but it would appear that\nprimarily poetry is independent of metrical assistance. This was clearly\nlaid down by Aristotle, but modern definitions of the art have usually\nincluded some reference to metre.[20] Now in our common experience two\nthings are observable in respect of poetry. The first is, that when by\nway of admiration or criticism, we discuss the works of those poets whom\nall the world recognizes as the greatest known to us, we deal only with\nthe substance of what is said, and the manner of saying it, without\nreference to the metrical form. In the second place we observe that the\nhigher the poetry, the more simple is the metrical form with which it is\nassociated. The great epics, which necessarily take first rank in\npoetry, have only metre, the higher musical measures in which lyrics are\nset being avoided. But as we descend in the scale of the art, metrical\nform becomes of more importance, and when simple subjects are dealt\nwith, and a grand style is inappropriate, the production would not be\ncalled poetry unless in the form of verse.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 6 (See page 116)\n  The Reposing Venus of Giorgione (_Dresden Gallery_)]\n\nIn epic and dramatic poetry, we call one poet greater than another\nbecause of his superior invention and beauty of expression, let the\nmeasure be what it will. But the invention comes first, for only high\ninvention can be clothed with lofty expression. The actions of deathless\ngods or god-like men; qualities of goodness, nobility, courage,\ngrandeur, so high as to be above human reach: only these can form the\nsubject of language and sentiment soaring into regions of the sublime,\nand indifferent to metrical artifice. In the sacred books of all great\nreligions we may find the loftiest poetry without regular form, and any\nprose translation of the Greek poets will provide many examples,[21]\nthough often there is a cadence--a rise and fall in the flow of words\nwhich is more or less regular, and has the effect of emphasizing the\nsentiment, and of throwing the images upon the mind with directness and\nforce. We must conclude then that in poetry, while metrical form is\ngenerally essential, it is not vital to the highest flights of the poet,\nand so strictly, poetry is primarily a pure and not a compound art.\n\nSeeing that art uses the signs of nature of which man is at once a\nproduct and a tool, it must in its progress follow the general course of\nnature. In her development of life, nature is chiefly concerned in the\nimprovements of types for her own purposes, and only uses the individual\nin so far as he can assist in this end, while the natural instinct of\nthe individual is to conserve and improve his type. The art which\nrepresents life is compelled to deal chiefly with types, for it is only\nby the use of a type that the artist can apply his imagination to the\nproduction of high beauty, to whatever extent he may use the individual\nto help him in this purpose, and it is instinctive in the human being to\nmaintain and improve the aesthetic attraction of the species. The highest\nart, as the highest work of nature, consists of the presentation of a\nperfected type. The artist therefore must consider the species before\nthe individual; the essential before the accidental; the general before\nthe particular.\n\nThe living signs of nature with which art deals are of two classes. In\nthe one sign the position of parts is the same throughout the species,\nand is fixed and invariable, as in fully developed animals; in the other\nthe position is irregular, and variable within limits, as in plants. In\nthe latter case the position of parts may be commonly varied\nindefinitely without a sense of incongruity arising, as in a tree, and\nhence there can be no conceivable general form or type upon which art\nmay build up perfected parts and proportions. In respect of such a sign\ntherefore, art cannot improve, or appear to improve, upon nature, by\ncombining perfected parts into a more beautiful whole than nature\nprovides.\n\nIn the case of a fully developed animal, where the position of parts is\nfixed, a type may be conceived which is superior in symmetry and harmony\nto any individual of the species produced by nature, for the imagination\nis restricted to an unchangeable form, and has but to put together\nperfected parts and proportions. But this conception can only be applied\nin art to human beings, because in respect of other animals, while no\ntwo are alike, the members of each species, or each section of a\nspecies, seem to be alike, or so closely alike in form and expression,\nthat no perfected type can be conceived which will appear to be superior\nin general beauty to the normal individual of the species, or section\nthereof, coming within actual experience. Thus, the most perfect\nconceivable racehorse painted on canvas, might in reality be more\nperfect in form than any actual racehorse, but to the observer of the\npicture it would not appear to be of greater perfection or higher beauty\nthan racehorses that come, or may come, within experience. The poet may\ndescribe the actions and appearance of a courser in such a way as to\nsuggest that the animal has qualities far above experience, but the form\nof the animal when thrown on the mind of the reader, would still appear\nto be within the bounds of experience.\n\nWith the human being, in addition to the general form there enters into\nconsideration the countenance, which is the all-important seat of\nbeauty, is the principal key to expression, and which, to the common\nknowledge, differs in every person in character and proportions. Nature\nnever produces a perfect form with a perfect countenance, and she\nactually refuses to provide a countenance which is free from elements\nconnected with purely human instincts and passions. But it is within the\npower of art to correct the work of nature in these respects--to put\ntogether perfect parts, and to provide a general expression approaching\nour highest conceptions of human majesty. Homer, Phidias, and Raphael\nhave enabled us to throw upon our minds images far above any of actual\nexperience.\n\nApart from these ideal forms, nature cannot be surpassed by art in the\nproduction of beauty, either in respect of animate or inanimate signs,\nseparately or collectively, the latter because within the limitations\nof art, there is no grouping or arrangement of signs possible which\nwould not appear to correspond with what may be observed in nature,\nunless something abnormal and less beautiful than any natural\ncombination be presented.\n\nPoetry, painting, and sculpture may be concerned with ideals. In fiction\nan ideal is impossible because the writer must treat of life as it is,\nor as it appears to be, within the bounds of experience. In neither\nmusic nor architecture is there a basic sign or combination of signs\nupon which the imagination may build up an ideal.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nLAW OF RECOGNITION IN THE ASSOCIATED ARTS\n\n     Explanation of the law--Its application to poetry--To sculpture--To\n     painting--To fiction.\n\n\nWhile we are unable to explain, logically and completely, our\nappreciation of what we understand as beauty, experience has taught us\nthat there are certain phenomena connected with aesthetic perception\nwhich are so regular and undeviating in their application as to have all\nthe force of law. The first and most important of these phenomena\nrelates to the interval of time elapsing between the sense perception of\na thing of art, and the recognition by the mind of the beauty therein.\n\nWe know from common experience of the Associated Arts that if one fails\nto appreciate a work almost immediately after comprehending its nature\nand purport, he arrives at the conclusion that there is no beauty\ntherein, or at least that the beauty is so obscure as to be scarcely\nworth consideration. But sometimes on further acquaintance with the work\nthe view of the observer may be changed, and he may become aware of a\ncertain beauty which he did not before appreciate. We notice also that\nwhen the beauty is comparatively high, it is more rapidly recognized\nthan when it is comparatively low. Continuing the examination we arrive\nat what is evidently an unalterable law, namely, that the higher the\naesthetic value in a particular sphere of art, the more rapidly is the\nbeauty therein recognized; that is to say, given any two works, other\nthings being equal, that is the higher art the beauty in which is the\nmore quickly conveyed to the mind of the observer after contact with it,\nand precisely to the extent to which the reasoning powers are required\nto be exercised in comprehending the work, so the beauty therein is\ndiminished. The law may be called for convenience the Law of\nRecognition.\n\nBut there are different kinds of beauty as well as degrees. One kind may\nbe more quickly recognized, and yet make a weaker impression on the\nmind, a condition which is due to the varying relations between the\nsensorial and intellectual elements in the works. We note that in all\nthe Associated Arts, as the works therein descend in aesthetic value, the\nemotional element becomes more evident, and consequently the impression\nreceived, less permanent. But sensorial beauty is the first essential in\na work of art: hence while the direct appeal to the mind must be made as\nstrong as possible, this must not be done at the expense of the\nemotional elements. We unconsciously measure the emotional with the\nintellectual effect, and if the former does not at least equal the\nlatter, we reject the work as inferior art. A painted Madonna wanting in\nbeauty of features is instantly and properly condemned even if her\nfigure be enshrined within surroundings of saintly glories which in\nthemselves make a powerful appeal to the mind. In fact the highest\nreaches in art were probably originally suggested by the necessity of\nbalancing the one with the other form of beauty. The highest\nintellectual considerations seem to rise far above any emotional\nexperiences connected with ordinary life, and hence to enable these\nconsiderations to enter the domain of art, the divine must be introduced\nso that the artist may extend his imaginative scope for the provision of\nemotional effects commensurate, as far as possible, with the importance\nof his appeal to the mind. Hence in all arts which combine an\nintellectual with an emotional appeal, the highest forms must ever be\nconnected with the spiritual.\n\nIn other grades of these arts also, the artist has to use special means\nto maintain a due balance between the two kinds of beauty. Shakespeare\ncould not give men and women of every-day experience the wisdom, the\njudgment, and the foresight necessary for the presentation of the\npowerful pictures which some of his characters throw upon the mind, so\nhe raises them above the level of life by according them greater virtues\nand nobler passions than are to be found in people of actual experience.\nThe supreme emotional effects he produces seem perfectly appropriate\ntherefore to the intellectual appeals. In the next lower form of art,\nwhere the representation does not go beyond life experience, the\nemotional appeal is of still greater relative importance because the\nappeal to the mind is rarely striking. The emotional effect here may\nindeed be so overpowering that the purely mental considerations are\nlost sight of, and we observe that in all the greater works of art in\nthe division, whether of poetry, painting, sculpture, or fiction, the\nintellectual appeal is vastly exceeded by the emotional. When we reach\nthe grade which deals with subjects inferior to the average level of\nhuman life, as the representation of animals, landscape, humour,\nstill-life, the sensorial effect must be exceedingly strong relatively,\notherwise the art would scarcely be recognizable, the appeal to the mind\nbeing necessarily weak.\n\nIt is clearly compulsory then that the Associated Arts, all of which may\nappeal to the mind as well as to the senses, should be separated into\ndivisions for the purpose of applying the Law of Recognition, and these\ndivisions are obvious, for they are marked by the strongest natural\nboundary lines. They are: 1. The art which deals with divinities. 2.\nThat which exhibits beauty above life experience, but does not reach the\ndivine. 3. That which represents life. 4. That which produces\nrepresentations inferior to life. This separation corresponds with that\napplied by Aristotle to poetry and painting, except that he joined the\ntwo first sections into one, which he described as better than life. But\nthe division of the great philosopher, while being sufficient for his\npurpose, is hardly close enough for the full consideration of the kinds\nof beauty, since it puts in the same class, representations of the\ndivinity and the superman--joins Homer and Phidias with Praxiteles and\nRaphael. In dealing with the divine the artist need place no limit to\nhis imagination in the presentation of his picture, whereas with the\nsuperman he must circumscribe his fancy within the limits of what may\nappear to the senses to be possibly natural. It is true that the poet\nmay use the supernatural as distinguished from the divine, to enable him\nto extend his imaginative scope, and so give us beautiful pictures which\nwould be otherwise unpresentable. Shakespeare makes us imagine Puck\nencircling the earth in forty minutes, and Shelley shows us iron-winged\nbeings climbing the wind, but we immediately recognize these pictures as\nfigures of fancy, or as in the nature of allegory, and they do not\nimpress us so deeply as the miraculous flight of a goddess of Homer, or\nan assemblage of the satellites of Satan in the Hell of Milton, for we\ninvoluntarily regard these events as compatible with the religious faith\nof great nations, and so as having a nearer apparent semblance of truth.\nSacred art therefore, being capable of providing beauty of a much higher\nkind than any other form, should be placed in a separate section for the\npurpose of considering the law under discussion. Only poetry among the\narts is capable of appropriately representing divine actions, and only\nsculpture of producing a form so perfect as to bring a divinity to mind.\nHence these arts are alone concerned with the Law of Recognition as\napplied to the first section of the Associated Arts.\n\nThe law applies to all the Associated Arts, and to all sections of them,\nexcept the lowest form of painting--that represented by harmony of\ncolour without appeal to the mind of any kind--but this form is so weak\nand exceptional that it need hardly be considered in the general\nproposition. Indeed we might reasonably argue that it does not come\nwithin the fine arts, as it is produced by a mechanical arrangement of\nthings with fixed and unalterable physical properties.\n\nThe law cannot apply to music and architecture, for the effects of these\nare purely emotional, and so directly vary with conditions of time and\nplace respectively. A work of architecture may seem more beautiful in\none place than in another; and a work of music more or less beautiful\naccording as it more or less synchronizes with emotional conditions of\nhuman activity surrounding the hearer at the time of the performance.\n\nWhile this law is unvarying in the Associated Arts, there are artificial\nrestrictions which must be considered in order that apparent deviations\nfrom it may be understood. Special restrictions in relation to the\nhigher poetry and sculpture are mentioned later on, but there is also an\nimportant general restriction. The sense nerves and the imagination,\nlike all other functions, must be exercised in order that normal healthy\nconditions may be retained; but a large section of the people, by force\nof circumstances or want of will, have neglected this exercise, and so\nthrough disuse or misuse these functions are often in a condition which\nis little more than rudimentary. Hence such persons are practically\ndebarred from appreciation of many forms of art, and particularly those\nwherein intellectual beauty is a marked feature. In discussing the\noperation of this law amongst people in general therefore, the writer\nmust be understood to refer only to that section of the community whose\nsense nerves and imaginations may be supposed to be in a healthy, active\ncondition.\n\nExperience with all the Associated Arts has clearly demonstrated the\nvalidity of this law. The strength of the devices used by the poet lies\nin simplifying the presentation of his pictures. Metaphor is necessary\nto the poet, for without it he would be powerless to present pictures\nmade up of a number of parts, but he also uses it for the purpose of\nthrowing simple images upon the mind more rapidly, and consequently more\nforcibly, than would be possible if direct means were employed; and the\nbeauty of the metaphor appears the greater according as it more\ncompletely fills in the picture which the poet is desirous of\npresenting. When other artifices than metaphor or simile are applied,\nthe result only appears very beautiful when the condensation of the\nlanguage used is extreme, and when there is no break in the delineation\nof the action. A few supreme examples of beauty derived from the\nprincipal devices of the poet for presenting his pictures may be\ninstanced, and it will be found that in each case the power of the image\nis directly due to the brevity of expression, the simplicity of\ndescription and metaphor, or the unimpeded representation of action.\n\nMore than three thousand years have passed since the period assigned to\nHelen of Troy, and yet each generation of men and women as they learn of\nher, have deeply sealed upon their minds the impression that she was of\nsurpassing beauty, almost beyond the reach of human conception. We have\npractically no details of her appearance from Homer or Hesiod, except\nthat she was neat-ankled, white-armed, rich-haired, and had the\nsparkling eyes of the Graces, but already in the time of Hesiod her\nrenown \"spread over the earth.\" What was it then that established the\neternal fame of her beauty? Simply a few words of Homer indicating the\nstartling effect of her appearance before the elders of Troy. We are\nallowed to infer that these dry, shrunken-formed sages, shrill-voiced\nwith age, became passionately disturbed by a mere glance at her figure,\nand nervously agreed with each other that little blame attached to the\nGreeks and Trojans for suffering such long and severe hardships on\naccount of her, for only with the goddesses could she be compared. How\nwondrous must be the beauty when a glimpse of it suffices to hasten the\nblood through shrivelled veins, and provoke tempestuous currents to\nawake atrophied nerves! Without the record of this incident, the vague\nnotices of Helen's appearance would be very far from sufficient to\naccount for the universal recognition of her marvellous beauty.[22]\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 7 (See page 122)\n  Greek Sculpture, 4th Century B.C. Attributed to Scopas\n  Greek Bronze, 3d Century B.C.\n  Heads of Demeter]\n\nOne of the finest lines of Shakespeare is, \"How sweet the moonlight\nsleeps upon this bank.\" The beauty of the line rests entirely upon the\nuse of the word \"sleeps\" to express something which could not be\notherwise said without the use of many words. The moonbeam is apparently\nperfectly still, the atmosphere calm, and there is nothing in the\nsurroundings to disturb the natural tranquillity, these conditions\ninducing a feeling of softness and rest in the observer. If it had been\nnecessary to say all this, Shakespeare would certainly have omitted\nreference to the moonlight, but his powerful imagination brings to mind\nthe word \"sleeps\" to express the conditions, and we are overwhelmed with\na beautiful picture suddenly thrown on the brain as if by a brilliant\nflash of light.\n\nAmong the many illustrations of the point which may be found in the\nBible, is the great passage, \"And God said, 'Let there be Light,' and\nthere was Light.\" This is described by Longinus as nobly expressed, but\nhe does not suggest any cause for its aesthetic effect. It is true that\nnothing could be finer, but the nobility of the expression is derived\nfrom its brevity--from the extreme rapidity with which so vast and\npotent an event as an act of creation is pictured on the brain.[23] A\ndescription of an act of creation, although involving psychological\nconsiderations of sublimity, is not necessarily so beautiful in\nexpression as to be a work of art.\n\nIn the case of lyric poetry, brevity of expression, though still of high\nimportance, is not of so much moment as in epic or dramatic verse,\nbecause the substance is subordinated to beauty of expression and\nmusical form. Devices are used chiefly for strengthening the sensorial\nelement, the appeal to the mind being in most cases secondary.\nNevertheless the lyric poet wastes no words. Take for example Sappho's\n_Ode to Anactoria_. The substance of these amazing lines is\ncomparatively insignificant, being merely the expression of emotion on\nthe part of an individual consequent upon disappointment, yet the\ntranscendent beauty of the poem has held enthralled fourscore\ngenerations of men and women, and still the world gasps with\nastonishment at its perfection. Obviously the beauty of the ode rests\nmainly on qualities of form which cannot be reproduced in translation,\nbut the substance may be, and it will be observed that the description\nof the action is unsurpassable. The picture, the whole picture, and\nnothing but the picture, is thrown on the mind rapidly and directly; so\nrapidly that the movement of the brush is scarcely discernible, and so\nsimply that not a thought is required for its elucidation. With the\nchain of symptoms broken or less closely connected, the passion\nindicated would be comparatively feeble, whatever the force of the\nartifices in rhythm and expression which Sappho knew so well how to\nemploy.[24]\n\nAs with poetry, so with the arts of sculpture and painting: the greatest\nworks result from simple designs. All the sculptures which we recognize\nas sublime or highly beautiful, consist of single figures, or in very\nrare cases, groups of two or three, and indeed it is difficult to hold\nin our minds a carved group of several figures. The images of the Zeus\nand Athena of Phidias, though we know little of them except from\nliterary records and inferior copies, are far more brilliantly mirrored\nupon our minds than the Parthenon reliefs. The importance of simplicity\nis perhaps more readily seen in sculpture than in any other art, for the\nslightest fault in design has an immediate effect upon the mind of the\nobserver. It is noticeable that the decadence of a great art period is\nusually first marked by complications in sculptured figures.[25]\n\nIn painting, the pictures which we regard as great are characterized by\ntheir simplicity, and the immediate recognition of their purport. They\nare either ideal figures, or groups where at least the central figure is\nidealized and commonly known. The work must be grasped at one glance for\nthe beauty to be of a high order. Hence in the case of frescoes great\nartists have not attempted to make the beauty of any part dependent upon\nthe comprehension of the whole. It is impossible for the eye to take in\nat a single glance the whole of a large fresco painting, and this\nexplains why a fresco celebrated for its beauty is often disappointing\nto one who sees it for the first time, and endeavours to impress it on\nhis mind as a single picture by rapidly piecing together the different\nparts.[26] Polygnotus could well paint forty scenes from Homer as mural\ndecoration in one hall, for they could only be examined and understood\nas separate pictures; and the ceiling of Michelangelo at the Vatican is\nso arranged that there is no necessity for combining the parts in the\nmind. So with the Parma frescoes of Correggio. Raphael had a different\ntask in his Vatican frescoes, but he accomplished it by arranging his\nfigures so that each separate group is a beautiful picture; and Lionardo\nin his great work at Milan divided the Apostles into groups of three in\norder to minimize the consideration necessary for the appreciation of so\nlarge a work.\n\nFiction is divided into two sections, the novel and the short story, and\nthey are so distinct in character that they must necessarily be\nconsidered separately in the application of the law under discussion.\nForm is of high importance in both classes of the art, but weighs more\nin the short story because here the appeal to the mind is unavoidably\nrestricted. The novelist is capable of producing a higher beauty than is\nwithin the range of the short-story writer. The latter is limited in his\ndelineation of character to the circumstances surrounding a single\nexperience, while the novelist, in describing various experiences, may\nadd shade upon shade in expression and thus elevate the characters and\nactions above the level possible of attainment by means of a single\nincident. But within his limit the short-story writer may provide his\nbeauty more easily than the novelist, because a picture can be more\nreadily freed from complications when away from surroundings, than when\nit forms one of a series of pictures which must have connecting links. A\ngood short story consists of a single incident or experience in a life\nhistory. It is clearly cut, without introduction, and void of a\nconclusion which is not directly part of the incident. The subject is of\ngeneral interest; the language simple, of common use, and free from\nmannerisms; while there are no accessories beyond those essential for\nthe comprehension of the scheme. These conditions, which imply the most\nextreme simplicity, are present in all the greatest short stories known\nto us--the best works of the author of the _Contes Nouvelles_, of\nSacchetti, Boccaccio, Margaret of Navarre, Hoffman, Poe, and De\nMaupassant. The novel differs from the short story in that it is a large\nsection of a life with many experiences, but the principles under which\nthe two varieties of fiction are built up, are precisely the same.\nObviously the limit in length of a novel is that point beyond which the\nwriter cannot enhance the beauty of character and action, while\nmaintaining the unity of design. This means the concentration of effort\nin the direction of simplicity, facilitating the rapid reception of the\npictures presented by the writer upon the mind of the reader.\n\nIt is thus evident that the higher the beauty in the Associated Arts,\nthe simpler are the signs or sign combinations which produce it; and\nhence the Law of Recognition rests on a secure foundation, for the\nsimple must necessarily be recognized before the complex.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nLAW OF GENERAL ASSENT\n\n     General opinion the test of beauty in the Associated Arts.\n\n\nThe first aim of art is sensorial beauty, because sensorial experience\nmust precede the impression of beauty upon the mind. The extent to which\nsomething appears to be sensorially harmonious depends upon the\ncondition or character of the nerves conveying the impression of it to\nthe brain. We know from experience that exercise of these nerves results\nin the removal or partial removal of natural irregularities therein, and\nenables a complex form of beauty to be recognized which was not before\nperceived. The vast majority of the people have not cultivated their\nsense nerves except involuntarily, and consequently can only recognize\nmore or less simple beauty: thus, as the sign combinations become more\ncomplicated, so is diminished the number of persons capable of\nappreciating the beauty thereof.\n\nThe highest form of beauty conceivable to the imagination is that of the\nhuman being, because here corporeal and intellectual beauty may be\ncombined. This is universally admitted and has been so since the first\nrecords of mental activity. The human figure must be regarded as a\nsingle sign since the relation of its parts to each other is fixed and\ninvariable; and further it is the simplest, because of all signs none is\nso quickly recognized by the rudimentary understanding. In the\nAssociated Arts therefore, the highest beauty is to be found in the\nsimplest sign, and this is the one supremely important sign in these\narts, for without it only the lowest forms may be produced.\n\nFrom all this we determine that the higher the beauty in a work of the\nAssociated Arts, the larger is the number of persons capable of\nrecognizing it; so that if we say that something in these arts is\nbeautiful because it pleases, we imply that it is still more beautiful\nif we say that it generally pleases, and the highest of all standards of\nbeauty is involved in the interpretation of Longinus: \"That is sublime\nand beautiful which always pleases, and takes equally with all sorts of\nmen.\" Thus, in the Associated Arts, the general opinion as to the\naesthetic value of a work of high art is both demonstration and law.[27]\n\nIn music the significance of the signs is inverted compared with the\nprogression in the Associated Arts, for while in the latter the highest\nform of beauty is produced by the simplest of single signs, in music the\nhigher forms are the result of complex combinations of signs. The\ngreatest musical compositions consist of an immense variety of signs\narranged in a hitherto unknown order. Thus, while the immature or\nuncultivated mind recognizes the higher forms of beauty before the lower\nin the Associated Arts, it first recognizes the lower forms in music. In\nthe Associated Arts therefore, cultivation results in the further\nappreciation of the forms of art as they descend, and in music as they\nascend.\n\nIn painting, the most uncultivated persons, even those who have never\nexercised their organs of sight except involuntarily, will always admire\nthe higher forms before the lower.[28] They will more highly appreciate\na picture of a Madonna or other beautiful woman than an interior where\nthe scene is comparatively complicated by the presence of several\npersons, and they will prefer the interior to a landscape, and a\nlandscape to a still-life picture. So in sculpture. Other things being\nequal, a figure of a man or woman will be preferred to a group, and the\ngroup to an animal or decorative ornament. An exception must however be\nmade in respect of the sublime reaches of Grecian sculpture in the fifth\nand fourth centuries B.C., owing to an artificial restriction. There is\nvery little of this sculpture to be actually seen, nearly all the more\nimportant works being known only from records or variable copies.\nConsiderable observation, comparison, and study, are necessary before\none can gain a fair conception of the Grecian ideals, and so they are\npractically lost to the bulk of the people.\n\nIn fiction it is common knowledge that the greatest works from the point\nof view of art are always the most popular, as they are invariably the\nmost simple in construction and diction. In considering poetry we must\nexclude the great epics, as those of Homer, Virgil, Dante, and Milton,\nbecause where the actions of supernatural persons are described, the\nsentiments and language employed are so elevated in character, and the\nimages and literary references so numerous, that a certain superior\neducation is required before the sense of the poems can be comprehended.\nSubject to this artificial restriction, the rule holds entirely good.\nShakespeare is at once the greatest and most popular of our poets:\nShelley, Byron, and Burns, are as far ahead of Tennyson and Browning in\npopularity as they are in general beauty and simplicity.\n\nIn music on the other hand the lower forms are the simplest and\nconsequently the most popular. Songs, dance measures, and ditties of\nvarious kinds, are enjoyed by the mass of the people in preference to\nBeethoven and Wagner, a certain cultivation of the aural nerves being\nnecessary for the appreciation of the greater artists. The architect is\nunder the necessity of meeting the ends of utility, but subject to this\nrestriction it is obvious that simplicity must be the keynote to his\ndesign, for the highest quality of beauty in his power to produce is\ngrandeur, and this diminishes with an increase in the complexity of his\nsign combinations. The combination of simplicity with grandeur is the\nfirst form of beauty that would be recognized by the immature eye, and\nconsequently in respect of the general test of art excellence,\narchitecture falls into line with the Associated Arts, and not with\nmusic.\n\nFrom what has been said it will be understood how it is that in the\nAssociated Arts opinion as to the aesthetic value of particular works\nbegins to differ as soon as we leave the recognized masterpieces of the\nfirst rank, and why the divergence widens with every step downwards. As\nthe character of the art is lowered so is diminished the number of\npersons capable of appreciating it. In painting and sculpture this\ndiminution is direct with the increased complexity of the signs used,\nand indirect according as the character of the signs weakens. In poetry\nthe same rule applies generally, but in the lower forms alliance with\nthe art of music may bring about a variation. Only the very lowest forms\nof music may be used with the higher forms of poetry because the poet\nmust have the minimum of restriction when dealing with the character and\nactions of the personages who constitute the principal signs in his\nwork, but as the art descends the musical form becomes of more\nimportance, and the substance more simple. Hence the sensorial beauty of\na lyric may be appreciated more quickly than that of a poem which is, in\nsubstance, of a much higher order, though the kind of beauty recognized\nwill differ in the two cases. But even in the greatest lyric the musical\nform is comparatively very simple, its beauty being recognized without\nspecial cultivation of the aural nerves: thus, subject to the division\nof poetry into its natural grades--the two sections where substance and\nform respectively predominate--the measure of its beauty is the extent\nto which it is generally appreciated. None of the other Associated Arts\nmay be allied with a second art without crippling it as a fine art,\nbecause of the extraordinary limitations forced upon the artist by the\nalliance; and hence in respect of sculpture, painting, and fiction,\nthere is no exception to the rule that the beauty capable of being\nproduced diminishes strictly with an increase in the complexity of the\nsigns used.\n\nThese facts appear sufficiently to establish what may be called the Law\nof General Assent in the Associated Arts; that is to say, in the arts of\npoetry, sculpture, painting, and fiction, the supreme test of the\naesthetic value of a work, is general opinion; and a corollary of this is\nthat the smaller the number of persons to whom a work of one of these\narts appeals, the weaker is the art therein.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nLIMITATIONS OF THE ASSOCIATED ARTS\n\n     The production of beauty in the respective arts--How they differ\n     in scope.\n\n\nThe Associated Arts have all the same method of producing beauty: they\nthrow pictures on the brain.[29] Sensorial or intellectual beauty, or\nboth together, may be exhibited, but in the arts of the painter and\nsculptor the picture is transferred to the brain through the optic\nnerves, and is necessarily presented before the intellect can be brought\nto bear upon the impression. The arts of the poet and the story writer\ninvolve the presentation of a picture representing the complete\ncomposition, and in addition when the work is lengthy, of a series of\npictures each of which strengthens the relief of the general design. The\npainter and sculptor each presents a complete picture, the meaning of\nwhich is immediately determined through the sense of sight, and the\nextent of the beauty is bounded by what can be recognized by this sense.\nAll the signs necessary to perfect the composition are simultaneously\nindicated, the artist exhibiting at one blow a full description of what\nmakes up his thing of beauty. But the poet cannot so produce a picture\nbecause he presents the parts successively and not simultaneously, and\nin the most important of all the forms which he represents--that of the\nhuman countenance--both beauty and expression have to be defined, and\nthe separate elements are indescribable. Consequently, however, we may\ncombine the features of a countenance as described by the poet, we\ncannot throw a picture of the whole upon our minds. A particular form of\nbeauty must be presented to the eye before it can be mentally pictured.\nThe poet therefore does not attempt to dovetail his picture of the human\nform with descriptive details, but relies upon imagery, suggestion, or\nother artifice, to indicate his meaning in the most rapid way\npossible.[30] The novelist is in the same position as the poet in this\nrespect, except that some of the devices of the latter are denied him.\n\nBut although the poet or novelist cannot put together the parts in his\ndescription, he may in certain cases present natural beauty to the mind,\nhis scope depending upon the nature of the parts and the extent to which\nthey depend upon each other for the completion of the picture. Where the\nbeauty of the whole rests upon a combination of perfected parts of form\nonly, as in the case of a horse, then the poet is able to present beauty\nof form notwithstanding that the separate parts are in themselves not\nbeautiful, though the beauty would be that of the type and not of the\nindividual. The beauty of a horse depends upon its possession of a\ncollection of features which have each a particular significance. If we\nare able to recognize from a description that a horse has qualities of\nform and action indicating speed, high spirits, proud bearing, and so\non, and at the same time has a harmonious symmetry in its general\noutline, a beautiful animal is thrown on the mind without difficulty. We\nreadily picture the courser described by Shakespeare in his _Venus and\nAdonis_ as a beautiful horse, but we should not be able to differentiate\nit from the courser of Mazeppa. Where the parts of the thing described\nare in themselves beautiful, then the poet may successfully throw on the\nmind a series of pictures of aesthetic interest. Thus, he may call to the\nimagination parts of a landscape which are in themselves beautiful\nscenes, as for instance a deep gorge opening on to a lake, or a flowery\nvalley, though the parts could not be put together on the mind so that\nthe beauty of the whole may be presented.[31]\n\nSumming up the limits of the Associated Arts in the presentation of the\ntwo kinds of beauty, the poet and the novelist can present general or\nparticular beauty of mind, and general sensorial beauty, but are\npowerless with particular sensorial beauty; the sculptor and painter may\npresent general or particular sensorial beauty, and general, but not\nparticular, beauty of mind. Particular sensorial beauty may be suggested\nby the poet or novelist, by indicating its emotional effect, or by\nsymbols in the form of metaphor; and particular intellectual beauty may\nbe suggested by the sculptor or painter by representing the effect in\nexpression of a particular action, or by symbols in the form of human\nfigures of beauty.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 8 (See page 139)\n  Raphael's Sistine Madonna, with the Face of the Central Figure in\n  Fragonard's \"The Pursuit\" Substituted for that of the Virgin]\n\nBut while the poet cannot throw upon the brain a particular form of\nhuman beauty, he may suggest a greater beauty than that which the\npainter or sculptor can depict, and further produce emotional effects\nrelating to spiritual and human actions and passions which are beyond\nthe plastic arts: hence his art is capable of the highest reaches. Next\nto him come the sculptor and painter, for they may represent ideal forms\nwhich must be excluded from fiction. Theoretically, painting and\nsculpture are equal in respect of the production of human beauty, for\nthere is no form designed by the one which may not be presented by the\nother; but practically the painter cannot attain to the height of the\nsculptor in the representation of ideal beauty.[a]\n\n  [a] See Chapter IX.\n\nThe sculptor and painter are at a disadvantage compared with the poet\nand novelist, for the limitation of their arts compels them to confine\ntheir imaginations to structural work. Each of the Associated Arts\nconsists nominally of three parts: (_a_) the scheme, or idea, or fable;\n(_b_) the design or invention[32]; (_c_) the execution. In a\nrepresentation of action, the painter or sculptor can only depict a\nparticular moment of it, neither the beginning nor the end being\nvisible. He must therefore choose an action of which the beginning and\nend are known, for while either may be suggested in a simple design,\nboth cannot be implied so that the whole story is obvious. He has\nconsequently to take his moment of action from a fact or fable in one of\nthe literary arts, or from actual life experience.[33] Where no\nparticular action is indicated, as in many pastoral and interior scenes\nin painting, or ornamental figures in sculpture, the conception and\ninvention are one. Thus, the painter or sculptor is confined to only two\nparts of his art, the design and execution. While therefore the scope of\nthe poet and novelist is as unlimited as the sea of human motives and\npassions, that of the painter and sculptor is held within strictly\nmarked bounds.\n\nAll the Associated Arts are alike in that they cannot be specially used\nfor moral or social purposes without suffering a marked deterioration.\nThis is because of the limitations imposed upon the artist. His wings\nare clipped: his imagination is confined within a narrow groove: he is\nconverted from a master to a slave. Hence no great work of one of these\narts has been produced where the conception of the artist was bound by\nthe necessity of pointing a moral, or of conforming to some idea of\nutility.[34]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nDEGREES OF BEAUTY IN THE PAINTER'S ART\n\n\nThe degrees of beauty which the art of the painter can exhibit appear to\nbe, in order of their value, as follows:\n\n1. That which appeals to the senses with form, and to the mind with\nexpression, above the possibility of life experience. This double beauty\ncan only be found in ideals, and the real cannot be associated with it\nexcept as accessory. The highest art of the painter is therefore\nconfined to sacred, mythological, and symbolical subjects.\n\n2. That which appeals to the senses through representation of the human\nform, without, or with only partial idealization, and to the mind\nthrough the indication in expression of high abstract qualities. This\nsection comprises subjects of profane history, and high class\nportraiture. It varies from the succeeding section in that the artist\nmay represent the human being as he ought to be, or would be with the\nhigher physical and abstract qualities emphasized, or in certain cases,\nwith these qualities added.\n\n3. That which appeals to the senses through the harmony of tone and\ndesign, and to the mind through the representation of human action\nwithin the compass of life experience. This section comprises interiors\nand exteriors relating to daily life and labour, and portraiture which\nis merely accurate imitation of features. It differs from the previous\nsection in that it represents the human being as he is, and not as he\nought to be.\n\n4. That which appeals to the senses through harmony of colour and\ndesign, in respect of the imitation and the things imitated, in addition\nto pleasing because it excites admiration of the skill in imitation.\nThis section comprises landscape, flowers, fine plumaged birds, and\ncertain symmetrical animal forms.\n\n5. That which appeals to the senses through harmony of tone and design,\nand indirectly to the mind through association of ideas connected with\nthe other arts; in addition to pleasing because of the excellent\nimitation, and possibly because of the beauty of the things imitated.\nThis section comprises paintings of things connected with the other\narts, and which are neither beautiful nor displeasing, such as books and\nmusical instruments; or which are imitations of products of another art,\nas plate, marble reliefs, or architectural forms.\n\n6. That which appeals to the senses through harmony of tone and design,\nin addition to pleasing because of the excellent imitation. This class\nof beauty comprises paintings of objects which in themselves are not\nbeautiful, as vegetables, kitchen utensils, and certain animals; or\nwhich are even repellent, as dead animals.\n\n7. That which appeals to the senses through harmony of colour, the\ndesign having no beauty in itself. This form of art, which is the lowest\nin the scale of the painter, is only adapted for the simplest formal\ndecoration.\n\nThe first three sections may produce both sensorial and intellectual\nbeauty; the others only sensorial. Limited abstract qualities are\nassociated with certain animals in nature, but cannot be indicated in\nthe uncombined art of the painter.\n\nBeyond these sections, there are classes of pictures which do not belong\nto the pure art of the painter, namely, those executed for use and not\nfor beauty[35]; those painted to illustrate sports, or to record passing\nevents; certain allegorical paintings; and those works which, while they\ncannot represent the ideal, require the assistance of another art for\ntheir interpretation; as for instance, incidents to illustrate\nparticular morals or stories; scenes from the drama other than tragedy;\nportraits of persons in character; humorous subjects, and so on. Such\nworks, on account of the restrictions imposed on the artist, can exhibit\nbut limited and fleeting beauty. Elsewhere they are noticed under the\nheading of \"Secondary Art.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nEXPRESSION. PART I.--THE IDEAL\n\n\nThe human being is the only sign in the arts capable of idealization,\nbecause, while its parts are fixed and invariable, it is the only sign\nas to which there is a universal agreement in respect of the value of\nabstract qualities connected with it. There can be no ideal of the human\nform separately, because this implies expression which results from\nabstract qualities. Nor can there be an ideal combination of these\nqualities, except a general expression covering all the virtues and\neliminating all the passions, which expression cannot be disassociated\nfrom form. The ideal human being is therefore a perfect generalization\nof the highest conceivable qualities of form and expression.\n\nNecessarily in matters of art, when we use the term \"Ideal,\" we mean a\ngeneral ideal, that is to say, an ideal that would be accepted as such\nby the general body of men and women. From the fact that the sensorial\nnerves in all persons are alike in form and character, and that they act\nin the same way under like conditions, it follows that there must be a\ngeneral agreement as to degrees of beauty, and thus a common conception\nof the ideal human being. Experience has demonstrated this at all\ntimes, both in respect of the general ideal we are now discussing, and\nof particular ideals involving special types and characters; and so\ninvariable is this experience that the progression towards similar\nideals has all the force of law.[36] This general agreement is subject\nto certain restrictions. The first is in regard to form in which the\nimagination cannot proceed beyond experience. The component parts of an\nideal form cannot include any which are higher in quality than those\nwhich have come within the experience of the person compounding the\nideal. Secondly, in regard to abstract qualities, the estimation of\nthese depends upon intelligence and education, and the accumulated\nexperience of these things, which we measure in terms of degrees of\ncivilization. Consequently, different interpretations would be placed\nupon the phrase \"the highest conceivable qualities of form and\nexpression,\" by the various races of mankind. According as the\nexperience was greater, so would the ideal form be higher in type; and\nas the civilization was more advanced, so would the abstract qualities\nexhibited be more perfect in character. But among civilized peoples what\nis, within our understanding, the ultimate form of the ideal, would not\nchange in respect of abstract qualities, and as to form would only vary\nin comparatively insignificant details with the width of experience.\n\nIt is obvious that there can be only one general ideal covering\nperfection of form and mind, and this being beyond human experience, can\nonly be associated with a spiritual personage, and necessarily with the\nhighest conceivable spiritual personage--the Supreme Being. In its\nabsolute perfection it may be significant of the Supreme Being of any\nreligion of civilized peoples, but not of other spiritual personages to\nwhom such perfection may also be attributed, because absolute power can\nonly be implied in one such personage. This power cannot be indicated in\nan ideal expression, and hence there is no alternative but to leave the\none general ideal to the Supreme Being.\n\nThere are only two religions in which an ideal human form has been used\nin art to typify the Supreme Being, and these are the ancient Grecian\nand the Christian; but the one general ideal referred to has only been\nused by the Greeks. The Christian conception of the Deity is far nobler\nthan that which the Greeks had of Zeus, but in art nothing greater than\nthe Grecian ideal has been executed. As a type of an Almighty Power the\nbest Christian representation is distinctly inferior, and it must\nnecessarily be so because convention requires that a particular feature\nof expression must be indicated therein which is not compulsory in the\nGrecian ideal. Forgiveness of sins is a cardinal principle in the\nChristian doctrine, and consequently whatever the character of\nexpression given to the Deity, a certain gentleness has to be exhibited\nwhich materially limits the comprehensive nature of the expression. The\nGrecian ideal, as sculptured, strictly denied any particular\ncharacteristic, while covering every good quality, and hence for the\nChristian it is not so suitable as the accepted modification.\n\nAmong the Greeks, ideal types of the gods and goddesses other than\nZeus varied considerably. Those representations that have come down\nto us are usually deviations from the Zeus type with certain special\ncharacteristics, though often they can only be distinguished from\neach other by symbols. They are above human life and so cannot be\nappropriately associated with human surroundings. Ideals appertaining to\nChristianity are practically fixed by convention, or are interchangeable\nwith ideals in allegorical and symbolical art.\n\nArt is not concerned with what are termed ideal physical qualities\nbecause beauty is its first consideration. A form with powerful limbs\nand muscles may be generally accepted as an ideal form of strength, but\nthese very limbs and muscles would detract from the beauty of the\nfigure, and so separately such a form would be inferior art.\n\nAn ideal can only be applied to excellence. In art, moral or physical\ndeformity cannot be exaggerated for the purpose of emphasis or contrast\nwithout lessening the deformity or injuring the art. In the work of the\ngreater artists the former result follows; in that of less skilful\nartists, the latter. Homer could not deal with evil characters without\nexciting a certain sympathy with them, thus diminishing the deformity in\nthe minds of his readers. There is a measure of nobility about\nShakespeare's bad men, and Milton distinctly ennobled Satan in\nportraying his evil powers and influence. In painting and sculpture\nthere is no place for hideous forms of any description, for they either\nrevolt the imagination and so neutralize the appreciation of the\nbeautiful figures present in the composition, or they verge upon the\nridiculous and disturb the mind with counteracting influences. With rare\nexceptions the greater artists have not failed to recognize this\ntruth,[37] and in respect of the very greatest men, no really hideous\nfigure is to be found in any of their works, if we except certain\ninstances where the artist had to comply with fixed rules and\nconditions, as for example in Michelangelo's Last Judgment where evil\nbeings had perforce to be presented, and could only be shown as\ndeformities.\n\nAttempts to emphasize ugliness by artists of inferior rank result in the\nfantastic or the ludicrous, as in the representation of evil spirits on\nthe old Etruscan tombs, and the whimsical imps of the Breughels and the\nyounger Teniers.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nEXPRESSION. PART II.--CHRISTIAN IDEALS\n\n     The Deity--Christ--The Madonna--The Madonna and Child.\n\n\nIn considering the scope for the exhibition of ideals in art, it should\nbe remembered that ideal types of some of the principal personages in\nreligious and mythological history have been already fixed by great\nartists, and it is impossible to depart from them without producing what\nwould appear to be abnormal representations. Homer led the way with\noccasional hints of the presumed physical appearance of some of the\nleading deities of Greece, and except in the case of Aphrodite the later\nGrecian sculptors closely followed him. The Zeus of Homer as improved by\nPhidias has been the model of this deity in respect of form for nearly\nevery succeeding sculptor to this day, while it was also the model which\nsuggested the Christian Father as represented by the first artists of\nthe Renaissance, though, as already indicated, the majestic dignity of\nthe Phidian Zeus was partly sacrificed by the Christian artists. Phidias\nin fact created a type which, so far as human foresight can judge, must\never guide the artistic mind, whether portraying the mighty son of\nKronos, or the God of the Christians. Only very rarely nowadays is the\nChristian Deity pictured in art, and as time goes on His introduction in\nhuman shape in a painting will become still more rare in conformity with\nchanging religious ideas and practices; but now and hereafter any artist\nwho contemplates the representation, must, voluntarily or involuntarily,\nturn to the frescoes of Raphael and Michelangelo for his guide.\n\nThere is no tradition upon which to base an actual portrait of Christ.\nFor the first four centuries A.D., when He was represented in art,\nit was usually by means of symbols, or as a young man without beard, but\nthere are some Roman relics of the fifth century remaining in which He\nis depicted much in the later generally accepted type, with short beard\nand flowing hair. During the long centuries of the Dark Age, when\nreligious art was practically confined to the Byzantine Greeks, Christ\nwas almost invariably portrayed with a long face and emaciated features\nand limbs, as the epitome of sadness and sorrow. This expression was\nmodified as the arts travelled to the north and west of Europe, and\ngradually His face began to assume more regularity and beauty. Then came\nCimabue to sow the seed of the Renaissance, and with him the ideal of\nChrist was changed to a perfect man of flesh and blood. A century or\nmore was occupied in establishing this ideal, but it was so established,\nand has maintained its position to this day.[38]\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 9 (See page 138)\n  Raphael's Virgin of the Rose with the Face of \"Profane Love\" in\n  Titian's Picture Substituted for that of the Virgin]\n\nThis ideal represents the Saviour as a man of about thirty-three\nyears--His age at the Crucifixion. He wears flowing hair with a short\nbeard and usually a moustache. His face is rather long, often oval; the\nfeatures have a perfect regularity, and the expression is commonly one\nof patient resignation. Naturally His body must appear well nourished,\notherwise corporeal beauty cannot be expressed. This is the type which\nhas been used since the height of the Renaissance, though there have\nbeen a few exceptional representations. Thus, the face of Christ in\nLionardo's Last Supper at Milan is that of a beardless young man of some\ntwenty-five years[a] and Raphael in an early picture shows Him\nbeardless, but gives Him an age of about thirty.[b] Some early Flemish\nartists also rendered Him beardless at times, notably the Maitre de\nFlemalle, Van der Weyden, and Quentin Matsys. Michelangelo in his Last\nJudgment represents the Saviour sitting in judgment as a robust, stern,\ncommanding figure, beardless, and with an expression and bearing\napparently serving the idea of Justice.[c] Strange to say the artist\ngives a very similar face to St. Stephen in the same series of frescoes.\nA still more unusual representation is that of Francisco di Giorgio, who\ngives Christ the appearance of an Apollo,[d] while Bramantino depicts\nHis face worn with heavy lines.[e] In one picture Marco Basaiti shows\nHim as a young man with long hair but without beard, and in another with\na thick beard without moustache.[f] There was considerable variation in\nthe type among the Venetians of the sixteenth century, but not in\nimportant features, and since then very few artists indeed have ventured\nto depart from the ideal above described. The only notable exception in\nrecent times is in a work by Burne-Jones who represents Christ as a\nbeardless youth, though indicating the wound to St. Thomas.[g] It is\nsupposed that the artist presumed that the Person of Christ underwent a\ncomplete change after the Resurrection.\n\n  [a] And in the drawing for the picture at the Brera.\n\n  [b] Christ Blessing at the Brescia Gallery.\n\n  [c] In the Sistine Chapel frescoes.\n\n  [d] Christ bereft of His clothes before the Crucifixion, Sienna\n        Academy.\n\n  [e] Christ, Mayno Collection.\n\n  [f] The Dead Christ, and Calling of the Children of Zebedee, Academy,\n        Venice.\n\n  [g] Dies Domini.\n\nIt is evident that the ideal Christ as established by the Italians can\nscarcely be improved upon in art within the prescribed limitations.\nChrist having lived as an actual man, His representation must be within\nthe bounds of possible experience; and since He died at the age of\nthirty-three, intellectual power cannot be suggested in His countenance,\nfor this in life means an expression implying large experience warranted\nonly by mature age. The representation is therefore confined to that of\na man who, while exhibiting a healthy regularity of form and feature,\nhas lost all sense of earthly pleasure. The beauty achieved by this type\nis negative, the only marked quality being a suggestion of sadness\nwhich, in painting, is necessarily present in all expression where an\nunconcern with human instincts and passions is depicted. The Italians in\ntheir representation of Christ were thus unable to reach the height of\nthe Greek divine portrayals. They were confined to earth, while the\nGreek figures were symbols of spiritual forms which were pure products\nof the imagination. Giotto and his successors sought a physically\nperfect man with all purely human features in expression eliminated. The\nGreeks, even when representing divinities below Zeus, generalized all\nhuman attributes, excluding nothing but the exceptional. They embodied\nin their forms, truths acknowledged by the whole world; summed up human\nlife to the contentment of all men: there was nothing in their\ndivinities which would prevent their acceptance as spiritual symbols in\nall religions of civilized peoples. To them human instincts were sacred:\nall human passions could be ennobled: everything in the natural\nprogression of life came within the purview, and under the protection,\nof the gods. So the course of their art was definite: there was never a\ndifference as to the goal, for it was universal.\n\nFrom the point of view of the development of art the ideal Christ has\nbeen of little importance compared with the ideal Madonna, though here\nalso the Italians aimed for a particular instead of a general type. They\nwanted a living woman with the form and features of a pulsating mother;\na woman of ordinary life in fact, but infinitely superior in physical\nbeauty, and endowed with the highest grace that their imaginations could\nconceive and their hands execute. This ideal seemed to germinate with\nCimabue, but an immense advance upon him was made by Giotto who was\nunsurpassed in the representation of the Holy Mother for more than a\ncentury. But the ideal was yet purely formal and continued so till past\nthe middle of the fifteenth century, both in Italy and Flanders. Giotto\nwas then excelled by many artists, but the Madonnas they produced,\nthough often very beautiful, are not humanly attractive. They are on the\nside of the Angels; have never been women evidently, and are far, far\naway from the human type with tingling veins and heaving breath. Filippo\nLippi marked the border line between this type of Madonna, and the\nadvanced pattern produced by the series of great artists of the latter\npart of the fifteenth century. But with Lionardo, Ghirlandaio,\nBotticelli, and the rest, the Madonna was scarcely an ideal woman.\nLiving persons were commonly taken as models, and although the portraits\nwere no doubt \"improved,\" they have little connection with the ideal\nwhich the artists evidently had in mind. The very life which the artist\ntransfers to canvas in a portrait is destructive of the ideal, for it is\na particular life with evidence of particular emotions and passions from\nwhich the Madonna should be free.\n\nA mighty barrier must be passed before a woman is translated on canvas\ninto the type of Madonna sought by the first Renaissance artists. She\nmust be a woman of the earth; a woman who has grown up amidst human\nsurroundings from infancy to girlhood, and from girlhood to womanhood;\nwith human aspirations and sympathies, and experience of joys and\ntrials: she must have all these, and as well have become a mother; and\nyet with human beauty, her countenance must be such that by no stretch\nof the imagination can the possibility of desire be suggested. This was\nthe problem, and certainly only a genius of the highest order could\narrive at a solution, for the task appears on the face of it to be\nalmost superhuman. But Raphael succeeded in accomplishing it, and his\nachievement will stand for all time as one of the greatest epoch-making\nevents in history. Even Michelangelo, who created so many superb forms,\nnever succeeded with an ideal suitable for a Madonna.[39]\n\nIt is clear that in reaching for his ideal, Raphael did not strive for\nan expression relating to the spiritual. His purpose was to eliminate\nfrom the features anything which might possibly be construed as\nindicating earthly desires, and yet retain the highest conceivable human\nbeauty. With this double object contentment is a quality in expression\nwhich is indispensable, and this Raphael was careful to give, sometimes\nemphasizing it with a suggestion of happiness. It is not possible to go\nfurther with an expression which is to generalize the highest human\nphysical and abstract qualities, while keeping the figure within the\nrange of apparent feasible realization in life. The result was ideal but\nnot exclusive. It is a universal type, and is suited to the Madonna\nbecause there is nothing humanly higher within our comprehension; but it\nhas a further general import which is dealt with elsewhere.\n\nAlthough the aim achieved by Raphael must necessarily be the goal of all\nartists in the representation of the Madonna, it is of course not\nessential that he should be accepted as the only guide to her form. Her\nfeatures may vary indefinitely so long as the ideal is maintained, and\nRaphael himself painted no two Madonnas with the same features. But\ncertain traditions must be observed, however much one may depart from\nthe actual circumstances of her life. The first is in respect of her\npresumed age. In pictures dealing with her life soon after marriage, as\nfor instance, the Nativity and the Flight into Egypt, the Madonna is\ninvariably represented as many years older than she appears in\nAnnunciation subjects, though only a year or so actually passed between\nthe respective events. The reason for this is obvious. She must be shown\nwith the bloom of a matured woman. The highest form of nobility cannot\nbe disassociated from wisdom and experience, which could not be\nindicated in the countenance of a girl in her teens. Innocence and\npurity may be present, and a certain majesty even, but our conception of\nthe Madonna as a woman involves the triumph over known evils, the full\nknowledge of right and wrong, and the consciousness of a supreme\nposition above the possibility of sin. Hence in all representations of\nthe Madonna at the Nativity and afterwards, she must be shown at an age\nsuggesting the fullest knowledge of good and evil.\n\nWhile, between the Annunciation and incidents occurring during the\ninfancy of Christ, many years must be presumed to have passed, from this\nlatter period on, the Madonna must be supposed to have aged very little,\nif at all, right up to the Crucifixion. It is not often that we find her\nincluded in a design illustrating the life of Christ between His infancy\nand the Death Scene, a fact probably due to the age difficulty. In the\nexceptions her face is often partly or wholly hidden. But in scenes of\nthe Crucifixion, where the Virgin is almost invariably introduced,\nartists of all periods, with few exceptions, have been careful to avoid\nsuggesting the full presumed age. Commonly the age indicated is between\ntwenty-five and thirty years, but as the face is always pale, and often\nsomewhat drawn, her comparatively youthful appearance is not\nconspicuous. Obviously under no circumstances should lines be present in\nthe features, for this would suggest a physical decay not in conformity\nwith Christian ideas.[40] Even in pictures relating to her death, which\nis presumed to have occurred at an age between fifty and sixty years,\nher face is shown with perfectly regular and smooth features, though an\nextreme pallor may be painted. But from the point of view of art, the\nVirgin must be regarded as an accessory in works relating to the\nCrucifixion, for to throw her into prominence would result in dividing\nthe attention of the observer of the picture on first inspection, and so\nlessening the art. In any case she must be painted with an expression of\ngrief, and hence an unalloyed ideal of transcendent beauty is out of the\nquestion.\n\nThe custom of representing the Madonna in costume and surroundings\nindicating a higher social level than that in which she actually moved,\nis now firmly established, and cannot be departed from without lowering\nthe ideal. A woman in a lowly position of life, who is compelled to bear\nall the responsibilities of a home, with the care of a husband and\nchild, is seldom seen except in the performance of household duties. We\ncannot see her without associating her in our minds with toil and\npossible privation, and we naturally expect that the effect of these\nwill be indicated in her expression and general bearing. If away from\nher home her costume would usually declare her position, while habits of\nmind connected with her daily occupation commonly engender mannerisms in\nair and gait which support the inference drawn from the character of her\nattire. It would appear anomalous to paint a woman so situated with such\nbeauty of form and expression that she appears to have never experienced\nearthly cares of any kind, much less the long repeated daily worries\nconsequent upon the charge of a poor household. Perfect beauty of form\nbeing essential in the representation of the Madonna, she must be\npainted amidst surroundings conformable with the supposition that she is\nfree from earthly responsibilities, and that her mind is entirely\noccupied with the boundless joy and happiness arising from the\ncontemplation of the divine Mission of her Son.[41]\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 10 (See Page 139)\n  Raphael's Holy Family (Madrid), with the Face of Luini's\n  Salome Substituted for that of the Virgin]\n\nThe difficulty in painting the Madonna is complicated when the Infant\nChrist is introduced, because of the liability of the Child to interfere\nwith a fine presentation of her figure. A similar problem was met with\nby the early Greeks, and doubtless they dealt with it in their paintings\nas in their sculptures, a few of which, showing an adult holding a\nchild, have come down to us. These represent the child reduced in size\nas far as possible, and carried at the side of the adult figure.[a] A\nlike system was followed by most of the Byzantine workers, and it is\nvery noticeable in some of the fine French sculpture of the thirteenth\ncentury.[b] In the same period Giovanni Pisano in sculpture,[c] and\nCimabue in painting,[d] maintained the tradition in Italy, and in the\ncentury following, Giotto,[e] Duccio,[f] Lorenzetto,[g] and others,\noften adopted the plan. Towards the middle of the fifteenth century, the\nrelative importance attached to the Child in the group generally\nincreased, and by the end of it, the old practice had been almost\nentirely abandoned. Meanwhile the artists had some hard problems to\nmeet. The first was as to the size of the Child. It appeared to be\ngenerally agreed that an older Child should be represented than had been\nthe custom, though a few artists held back, notably Fra Angelico, while\nin sculpture, Donatello maintained his habit of moulding the Child as\nonly a few weeks old. With an increased age of the Child, the difficulty\nof securing repose for the group was enhanced, for it seemed to be\nproper with a child past its infancy, that it should be pictured as\nengaged in one of the charming simple actions common to childhood. These\nquestions were settled in different ways according to the genius and\ntemperament of the artists. A few of them, as Mantegna,[h] Lorenzo\nCosta,[i] and Montagna,[j] gave the Child an age of two years or more,\nand in some of their designs the figures seem to be of equal\nsignificance, Mantegna and Montagna in several examples actually\nstanding the Child in the Virgin's lap with the heads touching each\nother.\n\n  [a] See the Olympian Hermes of Praxiteles, and Irene and Pluto after\n        Cephisodostus at Munich.\n\n  [b] Groups in the Southern and Western porches of Amiens Cathedral.\n\n  [c] Madonna and Child, Arena Chapel, Padua.\n\n  [d] Groups at the Florence Academy and the Louvre.\n\n  [e] Florence Academy.\n\n  [f] National Gallery, London.\n\n  [g] San Francisco, Assisi.\n\n  [h] Madonna and Angels, at Milan, and other works.\n\n  [i] Coronation of the Virgin, Bologna.\n\n  [j] Enthronement of the Virgin, Brera, Milan.\n\nThe plans usually adopted by the greatest masters, were, to present the\nmaximum repose with the Child sitting in the lap of the Virgin; or to\nplace Him apart from her, and engaged in some slight action; or to show\nHim in the arms of the Virgin, either held at the side, or in front,\nwith the Virgin more or less in profile. In all of these schemes the\nserene contemplation of the Holy Mother is practically undisturbed. In\nhis many groups of the Virgin and Child, and of the Holy Family, Raphael\nonly varied twice from these plans,[a] and in both the exceptions the\nChild reclines across the lap of the Virgin, so that very little of her\nfigure is hidden. Titian has the Child standing by her side,[b] or held\naway from her, and in one example the Virgin is placing Him in the hands\nof St. Joseph.[c] Correggio, when away from the influence of Mantegna,\nusually showed the Child held apart from the Mother, or placed on the\nfloor, or on a bench. It is a common device to show the Child on the\nlap of the Virgin, but leaning over to take a flower or other object\noffered Him,[d] and numerous artists allow Him to play around\nseparately.[e] In Holbein's fine group at Augsburg, the Child stands\nbetween the Virgin and St. Anne, and another German painter shows Him\nheld up by the same personages, but clear from both of them.[f] Murillo\ncommonly stands the Child at the side of the Virgin, but in one picture\nadopts the novel method of placing Him in the arms of St. Joseph.[g]\n\n  [a] Madonna and Child, Bridgewater Coll., England; and same group with\n        St. John, Berlin.\n\n  [b] Madonna of the Cherries, Imperial Gallery, Vienna.\n\n  [c] Meeting of Joachim and Anna, Bridgwater Coll., England.\n\n  [d] Filipino Lippi's Madonna and Angels, Corsini Palace, Florence.\n\n  [e] Luca Signorelli's group at Munich, and Bonfiglio's at Perugia.\n\n  [f] Hans Fries, National Museum, Nuremburg.\n\n  [g] Holy Family, Petrograd.\n\nWhen the Child is shown distinctly apart from the Virgin, or leaning\naway from her lap, great care is necessary in avoiding strength in the\naction, otherwise it will draw attention away from the Virgin. A notable\nexample of this defect is in a picture by Parmigiano, where the Child\nleans over and has his head brought close to that of a kneeling Saint\nwho is caressing Him, the effect being most disturbing.[a] Bramantino\nshows the Child in an extraordinary attitude, for He holds His head\nabove His arms without any apparent reason, the action confusing the\ndesign.[b] Many artists represent Him in the act of reaching out his\nhand for flowers, without choosing for the moment of portrayal, an\ninstant of transition from one part of the action to another,[c] a point\nrarely overlooked by the first masters.[d] Occasionally variety is\ngiven in the introduction of nursery duties, as for instance, washing\nthe Child,[e] but these are inappropriate for reasons already indicated,\napart from the over strong action necessarily exhibited in such designs.\nNor should the Child have an unusual expression, as this will\nimmediately catch the eye of the observer. In one work Del Sarto\nactually makes Him laugh,[f] and a modern artist gives Him an expression\nof fear.[g] It is questionable whether Masaccio[h] and others (including\nA. della Robbia and Rossellino in sculpture) did not go too far in\nportraying the Child with a finger in its mouth, for although such an\nincident is common with children, in this case it seems opposed to\npropriety. Generally the first artists have striven to free the figure\nof the Virgin as far as possible, and this is in conformity with first\nprinciples, for it simplifies the view of the chief figure in the\ncomposition. In all cases repose should be the keynote of the design.\n\n  [a] Madonna and Child with Saints, Bologna Academy.\n\n  [b] Virgin with a Turban, Brera, Milan.\n\n  [c] As in B. da Bagnacavallo's Holy Family, Bologna; and Boltraffio's\n        Holy Family, Milan.\n\n  [d] See Titian's Madonna with SS. Anthony and John, Uffizi Gallery.\n\n  [e] Giulio Romano's Holy Family, Dresden.\n\n  [f] Holy Family, Hermitage, Petrograd.\n\n  [g] Uhde's The Three Magi, Magdeburg Museum.\n\n  [h] Madonna enthroned, Sutton Coll., England.\n\nThere are no general ideals in Christian art other than those mentioned.\nThe presumed occupants of the Celestial regions beyond these Personages,\nare painted as the fancy of the artist may dictate, subject only to the\nlimitations of the accepted Christian doctrines. There are certain\nconventions in respect of Angels and Saints, but they are by no means\nstrict; and for the Old Testament prophets, Michelangelo's work in the\nSistine Chapel is commonly taken as a guide. It is scarcely likely that\nhis examples will ever be exceeded in majestic beauty.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nEXPRESSION. PART III.--CLASSICAL IDEALS\n\n     Ideals of the Greeks--Aphrodite--Hera--Demeter--Athena--Apollo--\n     Diana--Neptune--Mars--Mercury--Bacchus--Vulcan--General classical\n     compositions.\n\n\nWhat human being can appropriately describe the great ideals in art of\nancient Greece? Above us all they stand, seemingly as upon the pinnacle\nof the universal mind, reflecting the collective human soul, and\nexhibiting the concentrated essence of human nature. The best of men and\nwomen of all ages is combined in these ideal heads, which look from an\nendless past to an eternal future; which embody every passion and every\nvirtue; every religion and every philosophy; all wisdom and all\nknowledge. They are ideal gods and goddesses, but are independent of\nlegends and history. They represent no mythological deities except in\nname, and least of all do they assort with the deities of Homer and\nHesiod. In all other religions the ideals expressed in art fail entirely\nto reach the height of the general conceptions, and are far below the\nspiritual beings as depicted in the sacred books; but the Grecian ideals\nas recorded in stone are so far beyond the legendary gods of the ancient\npoets, that we are unable to pass from the stone to the literature\nwithout an overwhelming feeling of astonishment at the contrast. It is\nunfortunate that we are powerless to re-establish these ideals\ndefinitely, for the originals have been mostly lost; nevertheless the\nancient copies, a few contemporary complete sculptures, and many\nglorious fragments; as well as intimate descriptions and repeated\neulogies, often reaching to hyperbole, of eminent men, expressed over a\nsuccession of centuries when the great works were still exposed to\nview--all this assembled evidence indelibly stamps upon our minds the\nnature of the ideals; gives us a clear impression of the most profound\nconceptions that have emanated from the human brain.\n\nThe people who accomplished these great monuments seem to have thought\nonly in terms of the universe. They did not seek for the embodiment of\ngoodness, nobility, and charity, perfection in which qualities we regard\nas divine, but they aimed at a majesty which included all these things;\nwhich comprehended nothing but the supreme in form and mind; and with an\nall-reaching knowledge of the human race, stood outside of it, but\ncovered it with reflected glory, as the sun stands ever away from the\nplanets but illumines them all. The wonder is not that these ideals were\ncreated in the minds of the Greeks, for there is no boundary to the\nimagination, but that minds could be found to set them down in design,\nand hands to mould and shape them in clay and stone; and that many minds\nand hands could do these things in the same epoch. That these\nsculptured forms have never been equalled is not wonderful; that they\nnever will be surpassed is as certain as that death is the penalty of\nlife. So firmly have they become grafted into the minds of men as things\nunapproachable in beauty, that they have themselves been converted into\ngeneral ideals towards which all must climb who attempt to scale the\nheights of art. The greatest artists known to us since the light of\nGreek intelligence flickered away, have been content to study these\nmarble remains, and to cull from them a suggestion here, and an idea\nthere, with which to adorn their own creations. Indeed it is clear that\nfrom the time of Niccolo Pisano, who leaped at one bound to celebrity\nafter studying the antique sculptures at Pisa, through Giotto to the\nfifteenth and sixteenth century giants, there was hardly a great artist\nwho was not more or less dependent upon Grecian art for his skill, and\nthe most enduring of them all--Donatello, Raphael, Michelangelo, Titian,\nCorreggio--were the most deeply versed in the art.[42]\n\nBellori affirmed that the Roman school, of which Raphael and\nMichelangelo were the greatest masters, derived its principles from the\nstudy of the statues and other works of the ancients.[a] This is not\nstrictly exact, but it is near the truth, and certain it is that\nMichelangelo, the first sculptor known to the world since the Dark Age,\nwillingly bowed his head before the ancient triumphs of art presented to\nhis view. And yet he did not see the Parthenon sculptures and other\nnumerous works of the time of Phidias, with the many beautiful examples\nof the next century which have been made available since his day. What\nhe would have said in the presence of the glories of the Parthenon, with\nthe Hermes of Praxiteles and the rest of the collection from Olympia, is\nhard to conjecture, though it may well be suggested that they would have\nprompted him to still higher work than any he accomplished. With these\nstupendous ideals in front of us, it seems almost unnecessary to talk of\nthe principles of art. Their very perfection indicates that they were\nbuilt up on eternal principles, so that in fact and in theory they form\nthe surest guide for the sculptor and painter.\n\n  [a] _Le Vite de' Pittori, Scultori, e Architteti moderni._\n\nBut how is the painter to use these ancient gods and goddesses, for the\ntime has gone by to gather them together on the heights of Olympus, or\nto associate them with human frailties? Surely he may leave aside the\nfables of the poets, and try to portray the deities as the Grecian\npopulace saw them in their hearts--noble forms of adoration, or images\nof terror, objects of curses veneered with prayer and of offerings\nwrapped in fear. The artist has not now to be troubled with pangs of\ndread, nor will his imagination be limited by sacerdotal scruples. The\nrivalry of Praxiteles need not concern him, for there are wondrous\nideals yet to be wrought, which will be comprehended and loved even in\nthese days of hastening endeavour. But the painter must leave alone the\nZeus and the variation of this god in the pictured Christian Deity, for\nthe type is so firmly established in the minds of men that it would be\nuseless to depart from it. The other important Grecian deities with\nwhich art is concerned may be shortly considered from the point of view\nof the painter, though they are naturally of far more importance to the\nsculptor because it is beyond the power of the painter to suggest an\nillusion of divine form, since he must associate his figures with human\naccessories.[43]\n\n\nAPHRODITE\n\nAstarte, Aphrodite, Venus, Spirit of Love, or by whatever name we call\nher; the one eternal divinity recognized by all ages, all races; the\nuniversal essence whose fragrance intoxicates every soul: the one queen\nbefore whom all must bow: the one imperial autocrat sure of everlasting\nrule--sure of the devoted allegiance of every living thing to the end of\ntime! Such is Aphrodite, for that is the name under which we seem to\nlove her best--the Aphrodite of the Greeks, without the vague terrifying\naspect of Astarte, or the more earthly qualities of the Roman Venus. Who\nloves not the Aphrodite sprung from the foam of the sea; shading the sun\non the Cytheran isle with the light of her glory; casting an eternal\nhallow over the groves of Cyprus; flooding the god-like mind of Greece\nwith her sparkling radiance? What conception of her beauty can rise high\nenough when the grass in astonishment grows beneath her feet on desert\nrocks; when lions and tigers gently purr as she passes, and the rose and\nthe myrtle throw out their scented blossoms to sweeten the air? Hera\nand Athena leave the heavens to help man fight and kill: Aphrodite\ndescends to soothe despairing hearts, and kindle kindly flame in the\nbreast of the loveless. The spear and the shield with the crested helmet\nshe knows not, nor the fiery coursers accustomed to the din of strife.\nSerenely she traverses space at the call of a lover's prayer, her car a\nbower of celestial blooms. From the ends of the earth fly the sparrows\nto draw it, till their myriads hide the sun, and mortals learn that the\ntime has come when their thoughts may turn to the spirit of love.\n\nThis was the Aphrodite of Grecian legend and poetry, if we except Homer\nand Hesiod. It is the type of the goddess whom Sappho implored, and must\nbe accepted as the general ideal of the Grecian worshippers who desired\ndivine mediation when troubled with pangs of the heart. But it was not\nthe type of Phidias and his school, for Phidias passed over Hesiod and\npurified Homer, representing Aphrodite with the stately mien and lofty\nbearing of a queen of heaven, daughter of the all-powerful Dione:\ngoddess of beauty and love certainly, but so far above the human\nunderstanding of these terms that all efforts to associate her with\nmundane ideas and aspirations must signally fail.[44]\n\nSo far as we know it was Praxiteles who first attempted to realize in\nstone the popular ideal of the goddess, and certainly the Cnidian\nAphrodite was better understood by the people of Greece as a type of\nthis ideal than any work that preceded it. We can attach to it in our\nminds but very few of the Homeric and other legends surrounding the\nhistory of the goddess, but we can well imagine that a deity who was the\nsubject of so much attention and so much prayer, could rest in the\nhearts of the people only as one with every supreme earthly charm,\ncombined with a divine bearing and dignity. These qualities the\nAphrodite of Praxiteles appears to have possessed, though it lacked the\nmajesty and exclusiveness of the Parthenon gods.[45]\n\nThus there was formed a type of beauty acceptable to the average human\nmind as an unsurpassable representation of an ideal woman: to the\nworshipper at the ancient shrines, a comprehensible goddess; to all\nother men the personification of sublime beauty. The fifth century\ngoddess was left aside as beyond mortal reach, and from the time it left\nthe sculptor's hands to this day, the Cnidian Venus has been regarded as\na model for all that is true and beautiful in women. To the sculptor it\nis an everlasting beacon; to all men a crowning glory of human\nhandiwork. And this notwithstanding that so far as we know, the original\nfigure has long been lost, and we have preserved little more than\nrecords of its renown, a fair copy of it, and a single authentic example\nof the other work of the sculptor. But if we had the actual Aphrodite\nbefore us, it could not occupy a higher place in our minds than the\ngoddess which our imagination builds upon this framework.\n\nAs in all cases where a supreme artist rises above his fellows and\ncreates works of which emulation appears hopeless, the period succeeding\nthe time of Praxiteles seems to mark a decline in the art of sculpture,\nand though the decline was more apparent than real for about half a\ncentury, there was naturally a depreciation in the representation of the\ndeities of whom the great man had fashioned masterpieces. This was so in\nthe case of Aphrodite. Whoever the sculptor it seemed impossible to\napproach the Cnidian ideal, and the result was a series of variations\nstamped with artificial devices as if to emphasize the departure. But\nmeanwhile the painter's art had developed upon much the same lines as\nsculpture, and Apelles produced an Aphrodite, which, considering the\nlimitation of the painter, appears to have been almost, if not quite, as\nmarvellous as the stone model of Praxiteles. Nearly two thousand years\nhave passed since the painting was last known to exist, but its fame was\nso great that the reverberations from the thunder of praise accorded it\nhave scarcely yet died away. No close description of the painting\nremains, but from certain references to it by ancient authors we know\nthat it represented the sea-born goddess walking towards the shore to\nmake her first appearance on earth, holding in each hand a tress of hair\nas if in the act of wringing out the water therein.[46] These are\npractically all the written details we have of the famous Venus\nAnadyomene, but we really know much more of it from the existence of\ncertain pre-Roman sculptures. All but one are broken, with parts\nmissing, but the exception, which dates from about the beginning of the\nthird century B.C., enables us to gain a good idea of the picture. The\nfigure represents the goddess with her lower limbs cut off close to the\nhips; that is to say, it produces the whole of that part of the figure\nin the picture of Apelles which is visible above the water.[a] Clearly a\nsubject in which Venus is shown to be walking in the sea, so foreign to\nthe art of the sculptor, could not have suggested itself independently\nto a Grecian artist, nor would we expect to find one attempting a work\nwhich necessitated amputation of the lower limbs, unless a very special\noccasion warranted the design. The special occasion in this case was the\npicture of Apelles, which was at the time renowned through the whole of\nGreece as an extraordinary masterpiece, and with this work in their\nminds the sculptured head and torso would appear quite appropriate to\nthose Greeks interested in the arts, that is to say, the entire citizen\npopulation.\n\n  [a] See Plate 4.\n\nThese two works then, the Cnidian Venus and the Venus Anadyomene of\nApelles, constitute the models upon which the world relies for its\nconceptions of the goddess of beauty. Both models depend more or less\nupon the imagination for completion, but they are sufficiently definite\nfor the artist, who, of course, desires general rather than particular\nideas for his purpose.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 11 (See page 139)\n  The Pursuit, by Fragonard (_Frick Collection_)]\n\nIt must be confessed that the attempts to rival Apelles in the creation\nof a Venus Anadyomene have not been very successful. Raphael painted a\nsmall picture of the subject, introducing the figure of Time putting an\nend to the power of the Titans.[a] Venus stands in the water with one\nfoot on a shell, while holding a tress of hair with her left hand. As\nmay be expected the execution is perfect, but the design is less\nattractive than that of Apelles. The only important work of the\nRenaissance directly based upon the Greek design, is from the hand of\nTitian.[b] He represents the goddess walking out of the water, the\nsurface of which only reaches half way up the thighs, with the result\nthat considerably more action is indicated than is necessary. But the\ngreat artist was evidently at a loss to know how to give the figure the\nsize of life or thereabouts, while indicating from the depth of water\nthat she had an appreciable distance to go before touching dry land. He\nsolved the problem by placing the line of the front leg to which the\nwater rises, at the bottom of the canvas, so that the picture suggests\nan accident which has necessitated the cutting away of the lower portion\nof the work. The master also varies the scheme of Apelles by crossing\nthe left hand over the breast. This inferior device was imitated by\nRubens, who, however, exhibits the goddess rising from the water amongst\na group of nymphs and tritons.[c] Modern artists in designs of the birth\nof Venus, usually represent her as having reached the shore,[d] the best\nwork of this scheme being perhaps that of Cabanel who shows the goddess\nlying at the water's edge and just awaking, suggesting a state of\nunconsciousness while she floated on the waves.[e] Another exception is\nby Thoma, who exhibits the goddess walking in only a few inches of\nwater, reminding one of the old Roman bronze workers who imitated the\nform as painted by Apelles, but modelled the whole figure.\n\n  [a] In the bathroom of Cardinal Bibiena, Vatican. There is a drawing\n        for the figure of the goddess at the Munich Gallery.\n\n  [b] Bridgewater Coll., England. See Plate 5.\n\n  [c] Birth of Venus, at Potsdam.\n\n  [d] Notable examples are those of Ingres and Bouguereau.\n\n  [e] At the Luxembourg, Paris. There are several replicas of this\n        picture.\n\nRepose being the first compulsory quality in the representation of\nAphrodite, it is not surprising to find that the greatest picture of the\ngoddess extant--the masterpiece of Giorgione--shows her asleep.[a] She\nrests on a verdure couch in a landscape of which the signs indicate a\nsoft and tranquil atmosphere, with no suggestion to disturb the repose\nor remove the illusion of life so strongly marked by the skilful\ndrawing. Only the calm sleeping beauty is there without appearance of\nfatigue or recovery from it: no expression save of perfect dreamless\nunconsciousness. The work is the nearest approach to a classical ideal\nthat exists in Venetian painting. Titian in his various pictures of\nVenus reposing never reached the excellence of his master. In all, he\npainted the goddess in a resting position, sometimes radiant and\nbrilliant, and invariably with a contented expression which precludes\nsensual suggestions: still there is ever a distinctly earthy tone about\nthe figures. His Venuses in fact are pure portraits. He did not seek to\nrepresent profound repose. His most important example is at the Uffizi\nGallery,[b] the design of which was taken from Giorgione's work. The\ngoddess is a figure of glowing beauty, but the pose indicates\nconsciousness of this fact and calls the model to mind. Perhaps the\nsurroundings tend to accentuate the drawback, for in this, as in most of\nhis other pictures of Venus, the artist has introduced Venetian\naccessories of the period. Palma Vecchio also took Giorgione's work as a\nguide for his reposing Venus, but he represents her fully awake with\nCupid present.[c] An exceptional work of the subject was designed by\nMichelangelo, and painted by Pontormo[d] and others. It represents the\ngoddess reclining with Cupid at her head; but the form is entirely\nopposed to all our conceptions of Venus, for she is seen as a broad\nmassive woman with a short neck, and a strongly formed head--a fit\ncompanion for some of the figures in the Sistine Chapel. Proud dignity\nand a certain majesty are suggested in the expression, but the figure is\nwithout the grace and charm usually associated with the goddess. The\nonly other early Italian reposing Venus of interest is Botticelli's,\nwhere he shows her in deep thought with two cupids by her side.[e]\n\n  [a] Dresden Gallery. See Plate 6. Titian added a Cupid to this\n        picture, but the little god was subsequently painted out by\n        a restorer. (L. Venturi, _Giorgione e il Giorgionismo_, 1913.)\n\n  [b] The sitter is supposed to have been the model also for La Bella\n        in the Uffizi, and the Woman in Fur at the Vienna Gallery.\n\n  [c] Dresden Gallery.\n\n  [d] Hampton Court Palace, England.\n\n  [e] National Gallery, London.\n\nIn the seventeenth century Venus was rarely represented reposing.\nNicholas Poussin has a fine picture on the subject, but unfortunately\nfor the repose a couple of cupids are in action beside the sleeping\ngoddess, while the heads of two satyrs are dimly seen.[a] In the\nSleeping Venus of Le Sueur, which was much praised in former times,\nCupid is present with a finger to his mouth to indicate silence, but\nVulcan is seen in an adjoining room wielding a heavy hammer, the\nsuggestion of repose being thus destroyed. No reposing Venus of\nimportance has since been produced, though a few French artists have\ntreated the subject in a light vein, notably Boucher in his Sleeping\nVenus, and Fragonard in a delicate composition of Venus awakened by\nAurora.\n\n  [a] Dresden Gallery.\n\nVenus cannot be represented as conscious of her beauty, or the design\nwould immediately suggest vanity. Consequently when shown looking into a\nmirror, she should be engaged at her toilet, or at least the reflection\nshould be accidental. Titian painted the first great picture of the\ngoddess at her toilet, but this is just completed and her hands are at\nrest.[a] The attitude would be extravagant were it not that any\nsuggestion of satisfaction is overcome by the artist making Cupid hold\nthe mirror, and giving Venus an expression of unconcern as she glances\nat her reflection. The work suggested to Rubens a similar design, but he\nshows the goddess dressing her hair, this being apparently the only\ndefinite action which may be properly introduced into such a\ncomposition.[b] Albani has a delightful picture in which Cupid compels\nVenus to hold a mirror,[c] and some later artists have represented her\nadorning her tresses with the aid of a water reflection. The only\nnotable _faux pas_ in a painting of this subject is in the Venus and\nCupid assigned to Velasquez, in which Venus lies on her side and looks\ninto a mirror held by Cupid at her feet.[d] There is no suggestion of\ntoilet or accident, and hence the attitude is quite inapplicable to a\ngoddess.\n\n  [a] The Hermitage, Petrograd.\n\n  [b] Hofmuseum, Vienna.\n\n  [c] The Louvre.\n\n  [d] National Gallery, London.\n\nIt should be remembered that the province of Aphrodite is to infuse the\ngentle warmth of love into the human race, and not to attract love to\nherself. The rays are presumed to proceed from her only, for a mortal\nhaving no divine powers would be incapable of reflecting them. Zeus was\nrequired to bring about the adventure with Anchises. Hence a voluptuous\nform should never be given to the goddess, and if an artist err at all\nin the matter, it should be on the side of restraint lest the art be\naffected by a suggestion of the sensuous. The surest means of preventing\nthis is to represent the goddess in an attitude of repose, with perfect\ncontentment as a feature in expression. If any action be indicated, it\nmust be light and purely accidental in its nature. To introduce an\naction involving an apprehension of human failings tends to bring the\ngoddess down to the human level, and thus to destroy the ideal. The\nVenus de' Medici is a superb sculpture of a woman, but an inferior\nrepresentation of Venus, for modesty is a human attribute arising from\npurely artificial circumstances of life, its meaning varying with race\nconditions and customs. To depict a goddess in an action suggestive of\nmodesty or other antidote to the coarser effects of natural instincts,\nis therefore an anomaly.\n\n\nHERA\n\nThere is no fixed type in art of the ox-eyed sister and spouse of Zeus,\nthe Queen of Olympus, whose breast heaves ever high, and flaming, with\nthe rushing fire of jealousy; the Virgilian incarnation of bitter rage;\nyet withal the symbol of eternal Earth, yearly renewing her fruitful\nyouth with the burning kiss of the sun. The sculptors of Greece saw in\nher only the supreme Matron-Spouse, serenely pondering the march of time\nbeneath the awful sway of her lord. A mantle she wore, and a\nhigh-throated tunic, as she looked into space from a square-wrought\nthrone; or she stood in her temple with flowing robe and diadem,\ninscrutable, before the offerings of an adoring multitude. But\nnevertheless she was not insensible to the radiance of Aphrodite.\nPolyclitus did well to place a cuckoo on her sceptre, and who can forget\nhow the lotus and the hyacinth cushioned the ground on the heights of\nIda beneath a golden cloud, which held suspended around the glittering\ncouch a screen of sparkling dew?\n\nIt is unfortunate that the painter is at a loss to deal with the\nmajestic scenes in great Juno's story. How is he to depict her flying in\nthe celestial chariot between heaven and earth, each leap of the fiery\ncoursers measuring the range of the eye from a lofty peak across the sea\nto the endless haze? How can he paint her anointed with ambrosial oil\nwhich is ever struggling for freedom to bathe the rolling earth in\nfragrance? He may add a hundred tassels to her girdle; perhaps give her\nthe triple grace-showering eardrops, and even the dazzling sun-bright\nveil; but the girdle of Aphrodite, which peeps from her bosom, will fail\nto turn the brains of men, or pierce their hearts with rays of soft\ndesire. And the more dreadful side of Hera's history would equally\ntrouble the despairing artist, for dire anger and jealousy ill-become\nthe countenance of a goddess. The smouldering fire must never leap into\nflame. Eyes may not flash, not the lips quiver, and the noble brow must\nbe free from fitful thought.\n\nSo with Hera there is no middle course for the painter. He must\nrepresent her alone, calm and passionless, unfathomable, with a sublime\ndisregard of earth; or else join with his predecessors and drag her down\nto a mundane level in scenes of trivial fable. But there is room for\nuntold Heras of the higher type.\n\n\nDEMETER\n\nMatron-Guardian of the yielding soil; heart-stricken wanderer over the\nearth; mysterious silent Food-Mother whom all men love and the gods\nrevere; eternal life-preserver; fruitful, but passionless save where the\nvision of Pluto looms, Iasus and Poseidon notwithstanding! Such was the\nDemeter of the ancient Greeks till the hordes of Alexander mingled her\nfame with the lustre from Isis and De. So the mourning _haute dame_ of\nOlympus came nearer the seat of her care, nearer the dread home of her\ndaughter: passed from Homer to Theocritus; from the adoration of the\nhigher priesthood of Greece, to become merged in the Ceres of Rome, the\ngoddess beloved of the lowly, who received the first fruits of the field\namidst joyful measures of dance and song. But it is the _haute dame_\nthat strikes our imagination--the staid and mystic Demeter of Eleusis,\nand not the Ceres of the Roman lyric. The light-hearted Ceres, as a\nbeautiful woman in the prime of life, may be adorned with poppies and\nwheat-ears, may stand serene and smiling as a symbol of harvest or the\ngoddess of a Latin temple; but paint her as one will, she will do little\nmore than serve to show how fallen are the idols--how immeasurable is\nthe descent from the stately Earth-Mother whose image would be stamped\non the brain of a Phidias.\n\nBut where is the Phidian Demeter? Surely such a goddess, \"deeply musing\nin her hallowed shrine,\" was a theme for the carver of the immortal Zeus\nand Athena! Perhaps those inscrutable headless \"Fates\" from the\nParthenon, so wonderful in noble grace that the conception of befitting\nheads is beyond the reach of our minds, include the Earth-Mother and her\ndaughter! How easy it is to imagine the reclining figure as Persephone\nleaning upon the mother who loved her so well! But we must be content\nwith what we have of Demeter in art, which is little more than a few\nfifth century frieze reliefs, the figure from Cnidos attributed to\nScopas,[a] and some Damophon memories of Phidias.\n\n  [a] See Plate 7.\n\nSo the artist is free and untrammelled in respect of the representation\nof the far-famed goddess. There is no definite type of her which has\nfixed itself on the minds of men, though the legend and story weaved\nabout her name are beautiful and wonderful in a high degree.\n\n\nATHENA\n\nThough swathed in legend and surrounded with a hallow of Grecian\nreverence, Athena is always cold. She may dim the sun with the radiance\nof her armour; ride in a flaming car, and have Strength and Invisibility\nfor her allies; but she fights only on the side of the strong, and uses\nthe tactics of spies against her enemies. With the Gorgon's head on her\nshield, and a helmet which will cover the soldiers of a hundred towns,\nshe yet whispers advice to Grecian heroes, and deflects a Trojan arrow\nin its flight. Truly as Goddess of War she is somewhat difficult to\ngeneralize. But she is also the divinity of the arts and sciences;\ninvents the pipe and the shuttle, and becomes the depository of all\nindustrial knowledge. Hence she embodies the triumphs of peace and\nwar--combines the extremes of human exertion.\n\nHow Phidias overcame the task of representing the goddess is well known.\nHe generalized war and wisdom, and from his great work of the Parthenon\nthere can be little departure in respect of bearing and attitude, so\nlong as the province of war is symbolized in the design. The actual work\nof the Greek master has disappeared, but from various records and\ncopies, it would appear that the Parthenon Athena was the loftiest\nconception ever worked out in sculpture, if we except the Olympian Zeus.\nMajestic grace and the unconscious power derived from supreme knowledge,\nseem to have been the first qualities exhibited in the statue. In the\nfourth century there was no great departure from the Phidian ideal, and\nit is difficult to see how there could be much modification in the\ndirection of bringing the conception closer to earth, for the goddess\nhad no special presumed form which could be adapted by the artist to\npopular ideas. A nude figure would be impossible because in this the\nforce and power implied in a hero of war could not be combined with\nfeminine attributes. The Greeks drew the line at observable muscular\ndevelopments, invariably clothing nearly the whole of the figure, but\nthey did not, and could not, free her general bearing from certain\nmasculine qualities. It is true that the costume of the goddess might be\nmodified, and Phidias himself represented her in one or two statues\nwithout a helmet, an example followed by several artists of the\nRenaissance,[a] but so long as the symbols of war are included in her\nhabit, she can be only of formal use to the painter.\n\n  [a] See Piero di Cosimo's Marsyas and the Pipes of Athena,[47] and\n        Botticelli's Athena and the Centaur.\n\n\nAPOLLO\n\nAlthough in mythology Apollo is connected with everything on earth which\nis useful or pleasing to mankind, in art custom has so confined his\nrepresentation in respect of both appearance and symbols, that a type\nhas been established from which it would be difficult to depart without\na suggestion of incongruity arising. This type is of a more purely\nformal character than that of any other god, except perhaps Mercury, a\ncircumstance probably arising from the fact that the reputed hard nature\nof Apollo fails to lend itself to sympathetic idealization. He does not\nappear to have been a favourite subject with the greatest sculptors of\nancient times, for nearly all the innumerable statues of him which have\ncome down to us, are reproductions of two or three types which in\nthemselves vary but little. It is difficult to see how a really noble\nideal of such a god can be suggested. Stern and inflexible, with many\nhuman vices but no weaknesses or gentle traits, and withal a model of\nphysical beauty without strength or apparent power--in fact an\nemphasized feminine form: such is the Apollo of tradition and art. We\ncannot wonder that the type was quickly fixed, the limitations to avoid\nthe abnormal being so well defined.\n\nThe painter then has small scope with the figure of this god. He may\nonly slightly vary the accepted form, which admits of but a negative\nexpression. The best representation of Apollo in modern art is the one\nby Raphael in the Parnassus fresco at the Vatican, though the beautiful\nfigure in the Marsyas work at the Louvre is very nearly as perfect.[48]\nRaphael does not give to the god the rounded swellings of a female form,\nbut overcomes the difficulty by showing him as a young man of perfect\nfigure who has just reached maturity. The expression is entirely\ngeneral, but does not suggest a god-like power.\n\n\nDIANA\n\nIt would scarcely be natural to be sympathetic with Artemis. She seems\nto be the feminine type of a cold flint-like nature, as Apollo is the\nmasculine, and one can well understand that mythology makes of them\nbrother and sister. Mistress of wild beasts and goddess of sudden death,\nshe was always worshipped from fear: her wrath had ever to be appeased;\nshe inspired neither affection nor respect. True, she wore the mantle of\nIlilythia, but only to be dreaded, and even the attempt to throw a warm\nhalo over her by the theft of the Endymion story for her benefit, failed\nto lift her reputation for the tireless satisfaction of a supernatural\nspleen. Nevertheless for the painter Diana has always had a certain\nattraction, because the legends connected with her offer opportunities\nfor the exercise of skill in the representation of the nude. But there\nis an end of all things, and the bathing and hunting scenes have been\nfairly exhausted. For the sculptor only is Artemis likely to live.\nBright colours are not the vehicle to represent the symbol of an idea\nwhich is beyond, but not above, nature--a useless abstraction which\nneither warms the heart nor elevates the soul. Callisto draws our\nsympathy, and Niobe our tears: the goddess freezes our veins.\n\n\nNEPTUNE\n\nBrother of Jupiter and Pluto; sire of Theseus, of Polyphemus, and of the\ntitanic lads who threatened to pile mountain on mountain in order to\ndestroy the home of the deities; the god whose footsteps tremble the\nearth; who disputes with the sun; who uses floods and earthquakes for\nweapons; who owns vast palaces in the caverns of the deep; for whom the\nangry waves sink down beneath the shining sea, and ocean monsters play\naround his lightning track across the waters: this is the divinity whom\nthe painter is accustomed to portray as a rough bearded man with\ndishevelled hair and rugged features, holding a three-pronged fork, and\nassociating with dolphins, mermaids, and shells. But Neptune is not a\npopular god. He does not appeal to the mind as a good-natured god like\nJupiter or Mercury, with many of the virtues and some of the failings of\nmankind. His acts are mostly violent; he punishes but does not reward;\ngrows angry but is never kind. There is consequently no sympathetic\nattitude towards him on the part of the artist, who would sooner paint\ngood than bad actions. Beyond his violent acts, the circumstances which\nmake up the history of the god, provide subjects more suitable for the\npoet than the painter, who is practically confined to unimportant and\ncasual incidents which, with changes of accessories, would answer a\nthousand scenes in mythological history. Neptune then may well disappear\nfrom the purview of the painter, with the tritons and the seaweed\nentourage.\n\n\nMARS\n\nFrom the point of view of the painter, there is little to say about the\nGrecian Ares. He has not a single good trait in legend or story, and we\nknow nothing of his presumed personal form beyond the military\nexternals. It is difficult to understand how such a god came to be\nincluded among the deities of a civilized race. Of what service could be\nprayer when it is addressed to a blatant, bloodstained, genius of the\nbrutal side of war, without feeling or pity, and apparently so wanting\nin intelligence that he has to leave the direction of battles to a\ngoddess? One would think that Homer intended him as the god of bullies,\nor he would not have made him roar like ten thousand men when struck\nwith a stone, nor would he have allowed him to be imprisoned by two\nyoung demigods, and contemptuously wounded by a third. But who is\nresponsible for the association of such a wretched example of divinity\nwith the radiant Aphrodite, for surely it is only the cloak of Homer\nthat covers the story! Was it a painter who had sought in vain from the\npoets a suggestion for a composition in which the god would at least\nappear normal, or a cynical critic who wished to incite ridicule as well\nas contempt for the divinity? In any case the painter must sigh in vain\nfor an inspiriting design with Ares as the leading figure: he cannot\nharmonize love and terror.\n\nThe Roman Mars has a slight advantage over Ares, for the name of Silvia\nis sweetly-sounding, but she should be represented alone, as the star of\nthe wild Campagna, while yet it was forest-clad: the gleaming light\nwhose rays are to illumine the earth. Mars may disappear with the wolf,\nbut who can hide the glory of Rome?\n\n\nMERCURY\n\nIt is difficult to connect the Hermes of the poet with the tedious\nexpressionless figure commonly seen in painting, whose only costume is a\nhelmet, and whose invariable province is apparently to look on and do\nnothing. For the sculptor he is a god; for the painter a symbol of\nsubordination. A Rubens may give him the pulse of life, but only the\nsculptor can suggest the divinity. With the painter the winged helmet is\na bizarre ornament; the immortal sandals are shrunken to leather; the\ncaduceus is a thing of inertia which is ever in the way. But with the\nsculptor all these things may be endowed with the quickening spirit of a\nsoaring mind, for does not Giovanni di Bologna show the lithesome god\nspeeding through space ahead of the wind, the feathery foot-wings\nhumming with delirium, the trembling air dividing hastily before the\nwand? True, the painter may represent the divine herald on his way\nthrough space, as when he conducts Psyche to Olympus, or leads the\nshades of the suitors to Hades; but the accessories present must\nsurround him with an earthy framework, unless the design be confined to\na ceiling, and shut away from things mundane with architectural forms,\nas in the plan of Raphael at the Farnese Villa, or to a fresco executed\nin the manner of a Flaxman drawing. Beyond these artifices the artist\ncannot go with propriety.\n\nFew and worn are the scenes in the history of the god in which he takes\na leading part. The head of Argus seems to be cut off, or awaiting\nseparation, in nearly every collection, sometimes with Juno on a cloud\ndeeply frowning with revengeful ire, occasionally with the peacock\nexpectant of its glorious fan, but always with the weak-looking helmeted\npiper, passive and unconcerned as if fulfilling a daily task. A\nCorreggio may weave his golden fancy around a scene where Cupid learns\nto strengthen his arrows with the rules of science and the wiles of art;\nbut let the painter beware of the infant Bacchus in the arms of the\nmessenger-god, lest a vision of the Olympian group arise and enfold his\nwork in a robe of charity. The schemes whereby the cradled thief\ndeceived the Pythian god are beyond the scope of the painter, though\nthere is a certain available range in the charming actions surrounding\nthe invention of the lyre. And if the designs relating to the\nunfortunate Lara be properly consigned to oblivion, surely the\nconnection of Hermes with Pandora offers a field for the sprightly\nimagination. But save where the god is a symbol of commerce or speed,\nthe helmet should be dispensed with, for it is hackneyed beyond\nendurance. The modern painter is not bound by custom unless the\nprovision of beauty conflict with the lucidity of the design or the\nreverence for universal sentiment. Let the winged heels suffice, for the\nshadow of Persius will scarcely rise in protest.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 12 (See page 145)\n  Greek Portraiture\n  Head of Plato Head of Euripides]\n\n\nBACCHUS\n\nCenturies of bacchanalian festivities and revelries have nearly killed\nBacchus for the painter. Who can further interest himself in meaningless\nprocessions, where the most prominent figure is a fat, drunken,\nstaggering man, supported by goat-hoofed monstrosities, and attended by\nall the insignia of vinous royalty? Silenus is no more the loving nurse\nof the infant god; the satyrs are no more the followers of a\nreed-playing woodland deity; the nymphs have long forgotten the flowery\ndales, the faithful trees that lived and died with them, the fairy\nbowers where first Semele's offspring clapped his hands to the measure\nof dance and pipe. Why should the dance be turned into a drunken revel?\nWhy should the artist remember the orgies of Rome, and forget the\nGrecian pastoral fancies? What has become of Dionysus, inheritor of\nVishnu traditions, the many-named father of song, the leader of the\nMuses, and the fire-born enemy of pirates? Nothing remains of him worth\nremembering, save Ariadne the golden-haired, and she must in future be\nleft on the desert isle lest the pathos of her figure be disturbed by\nthe motley followers of her rescuer.\n\nIt is passing strange that the artists of the Renaissance did not\nattempt to lift Bacchus out of the ditch of ignominy into which he had\nfallen. They seem to have taken their ideas from the recorded accounts\nof the Roman rites and vine festivals, overlooking the Grecian\nsuggestions relating to Dionysus, and even the later restrained reliefs\npicturing incidents in his history. In their art, however, as is\nevidenced by Pompeian frescoes, the Romans often treated Bacchus in a\nserious manner, associating him with higher interests than those\nconnected with festival orgies. It may be that the figure of the god\ncarved by Michelangelo[a] had something to do with the later coarse\nrepresentations of him, for it would have been impossible for artists\nsucceeding so great a sculptor, to ignore the types he created. But it\nwill be an eternal mystery how he came to design such a Bacchus. A\nvoluptuous semi-realistic god, opposed to everything else that was\nconceived by the sculptor, and antagonistic to all that was known in\nGreece, it can never be anything more than a sublime example of a purely\nearthly figure. One stands amazed before the perfect modelling, but\naghast at the conception. It represents the most extraordinary\ntransition from the god-like man of the Greeks, to a man-like god, ever\nseen in art.\n\n  [a] In the Bargello, Florence.\n\nThe painter then has little left to use of the conventional Bacchus and\nhis history, except the never-dying Ariadne, but there is nothing to\nprevent him from reverting to the pastoral Dionysus, to the delightful\nabodes of the nymphs his foster-mothers, where Pan played and the Muses\nsang, while the never-tiring son of Maia breathed tales of love into\nwilling ears.\n\n\nVULCAN\n\nThe poet may continue to hold our fancy with volcanic fires and\ncyclopean hammers, but on canvas Etna becomes a blacksmith's forge, and\nthe figure of a begrimed human toiler is given to the divinity\nresponsible for the golden handmaids, and the brazen bull whose breath\nwas scorching flame. There is rarely a painting of Vulcan without a\nforge and leather bellows, with a smith who is stripped to the waist,\nwhich earthly things necessarily kill all suggestions of celestial\ninterest, notwithstanding the presence of Venus, or the never-fading\nbride of palsied Peleus. Occasionally we have the incident with Mars,\nand strangely look for the invisible net, but not finding it we are\nimmediately called back to earth to ponder over the wiles of the ancient\nlegend gatherers. The art is lost behind the unreality. But why does not\nthe painter revert to the childhood of Vulcan, when he was hiding in the\nglistening cavern beneath the roll of ocean, fashioning resplendent\neardrops for silver-footed Thetis? Here is scope for the imagination--to\nindicate the fancies of the budding genius who was to carve the wondrous\nshield, and adorn the heaven-domed halls of Olympus. Let Hephaestus\nmature as he will for the poet: he should only bloom for the painter.\n\n\nGENERAL CLASSICAL COMPOSITIONS\n\nScenes of adventure from the ancient poets in which the gods and\ngoddesses are concerned, appear to be rapidly becoming things of the\npast for the painter. This is partly due to the circumstance that these\nscenes have been so multiplied since the early days of the Renaissance,\nthat they are now positively fatiguing to both artists and the public;\nbut there is a deeper reason. If we try to number the paintings of\nclassical subjects by first-class artists which are enshrined in our\nminds, we can count very few, and nearly all of these are single\nfigures, as a Venus, a Leda, a Psyche, or a Pandora. We do not call up a\nJudgment of Paris, or a Diana and Actaeon, or any other design where\ndivinities are mixed with mortals in earthly actions. The cause of this\nseems to be that our minds naturally revolt against a glaring\nincongruity. The imagination is unable to harmonize the qualities of a\ngod with the possession of human instincts and frailties, or strike a\nbalance between divine actions and human motives. We see these pictures\nand admire the design and execution, but they leave us cold: we are\nunable to kindle enthusiasm over patent unreality. The general\nconclusion is that painters would be wise to avoid such compositions,\nand confine their attention in classical work to single figures of\ngoddesses or heroines, leaving to the poet suggestion of miraculous\npowers.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nEXPRESSION. PART IV.--GENERAL IDEALS\n\n     Limitation of the painter with general ideals--Ideal heads\n     interchangeable in sacred and symbolical art--Ideal male human\n     countenances impossible for the painter.\n\n\nIn the arts of sculpture and painting, where it is necessary that the\nbeauty should be immediately recognized by the eye, it is obvious that a\ngeneral expression is superior to the particular. This is so because the\ngeneral covers universal experience and the particular does not. But in\nthe art of the painter there is a limit to the expression of general\nbeauty. Theoretically there is no beauty possible to the sculptor which\nthe painter cannot produce, but practically there is. A sculptor may\ncarve what we understand as a god-like figure--a glorious image\nembodying all the highest qualities that may be conceived by man,\nwith a general expression covering supreme wisdom and every noble\nattribute--such a figure as the greatest Grecian artist chiselled. This\nfigure would stand in front of us, isolated, serene in its glory, and we\nshould look and wonder, and a second or two would suffice to fill our\nentire mind with the image. For it would be above the earth, above all\nour surroundings. We could connect nothing on earth with it--neither\nhuman beings, nor green fields, nor the seas, and certainly not human\nhabitations, and ways, and manners, and actions. A Phidian god can have\nno setting. Everything on earth is too small, too insignificant to bear\nit company. The reflection from the majesty of the design throws into\nshadow our loftiest earthly conceptions.\n\nLet us suppose that a painter could be found who could execute such a\nfigure: how could he isolate it to the mind? He may not use accessories,\nfor these could not be separated by the eye, and the association with\nearth which they would imply would destroy the illusion. But the figure\nmust have relief, and hence tones. A monochrome would not do, for the\nframe or sides of the wall containing the picture would flatten it, and\nsuggest a painted imitation of a sculpture. We may imagine a colossal\nfigure painted on an immense wall whose bounds are hidden by the\nconcentration of all the available light on the figure. Even then the\ncolouring of the wall must be unseen. The figure must stand out as if\nagainst infinite space, surrounded by ambient air, in majestic solitude,\npondering over the everlasting roll of life towards perfection. In this\nway only could the painter match the sculptor, but the practical\ndifficulties are so enormous as to render the scheme to all intents and\npurposes impossible.\n\nFor the painter then there is a limit to expression. He cannot proceed\nwith his ideal higher than Praxiteles. His limit is the most supreme\nform and expression conceivable by his imagination, which does not\nexceed the apparent possibility of human experience. Apparent, because\nan ideal must necessarily be actually above the possibility of\nexperience, but it may not appear to be so. For instance a Raphael\nMadonna does not seem to represent a supernatural woman. There is no\nsingle feature painted which cannot be matched in life, and hence it\nwould not occur to the observer that the expression is contrary to the\npossibility of experience. But the expression cannot be met with in\nlife, for besides being entirely general, it excludes all phases due to\nthe emotions or passions. One cannot imagine a woman with the expression\nof a Raphael Madonna having concern with any special human interest, and\nleast of all with feelings and failings arising from natural instincts.\nYet the expression covers every form of noble endeavour; every phase of\ninnocent pleasure; every degree of mental activity within the province\nof woman. And herein lies the art--the exclusion of the bad in our\nnature, with the exaltation of the good.\n\nNow it is obvious that if the expression be so general that no\nparticular quality can be identified therein, the countenance will serve\nfor the head of any personage painted in whose expression it is\ndesirable to indicate the possession of high attributes, without\nsuggesting a particular condition of mind. Thus, the head of a Raphael\nMadonna would equally serve for the head of a Saint Cecilia or a Judith;\nor, providing the age were suitable, for a heroine of the stamp of Joan\nof Arc, so long as the character of her actual features were unknown.\nFurther it would be well adapted for a symbolical figure, as Prudence or\nTruth.\n\nBut a far wider significance than is thus indicated, is conveyed by the\nnecessity for generalizing expression in order to reach the painter's\nideal. It has already been noted that inasmuch as all men have the same\ngeneral idea of beauty--that they generally agree as to what is, or is\nnot, beautiful, it follows that there must be a common opinion as to\ndegrees of beauty, and so a universality of ideal; that is of course,\namong people with similar experience of life, as for instance the white\nraces of the world.[49] Hence the ideals of all painters must be\nsimilar. They must necessarily aim for the same generalization--exclude\nor emphasize like. Manner or style, or national type may vary; purely\nsensorial effects may differ as the minds of the painters have been\nvariously trained, but the combination of features and effects which\nregulate the expression will be practically identical in every realized\nideal. Consequently, subject to changes in attitude or age, ideal heads\nof all artists are interchangeable without incongruity resulting,\nirrespective of the motive of the design, for the ideal countenance\nindicated adapts itself to any character where no emotional or\npassionate expression is required. The head of the figure representing\n\"Profane Love\" in Titian's great picture, would serve to express\nspiritual nobility in a Madonna,[a] and when a head in a Madonna by\nRaphael is exchanged with that of the central figure in Fragonard's The\nPursuit,[b] there is no resulting suggestion of impropriety in either\npicture.[c] Ideal countenances have sometimes been given to evil\ncharacters, as in Luini's Salome,[d] and the head in this picture would\nequally well serve for a Madonna.[e]\n\n  [a] See Plate 9.\n\n  [b] Frick Collection, New York.[50]\n\n  [c] See Plate 8.\n\n  [d] Uffizi Gallery, Florence.\n\n  [e] See Plate 10.\n\nAn ideal head then will suggest any expression that the design in which\nit is included seems to require, subject to the restrictions before\nnoted. In The Pursuit the face of the woman presumed to be fleeing from\nher lover indicates some concern, and even a little fear,[a] but that\nthis is due to the surroundings in the work, is shown when the head is\nsubstituted for another in a different picture, for the concern has\ndisappeared, and the expression becomes one which may properly represent\nthe highest attributes connected with the Madonna.\n\n  [a] See Frontispiece and Plate 11.\n\nThe limits within which the form and countenance of a woman may be\nidealized, are prescribed by Raphael in his works. The presumed age must\nbe that when she reaches the full bloom of womanhood. Youth will not do\nbecause it involves an expression denying experience, while physically a\ngirl cannot be supposed to have reached an age where her form has ceased\nto progress towards perfection. Beauty of feature and form is the first\nconsideration of the artist, and hence his difficulty in fixing an\nexpression which shall be entirely free from the possibility of\nsuggesting desire. For this reason no model, or series of models, will\nsuffice the painter: he has always to bring his imagination to bear, as\nRaphael admitted he had to do.[a]\n\n  [a] \"E di belle donne, io mi servo di certa idea che mi viene nella\n        mente.\" Letter to Castiglione.\n\nIt is impossible to find a head of a woman, painted before the time of\nRaphael, which fulfils the requirements of art as an ideal. The figures\nare either too formal, or too distinctive in type, or are evidently\nportraits, while in many of the greatest pictures of the fifteenth\ncentury the artists had not yet learned how to put warm blood into their\nMadonnas. Raphael, however, after taking up his sojourn at Florence,\nbecame an object lesson for nearly every school, and ideal countenances\nwere produced by other masters, though no painter other than Raphael\nsucceeded with more than one or two. Nowadays the ever increasing hustle\nin the struggle for existence, does not lend itself to deep study and\nlong contemplation on the part of painters, but hope springs eternal,\nand surely the list of immortals is not yet closed.\n\nAn ideal man of flesh and blood is not possible in the art of the\npainter, for there is no general conception of male beauty below the\nlevel of the god-like. Perfection of form can be given, but a supreme\nexpression in the face of a man implies deep wisdom, and this must\nnecessarily be associated with maturity when high sensorial beauty of\nfeature can scarcely be expected.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nEXPRESSION. PART V.--PORTRAITURE\n\n     Limitations of the portrait painter--Generalizations--Emphasis\n     and addition of qualities--Practice of the ancient Greeks--\n     Dignity--Importance of simplicity--Some of the great masters--\n     Portraiture of women--The English masters--The quality of\n     grace--The necessity of repose.\n\n\nWhile in the scale of the painter's art, portraiture ranks next to the\nhigher branches of historical work, yet it is some distance behind them,\nfor apart from the commonplace of scenic arrangement, the imagination of\nthe portrait painter cannot be carried further than the consideration of\nadded or eliminated details of form and expression in relation to a set\nsubject. But these details are very difficult, and so it comes about\nthat a good portrait involves a far greater proportion of mental labour\nthan the result appears on the surface to warrant. It is indirectly\nconsequent upon the complexity of his task that the work of the artist\nwho devotes practically his whole time to portraiture, often varies so\nlargely in quality. He paints some portraits which are generally\nappreciated, but as time goes on he is overwhelmed with orders which he\ncannot possibly fulfil without reducing the value of his work. He thus\nacquires a habit of throwing his whole power into his work only when\nthe personage he represents is of public importance, or has a\ncountenance particularly amenable to his manner or style. It is\nnecessary that this fact should be borne in mind, otherwise erroneous\nstandards are likely to be set up when artists like Van Dyck, Reynolds,\nor Romney, are referred to as examples.\n\nIn a general sense nearly all painting where the human figure is\nintroduced, is portraiture, and it has been so since soon after the\nmiddle of the fifteenth century, when artists commenced to use living\nmen and women for secondary or accessory figures in sacred pictures. The\nincreasing importance attached to the anatomy of the figure resulted in\nthe extensive use of models, and so in a measure portraiture rose to be\na leading feature in the work of the artist. The figures in the larger\ncompositions of every kind by the greater painters of the late fifteenth\nand early sixteenth centuries, consist almost entirely of portraits of\nfriends and acquaintances of the artists, the exceptions being the\ncountenances of the Deity and Christ, which had to be modelled from\naccepted types, and those of the later Saints the character of whose\nfeatures had been handed down by tradition. A few painters, as Raphael\nand Correggio, idealized the Virgin away from suggestion of portraiture,\nbut others, as Del Sarto and Pontormo, even in this case took a wife or\nother relative as a model. The practice was continued by many artists in\nrespect of central figures, till the end of the seventeenth century,\nafter which time the identity of the figures was, as a rule, purposely\nlost. Nevertheless the figures, other than ideals, used in all good\ncompositions, must necessarily be portraits or adaptations thereof, for\nonly from life can superior representation of life be obtained.\n\nThe first duty of the portraitist is to generalize the expression of his\nsubject. A face seen once will be thrown upon the mind only with the\nparticular expression observable at the moment of view. If seen a second\ntime we involuntarily combine the effects of the dual experience, and\nthe more often we see the countenance, the more closely will our mental\npicture of it correspond with the general or average expression worn. It\nis this average appearance that the portraitist tries to represent,\nemphasizing of course whatever good qualities may be indicated. The\nsecond most important task of the artist is to balance every part of the\npicture, so that neither setting, nor colour, nor handling, is\nstrikingly noticeable. The portrait should appear at first glance as one\ncomplete whole, in order that the mind of the observer be immediately\ndirected to the subject, and away from the artist or the manner of\nexecution. The painter is limited to the actual character and\nphysiognomy of the figure. He must make each feature harmonize with the\nothers, and add or subtract, hide or reveal, without changing the\ngeneral individuality, but he cannot do more. His scope is, therefore,\nstrictly limited. Very naturally some of the greatest portraitists have\nrebelled at this limit. They appear to have painted with an eye to\nposterity, rather than to satisfy their patrons and the people of the\ntime with an effective generalization of character and bearing. If we\ncompare the portraits executed by Titian with those representing certain\naccessory figures in some important compositions of the great masters,\nas for instance, the School of Athens of Raphael,[a] and the Death of\nSt. Francis of Ghirlandaio,[b] we find a marked difference. The latter\nare obviously true portraits of living men, with little accentuated or\neliminated, just such portraits as Carlyle wanted from which to obtain\nreal instruction for his biographies. Titian painted no portraits of\nthis kind. He gives a lofty bearing to every person he portrays. His\nfigures seem to belong to a special race of men, endowed with rare\nqualities of nobility and dignity, with little interest in the doings of\nordinary people. Yet we know that some of his characters lived in an\natmosphere of evil. We cannot really believe that the Aretino of\nTitian[c] was Aretino the man, and we find it hard to imagine that\nPhilip II.,[d] or the Duke of Alba,[e] as Titian painted him, could grow\ninto the monster he proved to be. Nevertheless Titian was justified. It\nis not the business of the artist to consider the historian: his art is\nall that concerns him. Titian produced beautiful pictures which are\ncommonly recognized as great portrayals of character; whose character\nmatters not, though when we have data upon which to rest a judgment, we\nfind the lineaments in his works are fully sufficient for purposes of\nidentification.\n\n  [a] At the Vatican.\n\n  [b] Fresco at Santa Trinita, Florence.\n\n  [c] Frick Collection, N. Y.\n\n  [d] The Padro, Madrid, and elsewhere.\n\n  [e] Huescar Coll., Madrid.\n\nWhile Titian went further than any other Renaissance painter in\nennobling his subjects, he did not approach the ancient Greeks in this\nrespect. Their sculptured busts and terms represent the highest\nportraiture known to us. Many examples remain, mostly copies it is true,\nbut quite fifty of them are clearly faithful reproductions, made\napparently in the early days of Imperial Rome, and accord closely with\nthe few existing originals. The Grecian portraits differ from the Roman,\nand all later painted or carved portraits in a most important\nfeature.[a] The latter aimed at what is still understood as the highest\nlevel in portraiture. They endeavoured to give a general individualism\nof mind and bearing, avoiding particular expression; in fact to\nrepresent character. Since the Christian era commenced neither sculptor\nnor painter has gone further than this, with very few exceptions in\nRoman days when Grecian sculptors of the time imitated the practice of\nthe fourth and early third centuries. The earlier Greeks on the other\nhand not only generalized portraits in an extreme degree, but, except in\nthe case of athletes, they altered the contour of the head and varied\nthe actual features of the subject, so that the possession of the higher\nhuman attributes should be indicated as clearly as possible. They\ninvariably showed a large facial angle, placed the ears well close to\nthe head, sunk the eyes deep in their sockets, and ennobled the brows to\nsuggest majesty or profound thought. In fact the Grecian portrait heads\nonly differ from their sculptured gods in that particular countenances\nare depicted, and consequently the expression in them does not appear to\nbe above the possibility of human experience. Apparently in Grecian\ntimes, only men who had become celebrated in some way were represented\nin stone, and hence the artist had features to depict which could be\nsemi-idealized without impropriety. Even Socrates, whose ugliness was\nproverbial, was given a noble and dignified expression.[b]\n\n  [a] See Plates 12 and 13.\n\n  [b] See heads in the National Museums of Rome and Naples.\n\nThat the painter is at liberty to follow the example of the Greeks,\nthere can be no question from the point of view of art, for his first\nobject is to produce a beautiful picture; but in portraiture, practical\nand conventional considerations have to be met, with which other\nbranches of painting are not concerned. With rare exceptions the\nportraits executed are of living persons, and extreme accentuation of\nhigh qualities would be likely to result in a representation of the\nsitter that would appear false to contemporary observers, though we\nmight well imagine that a work exhibiting this accentuation would seem\nto be of high excellence in the judgment of future generations. There\nmust therefore be a line drawn in respect of added or accentuated\nqualities, and the position of this line would naturally vary with the\ncelebrity of the subject and the power of the artist. Something definite\nmay, however, be said in regard to the emphasis of certain qualities of\nform, and particularly of dignity, a feature that has occupied the\nattention of some of the greatest masters.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 13 (See page 145)\n  Roman Portraiture\n  Head of Vespasian\n  Head of Hadrian]\n\nThe question arises, how far may the artist go in imitating the\nmanner of the stage with his portraits? On the theatrical stage\nformalities are required with certain characters in order to emphasize\ntheir position--to assist in the recognition of their standing or\nrelative significance in the drama, for it is of the first importance\nthat the audience should comprehend the meaning of the actions presented\nas rapidly as possible. The actor must often exaggerate life habits of\npose and manner in order to heighten the contrast between two\ncharacters, or to give special significance to the words. And the\nelevation of the diction sometimes compels this exaggeration. In high\ndrama where the language used is above experience of ordinary life in\nmeasure and force, there must be appropriate pose and action to\naccompany it, and hence a height of dignity or even majesty may appear\nperfectly proper on the stage, which would be ridiculous in surroundings\naway from it. From the practice of certain painters it would seem that\nthey have looked upon portraiture as the transference of their subjects\nto the public stage as it were, so that they might appear to occupy a\nhigher position in the drama of life than that to which they are\nhabituated. No harm can arise from this provided the portraitist does\nnot pass beyond the custom of the theatrical stage, where, whatever the\nexaggeration, the representation appears, or should appear, appropriate\nto the action; that is to say, where the exaggeration is not recognized\nas such. Accentuation of high qualities of expression, or even\nvariations in certain physical features, such as the Greeks brought\nabout, would not appear exaggerations in a portrait, but where dignity\nof form is added to such an extent that the observer immediately\nrecognizes it as untrue to experience, then the artist goes too far.\nWhile this is so, we do not condemn Titian, Van Dyck, and the few other\nportrait painters who emphasized the quality of dignity of form in past\ntimes. The reason for this appears to be that the usual methods of\nteaching history lead us to suppose that nobles and leaders of society\nin the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, who were usually the\nportrait subjects of the greater artists, commonly assumed a demeanour\nand bearing far above our own experience. At the present day, when it is\na matter of universal knowledge that a formal dignified pose is very\nrarely assumed by any one, such a bearing in a portrait would be\nregarded as untrue.\n\nThe portraitist may improve the expression of his subject, adding any\ngood quality within his power, and he may remove from the features or\nfigure any marked physical defect, because the portrait would still\nappear to be correct; but if he add a strong dignified pose, then the\nresult would be something that is possibly, but improbably accurate, and\ntherefore inferior art. The quality of dignity should be expressed\nrather in the countenance than in the pose, the bearing of the form\nbeing produced as in life, for this lends assistance to the true\nrepresentation of character. A dignified expression may well be\nappropriate to an awkward form whose personality would be\nundistinguished by dignity of pose.\n\nTitian was the first great artist to give a pronounced dignity of form\nto his subjects, and he never varied from the practice unless the\nsubject were exhibited in action,[a] or too old to be represented as an\nupright figure.[b] Nor did he once exaggerate the pose so that arrogance\nmight be suggested. Though he squared the shoulders, he rarely threw\nback the head to emphasize the bearing,[c] and only in one portrait is\nthe body slightly arched as the result of the pose.[d] In fact so\ncareful was the artist in avoiding over-emphasis, that there is a\ntendency in two or three of his figures for the upper part of the body\nto lean a little forward.[e] Obviously Titian gave this dignified\nattitude to his portrait subjects of set purpose, as in his general\ncompositions there is no suggestion of it.[51]\n\n  [a] Portrait of his daughter, Berlin Gallery, and of Jacopo di Strada\n        at Vienna.\n\n  [b] Paul III. at Naples, and his own portrait at the Uffizi Gallery.\n\n  [c] An exception is Charles V. at Muehlberg, Prado, Madrid.\n\n  [d] Portrait of his daughter as a bride, at Dresden.\n\n  [e] Notably in the portrait of the Duke of Ferrara, Pitti Palace.\n\nVelasquez no doubt acquired his habit of lending dignity to his\nimportant subjects from the examples of Titian's portraits which came\nunder his view in Spain. Except in one notable instance where the\nbearing is much over-emphasized,[a] he was equally successful with the\nItalian master in the practice, though many of his characters are far\nfrom lending him any natural assistance. In the case of a Court Dwarf,\nhowever, the high dignity given to him by the painter seems to require\nexplanation.[b]\n\n  [a] Count-Duke Olivares, Holford, Coll., London.\n\n  [b] Don Antonio el Ingles, Prado.\n\nBefore he went to Italy, Van Dyck followed the natural system of Rubens\nin posing his portrait subjects, but at Genoa he painted under the spell\nof Titian's memory, and thereafter during his whole life, he gave a\ndignified bearing to his figures whenever this was not opposed to\nindividual traits. During his English period, when he undertook more\nwork than he could properly accomplish, he sometimes over-emphasized the\ndignity of a figure by arching the body,[a] but as a rule he produced a\njust balance of pose and setting, completing altogether a magnificent\nseries of portraits which remain the astonishment of the world.\n\n  [a] Earl of Newport, Northbrook Coll., England; Earl of Bedford\n        Spencer Coll.; and Queen Henrietta (three-quarter length),\n        Windsor Castle.\n\nIt is obviously the duty of the portraitist so to design his work that\nthe attention of the observer is concentrated upon the countenance of\nthe subject immediately he has grasped the whole composition, and it is\nin the successful accomplishment of this object that the power of\nRembrandt lies. He rarely used accessories, and in only a few cases a\nbackground of any kind. He avoided portraits where an elaborate setting\nwas required, as for instance full length standing figures, of which he\nonly painted two[a]; and in his many three-quarter length portraits,\nthere is seldom more than a table or chair to be seen apart from the\nfigure. With this simplicity of design, and with nearly all the\navailable light directed full upon the head of the subject, the eye of\nthe observer of the picture is necessarily centred instantaneously upon\nthe features. These are invariably cast into bold relief by perfect\nmanagement of the chiaroscuro, and the correspondence with life seems as\ncomplete as it well can be. Rembrandt thus accomplishes the aim of every\ngreat artist: he executes a faithful picture, and throws it on the mind\nof the observer with the maximum of rapidity. Only artists of a high\norder can successfully ignore a more or less elaborate setting for a\nportrait, particularly if it be larger than bust size. Great care has to\nbe taken with such a setting lest the eye of the observer be attracted\nby the pose of the figure and the general harmony of the work before\nbeing directed to the countenance. If we take the general opinion of\nknown portraits, so far as it can be gauged, we find that the most\nhighly esteemed of them are: the Julius II. of Raphael, the Mona Lisa of\nLionardo, the Man with the Gloves by Titian, the Old Man with a Boy by\nGhirlandaio, and Innocent X. by Velasquez.[b] All of these except Mona\nLisa are remarkable for the simplicity of the setting, and in the\nexception the formal landscape is altogether subordinated to the figure.\nRaphael was the first artist who saw the value of avoiding accessories\nin portraiture. His half-length portraits painted after his arrival in\nFlorence, are all free from them, and his Julius II. has only the chair\non which the Pope is seated.\n\n  [a] Martin Day and Machteld van Doorn, both in Gustave Rothschild\n        Coll., Paris.\n\n  [b] The first at the Pitti Palace, the last at the Doria Gallery, and\n        the others at the Louvre.\n\nRembrandt further aided the concentration of attention on the\ncountenance of a sitter by the use of warm inconspicuous tones in the\nclothing, which harmonize with all kinds of surroundings in which the\npicture may be seen. The colours never specially attract the eye, and\nthe attire consequently forms so completely a part of the figure, that\nafter an inspection of the work one can rarely describe the costume.\nThis subordination of colour is of the highest importance in\nportraiture, though it is not sufficiently practised nowadays. Velasquez\nused quiet tones whenever possible, that is, when he was not painting\ngreat personages, and Titian, Rubens, and Van Dyck, followed the same\ncourse in half-length portraits. None of these, however, seemed so\ncareful as Rembrandt in adapting the tones to the general character of\nthe figure, so that the impression left on the mind of the observer\nshould relate entirely to the personality. Rembrandt, in fact, aimed at\na representation of the man, and the man only; and he gave us a natural\nhuman being of a commonly known type, with his virtues somewhat\nemphasized, and his faults a little veiled.\n\nThe extraordinary power of Velasquez as a portraitist was due to the\nsame general cause operating in the case of Rembrandt, namely, extreme\nsimplicity in design. Apart from those instances where royal or official\npersonages had to be represented in decorative attire, every portrait of\nVelasquez is merely the impress of a personality. There are no\naccessories; the clothing is subordinated to the last degree, and there\nis nothing for the eye to grasp but a perfectly drawn set of features\nthrown into strong relief by a method of chiaroscuro unsurpassed in\ndepth and accuracy. Thus, as in the case of Rembrandt, the portrait\nfulfils the first law of art--the picture is thrown on the brain in the\nleast possible fraction of time.\n\nVelasquez was remarkable in a greater degree than any other artist, if\nwe except Hals, for his facility in execution. In his brush-work he\nappeared to do the right thing at all times without hesitation,\nachieving the most perfect balance as if by instinct. So far as we can\njudge from those instances where his subjects were painted also by other\nartists, his portraits are good likenesses, but he followed the best\npractice in generalizing the countenance to the fullest extent. It is\nunfortunate that his work was confined to so poor a variety of sitters.\nOf his known portraits more than half represent Philip IV. or his\nrelatives; eight others are nobles of the time, and another half dozen\nare dwarfs and buffoons, leaving only seventeen examples of the artist's\nwork amongst ordinary people. There never was a weaker royal family than\nthat of Philip IV., and it is really astonishing how Velasquez was able\nto produce such excellent works of art by means of their portraits. With\nhis abnormal lips and weak face, the king himself must have been a most\ndifficult person to ennoble, yet the painter managed in three portraits\nto give him a highly distinguished countenance and bearing, without in\nany way suggesting exaggeration.[a] Of another weak man--Innocent\nX.--Velasquez painted what Reynolds described as the greatest portrait\nhe saw in Rome; and it is truly one of the most amazing life\nrepresentations ever executed.[b] A reddish face peers out through a\nblaze of warm surroundings and background; a face in full relief as if\ncut out of apoplectic flesh--almost appalling in its verity. It is like\nnothing else that Velasquez painted: it overpowers with its combined\nstrength and realism. But it is a picture to see occasionally, and\nadmire as a great imitation. If one lived with it, the colour would hurt\nthe eye, the unpleasant face would tire the mind. Such a face should not\nbe painted: it should be carved in stone, where truth may be given to\nform without the protrusion of mortal decay. Bernini sculptured the\ncountenance, and gave the Pope a certain majesty which no painting could\npresent. As a life portrait the work of Velasquez is unrivalled, but as\na pure work of art, it is behind the three portraits of Philip IV.\nalready mentioned. A distinctly unhealthy face cannot be produced in\nportraiture without injuring the art, for it is a variety of distortion.\n\n  [a] The full example at the Prado; the Parma full length, in the Frick\n        Coll., N. Y.; and the three-quarter length portrait at the\n        Imperial Gallery, Vienna.\n\n  [b] In the Doria Gallery, Rome.\n\nVelasquez was so naturally a portraitist that apart from his actual\nportrait work, every figure composition he painted seems to consist\nmerely of the portraits of a group of persons. He took little pains to\nconnect the figures in a life action, often painting them with a look of\nunconcern with the proceedings around them, as if specially posing for\nthe artist. In several of his works there are faces looking right out\nof the picture, and it is evident that in these the artist had little\nthought in his mind away from portrait presentation.[a] The Surrender of\nBreda and Las Meninas,[b] regarded generally as his best compositions,\nare admittedly portrait groupings, but the setting in each case is one\nof action, and hence the faces looking out of the picture are a great\ndrawback, as they disrobe the illusion of a natural scene. That a man so\naccurate in his drawing, so perfect in his chiaroscuro, and so skilful\nin his brushwork, should yet be so conspicuously limited in imagination,\nis a problem which art historians have yet to solve.\n\n  [a] See The Breakfast, Hermitage; Christ in the House of Martha,\n        National Gallery, London; and The Drinkers, Prado.\n\n  [b] Both at the Prado.\n\nFranz Hals was on a level with Velasquez in respect of facility in\nexecution, and like him seems to have been a born portraitist. His\nbrushwork was so rapid and decisive that in scarcely any of his designs\nis there evidence of deliberation. He seems to have been able to take in\nthe essential features of a subject at a glance, and to transfer them to\ncanvas without preliminaries, producing an amazing countenance with the\nleast possible detail. Though some of his large groups are a little\nstiff, this is rather through his want of capacity in invention than a\nset purpose of exaggeration with a view to heightening the dignity of\npose, for it is obvious that Hals had little imagination, and knew\nnothing of the boundless possibilities of his art in general\ncomposition. He appears to have passed through life without concern for\nhis work beyond material results, being well convinced that the magic\nof his execution would leave nothing further for the public to desire.\nIn the last forty years of his life he made no advance in his art except\nin one respect, but the change was great, for it doubled the art value\nof his portraits. He learned how to subordinate his colours; how to\nmodify his chiaroscuro in order to force the immediate attention of the\nobserver on the countenance of his subject.[52] Such an advance with\nsuch an artist placed him in the rank of the immortals among the\nportraitists.\n\nIt will be seen that in the judgment of the greatest painters,\ndecoration in a portrait should be altogether subordinated to the\ntruthful representation of character, this practice being only varied\nwhen the personage portrayed is of public importance, and the portrait\nis required more or less as a monument. The rule is natural and\nreasonable, being based upon the universal agreement that the\nall-important part of a man comprehended by the vision is his\ncountenance. But the rule only strictly applies to a single figure\nportrait, for when the painter goes beyond this, and executes a double\nportrait or a multiple group, he restricts the scope of his art. Other\nthings being equal a double portrait is necessarily inferior art to a\nsingle figure picture, since the dual objective complicates the\nimpression of the work on the brain, and the only remedy, or partial\nremedy, for this drawback possessed by the painter is to introduce\naccessories and arrange his group in a subject design. This plan results\nin detracting from the force of the actual portraits, as it divides the\nattention of the observer, but there is no help for it unless one is\ncontent with the representation of the figures in a stiff and formal way\nwhich extinguishes the pictorial effect of the work.\n\nThe greatest artists have avoided dual or triple portrait works where\npossible except in cases of gatherings of members of the same family, as\none of these groups may be regarded as a unity by the observer.\nNevertheless in his picture of Leo X., and the two younger Medici,[a]\nRaphael was careful to subordinate the cardinals so that they should\nappear little more than accessories in a painting of the Pope; an\nexample which was followed not quite so successfully by Titian in his\ntriple portrait of Paul III. with the two brothers Farnese.[b] A group\nof two persons who are in some way associated with each other, though\nunconnected in action, rarely looks out of place, as in the pictures of\nfather and son, or of two brothers, painted by Van Dyck, or in The\nAmbassadors of Holbein,[c] but no painter has yet succeeded in producing\na first-class work of art out of a multiple portrait group when the\npersonages represented are unconnected with each other, either directly\nin action, or indirectly through association derived from the title. The\npicture of Rubens representing Lipsius and three others, would appear\nmuch more stiff and formal than it is, without one of the two titles\ngiven to it, notwithstanding the general excellence of the\ncomposition.[d] When the figures introduced are very numerous, as in the\nmany groups of civic organizations painted by Hals, Ravesteyn, and\nothers, the compulsory formality seriously detracts from the aesthetic\nvalue of the works, however superior they may be in execution, or\nwhatever the connection of the personages represented; and when we come\nto such crowded paintings as Terburg's Signing the Peace of Muenster,[e]\nwe obtain but little more than a record, though it be of absorbing\nhistorical interest.\n\n  [a] Pitti Palace, Florence.\n\n  [b] Naples Museum.\n\n  [c] National Gallery, London.\n\n  [d] The Four Philosophers, or Lipsius and his Disciples, Pitti Palace.\n\n  [e] National Gallery, London.\n\nIt is observable that as a rule portraitists have been more successful\nwith delineations of men than of women. This is to be accounted for by\nthe necessity for subordinating the representation of character to the\nart in the case of women unless they have passed the prime of life;\nwhile with men the art is usually subordinated to the portrait,\ncharacter being sought independently of sensorial beauty. Strictly it is\nthe duty of the artist to make his portrait, whether of a man or a\nwoman, sensorially attractive, but here again in portraiture custom and\nconvention have to be considered with the rules of art. It is agreed\nthat with a woman sensorial beauty must be produced if that be possible,\neven with the sacrifice of certain elements of character; but with a man\nthe portrait must be recognized by the acquaintances of the subject as\ncorresponding in most details with his life appearance. The future of\nthe portrait is out of the question for the time being. Nevertheless the\npainter has certain advantages in dealing with the features of a man,\nfor the presence of lines in the brow, or other evidence of experience,\ndoes not interfere with the nobility or dignity which may be added to\nhis general bearing; but what would be lines in the countenance of a man\nwould be wrinkles in that of a woman, because here they can scarcely be\nneutralized by attitude and expression which imply strength of\ncharacter, without destroying what is best described as womanly charm,\nwhich is a compulsory feature in every woman's portrait. With a man\ntherefore the portraitist considers character first and emphasizes\nqualities of form within his power; while with a woman, during the\nperiod of her bloom, beauty of form and feature must be the first care\nof the artist, unconflicting qualities of character being emphasized or\nadded.\n\nAll this was of course recognized by the great portraitists of the\nRenaissance and the seventeenth century, but while most of them\nendeavoured to enhance the sensorial beauty of their men subjects,\nlittle attempt was made to add intellectual grace to the portrayals of\nwomen. Antonio Moro[a] and Van Dyck, in their full length portraits of\nwomen, sometimes succeeded in converting dignity of form into what we\nunderstand as grandeur, which implies dignity of expression as well as\ngrace and dignity of form, but they were largely handicapped by the\ndress fashions of their times. They had to deal with heavy formal\ndrapery which hung over the figures like elongated bells, and bid\ndefiance to freedom of pose. When fashions and customs had so changed as\nto allow of definition being given to the figures, Van Dyck had been\ndead for many years. Meanwhile Hals, Rembrandt, Velasquez, and hundreds\nof lesser lights, were casting around their flowers of form and mind,\nbut all on the old plan, for it is difficult to find a portrait of a\nwoman painted during the century succeeding Van Dyck, where beauty of\nfeature is allied to nobility in expression.\n\n  [a] Catilina of Portugal, and Maria of Austria, both at the Prado.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 14 (See page 168)\n  Sacrifice of Iphigenia (Pompeian Fresco)\n  Supposed copy of a painting by Timanthes]\n\nThe production of this combination awaited the maturity of Reynolds, who\nwith Gainsborough, broke into a new field in the portraiture of women.\nGainsborough took the grandeur of Van Dyck for his pattern, but improved\nupon it by substituting simplicity for dignity and elaboration, which he\nwas able to manage without great difficulty, as he had a clear advantage\nover the Flemish master in that the costumes in use in his time were\nlighter in character, and permitted of the contour of form being\nproperly exhibited. This simple grace of form allied to grandeur in\nbearing, naturally brings about an apparent modification in expression\nin conformity with it, so long as there are no conflicting elements in\nexpression present, which Gainsborough was careful to avoid. Reynolds\nwent further than Gainsborough, for after the middle of his career he\ndirectly added an expression of nobility to his portraits of women\nwhenever the features would admit of it, and so brought about the\nhighest type of feminine portraiture known in art. He was more nearly\nallied to Titian than Van Dyck, and though in sheer force of sensorial\nbeauty he did not reach the level of the Venetian master, yet in pure\nfeminine portraiture, where high beauty of expression is combined with a\nperfect generalization of the features, Reynolds is unsurpassed in\nthe history of painting, so far as we can judge from examples remaining\nto us. For we must estimate an artist from his best work. Reynolds\npainted forty or fifty portraits of women of the character indicated,\nand a few of them, notably Mrs. Siddons as Tragedy,[a] and Mrs.\nBillington as St. Cecilia,[b] are amongst the most luminous examples of\nfeminine portraiture in existence. There are many artists who equalled\nReynolds in the representation of men, but there are very few indeed who\neven attempted to strike a just balance between sensorial and\nintellectual effects in the countenance of a woman.\n\n  [a] Westminster Coll., London.\n\n  [b] New York Public Library.\n\nWith such great leaders as Reynolds and Gainsborough, it might have been\nhoped that the school they founded in portraiture would have taken a\nlong lease of life, but it rapidly died away, leaving very few indeed of\nfootsteps sunk deep in the sands of glory, save those of Raeburn,\nHoppner, Lawrence, and Romney. But between Reynolds and Romney there is\na wide gulf, for while the former sought for his beauty among the higher\ngifts of nature, Romney, with rare exceptions, was content with a formal\nexpression allied to grace of pose. We may shortly consider this\ngraceful attitude for it seems to be often regarded as an all-sufficing\nfeature in the representation of women.[53]\n\nThe charm of grace lies chiefly in movement, and a graceful attitude in\nrepose implies rest from graceful movement, but this attitude is\nephemeral in nature, for if prolonged it quickly becomes an artificial\npose. In art therefore, a graceful pose, whether exhibited in action or\nat rest, must soon tire unless attractive expression be present to\ndeepen the impress of the work upon the mind of the observer. The\ngeneral aesthetic value of graceful form in a painted figure varies with\nthe scale to which the figure is drawn. With a heroic figure, grace is\nof the smallest importance; in one of life size, as a portrait for\ninstance, the quality is of considerable assisting value; and as the\nscale is diminished, so does the relative value of grace increase. This\nis because details of expression can be less truthfully rendered in\nsmall figures than in those of life size, while in miniature figures\ncertain high qualities of expression, as nobility, or a combined\nexpression of mind and form, as grandeur, can be scarcely indicated at\nall, so that purely sensorial beauty, as that arising from grace of\npose, becomes of comparatively vast importance. This was well understood\nin ancient times. The Grecian sculptured life-size figures are nearly\nalways graceful, but the grace arises naturally from perfection of form\nand expression, and not from a specially added quality, a particular\ngrace of pose being always subordinated, if present at all. On the other\nhand, in the smaller Grecian figures, such as those found at Tanagra and\nin Asia Minor, anything in expression beyond regularity of features is\nnot attempted, but grace is always present, and it is entirely upon this\nthat the beauty of the figurines depends. We may presume from the\nfrescoes opened out at Pompeii, that the ancients were well aware of the\nvalue and limitations of grace in art. In all these decorations where\nthe figures are of a general type, as fauns, bacchantes, nereids,\ndancers, and so on, they are represented in motion, flying drapery being\nskilfully used to provide illusion. Grace is the highest quality evident\nin these forms, while the expression is invariably negative. For pure\nwall decorations, which are observed in a casual way, a high quality of\ngrace such as these frescoes provide is all-sufficient, but as with the\nGreeks, the Romans did not make grace a leading feature in serious art.\n\nWith the great painters of the Renaissance, nobility, grandeur, and\ngeneral perfection of form and expression, though necessarily implying a\ncertain grace in demeanour, altogether dwarfed the feature of grace of\npose. In the seventeenth century, grace was subordinated to dignity of\nform in the case of Van Dyck and Velasquez, and to actual life\nexperience with Rubens and Rembrandt. When either of these last two\nadded a quality of form to their figures, it was always dignity and not\ngrace. Murillo was the first Spanish painter to pay particular attention\nto the grace of his figures, but he never gave it predominance. The\nFrench masters of the period, Le Brun, Le Sueur, Poussin, Mignard, and\nRigaud, leaned too closely to classical traditions to permit of grace\nplaying a leading part in their designs, though some of slightly lesser\nfame as Noel and Antoine Coypel, appeared to attribute considerable\nvalue to the quality. It was during this century in Italy that grace\nfirst appeared as a prominent feature in figure painting. In his\npastoral and classical scenes, Albani seems to have largely relied upon\nit for his beauty, and Cignani, Andrea Sacchi, Sassoferrato, and others\nfollowed in his footsteps in this respect, though up to the end of the\ncentury no attempt was made in portraiture to sacrifice other features\nto grace of pose. Rosalba then made her appearance as a portraitist, and\nshe was the first to rest the entire beauty of her work on sensorial\ncharm of feature and grace of pose. She developed a weakened school in\nFrance which culminated with Nattier; and in England, Angelica\nKauffmann, and some miniature painters, notably Cosway and Humphrey,\ntook up her system for their life-size portraits, while many artists \"in\nsmall\" as Cipriani and Bartolozzi, assisted in forming a cult of the\nstyle. But of the greater British painters, only Romney gave high\nimportance to grace of pose in portraits of women. It is safer for an\nartist to eschew grace of pose altogether than to sacrifice higher\nqualities to it. A little added dignity is always preferable to a\ngraceful attitude in a portrait, because in nature it is not so\nevanescent a feature. Grace is a good assisting quality, but an inferior\nsubstitute.\n\nThe greatest repose possible is necessary in a portrait, as a suggestion\nof action tends to draw the attention of the observer to it, thus\nimpeding the impression of the whole upon his mind. The leading\nportraitists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries never erred in\nthis matter, unless we except a single work by Titian--the portrait\ngroup of Paul III. and the Cardinals Farnese, where the last named has\njust arrived and is apparently in the act of bowing before completing\nhis final step; but even here it may be fairly argued that a moment of\nrest between two parts of the final action is to be presumed. It was not\nan uncommon practice of Van Dyck to pose a subject arrested in the act\nof walking, or with one foot on the lowest step of a stairway as if\nabout to ascend; but in each of these instances the head is turned, and\nit is obvious that the motion is temporarily stayed.[a] A similar pose\nwas sometimes adopted by British artists of the eighteenth century with\nconspicuous success. If a portrait figure be painted in the act of\nwalking on level ground, the feet must be together even if the moment\nrepresented be that between two steps in the action, because it is\ncontrary to all experience for a man to rest while so walking, with one\nfoot in front of the other. In a general composition the representation\nof a man walking with the feet separated is permissible, because it is\npart of a general action, and accessory in its nature, but in a portrait\nthe beginning and end of the action depicted are usually unknown, and\nhence any action must be meaningless and disturbing to the observer.[b]\n\n  [a] See Earl of Pembroke, Wilton Coll., Countess of Devonshire,\n        Chatsworth, and Philip le Roy, Wallace Coll., all in England.\n\n  [b] See Chase's Master Roland, private Coll., N. Y.; and Manet's Boy\n        with a Sword, Met. Museum, N. Y.\n\nThe French and English artists of the eighteenth century followed the\npractice of their predecessors in avoiding the exhibition of movement in\ntheir portraits, but occasionally they departed from the rule. In his\nfine portrait of Mrs. Thomas Raikes, Romney shows the lady playing a\nharpsichord, with the fingers apparently in motion; and in his group of\nthe Ladies Spencer, one of them is fingering a harp. The result in each\ncase is a stiff attitude which detracts from the beauty of the work. Van\nDyck managed such a design in a much better way, for in his portrait of\nhis wife with a cello, she holds the bow distinctly at rest.[a] Titian\nalso, when representing a man at an organ, shows his hands stayed, while\nturning his head.[b] Reynolds moved aside once from the custom in\nrespect of action,[c] and Raeburn seems also to have erred only on a\nsingle occasion.[d]\n\n  [a] Munich Gallery.\n\n  [b] Venus and the Organ Player, Prado.\n\n  [c] Viscountess Crosbie, Tennant Coll., London.\n\n  [d] Dr. Nathaniel Spens, Royal Co. of Archers, Edinburgh.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nEXPRESSION. PART VI--MISCELLANEOUS\n\n     Grief--The smile--The open mouth--Contrasts--Representation of\n     death.\n\n\nThe painter has ever to be on his guard against over-emphasis of facial\nexpression. His first object is to present an immediately intelligible\ncomposition, and this being accomplished, much has already been done\ntowards providing appropriate expressions for his characters. It has\nbeen seen that attitude alone may appear to lend to a countenance\nsuitable expression which is not observed when the head of the figure is\nconsidered separately; and while such a condition is not frequent, its\npossibility indicates that the painter is warranted in relying more or\nless upon the details of his action for conveying the state of mind of\nthe personages concerned therein. It is not the purpose here to deal\nwith the various forms of expression that may be of use to the painter,\nnor indeed is it necessary. The work of Raphael alone leaves little to\nbe learned in respect of the expression of emotion so far as it may be\nexhibited in a painting[54]; but there are a few matters in relation to\nthe subject which appear to require attention, judging from experience\nof modern painting, and short notes upon them are here given.\n\n\nGRIEF\n\nIntense grief is the most difficult expression to depict in the whole\nart of painting, because in nature it usually results in distortion of\nthe features, which the artist must avoid at all cost. Of the thousands\nof paintings of scenes relating to the Crucifixion, where the Virgin is\npresumed to be in great agony at the foot of the Cross, very rarely has\nan artist attempted to portray this agony in realistic manner.[a] He\ngenerally substitutes for grief an expression of sorrow which is\nproduced without contraction of the features. This expression, which is\ninvariably accompanied with extreme pallor, does not prevent the\naddition of a certain nobility to the countenance, and hence no\nsuggestion of insufficiency arises in the mind of the observer. But the\nsublime expression which may be given to the Virgin would be out of\nplace in her attendants who are not infrequently made hideous through\nattempts to represent them as overcome with grief.\n\n  [a] A notable exception is Poussin's Descent from the Cross,\n        Hermitage.\n\nA method of avoiding the difficulty is to conceal the face of the\npersonage presumed to be suffering from grief. Timanthes is recorded by\nPliny as having painted a picture of the Sacrifice of Iphigenia in which\nthe head of Agamemnon was completely covered by his robe; and a picture\nof the same subject in a Pompeian fresco represents the Grecian monarch\nhiding his face with his right hand, while the left gathers up his\nrobe.[a] This invention was the subject of considerable discussion in\nEurope in the eighteenth century, in which Reynolds, Falconet, Lessing,\nand others took part. Reynolds said of the device that an artist might\nuse it once, but if he did so a second time, he would be justly\nsuspected of improperly evading difficulties. Falconet compared the\naction of Timanthes to that of a poet who avoided expressing certain\nsentiments on the ground that the action of his hero was above anything\nthat could be said[b]; while Lessing held that the grief which overcame\nAgamemnon could only find expression in distortion, and hence the artist\nwas right in covering the face.[c] Unquestionably Lessing was justified,\nfor nothing more is demanded of the painter than to impress the\nimagination of the observer with the intensity of the grief depicted,\nand in this he succeeds. Obviously the poet is in a different position\nfrom the painter because he can express deep grief easily enough without\nsuggesting distortion of the features.\n\n  [a] See Plate 14[55].\n\n  [b] \"Traduction des 34me, 35me, et 36me livres de Pline.\"\n\n  [c] Laocoon.\n\nThe artifice of Timanthes was practically unused during the Renaissance,\nthough Botticelli once conceals the face of a woman lamenting over the\nbody of Christ,[a] and Richardson quotes a drawing by Polidoro where the\nVirgin hides her face in drapery in a lamentation scene. In Flanders at\na little earlier period, Roger van der Weyden used the device,[b] and\nthe Maitre de Flemalle shows St. John turning his head away and holding\nhis hand to his face in a Crucifixion scene.[c] In the succeeding\ncenturies little was known of the practice, but quite lately it has come\ninto use again. Boecklin painted a Pieta in which the Virgin has thrown\nherself over the dead body of Christ in an agony of grief, her whole\nform being covered by a cloak. Feuerbach has a somewhat similar\narrangement, and in a picture of the Departure of Jason, he hides the\nface of an attendant of Medea, a plan adopted in two or three frescoes\nof the subject at Pompeii. Prud'hon, in a Crucifixion scene, hides the\nface of the Magdalene in her hands, and Kaulbach in his Marguerite so\nbends her head that her face is completely concealed from the observer.\nWhere the face cannot altogether be hidden owing to the character of the\ndesign, it is sometimes thrown into so deep a shade that the features\nare indistinguishable, this being an excellent device for symbolical\nfigures typifying great anguish.[d]\n\n  [a] The Brera, Milan.\n\n  [b] In a scene of The Eucharist, Antwerp.\n\n  [c] Christ on the Cross, Berlin.\n\n  [d] As in Hacker's Cry of Egypt.\n\nIt is not a good plan in a tragic design merely to turn the head away to\nindicate grief or sorrow, because in such a case the artist is unable to\ndifferentiate between a person experiencing intense grief, and one who\nturns his head from horror of the tragedy.[a] The scheme of half veiling\nthe face is not often successful, since the depth of emotion that would\nbe presumed from such an action may be more than counterbalanced by the\nvery limited feeling which can be indicated by the part of the face\nremaining exposed. On account of a neutralizing effect of this kind,\nLoefftz's fine picture of the Dead Christ at Munich is much weakened,\nfor there is no stronger expression on the part of the Virgin than\npatient resignation. Sorrow may well be displayed by semi-concealment of\nthe features, because here the necessary expression may be produced by\nthe eyes alone.[b] In ancient art, to half conceal the face indicated\ndiscretion, as in the case of a Pompeian fresco where a nurse of the\nyoung Neptune, handing him over to a shepherd for education, has her\nmouth and chin covered, the meaning of this being that she is acquainted\nwith the high birth of the boy, but must not reveal it.\n\n  [a] See Gros's Timoleon of Corinth.\n\n  [b] Leighton's Captive Andromache.\n\n\nTHE SMILE\n\nA pronounced smile in nature is always transitory, and hence should be\navoided when possible in a painting. The only smile that does not tire\nis that which is so faint as to appear to be permanent in the\nexpression, and it has been the aim of many painters to produce this\nsmile. An examination of numerous pictures where a smile is expressed in\nthe countenance has convinced the writer that when either the eyes\nalone, or the eyes and mouth together, are used to indicate a smile, it\nis invariably over-pronounced as a suggestive permanent feature, and\nthat in every case of such permanence, success arises from work on the\nmouth alone.\n\nThe permanent smile was not studied in Europe till the Milanese school\nwas founded, and in this nearly every artist gave his attention to it,\nfollowing the example of Lionardo. This great master, who was well\nacquainted with the principles of art, is not likely to have had in his\nmind an evanescent expression when he experimented with the smile, and\none can hardly understand therefore why this feature is almost\ninvariably over-emphasized in his works. In his portrayal of women he\nused both eyes and mouth to bring about the smile,[a] and more commonly\nthan not paid most attention to the eyes. Perhaps he had in view the\nproduction of a permanent smile solely by means of the eyes, which play\nso great a part in general expression. In nature it is physically\nimpossible for a smile to be produced without a faint variation in the\nmouth line, while the lower eyelids may remain perfectly free from any\nchange in light and shade, even with a smile more pronounced than is\nnecessary for apparent permanence. In the Mona Lisa at Boston,[56] the\nsmile is very faintly indicated by the eyes, and most pronounced at the\nmouth, while in the famous Paris picture, the eyes are chiefly\nresponsible for the smile, the mouth only slightly assisting.[57] Many\nsmiling faces were produced by others of the Milanese school, and as a\nrule the mouth only was used, often with complete success, notably by\nB. Luini,[b] Pedrini,[c] and Ferrari.[d] Raphael never used the eyes to\nassist in producing a smile, except with the Child Christ,[e] and in all\ncases where he exhibits a smile in a Madonna[f] or portrait,[g] it\nappears definitely permanent. As a rule the great artists of the\nRenaissance other than the disciples of Lionardo, rarely produced a\nsmile with the intention of suggesting a permanently happy expression,\nand in the seventeenth century little attention was given to it.\n\n  [a] An exception where the mouth only is used is a drawing for the\n        Madonna and Child with St. Anne, Burlington House, London.\n\n  [b] Salome, Uffizi Gallery, Florence.\n\n  [c] Madonna and Child, Arezzo.\n\n  [d] Madonna and Child, Brera, Milan.\n\n  [e] Cowper Madonna, Panshanger, England.\n\n  [f] See Casa Tempi Madonna, Munich; and Virgin with a Goldfinch,\n        Uffizi.\n\n  [g] Portrait of a Young Man, Budapest; and the Fornarina, Barberini\n        Gallery, Florence.\n\nThe great French portraitists of the eighteenth century frequently made\nthe smile a feature in expression, and a few of them, notably La Tour,\nseldom produced a countenance without one. In most cases the smile is a\nlittle too pronounced for permanence, but there are many examples of a\nfaint and delicate smile which may well suggest an habitual condition.\nRigaud's Louis XV. as a Boy is an instance,[a] though here the illusion\nquickly passes when we bring to mind the other portraits of the monarch.\nNattier,[b] Boucher,[c] Dumont le Romain,[d] Perronneau,[e] Chardin,\nRoslin, and others, sometimes succeeded, but the French master of the\nsmile was La Tour who executed quite a dozen examples which Lionardo\nmight have envied.[f] Of British artists Romney was the most adept in\nproducing a permanent smile,[g] but strange to say there is no instance\nof one in his many portraits of Lady Hamilton, beyond her representation\nas a bacchante.[h] Here the smile is far too pronounced for a plain\nportrait, but a bacchante may reasonably be supposed to be ever engaged\nin scenes of pleasure, and hence the feature does not seem to be out of\nplace. Reynolds commonly used both eyes and mouth in creating his\nsmiles,[i] but Raeburn was nearly equal to Romney in the number of his\nfelicitous smiles, while he seldom exceeded the minimum expression\nrequired for permanence.[j] Gainsborough produced a few portraits of\nwomen with a vague furtive smile, sweet and expressive beyond degree.[k]\nThey are invariably brought about by a faint curvature of the mouth\nline.\n\n  [a] At Versailles.\n\n  [b] Madame Louise, at Versailles.\n\n  [c] Portrait of a Young Woman, the Louvre.\n\n  [d] Two examples in the group Madame Mercier and Family, Louvre.\n\n  [e] Madame Olivier, Groult (formerly), Coll., Paris.\n\n  [f] See Madame de la Popeliniere and Mdlle. Carmago, both at Saint\n        Quentin Museum; and Madame Pompadour, Louvre.\n\n  [g] See Mrs. Yates, Llangattock Coll.; William Booth, Lathom Coll.;\n        and Mrs. Tickle, A. de Rothschild (formerly) Coll., all England.\n\n  [h] T. Chamberlayne Coll., England.\n\n  [i] For exceptions see Hon. Lavinia Bingham, Spencer Coll., and Mrs.\n        Abington, Fife Coll., both England.\n\n  [j] See Farmer's Wife, Mitchell Coll.; Mrs. Lauzun, National Gallery,\n        London; and Mrs. Balfour, Beith Coll., Scotland.\n\n  [k] Lady Sheffield, Alice Rothschild Coll.; and Mrs. Leybourne, Popham\n        Coll.\n\n\nTHE OPEN MOUTH\n\nIf there be one transient feature more than another which should be\navoided in a painting, and particularly in the principal figure, it is\na wide-open mouth. Necessarily, after a short acquaintance with a\npicture containing such a feature, either the mouth appears to be kept\nopen by a wedge, or, as in the case of a laugh, the face is likely to\nwear an abnormal expression approaching to idiocy, for it is altogether\ncontrary to experience of normal persons in real life, for a mouth to be\nkept open longer than for an instant or two. Hence the first artists\nhave studiously refrained from exhibiting a wide-open mouth, or indeed\none that is open at all except to such an extent that the parted lips\nappear a permanent condition. But a few great men have erred in the\nmatter. Thus, Mantegna shows the child Christ with the mouth widely open\nin a half-vacant and half-startled expression, which is immediately\nrepelling.[a] Dosso Dossi has several pictures much injured by the\nfeature,[b] and in Ercole di Roberti's Concert, no less than three\nmouths are wide open.[c] One of the figures in Velasquez's Three\nMusicians opens his mouth far too widely,[d] while Hals has half a dozen\npictures with the defect.[e] A rare mistake was made by Carlo Dolci when\nshowing Christ with His mouth open wide in the act of utterance,[f] and\nMengs erred similarly in St. John Baptist Preaching.[g] In more modern\ntimes the fault is seldom noticeable among artists of repute, though\noccasionally a bad example occurs, as in Winslow Homer's All's Well.[h]\nEven when an open mouth seems unavoidable, the effect is by no means\nneutralized.[i]\n\n  [a] Virgin and Child at Bergamo.\n\n  [b] Notably A Muse Instructing a Court Poet, and Nymph and Satyr,\n        Pitti Palace.\n\n  [c] National Gallery, London.\n\n  [d] Berlin Gallery.\n\n  [e] See Merry Company at Table, Met. Mus., N. Y., and similar\n        pictures.\n\n  [f] Christ Blessing, a single figure picture.\n\n  [g] Hermitage, Petrograd.\n\n  [h] Boston Museum, U. S. A. See Plate 15.\n\n  [i] As in Dow's The Dentist, Schwerin Mus., and a similar work at the\n        Louvre.\n\nWhen the blemish is in an accessory figure, it is of lesser importance\nas there it becomes an incidental circumstance on the mind of the\nobserver. Thus, in Reynolds's Infant Hercules, where Alcmena, on seeing\nthe child holding the snakes, opens her mouth with surprise and alarm,\nthe action of the central figure is so strong that the importance of the\nothers present is comparatively insignificant.[a] Nevertheless in a\nPompeian fresco of the same subject, care has been taken to close the\nmouth of Alcmena. Where the design represents several persons singing,\nit is well possible to indicate the action without showing the mouths\nopen, as in Raphael's St. Cecilia.[b] In a picture of a like subject,\nwith the Saint in the centre of a group of five singers, Domenichino\nshows only the two outside figures with open mouths, and one of these is\nin profile. There are several works where David is seen singing to the\naccompaniment of a harp, but though his mouth is open, the figure is in\nprofile, and the lips are hidden by moustache and beard.[c]\n\n  [a] Hermitage, Petrograd.\n\n  [b] Bologna Museum.\n\n  [c] For example, Rubens's David's Last Song, Frankfort Museum.\n\nIt may be observed, however, that in certain cases artificial\nconditions may render an open mouth in a picture of comparatively little\nsignificance. A painted laugh for instance may only become objectionable\nto the observer when the work is constantly before him; but when it is\nin a picture gallery and he sees it but rarely, the lasting character of\nthe feature is not presented to his mind. The Laughing Cavalier of Franz\nHals, though violating the principle, does not appear in bad taste to\nthe average visitor to the Wallace Collection. In the case of\nRembrandt's portrait of himself with Saskia on his knee, where the\nartist has his lips parted in the act of laughing, there is an\nadditional reason why the transient expression should not tire. Because\nof the number of self-portraits he painted, the countenance of Rembrandt\nis quite familiar to most picture gallery visitors, and to these the\nlaugh in the Dresden picture could not possibly pass as an habitual\nexpression.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 15 (See page 176)\n  Winslow Homer's All's Well (_Boston Museum_)]\n\n\nCONTRASTS\n\nDesigns specially built up for the purpose of contrasting two or more\nattributes or conditions are almost invariably uninteresting unless the\nmotive be hidden behind a definite action which appears to control the\nscheme. This is because of the difficulty of otherwise connecting the\npersonages contrasted in a particular action of common understanding. A\ndesign of Hercules and Omphale affords a superior contrast of strength\nand beauty to a composition of Strength and Wisdom. In each case a\nherculean figure and a lovely woman represent the respective qualities,\nbut in the first the figures are connected by expression and action, and\nin the second no connection can be established. So in contrasting beauty\nof mind with that of form, this is much better represented by such a\nsubject as Hippocrates and the Bride of Perdiccas than in the Venetian\nmanner of figures unconnected in the design. And in respect of\nconditions, Frith's picture of Poverty and Wealth, where a carriage full\nof fashionable women drives through a poor section of London, has little\nmore than a topographical interest, but in a subject such as The First\nVisit of Croesus to Aesop, the contrast between poverty and wealth\nwould deeply strike the imagination.\n\nIn contrasts of good and evil, vice and virtue, and similar subjects, it\nis inferior art to represent the evil character by an ugly figure. As\nelsewhere pointed out, deformity of any kind injures the aesthetic value\nof a picture because it tends to neutralize the pleasurable feeling\nderived from the beauty present. The poet may join physical deformity\nwith beauty because he can minimize the defect with words, but the\npainter has no such recourse.[58] A deformed personage in a composition\nis therefore to be deprecated unless as a necessary accessory in a\nhistorical work, in which case he must be subordinated to the fullest\nextent possible. The figure of Satan, of an exaggerated satyr type, has\noften been introduced into subjects such as the Temptation of Christ,\nthough not by artists of the first rank.[a] Such pictures do not live as\nhigh class works of art however they be painted. Correggio makes a\ncontrast of Vice and Virtue in two paintings,[b] representing Vice by a\nman bound, but usually in the mature time of the Renaissance, Vice was\nshown as a woman, either beautiful in features, or with her face partly\nhidden, various accessories indicating her character. A notable\nexception is Salviati's Justice where a hideous old woman takes the role\nof Vice.[c] Even in cases where a witch has to be introduced, as in\nrepresentations of Samuel's Curse, it is not necessary to follow the\nexample of Salvator Rosa, and render her with deformed features, for\nthere are several excellent works where this defect is avoided.[d]\n\n  [a] See examples by Ary Scheffer, Luxembourg; and H. Thoma, Burnitz\n        Coll.\n\n  [b] Both at the Louvre.\n\n  [c] The Bargello, Florence.\n\n  [d] As in K. Meyer's picture.\n\nAn effective design with the purpose of contrasting the ages of man is\nnot possible, firstly, because the number of ages represented must be\nvery limited, and, secondly, for the reason that the figures cannot be\nconnected together in a free and easy manner. Hence all such pictures\nhave been failures, though a few great artists have attempted the\nsubject. Titian tried it with two children, a young couple, and an old\nman, assorting the personages casually in a landscape without attempting\nto connect them together in action.[a] At about the same time Lotto\nproduced a contrast, also with three ages represented, namely, a boy, a\nyoung man, and an elderly man.[b] These personages sit together as if\nthey had been photographed for the purpose, without a ray of\nintelligence passing between them. But this is far better than Grien's\nThree Ages,[c] for here the artist has strangely confused life and\ndeath, exhibiting a grown maiden, a middle-aged woman, and a skin-coated\nskeleton holding an hour-glass. The best design of the subject is Van\nDyck's Four Ages.[d] He shows a child asleep near a young woman who is\nselling flowers to a soldier, and an old man is in the background.\nThere is thus a presumed connection between three of the personages, but\nnaturally the composition is somewhat stiff. The only other design worth\nmentioning is by Boecklin, who also represents four ages.[e] Two\nchildren play in the background of a landscape; a little farther back is\na young woman; then a cavalier on horseback; and finally on the top of\nan arch an old man whom Death in the form of a skeleton is about to\nstrike. But here again there is no connection between the figures, the\nconsequent formality half destroying the aesthetic value of the work.\nFrom these examples than which there is none better, it may be gauged\nthat it is hopeless to expect a good design from a subject where the\nages of man are contrasted. If represented at all, the ages should be\ncontrasted in separate pictures, as Lancret painted them.\n\n  [a] Bridgewater Coll., England.\n\n  [b] Pitti Palace, Florence.\n\n  [c] The Prado, Madrid.\n\n  [d] Vincenza Museum.\n\n  [e] Vita somnium breve.\n\nThe practice of presenting nude with clothed figures where the subject\ndoes not absolutely compel it, is commonly supposed to be for the\npurpose of contrast. This may have been the object in some cases, but\nin very few is the interest in the contrast not outweighed by the\nbizarre appearance of the work. As a rule in these pictures there is\nnothing in the expressions or actions of the personages depicted to\nsuggest a reason for the absence of clothes from some of them, and so to\nthe average observer they form a \"problem\" class of painting. The first\nimportant work of the kind executed was Sebastiano del Piombo's Concert,\nin which the group consists of two nude women, one with a reed pipe, and\ntwo men attired in Venetian costume, of whom one handles a guitar.[a]\nThe figures are very beautiful and the landscape is superb, but as one\ncannot account for the nude figures in an open-air musical party, the\naesthetic value of the work is largely diminished. This painting has\nsuggested several designs to modern artists, the most notable being\nManet's Dejeuner sur l'Herbe, where a couple of nude women with two men\ndressed in modern clothes are shown in a picnic on the grass. Not only\nis the scheme inexplicable, but the invention is so extravagant as to\nprovoke the lowest of suggestions. In a composition of this kind only a\ngreat artist can build up a harmonious design.\n\n  [a] At the Louvre. Formerly attributed to Giorgione.\n\nTitian's picture known as Sacred and Profane Love,[a] where the figure\nof a nude woman is opposed to one clothed, may really signify any of a\ndozen ideas, but the artist probably had no other scheme in his mind\nthan to represent different types of beautiful women. Crowe and\nCavalcaselli's suggested title of L'Amour ingenu et l'Amour satisfait,\nwas certainly never conceived by Titian, nor is Burckhardt's proposal,\nLove and Prudery, possible in view of the flowers in the hand of the\ndraped figure. In any case this picture is the greatest of its kind, for\nthe composition is so delicate and harmonious, and the art so perfect,\nas to render its precise meaning a matter of little consideration.\nAnother picture of Sacred and Profane Love was painted by Grien.[b] He\nshows a nude woman from whom Cupid has just drawn the drapery, and\nanother woman concealing her figure with loose drapery. The effect is\nweak. The nude figures in the well-known Drinkers of Velasquez[c] are\nundisturbing because they are not very prominent in the picture, but\ntheir significance is not apparent.\n\n  [a] Borghese Gallery, Rome.\n\n  [b] Frankfort Museum.\n\n  [c] The Prado, Madrid.\n\nNo one has yet properly explained the meaning of the nude male figures\nstanding at ease in the background of Michelangelo's celebrated Holy\nFamily.[a] They are apparently pagan gods, and it is suggested that the\nartist intended to signify the overthrow of the Grecian deities by the\ncoming of Christ. Such an explanation might be possible with another\npainter, but it does not accord with our conception of the mind of\nMichelangelo. A still greater puzzle is offered by Luca Signorelli who,\nin the landscape background of the bust portrait of a man, shows two\nnude men to the right of the portrait, and two attired women at the\nleft.[b] It is impossible to suggest any meaning of this extraordinary\ninvention.\n\n  [a] Uffizi Gallery, Florence.\n\n  [b] Berlin Gallery.\n\n\nTHE REPRESENTATION OF DEATH\n\nDeath is a subject inappropriate to the art of painting except where it\nis dealt with symbolically or as an historical incident. Naturally in\neither of these cases any realistic representation of death, or of\ndistortion connected therewith, should be studiously avoided. For while\nmany aspects of death may not be unpleasant to the senses, its actual\npresence--the cold immobility; the pulseless soulless, decaying thing;\nthe appalling mirror of our own fate--these things are most unpleasant,\nand hence should have no place in painting. In sculpture, represented in\na certain way, death is admissible, for in marble or bronze a body may\nbe carved indicating only the eternal composure of a beautiful form.\nThis is how the Greeks showed death, whether in the case of a warrior\nfallen on the battlefield, or as the twin brother of Sleep. But the\npainter is less fortunate: for him death is decay.\n\nThe presence of so many scenes of death in the paintings of the past was\nthe result of accident. For a long while after the dawn of the\nRenaissance, those controlling churches and other religious institutions\nof the Christians were the chief and almost the only patrons of art, and\nthey required paintings as well for didactic purposes as for decoration.\nFor some time pictures often took the place of writing, where\ncomparatively few could read, in the inculcation of Christian doctrines\nand history, and they were largely used as images before which people\ncould kneel in prayer. The most important facts bearing upon Christian\nfaith are concerned with death, and so there have been accumulated\nthousands of paintings of scenes of the Crucifixion, the death-beds of\nsaints, instances of martyrdom, and so on. While these paintings have\nbeen highly useful as tending to invite reverence for a sublime creed,\nit would be injurious to suggest that generally they take a high place\nin art. Some of them do, but the very large number of them which\nindicate dying agony, or recent death with all its mortal changes, must\nnot be approved from a strict art point of view, for any beauty which\nmay be present apart from the subject is instantly neutralized by the\npain and horror arising from the invention. But it is evidently\nunnecessary to produce such pictures, even in the case of the\nCrucifixion, for there are ample works in existence to show that the\nface and body of Christ can be so presented as to be free from\nindications of physical suffering or decay.\n\nBut if we are to protest against designs exhibiting forbidding aspects\nof death in sacred works, what can we say of the pictures of executions,\nmassacres, plagues, and so on, which ever and again have been produced\nsince the middle of the nineteenth century? Deeds of heroism or\nself-sacrifice on the battlefield where bodies of the fallen may be\noutlined are well, but simple wholesale murders as presented by\nBenjamin-Constant, Heim, and fifty others, where the motive does not\npretend to be anything else than massacre or other ghastly event, can\nonly live as examples of degraded art. There may be something said for\nVerestchagin, who painted heaps of heads and skulls, and scattered\ncorpses, in order to show the evils of war, but if the arts are to be\nused at all for such a purpose, the poet or orator would be much more\nimpressive because he could veil the hideous side of the subject with\npathos and imagery, and further differentiate between just and unjust\nwars. The painter is powerless to do these things. He can only represent\nthe horrors of war by depicting horrible things which is entirely beyond\nthe province of his art. The purpose of art is to give pleasure, and if\nthe design descend below the line where displeasure begins, then the art\nis no more.\n\nHow easy it is for the aesthetic value of a picture to be lowered by the\nrepresentation of a corpse, is shown in three celebrated paintings--the\nanatomical works of Rembrandt[a] and De Keyser.[b] Probably these works\nwere ordered to honour the surgeons or schools concerned, but the object\nwould have been better served by a composition such as Eakin's Dr.\nCross's Surgical Clinic.[c] Here the leading figure is also giving a\nlesson to students, and practical demonstration is proceeding, but there\nis no skeleton or corpse to damage the picture. Fromentin said that the\nTulp work left him very cold,[d] and although he endeavoured to find\ntechnical ground for this, it is more than likely that the principal\nreason lay in the involuntary mental disturbance brought about by the\ncorpse. Another fine design largely injured by corporeal evidence of\ndeath is Ingres's Oedipus and the Sphinx,[e] where a foot rises out of\na hole in the rock near the Sphinx, the presumption of course being that\nthe body of a man who had failed with the riddle had lately been thrown\nthere. The invention is most deplorable in such a picture.\n\n  [a] Lesson in Anatomy of Professor Tulp, and the fragment of a similar\n        work, both at The Hague.\n\n  [b] Rijks Museum, Amsterdam.\n\n  [c] Jefferson Medical College, Philadelphia.\n\n  [d] Masters of Other Days.\n\n  [e] At the Louvre.\n\nThe use of a skeleton as a symbol of death in painting seems to have\nbeen unusual during the Renaissance till towards the end of the\nfifteenth century. The earliest artist of note in this period to adopt\nit, was Jean Prevost who represented a man taking a letter from a\nskeleton without seeing the messenger.[a] Then came Grien who painted\nthree works of the kind. In the first Death holds an hour-glass at the\nback of a woman, and points to the position of the sand[b]; in the\nsecond the bony figure has clutched a girl by the hair[c]; and the third\nrepresents a skeleton apparently kissing a girl.[d] They are all hideous\nworks, and might well have acted as a warning to succeeding artists.\nAfter Grien the use of a skeleton in design was practically confined to\nthe smaller German masters till the middle of the second half of the\nsixteenth century, when it disappeared from serious work. From this time\non, for the next three centuries artists of repute rarely introduced a\nskeleton into a painting, though it is to be found occasionally in\nengravings. One might have supposed that the unsightly form had been\nabandoned with the imps, evil spirits, and other crudities of past days,\nbut it was not to be. The search for novelties in recent times has only\nresulted in the resuscitation of bygone eccentricities, and we must not\nbe surprised that the skeleton is amongst them.\n\n  [a] Old Man and Death, Bruges.\n\n  [b] Imperial Gallery, Vienna.\n\n  [c] Girl and Death, Basle Museum.\n\n  [d] Basle Museum.\n\nModern artists have displayed considerable ingenuity in the use of the\nskeleton, but the results have necessarily only succeeded in degrading\nthe art. Rethel figures a skeleton in the costume of a monk who is\nringing a bell at a dance.[a] Several of the dancers have fallen dead,\napparently from plague, and the whole scene is ghastly. Henneberg has a\nFortune allegory in which Death is about to seize a horseman who is\nchasing a nude woman,[b] this design being a slight modification of a\nvariety of prints executed in the sixteenth century. Thoma uses a\nskeleton in a most bizarre manner. He substitutes it for the serpent in\na picture of Adam and Eve,[c] and in another work associates it with\nCupid.[d] Two lovers are talking, and Death stands behind the woman\nwhose hat Cupid is lifting. A terrible picture with a political bearing\nwas painted by Uhde.[e] It represents a crowd of revolutionists rushing\ntowards a bridge, while a skeleton in modern costume waves a sword and\ncheers them on. These instances suffice to indicate the difficulty in\nthe production of a fine work of art with so hideous a form as a\nskeleton thrown into prominence.\n\n  [a] Death at a Masked Ball.\n\n  [b] Race for Fortune.\n\n  [c] Sin and Death.\n\n  [d] Cupid and Death.\n\n  [e] Revenge.\n\nHow simply one may avoid the introduction of a skeleton in a design\nconcerned with death, is shown by an example where three artists deal\nwith the same motive--Death, the Friend. The first composition shows an\nold man sitting dead in a chair while a skeleton costumed as a monk,\ntolls a bell[a]: in the second there is also an old man in a chair, but\nan Angel with a scythe is substituted for the skeleton[b]: in the third\nan Angel with huge folded wings forming an oval framework for her\nfigure, leans over the body of a child which has its face hidden.[c] The\nsecond design is a vast improvement over the first, but the third is\nincomparably the best of the three. It may be remarked that a scythe is\ntoo trivial an emblem for the Angel of Death, for whom indeed an emblem\nof any kind is only admissible when Death is represented as the result\nof eternal justice, in which case a flaming sword is appropriate.\n\n  [a] Woodcut by A. Rethel.\n\n  [b] Lithograph by O. Redon.\n\n  [c] Painting by G. F. Watts.\n\nVery rarely indeed can a good picture be made out of a funeral scene.\nSuch a scene attending the death of a great man may be fitly produced,\nso long as the imagination can be used in the composition; that is to\nsay, if there are few or no records of the actual funeral[a]; but\npaintings relating to the modern burial of unnamed persons are of little\nvalue as works of art, for the imagination of the artist cannot extend\nbeyond unpleasant prosaic incidents of common acquaintance. The purpose\nof the funeral scenes of Courbet[b] and Anne Ancher[c] has never been\nexplained; and the various interiors, each with a coffin and distracted\nrelatives of the dead, by Wiertz,[d] Dalsgaard,[e] and other modern\nartists, are capable of bringing only misery instead of pleasure to the\nobserver.\n\n  [a] As in Rubens's Funeral of Decius, Vienna.\n\n  [b] The Burial at Ornans.\n\n  [c] The Funeral.\n\n  [d] The Orphans.\n\n  [e] The Child's Coffin.\n\nBut while funerals are unsuitable for the painter, interior scenes where\ndeath has occurred and friends are watching the body, offer special\ninducements to artists, because the perfect stillness of the living\npersons represented may be properly assumed, and so the illusion of life\nis little likely to be disturbed through the non-completion of an\nindicated action. On this account these works appear very impressive\nwhen well executed, and they may take high rank even when the artist is\nlimited in his scope by the conditions of an actual scene. Very little\nis required however to destroy the illusion of continuity. In Kampf's\npicture of the lying-in-state of William I.,[a] where many watchers are\nshown who are presumed to be motionless, a boy in the middle distance in\nthe act of walking, is a most disturbing element. An example where an\nillusion of continuity is perfectly maintained is Orchardson's Borgia,\nwhere Caesar Borgia stands in contemplation over the body of his poisoned\nvictim. The silence indicated appears practically as permanent as the\npainted design, for any reasonable time spent by the observer in\nexamining the picture, is not likely to be longer than that during which\nCaesar may be presumed to have remained still at the actual occurrence.\nScenes of approaching death may be arranged to produce a similar\nillusion, as for instance where those present are praying, or a single\nfigure is waiting for the life to pass from the sick person.\n\n  [a] The Night of March 31, 1888, at Berlin.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 16 (See page 190)\n  Hercules Contemplating Death, in Bronze, by Pollaiuolo\n  (_Frick Collection_)]\n\nLittle attention has been paid in art to the expression of dying\npersons. There are many pictures representing celebrated men and women\nin their dying moments, but very few of them exhibit an expression of\nnoble resignation and fearlessness, qualities which are naturally\nassociated with a great man as his end draws near. No doubt the artist\nis often limited in his invention by the actual circumstances of the\ndeath scene, as in Copley's Death of Chatham,[a] for the statesman was\nunconscious at the moment of representation. Other than this the best\nknown works of the kind relate to the death of Seneca,[b] Queen\nElizabeth,[c] and General Wolfe.[d] In the last instance only is there a\nfine expression. How it was that Rubens missed his opportunity with\nSeneca is hard to understand. The presence of a clerk taking down the\nutterances of a philosopher as he bleeds to death, gives the design a\ntheatrical appearance, and removes any suggestion of unconcerned\nresignation which might have arisen. One of the most powerful designs in\nexistence relating to approaching death, is a sculptured figure in\nbronze of Hercules contemplating death.[e] The demi-god is\nrepresented standing on an altar. His left foot is raised upon the skull\nof an ox; his head is slightly bent, and the whole attitude suggests a\nfew moments of rest while he contemplates his coming fate. The\nconception is as fine as the subject is rare.\n\n  [a] National Gallery, London.\n\n  [b] By Rubens, at Munich.\n\n  [c] By Delaroche, at the Louvre.\n\n  [d] By Benjamin West, Westminster Coll., London.\n\n  [e] By A. Pollaiuolo, Frick Coll., New York. See Plate 16[59].\n\nThe artist should glorify death if possible, but he can only do this\nwhen the subject has a general application. Many painters have\nintroduced the Angel of Death into scenes where death has occurred, and\nhave thus converted them into work of pathos and beauty. Notable\nexamples of this are Watts's Death, the Friend, already referred to, and\nH. Levy's Young Girl and Death, where the Angel gently clasps the body\nof a girl whose face is hidden. One of the finest designs of the kind is\nLard's Glory Forgets not Obscure Heroes. On a battlefield, where all\nelse has gone, lies the body of a soldier over whom stoops a lovely\nwinged figure who raises the head of the hero, and seems to throw a halo\nof glory over him.[a] In historical paintings the appearance of sleep is\noften given to a dead body, as in Cogniet's Tintoretto Painting his Dead\nDaughter, a pathetic picture, bringing to mind the story of Luca\nSignorelli painting his dead son.[b]\n\n  [a] The design for this picture was probably suggested by Longepied's\n        fine sculptured group of Immortality at the Louvre, the idea\n        of which was no doubt drawn from Canova's L'Amour et Psyche.\n        There are Tangara groups and fragments of larger works in\n        existence showing that the Greeks executed many designs of\n        a similar character.\n\n  [b] See also Girodet's Burial of Atala, and Le Brun's Death of Cato.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nLANDSCAPE\n\n     Limitations of the landscape painter--Illusion of opening\n     distance--Illusion of motion in landscape--Moonlight\n     scenes--Transient conditions.\n\n\nConsidered as a separate branch of the painter's art, landscape is on a\ncomparatively low plane, because the principal signs with which it\ndeals, and the arrangement of them to form a view, may be varied\nindefinitely without a sense of incongruity arising. Thus there can be\nno ideal in the art; that is to say, no ideal can be conceived which is\ngeneral in its character. The artist can aspire to no definite goal: his\nimagination is limited to the arrangement of things which are inanimate\nand expressionless. He may produce sensorial, but not intellectual,\nbeauty. The nobler human attributes and passions, as wisdom, courage,\nspiritual exaltation, patriotism, cannot be connected with landscape,\nand so it is unable to produce in the mind the elevation of thought and\ngrandeur of sentiment which are the sweetest blossoms of the tree of\nart.[60]\n\nAnother drawback in landscape is the necessity for painting it on an\nextraordinarily reduced scale. Because of this the highest qualities of\nbeauty in nature--grandeur and sublimity--can only with difficulty be\nsuggested on canvas, for actual magnitude is requisite for the\nproduction of either of these qualities in any considerable degree. A\nvolcano in eruption has no force at all in a painting, a result which is\ndue, not so much to the inability of the painter to represent moving\nsmoke and fire, as to the impossibility of depicting their enormous\nmasses. The disability of the painter in respect of the representation\nof magnitude is readily seen in the case of a cathedral interior. This\nmay or may not have the quality of grandeur, but a picture cannot\ndifferentiate between one that has, and one that has not, because no\nfeeling of grandeur can arise in looking at a painted interior, the\nelement of actual space being absent.\n\nSeeing that an ideal in landscape is impossible, the landscape painter\ncannot improve upon nature. In the case of the human figure the painter\nmay improve upon experience by collecting excellencies from different\nmodels and putting them into one form, thus creating what would be\nuniversally regarded as ideal physical beauty; and he may give to this\nform an expression of spiritual nobility which is also beyond experience\nbecause it would imply the absence of inferior qualities inseparable\nfrom man in nature. Thus to the physical, he adds intellectual beauty.\nSuch a perfect form may be said to be an improvement upon nature, for it\nis not only beyond experience, but is nature purified. But the landscape\npainter cannot improve upon the signs which nature provides. He may vary\nthe parts of a tree as he will, but it would never be recognized as\nbeyond possible experience unless it were a monstrosity.[61] And even if\nhe could improve upon experience with his signs, this would help him but\nlittle, for the beauty of a landscape depends upon the relation of the\nsigns to each other, and not upon the beauty of the separate signs which\nvary in every work with the character of the design. In colour also the\npainter cannot apply to his landscape an appropriate harmony which the\nsun is incapable of giving. From all this it follows that the aesthetic\nvalue of a landscape depends entirely upon its correspondence with\nnature.\n\nA good landscape must necessarily be invented, because it is impossible\nto reproduce the particular beauty of a natural scene.[62] This beauty\nis due to a relation of parts of the view, infinite in number, to each\nother, but what this relation is cannot be determined by the observer.\nFurther, whatever be the relation, the continuous changing light and\natmospheric effects bring about a constant variation in the character of\nthe beauty. It is possible for an actual view to suggest to the artist a\nscheme for a beautiful landscape, but in this the precise relation of\nthe parts would have to be invented by the painter and fixed by\nexperiment. The principal features from a natural view may be taken out,\nbut not those which together bring about the beauty. There is no great\nlandscape in existence which was painted for the purpose of representing\na particular view. There have of course been scenes painted to order,\neven by notable artists, but these only serve the purpose of record, or\nas mementoes. The great view of The Hague, painted by Van Goyen under\ninstructions from the syndics of the town, is the feeblest of his works,\nand the many pictures of the kind executed by British and German artists\nof the eighteenth century have now only a topographical interest.\nConstable painted numerous scenes to order, and there are something like\nforty views of Salisbury Cathedral attributed to him, but only those in\nwhich he could apply his own invention are of considerable aesthetic\nvalue. A good artist rarely introduces into a painting even a small\nsketch of a scene made from nature. Titian is known to have drawn\nnumerous sketches in particular localities, but not one has been\nidentified in his pictures. In nearly every painting of Nicholas Poussin\nthe Roman Campagna may be recognized, and here he must have made\nthousands of sketches during the forty years he spent in the district,\nyet the most patient examination has failed to identify a single spot in\nhis many beautiful views. So with Gaspar Poussin, who, unlike his famous\nbrother-in-law, occasionally set up his easel in the open air; and with\nClaude who never left off sketching in his long life. The greatest\nlandscapes are those which are true to nature generally, but are untrue\nin respect of any particular natural scene.\n\nSeeing that in landscape the production of sensorial beauty only is\nwithin the power of the painter, and that the beauty is enhanced as\nnature is the more closely imitated, it is obvious that for the work to\nhave a permanent interest, the scene depicted and the incidents therein\nshould be of common experience, otherwise the full recognition of the\nbeauty is likely to be retarded by the reasoning powers being\ninvoluntarily set to work in the consideration of the exceptional\nconditions. Naturally the term \"common experience\" has a varied\napplication. What is of common experience in scenery among people in a\ntemperate climate, is rare or unknown to those living under the burning\nsun of Africa. The artist is fully aware of this, and in designing his\nwork he takes into account the experience of the people who are likely\nto see his paintings. A view of a scene in the East, say in Palestine or\nSiam, may be a beautiful work and be recognized as true because the\nconditions depicted are commonly known to exist; it would further have\nan informative value which would result in added pleasure; but among\npeople habituated to a temperate climate it would tire more quickly than\na scene of a kind to which they are daily accustomed. In the one case an\neffort, however slight, is required to accommodate the view to\nexperience, and in the other the whole meaning of the scene is\ninstantaneously identified with its beauty.\n\nIn nature there is always movement and sound. Even on those rare days\nwhen the wind has ceased and the air seems still and dead, there is\nmotion with noise of some kind. A brook trickles by, insects buzz their\nzigzag way, and shadows vary as the sun mounts or descends. But most\ncommonly there is a breeze to rustle the trees and shrubs, to ripple the\nsurface of the water, and to throw over the scene evidence of life in\nits ever charming variety. The painter cannot reproduce these movements\nand sounds. All he represents is silent and still as if nature had\nsuddenly suspended her work--stayed the tree as it bent to the breeze,\nstopped the bird in the act of flight, fixed the water, and fastened the\nshadows to the ground. What is there then to compensate the artist for\nthis limitation? Why, surely he can represent nature as she is at a\nparticular moment, over the hills and valleys, or across great plains,\nwith sunlight and atmosphere to mark the breadth and distance and so\nproduce an illusion of movement to delight the eyes of the observer with\nbewitching surprise. For the eye as it involuntarily travels from the\nforeground of the picture to the background, proceeds from sign to sign,\neach decreasing in definition in conformity with the changes in nature,\ntill vague suggestions of form announce that far distance has been\nreached. The effect is precisely that of the cinematograph, except that\nthe eye moves instead of the picture. The apparent movement corresponds\nclosely with the opening of distance in nature when one proceeds in a\nfast moving vehicle along a road from which a considerable stretch of\ncountry may be observed. Very rarely is the illusion so marked that the\napparent movement is identified to the senses. When it is so marked the\ndistance seems to come forward, but is instantaneously stayed before\nconsideration can be brought to bear upon it. Clearly if one specially\nseek the illusion, it becomes impossible because search implies reason\nand an examination slow out of all proportion with the rapidity of the\nsensorial effect. Accident alone will bring about the illusion, for it\ncan only arise when the eye travels at a certain rate over the picture,\nthe minimum of which rate is indeterminable.\n\nIt is evident that any landscape of fair size in which considerable\ndepth is indicated must necessarily produce an illusion of opening\ndistance if the varying signs are sufficiently numerous and properly\npainted in accordance with the aerial perspective; and this illusion is\nundoubtedly the key to the extraordinary beauty observed in the works of\nthe great masters of landscape since Claude unveiled the secrets of\ndistance painting. That the apparent movement is rarely actually defined\nis immaterial, for it must be there and must act upon the eye, producing\nan involuntary sensation which we interpret as pleasure arising from\nadmiration of the skill of the artist in giving us so good a\nrepresentation of distance in his imitation.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 17 (See page xii)\n  Arcadian Landscape, by Claude Lorraine (_National Gallery, London_)]\n\nAs will presently be seen there are other kinds of illusion of motion\nwhich may be produced in landscape, but this illusion of opening\ndistance is the most important, and it should be produced wherever\ndistance is represented. In nature the effect of the unfolding of\ndistance is caused by a sequence of signs apparently diminishing in size\nand clearness as the eye travels back, and a sequence of this kind\nshould be produced by the artist in his picture. It is not sufficient\nthat patches of colour of the tone and shape of sections of vegetation,\ntrees, varied soils, and so on, be given, for while these may indicate\ndistance as any perspective must do, yet an illusion cannot be\nproduced by such signs because they are not sufficiently numerous for\nthe eye to experience a cinematographic effect when passing over them.\nIt is not distance that gives the beauty, but an illusion of opening\ndistance, without which, and presuming the absence of any other\nillusion, only simple harmonies of tone and inanimate forms are\npossible. Moreover the patches of colour do not properly represent\nnature either as she appears to the eye, or as she is understood from\nexperience. If one were to take a momentary glance at a view specially\nto receive the general colour impression, he might conceivably retain on\nhis mind a collection of colour masses such as is often put forward as a\nlandscape, but natural scenes are not observed in this way, and the\nartist has no right to imply that a view should be painted as it is\nobserved at an instantaneous glance. One cannot be supposed to keep his\neyes closed, except for a moment, when in front of nature, and he cannot\nbe in front of nature for more than a moment without involuntarily\nrecognizing thousands of signs. There must necessarily be a certain\nclearness of the atmosphere for distance to be represented, and in the\nminimum clearness, trees, bushes, rivulets, and buildings of every kind,\nare well defined at least to the middle distance. These can and should\nbe painted, and there can be no object whatever in omitting them, except\nthe ignominious end of saving trouble.\n\nAnd it is necessary that the signs, whether shadow or substance, should\nbe completely painted as they appear to the eye in nature when observed\nwith average care by one inspecting a view for the purpose of drinking\nin all its beauties, for this is how a painted landscape is usually\nexamined. There is no place in the painter's art for a suggestive sign\nin the sense that it may suggest a required complete sign. A sign must\nbe painted as completely as possible in conformity with its appearance\nas seen from the presumed point from which the artist sketched his view,\nfor the reason that its value as a sign depends upon the readiness with\nwhich it is understood.[63] This is incontrovertible, otherwise the art\nof painting would be an art of hieroglyphics. In poetry suggestion is of\ngreat importance, and it may be so glowing as to present to the\nimagination a higher form of beauty than can be painted; but the signs\nof the painter cannot suggest beauty in this way, because the exercise\nof the imagination in respect of them is limited by their form. A sign\npainted less distinctly than as it is seen in nature is obviously\nremoved from its proper relative position, or else is untrue, and in\neither case it must have a weakening effect upon the picture.\n\nThe successful representation of aerial perspective depends upon the\ncareful and close gradation of tones in conformity with the varying\natmospheric density. This is difficult work because of the disabilities\narising from the reduction of the scene into miniature form, which\nnecessitates the omission of many tones and effects found in nature,\njust as a portrait in miniature involves the exclusion of various\nelements of expression in the human countenance. But fortunately in\nlandscape the variableness of nature greatly assists the artist. Only\nrarely is the atmosphere of equal density over a considerable depth of\nground, and this fact enables the painter to simplify his work in\nproduction of the illusion without appearing to depart from nature. Thus\nhe may deepen or contract his foreground within wide limits. The changes\nin the appearance of the atmosphere in nature have to be greatly\nconcentrated in a painting, and as this concentration becomes more\ndifficult as distance is reached, it follows that the artist has a\nbetter chance of success by making the foreground of his picture begin\nsome way in front of him, rather than near the spot where he is presumed\nto stand when he executes his work. He may of course maintain some very\nnear ground while materially shortening his middle distance, but this\nmethod must obviously lower the beauty of the painting as a distance\nlandscape, and make the execution vastly more difficult. Claude adopted\nthis plan sometimes, but it is seen in very few of his important works.\nIn his best time Turner was careful to set back his foreground, and to\nrefrain from restricting his middle ground.\n\nIf a scene be taken from the middle distance only, as in many Barbizon\nworks, the labour is much simplified because neither the close\ndelineation of foliage, nor any considerable gradation of atmosphere is\nrequired, but then the beauty resulting from either of these two\nexercises is missing. It is equally impossible for such a scene to\nindicate growth and life, or the charm of a changing view. Some modern\nartists have a habit of blotting out the middle and far distance by the\nintroduction of a thick atmosphere but this is an abuse of the art,\nbecause however true the aspect may be in the sense that a natural view\nis sometimes obscured by the atmosphere, the beauty of the scene as a\nwhole is hidden, and the picture consists largely of an imitation of the\nmist, where an illusion of movement is impossible. The painter should\nimitate the more beautiful, and not the less beautiful aspects of\nnature. Jupiter has been sometimes painted as an incident in a picture,\nnearly wholly concealed by a cloud, but to exhibit a separate work of\nthe god so concealed, would only be regarded as an excuse for avoiding\nexertion, however well the cloud may be painted; yet this would not be\nmore reprehensible than to hide the greater part of a view by a dense\natmosphere.\n\nWith a clear atmosphere an illusion of opening distance may be secured\nwith the far distance and the greater part of the middle distance\nunobservable, but in such a case a successful design is difficult to\naccomplish owing to the limited number of signs available. Many signs,\nas trees and houses, either darken or hide the view, while sunlight\neffects on unobstructed ground, sufficiently definite to be used as\nsigns, could not be very numerous without appearing abnormal. The only\nreally first-class method of producing a satisfactory near-ground\nillusion was invented by Hobbema in the later years of his life. This is\nto use skilfully placed trees and other signs through which paths wind,\nor appear to wind, and to throw in a strong sunlight from the back.[a]\nThe light enables far more signs to be used in depth than would\notherwise be possible, and so the eye has a comparatively long track to\nfollow. That the remarkable beauty of the pictures of Hobbema composed\nin this way is almost entirely due to the illusion thus created, is\nreadily seen when they are compared with some of his other works, very\nsimilar in all respects except that the light is thrown in from the\nfront or the side. Before placing his light at the back, the artist\ntried the side plan in many pictures, and while this was a decided\nimprovement upon his earlier efforts to secure depth of near-ground\nsigns, it was naturally inferior to the latest scheme. Jacob Ruysdael\nadopted the plan of Hobbema in two or three works with great effect.[b]\n\n  [a] See Plate 18.\n\n  [b] For example, The Marsh, Hermitage.\n\nWhen the middle distance is hidden by a rising foreground, an illusion\nmay be created by the far distance alone if this be of considerable\ndepth. Since the fifteenth century it has been a frequent practice to\nconceal the middle distance, though mostly in pictures of figure\nsubjects.[64] The Dutch artists of the seventeenth century who painted\nopen-air scenes of human and animal life, as Paul Potter, Wouverman, and\nAlbert Cuyp, avoided the middle distance whenever possible, but often\nmanaged to secure a fair illusion. In pure landscape the system is less\noften practised, and never by great artists.\n\nThe only means available to the painter of land views for creating an\nillusion of motion, apart from that of opening distance, is by the\nrepresentation of flowing water so that a series of successive events in\nthe flow, each connected with, but varying in character from, the\npreceding one, can be exhibited. Thus, a volume of water from a fall\nproceeds rapidly over a flat surface to a ledge, and thence perhaps to\nanother ledge of a different depth, from which it passes over or round\nirregular rocks and boulders, and thence over smaller stones or into a\nstream, creating in its passage every kind of eddy and current.[a] Here\nis a series of progressive natural actions in which the progression is\nregular and continuous, while the separate actions cover such time and\nspace that they may be readily separated by the eye. If, therefore, the\nwhole series be properly represented, an illusion of motion will\nresult.[65] Obviously the canvas must be of considerable size, and the\nbreaks in the flow of water as varied in character and as numerous as\npossible. Everdingen and Jacob Ruysdael seem to have been the first\nartists to recognize the significance of this progression, but Ruysdael\nfar surpassed his master in the exhibition of it. He examined the\nproblem in all its variations, solved it in a hundred ways, and at his\ndeath left little for succeeding painters to learn regarding it. Very\nrarely, one meets with a landscape where the double illusion of motion\nof water and opening distance is provided, and needless to say the\neffect is superb.[b]\n\n  [a] See Plate 19.\n\n  [b] For examples see S. Bough's Borrowdale, and Thoma's View of\n        Laufenburg.\n\nSea views occupy a position by themselves inasmuch as there is a fixed\nhorizontal distance for the artist. He cannot shorten this depth\nwithout making his work look abnormal, and an effort to increase it by\npresuming that the picture is painted from a considerable height above\nthe sea level, is seldom successful because the observer of the work\nfinds a difficulty in fitting in the novelty with his experience. Except\nwhen depicting stormy weather, or showing a thick atmosphere, the\npainter of a sea view has no trouble in obtaining absolute accuracy in\nhis linear perspective, but this is not sufficient, for if a variety of\ntrees, herbage, brooks, and so on, requires an illusion of movement,\nthen certainly does a sea view which has monotony for its keynote. The\nmotion of the waves in fine weather cannot be suggested on canvas\nbecause it is continuous and equal. One wave displaces another and so\nfar as the eye can reach there is only a succession of similar waves.\nThus the motion appears unbroken, and from the canvas point of view the\nwaves must be motionless as the sand hillocks of a desert. Of course in\nthe actual view, the expanse, the \"immeasurable stretch of ocean,\" is\nimpressive and to some extent weird, but nothing of this feeling is\ninduced by a painted miniature. With a bright sky and clear atmosphere\nthe painter of a sea view cannot well obtain an illusion of opening\ndistance by means of a multiplication of signs as on land, for the\nintroduction of many vessels would give the work a formal appearance,\nbut the problem can be satisfactorily solved by putting the sun in the\nsky towards the setting, and using cloud shadows as signs. Aivasovsky,\none of the greatest marine painters of modern times, was very successful\nwith this class of work. His long shadows thrown at right angles to the\nline of sight, carry back the distance till the horizon seems to be\nfurther off than experience warrants, the illusion being perfect. An\nillusion of opening distance may, however, be easily obtained in a sea\nview when there is a haze covering, but not hiding, the horizon, by\nintroducing as signs, two or three vessels, the first in the middle\ndistance.\n\nAnother method of giving a suggestion of motion, which may be used by\nthe sea painter, is in truthfully representing the appearance of the\nwater round a vessel passing through it. What is probably the finest\nexample of this work in existence is Jacob Ruysdael's The Rising\nStorm.[a] The sea is shown close to a port, and half a dozen smacks and\nsmall boats are being tossed about by choppy, breaking waves. In the\ncentre of the picture is a large smack over the weather bow of which a\nhuge foaming wave has broken, and part is spending its force on the lee\nbow, from which the water gradually becomes quieter till at the stern of\nthe boat little more than a black concavity is seen. The progression of\nwave movement is completely represented, and the effect is very\nimpressive.\n\n  [a] Berlin Gallery. See Plate 20.\n\nThe coast painter can produce an excellent illusion of motion from waves\nbreaking on a beach, for in nature this action is made up of a series of\ndifferent consecutive acts each of which is easily distinguishable to\nthe eye. The wave rises, bends over its top which becomes crested, and\nsplashes forward on the beach, to be converted into foam which races\nonwards, breaking up as it goes till it reaches the watermark, then\nrapidly falling back to be met by another wave. Here is a series of\nconsecutive incidents which can all be painted so as to deceive for a\nmoment with the idea of motion. The attempt to represent the action of\nwaves breaking against steep rocks is invariably a failure, because of\nthe great reduction of the apparent number of incidents forming the\nconsecutive series. In nature the eye is not quick enough to follow the\nseparate events, and so they cannot be distinguished in a painting.\nThomson's fine picture of Fast Castle is distinctly marred by a wide\nirregular column of water shown splashing up against a rock. There is no\npossibility here of representing a series of actions, and so an instant\nsuffices to fix the water on the rock. In another work by the same\nartist there are waves breaking against precipitous rocks, but in this\ncase the water first passes over an expanse of low lying rocks, and a\nsequence of actions is shown right up to the cliff, an excellent\nillusion of movement being brought about.[a]\n\n  [a] Dunluce Castle, which with Fast Castle, is in the Kingsborough\n        Collection, Scotland.\n\nApart from those exhibiting an illusion of motion of some kind, the only\nlandscapes which have a permanent value, are near-ground scenes in which\nconditions of atmosphere of common experience, as rain or storm are\nfaithfully rendered. In these works the signs must be numerous and\nvaried in character, for it is only in the multiplication of small\nchanges of form and tone that the natural effects of a particular\nweather condition can be imitated. Jacob Ruysdael and Constable were\nthe greatest masters of this form of landscape, Crome and Boecklin\nclosely approaching them, but it is uncommon for a serious worker in\nlandscape to attempt a picture where distance is not recorded. The best\npaintings of Constable present an illusion of opening distance, and when\nJacob Ruysdael painted near-ground only, it was nearly always a hilly\nslope with water breaking over low rocks.\n\nMoonlight and twilight scenes are not good subjects for the painter of\nlandscape, because, shown as they must be in daylight, or with\nartificial light, they become distinctly uninteresting after the first\nimpression of tonal harmony has passed away, owing to the unconscious\nrevolt of the mind against something with an unreal appearance.[66] This\nis the chief reason why no scene has lived which depended for its beauty\nentirely upon moonlight effects. It is about two hundred and fifty years\nsince Van der Neer died, and he still remains practically the only\nmoonlight painter known to us whose works seem of permanent interest.\nBut he did not rely altogether upon moonlight effects for his beauty,\nfor the representation of distance is the principal feature in all his\nworks. Further he commonly makes us acquainted with the human life and\nhabitations of his time, and in this way enhances our appreciation of\nhis pictures. Before Van der Neer, moonlight scenes were very rarely\nexecuted, and only two or three of these have remained which are worthy\nof serious consideration. The best of them is a view by Rubens, where\nthe light is comparatively strong, and practically the whole of the\nbeauty rests in the opening distance, which can hardly be surpassed in a\nwork of this kind.[a]\n\n  [a] Landscape by Moonlight, Mond Collection, London.\n\nIt is not necessary to deal with varieties of pure landscape other than\nthose mentioned. They are painted in their myriads, and form pleasant\ntonal harmonies, or have local interest, but they do not live. As the\nfoliage in springtime they are fresh and welcome to the eye when they\nfirst appear, but all too soon they fade and disappear from memory like\nthe leaves of the autumn.\n\nIn landscape as in all other branches of painting, whatever is ephemeral\nin nature, or of uncommon experience, should be avoided. Rare sun\neffects and exceptional phases of atmosphere should not find their way\ninto pictures, while strokes of lightning and rainbows should only be\npresent when they are necessitated by the design, and then must be\nsubordinated as far as possible. Of all these things the most strongly\nto be deprecated are strange sunlight effects, for they have the double\ndrawback for the painter, of rarity and evanescence in nature. A stroke\nof lightning is not out of place where the conditions may be presumed to\nbe more or less permanent, as in the celebrated picture of Apelles,\nwhere Alexander was represented in the character of Jupiter casting a\nthunderbolt, and forks of lightning proceed from his hand; or where the\noccurrence is essential in the composition, as in Gilbert's Slaying of\nJob's Sheep.[a] So in Danby's The Sixth Seal Opened, the lightning is\nquite appropriate, for all nature is disturbed. In Martin's Plague of\nHail, and The Destruction of Pharaoh, the first a night scene, and the\nsecond a view darkened by dense black clouds, lightning is well used for\nlighting purposes; and in Cot's The Storm,[b] where the background is\ndark and no sky is visible, lightning is the only means possessed by the\nartist of explaining that the fear expressed by the lovers in the\nforeground, arises from the approaching storm. Great masters like\nGiorgione,[c] Rubens,[d] Poussin,[e] used a stroke of lightning on rare\noccasions, but took every care that it should not be conspicuous, or\ninterfere in any way with the first view of the picture. The lightning\nis invariably placed in the far background, and no light is apparently\nreflected from it.\n\n  [a] The fire of God is fallen from Heaven, and hath burned up the\n        sheep and the servants. Job 1, 16.\n\n  [b] Metropolitan Museum, N. Y.\n\n  [c] Adrastus and Hypsipyle, Venice.\n\n  [d] Landscape with Baucis and Philemon, Munich.\n\n  [e] Jonah cast into the sea.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 18 (See page 202)\n  Landscape, by Hobbema (_Metropolitan Museum, N. Y._)]\n\nA rainbow in nature has a life of appreciable duration, and so may be\nappropriately used in landscape, but obviously it should be regarded as\na minor accessory except where it forms a necessary feature in the\ndesign.[a] The great drawback in a prominent rainbow is that it forces\nitself upon the attention of the observer to the detriment of the\npicture as a whole, and if it be very conspicuous and crosses the middle\nof the painted view, as in Turner's Arundel Castle, the picture appears\ndivided in two parts, and the possibility of an illusion of opening\ndistance is destroyed.[b] Almost as bad is the effect when a rainbow\ncuts off a corner of a picture, for this suggests at first sight an\naccidental interference with the work.[c] Of all artists Rubens seemed\nto know best how to use a rainbow. He adopts three methods. The first\nand best is to put the bow entirely in the sky[d]; the second to throw\nit right into the background where part of it is dissolved in the\nview[e]; and the third to indicate the bow in one part of the picture,\nand overshadow it with a strong sunlight thrown in from another part.[f]\nAny of these forms seems to answer well, but they practically exhaust\nthe possibilities in general design. A section of a rainbow may be shown\nwith one end of it on the ground, because this is observable in\nnature[g]; but to cut off the top of the arch as if there were no room\nfor it on the canvas is obviously bad, for the two segments left appear\nquite unnatural.[h]\n\n  [a] As in Martin's I have Set My Bow in the Clouds.\n\n  [b] In the Rivers of England series.\n\n  [c] The Rainbow of Millet, and a similar work of Thoma.\n\n  [d] Harvest Landscape, Munich Gallery.\n\n  [e] Harvest Landscape, Wallace Collection, London.\n\n  [f] Landscape with a Rainbow, Hermitage, Petrograd.\n\n  [g] Rubens's Shipwreck of Aeneas, Berlin Gallery.\n\n  [h] A. P. Van de Venne's Soul Fishery, Amsterdam.\n\nThe small rainbows sometimes seen at waterfalls are occasionally\nintroduced into paintings, but rarely with success because they tend to\ninterfere with the general view of the scene. Such views are necessarily\nnear ground, and so a bow must seriously injure the picture unless it be\nplaced at the side, as in Innes's fine work of Niagara Falls (the\nexample of 1884).\n\nThe use of a rainbow as a track in classical pictures is sometimes\neffective, though the landscape is largely sacrificed owing to the\ncompulsory great width and bright appearance of the bow, which must\nindeed practically absorb the attention of the observer. The best known\npicture of this kind is Schwind's Rainbow, which shows the beautiful\nform of Iris wrapped in the sheen of the bow, and descending with great\nspeed, the idea being apparently taken from Virgil.[a] To use the top of\nthe rainbow for a walking track is bad, as the mind instinctively repels\nthe invention as opposed to reason.[b]\n\n  [a] Aeneid V., where Juno sends Iris to the Trojan fleet.\n\n  [b] Thoma's Progress of the gods to Walhalla.\n\nBut if fleeting natural phenomena become disturbing to the observer of a\npicture, how much more objectionable are the quickly disappearing\neffects of artificial devices, as the lights from explosions. In a\nbattle scene covering a wide area of ground, a small cloud of smoke here\nand there is not out of place, because under natural conditions such a\ncloud lasts for an appreciable time; but no good artist will indicate in\nhis work a flash from a gun, for this would immediately become stagy and\nunreal to the observer. Nor can fireworks of the ordinary kind be\nproperly represented in a picture. The beauty of these fireworks lies in\nthe appearance out of nothing, as it were, of brilliant showers of\ncoloured lights, and their rapid disappearance, to be replaced by others\nof different form and character, the movement and changes constituting\nimportant elements in their appreciation. But the painter can only\nindicate them by fixed points of light which necessarily appear\nabnormal. Stationary points of light can have no resemblance whatever to\nfireworks, and if the title of the picture forces the imagination to see\nin them expiring sparks from a rocket, the impression can only last a\nmoment, and will be succeeded by a revolt in the mind against so glaring\nan impossibility as a number of permanent sparks. The only painted\nfirework display that does not appear abnormal is a fountain of fire and\nsparks which may be presumed to last for some time, and therefore would\nnot quickly tire the mind.[a]\n\n  [a] See examples by La Touche, notably La Fete de Nuit, Salon, 1914.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nSTILL-LIFE\n\n     Its comparative difficulty--Its varieties--Its limitations.\n\n\nRight through the degrees of the art of the painter till we reach\nstill-life, the difficulty in producing the art is in proportion to the\ngeneral beauty therein, but in the case of still-life the object is much\nless readily gained than in simple landscape which is on a higher level\nin painting. The causes of this apparent anomaly appear to be as\nfollows:--Firstly in miniature painting one does not expect such close\nresemblance to nature as in still-life which usually represents things\nin their natural size: secondly, in still-life the relative position of\nthe parts can never be such as to appear novel, whereas in landscape\ntheir position is always more or less unexpected: thirdly, in still-life\nthe colours are practically fixed, for the painter cannot depart from\nthe limited variety of tints commonly connected with the objects\nindicated, while in landscape the colouring may vary almost indefinitely\nfrom sun effects without appearing to depart from nature.\n\nThe beauty in still-life paintings may arise from several causes,\nnamely, the pleasure experienced from the excellence of the imitation;\nthe harmony of tones; the beauty of the things imitated; the association\nof ideas; and the pleasure derived from the acquisition of knowledge.\nAristotle seemed to think this last one of the principal reasons for our\nappreciation of the painter's work, though he agreed that the better the\nimitation, the greater the pleasure to the observer. The argument\nappears to apply particularly to the lower forms of life because in\nnature they are not often closely examined. A cauliflower for instance\nmay be seen a thousand times by one who would not carefully note its\nstructure, but if he see an imitation of it painted by a good artist,\nhis astonishment at the excellence of the imitation might cause him to\nobserve the representation closely, and learn much about the vegetable\nwhich he did not know before. In this way the information gained would\nadd to his pleasure.\n\nAs in landscape, from the absence of abstract qualities from the things\nrepresented, and since the position of the signs may be indefinitely\nvaried without a sense of incongruity resulting, there can be no ideal\nin still-life, and so the painter cannot pass beyond experience without\nachieving the abnormal.\n\nThe painter of still-life has the choice of four kinds of imitation,\nnamely, the representation of products of nature which are in themselves\nbeautiful, as roses and fine plumaged birds; the imitation of products\nof human industry which are in themselves beautiful, as sculptured plate\nor fine porcelain; the representation of natural and manual products\nwhich in themselves are neither beautiful nor displeasing, but interest\nfrom association of ideas, as certain fruits, books, and musical\ninstruments; and the imitation of things which in themselves are not\npleasing to the sight, as dead game, kitchen utensils, and so on.\nObviously the artist may assort any two or more of these varieties in\nthe same picture. He may also associate them with life, but here he is\nmet with a grave difficulty which goes to the very root of art. If two\nforms, not being merely accessories, are associated together in a\ndesign, the lower form must necessarily be subordinated, otherwise the\nmind of the observer will be disturbed by the apparent double objective.\nA live dog or other animal in a still-life composition will immediately\nattract the eye of the observer, drawing off his attention from the\ninanimate objects represented, which will consequently thereafter lose\nmuch of their interest. The presence of a man is still worse. Not only\nis it natural and inevitable that a human being should take precedence\nof whatever is inanimate in a work of art, but in the case of\nstill-life, where he is painted of natural size, he must necessarily\novershadow everything else in the picture. Further, his own\nrepresentation is much injured because the surroundings exercise a\ndisconcerting influence. Even with the human figures of such a work\nexecuted by a painter of the first rank, they are quite\nuninteresting.[a]\n\n  [a] See still-life pictures at the Hague and Vienna Museums by\n        Van Dyck and Snyders.\n\nBeautiful products of nature such as brilliant flowers and butterflies,\ncannot be imitated so well that the representations appear as beautiful\nas the things themselves, and so are unsuited as entire subjects for\npaintings, for we are usually well acquainted with these things, and\nconsciously or unconsciously recognize the inferiority of the imitation.\nThe greatest flower painters have therefore wisely refrained from\nintroducing into their works more than a few fine roses or similar\nblooms. The presence of many less beautiful flowers in which the\nimitation is, or appears to be, more pleasing than the natural forms,\nneutralizes or overcomes the effect of the inferior imitation of the\nmore beautiful. In fact the extent to which natural products which are\nnecessarily more beautiful than the imitations, may be used in painting,\nexcept as incidentals, is very limited. They cannot appropriately be\nused at all on walls and curtains where they continually cross the\nvision, for they would there quickly tire owing to the involuntary\ndissatisfaction with the representation. The Japanese, whose whole art\nof painting was for centuries concentrated upon light internal\ndecoration, rightly discard from this form of art all natural products\nwhich are necessarily superior to the imitations, and confine their\nattention to those signs which, while being actually more beautiful,\nwhen closely seen, than the imitations, do not appear to be so in nature\nwhere they are usually observed at some distance from the eye. Thus,\nwaterfowl of various kinds, small birds of the hedges, storks, herons,\nbranches of fruit blossoms, light trees and vegetation, are infinitely\npreferable to the more beautiful products for purely decorative\npurposes. A common pigeon with an added bright feather, is better on a\nwall or screen than the most brilliant pheasant, for in the one case the\nrepresentation appears above ordinary experience, and in the other case,\nbelow it.\n\nThe decorative artist then is at liberty to enhance the beauty of his\nsigns, but not to take for them things which are commonly observed in\nnature, and whose beauty he cannot equal. But there should be no wide\ndivergence between the natural beauty and the art, and nothing which in\nitself is unpleasing is suitable for decoration. It may be introduced in\na hanging picture, because here a sense of beauty may be derived from\nthe excellence of the imitation, as in the case of a dead hare or a\nbasket of vegetables; but in pure decoration the effect is general and\nnot particular, and so the imitation yields no beauty apart from that of\nthe thing imitated.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nSECONDARY ART\n\n     Paintings of record--Scenes from the novel and written drama--From\n     the acted drama--Humorous subjects--Allegorical works.\n\n\nWhen the invention of the painter is circumscribed by the requirements\nof another art, whether a fine art or not, then his art ceases to be a\npure art and becomes an art of record, subordinate to the art by which\nhis work is circumscribed. This may be termed the Secondary Art of\npainting. The art may be of importance outside the purposes of the fine\narts, and in certain cases may be productive of good pictures, but only\nby way of accident: hence a work of secondary art never engages the\nattention of a great artist unless he be specially called upon to\nexecute it. Hard and fast lines dividing the pure from the secondary art\ncannot be laid down, as one often verges on the other, but there is a\ngeneral distinction between them which is easily comprehensible in the\nseparate branches of painting.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 19 (See page 204)\n  Landscape, by Jacob Ruysdael (_National Gallery, London_)]\n\nSecondary art is not produced from incidents or characters taken from\nsacred or mythological history, because here the general invention of\nthe painter is never circumscribed, for he is able to produce form and\nexpression above experience. In profane history the art is secondary\nwhen the painter confines his invention to recorded details. Thus in a\npicture of the Coronation of Charlemagne, the composition is entirely\ninvented by the artist, and so the work becomes one of pure art; but the\nrepresentation of the Coronation of Queen Victoria, where the artist\nreproduces the scene as it actually occurred, is secondary art, for he\nis precluded from the exercise of his imagination in the design, the end\nof art being subordinated to that of record or history. Such a picture\nis necessarily stiff and formal. Where the scene represents a number of\nactions, as in a battle design, the artist is unable to record the\nactual occurrence, though he may represent particular actions;\nconsequently he has large scope for his imagination, and may limit his\nrepresentation to those actions which together make a fine example of\npure art. But a battle scene where a particular event, as a meeting of\ngenerals, has to be painted, immediately becomes secondary art, for then\nthe surrounding battle events would be accessory in their nature. It is\npossible for simple historical works painted to order centuries ago to\nappear now as of high art value, because we commonly connect a strict\nformality with old pictures of the kind, whether executed from records\nor invention. Thus Holbein's Henry VIII. presenting a Charter to the\nBarber-Surgeons no doubt closely depicts the actual event, yet the\nstiffness of the design does not seem out of place.[a] Nevertheless\nit is a refreshing change from this picture to Richard III. offered\nthe Crown by London Merchants, which is a magnificent modern work of\npure invention.[b]\n\n  [a] Barbers' Hall, London.\n\n  [b] Royal Exchange, London.\n\nA scene from a story of actual life is necessarily secondary art,\nbecause here the painter imitates what is already an imitation, and\ncannot ascend above experience. He is confined to the invention of the\nnovelist, and is therefore subordinate to him.\n\nThe written drama is available for the painter as a source for designs\nonly in cases of high tragedy, or mixed plays containing strong dramatic\nevents of tragic import. Seeing that the drama is itself an imitative\nart, only such actions or characters can be used by the painter which\nare above life experience, and it is only in tragedy that the dramatist\ncan exalt human attributes, and ennoble the passions above this\nexperience. Tragedy deals directly with the two great contrasting human\nmysteries--life and death. From one to the other is the most awful and\nsublime action within human knowledge, and consequently the motives and\nsentiments relating to it may be carried to the loftiest reach of the\nunderstanding. An exaggeration of ordinary life, where the combination\nof perfected parts in form and expression is not possible, means only\nthe abnormal; while comedy, which imitates conditions inferior to\nordinary life, cannot be exaggerated except into distortion. High\ntragedy therefore is the only section of the written drama that concerns\nthe painter. If he draw from any other work of the dramatist he only\nproduces secondary art, as when he draws from the novelist. The picture\nmay be interesting, but both interest and beauty will be fleeting.\n\nWhile the painter may use the written drama in certain cases, he can by\nno means be concerned with the acted drama. It is useless to attempt to\nproduce a good picture by imitating an imitation accomplished by a\ncombined art, as the opera or drama. A painted scene from a play as it\nis acted, is merely the execution of another man's design which in\nitself is entirely circumscribed by conditions of action and speech\nwholly foreign to the art of the painter. A picture of a particular\nmoment of action in a written play, as it is thrown upon the brain in\nthe course of reading, is interesting, firstly because our imagination\nhas wide limits of invention, and we naturally and instinctively adopt a\nharmonious rendering of the scene so far as the writing will allow; and\nsecondly for the reason that we pass rapidly from impression to\nimpression, and so the whole significance of each picture, separately\nand relatively, is conveyed to us. But a painting of an acted scene is\nmeaningless, for it can represent only one in a series of a thousand\nmoments of action which are all connected, and of which the\ncomprehension of any one is dependent upon our knowledge of the whole.\nThe painter has no scope. He simply copies a number of figures in a\nfixed setting, and the result is necessarily inferior art to a copy of\nthe poorest original picture, since in this case the artist at least\ncopies the direct product of the imagination, while in the other he has\nonly before him a series of dummies who are imitating the product. The\nsense of unreality arising from such a picture must instantly overpower\nany harmony of colour or form that may be present.\n\nWhere the portrait of an actor is painted in a stage role, the same\nprinciple is involved, though the result is not so disastrous. We still\nhave the unreal, but it is painted and put forward as a living person.\nThe artist moreover has a little imaginative scope. He can choose a\nmoment of action best suited to his art, and may even vary the character\nof the action, which is not possible where an acted scene is depicted.\nBut notwithstanding all the relative advantages, a Raphael could not\nmake a fine picture out of a man in character. He may largely overcome\nthe disabilities arising from the limitation to his invention; he may\nintroduce great effects of light and shade; may ennoble expression and\ngive grandeur to form; but he will never hide the sham--never conceal\nthe fact that he is representing an imitation of life. The actor on the\nstage is one of a number of signs used by the dramatist. His identity\napart from the sign is lost, or presumed to be lost for the time being,\nand so he is not a sham; but outside of the stage his use or meaning as\na sign does not exist. Hence the representation of this sign as a\nsubject of a painting is only a degree less incongruous than would be\nthe introduction of a painted figure as one of the characters of a stage\nscene.\n\nIt is an indication of the sure public instinct in matters of art\nprinciples, that general opinion has always tacitly condemned paintings\nof stage scenes and characters. They have not infrequently been\nproduced, and sometimes artists of high rank, as Reynolds and Lawrence,\nhave painted portraits of actors in stage roles, but never has one met\nwith public appreciation as a work of art. Probably in most cases these\nworks were executed as mementoes rather than as works of art, for it is\nscarcely possible to conceive a painter of the stamp of Reynolds, who\nwas so well acquainted with first principles, putting forward even a\nportrait of Garrick in a stage role, as a serious work, notwithstanding\nthat he might well know that it was a masterpiece in respect of\nexecution.\n\nHumour is not a subject for the painter to deal with, for a humorous\npicture cannot be comprehended without the assistance of another art.\nFurther, comedy is founded upon a sense of the ridiculous, which means\ndistortion of form or idea. Distortion of form would tend to destroy the\nart if reproduced, and distortion of idea implies events in time which\nare beyond the scope of the painter. If any humour were exhibited in the\nrepresentation of a single moment of action in a story, it would quickly\ndisappear, for a permanent joke is beyond the range of human\nunderstanding. In poetry and fiction, humour may be appropriately\nintroduced, because here it is of a fugitive character, and may serve as\na possible relief of the mind, as a discordant note in music; but in a\npainting, the moment of humour is fixed, and a fixed laugh suggests\nmental disorder.\n\nNor is there place in the art of the painter for works intending to\nconvey satire or irony, for such pictures also mean distortion. Moreover\nthey are merely substitutes for, or adjuncts to, the art of writing.\nThe object of caricature is to present an idea in a more direct and\nrapid way than it can be expressed in writing, and not specially to\nexhibit beauty, which is the purpose of the painter. Hogarth's many\ncaricatures are composed of superlative signs of writing, and not of any\nfine art. Cartoons (as the word is commonly understood) are of the\nnature of allegory, and may afford scope for the painter, but as they\nnecessarily refer to more or less fleeting conditions of a political or\nsocial character, they cannot retain permanent interest.\n\nAllegorical paintings are secondary art when they endeavour to cover\nmore than a moment of time in a single design, or when the allegory is\nmerely a metaphor applying to action. The first variety is rarely seen\nin modern works, but it was not very uncommon from the fifteenth to the\nseventeenth century, though it was never produced by first-class\nartists, and seldom indeed by those of the second rank. Quite a number\nof works of this period, formerly supposed to have an allegorical\nsignification, are now properly identified as rarely represented\nmythological legends, or historical incidents which have only lately\nbeen unearthed,[a] and we may rest assured from internal evidence that\nmany others of the same kind will yet be newly interpreted. A good\ndesign cannot be produced from an event in time because the figures in a\npresumed action must be shown in repose,[b] or else the action appears\nincongruous and opposed to experience, as when a goddess is overpowered\nby a personage with the appearance of a human being.[c] In both cases\nthe figures must seem to be falsities. Designs of the first kind can\nonly be properly represented in a sequence of pictures, each indicating\na particular action, as in the Marie de' Medici series of Rubens; and\nthose of the second by commonly accepted figures of sacred or\nmythological history or legend, as where St. Michael and the Dragon\ntypify Good overcoming Evil.\n\n  [a] Examples are Lorenzo Costa's Cupid Crowning Isabella d'Este,\n        Giorgione's Adrastus and Hypsipyle, and Piero di Cosimo's\n        Marsyas picture.\n\n  [b] Religion Succoured by Spain, the Prado, Madrid.\n\n  [c] Lotto's Triumph of Chastity, Rospigliosi Gallery, Rome.\n\nIt is scarcely necessary to do more than barely refer to the use of\nmetaphor by the painter when the representation of action is involved,\nas for instance if he should produce a picture of a heaving ship in a\nstorm, to meet the metaphor \"As a ship is tossed on a rough sea, so has\nbeen the course of my life,\" though this kind of picture has been\noccasionally executed, the artist forgetting that it is not the object\ndepicted that is compared, but the action--in the example quoted, the\ntossing of the ship--which cannot be represented on canvas. Another form\nof metaphor sometimes used by the painter is that where a comparison of\nideas is represented by physical proportions, as in Wiertz's Things of\nthe Present as seen by the Future, in which the things of the present\nare indicated by liliputian figures on the hand of a woman of life size\nwho represents the future. Needless to say that such designs, of which\nthere are about a dozen in existence, can only suggest distortion, for\nthe smaller figures must appear too small, and the larger ones too\ngreat; or if our experience with miniature imitations of the human\nfigure warrants us in regarding the smaller figures as reasonable, then\nthe larger ones must appear as giants of the Brobdingnagian order.\n\nThe only form of metaphor which may be used by the painter is that\nwherein a beautiful symbol typifies a high abstract quality. Metaphor\nbelongs properly to the arts of the poet and novelist who can indicate\nthe symbol and things symbolized in immediate succession, so that the\nwhole meaning is apparent. The painter can only represent the symbol,\nand unless this is beautiful and its purport readily comprehended, his\nsign is merely a hieroglyph--a sign of writing. Secondary art includes\nsymbolic painting when the symbol may represent either the symbol itself\nor the thing symbolized, for such a condition involves a confusion of\nideas which tends to destroy the aesthetic effect of the work. The most\nnotable painting of this kind is Holman Hunt's The Scapegoat, where the\ndesign shows only a goat in desert country. The scapegoat has ceased to\nbe an actuality for centuries, and the only meaning of the term as it is\nnow used applies to a man: hence, with the title the goat appears to be\na symbol of both a man and an animal, while without the title it is\nmerely the image of a goat without symbolism. But the conception of an\nanimal of any kind as a symbol is foreign to the art of the painter\nwhose symbol should always be beautiful, whatever the nature of the\nrepresentation.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nCOLOUR\n\n\nIn itself colour has no virtues which are not governed by immutable\nlaws. These are apart from the exercise of human faculties, the\nrecognition of colour harmony being involuntary and entirely dependent\nupon the condition of the optic nerves. Thus there can be no meaning in\ncolour apart from its application to form, and the extent to which it\nmay be properly used in the representation of form is necessarily bound\nby our experience of nature. Other things being equal, the most perfect\npainting is that wherein there is a just balance between the colour and\nthe form, that is to say, where the colour is not so vivid as to act\nupon the sense nerves before the general beauty of the work is\nappreciated, or so feeble or discordant that its want of natural truth\nis immediately presented to the mind, thus disturbing the impression of\nthe design.\n\nAs with metrical form in poetry, the importance of colour in painting\nvaries inversely with the character of the art. In the highest art,\nwhere ideals are dealt with, colour is of the least importance. A\ncomposition with ideal figures may be produced by drawing only, that is\nto say, by the use of a single tone in outline and shading. The\naddition of colour heightens the beauty of a composition of this kind,\nnot so much because of the new sensorial harmony acquired, as for the\nreason that a painting in colours, corresponding better than a\ncolourless drawing with our experience of nature, assists in defining\nthe work and so reduces the fractional time necessary for the\nrecognition of the general beauty of the design, which is a matter of\nimportance. The comparatively small value of colour in the highest art\nis demonstrated by experience. If we were to choose from paintings known\nto us, those which general opinion regards as the very greatest works,\nwe should unquestionably name the frescoes of Raphael and Michelangelo\nat the Vatican, and those of Correggio at Parma. These, with a few easel\npictures of Raphael, and perhaps a dozen other pictures by various\nmasters, are the only works of the painter's art to which the term\n\"sublime\" may be properly applied. As with the great epic poems, they\nare concerned entirely with ideals--with personages far above the level\nof life, rising to the spiritual domain--or with human beings as they\nwould be if the highest conceptions of our imagination were possible of\nrealization. When we recall these splendid legacies of genius to our\nminds, and ponder over the apparently limitless range of human vision\nwhich they evidence, it is the designs that absorb us, and not the\ncolour--the forms and expression, and not the tints by which their\ndefinition is assisted. We do not usually analyse the impression we\nreceive from these frescoes and pictures, but were we to do so, it\nwould be borne in upon our minds that while a Raphael, a Michelangelo,\nor a Correggio, would be required to conceive and execute such\nstupendous designs, many thousands of unknown patient workers could be\nfound to colour them efficiently. On the other hand if we remove the\ncolour from the greatest landscape known to us, we find that most of the\nbeauty of the work has disappeared, and that we have only a kind of\nskeleton left, for the beauty of such a picture rests very largely upon\nthe aerial perspective, which is unobtainable without colour.\n\nThat the appreciation of colour is relative to the character of the\ndesign may be observed from common experience. We may see the Sistine\nMadonna half a dozen times and then be unable to recall the colours when\nbringing the picture to mind, so small an effect have they had upon us\nas compared with that of the majesty and general beauty of the central\nfigure. So with many of Raphael's other pictures. It is a common thing\nfor one to call attention to the superb colouring of an easel picture by\nCorreggio, but how rarely does an observer notice the colouring of his\nfrescoes at Parma, which are his masterpieces? With some of the Venetian\nartists, the colouring is often so brilliant, not to say startling, that\nit seems to overpower the observer for a moment, and necessity compels\nhim to accustom himself to the tones before considering the design. The\ncolouring of Titian is not so strong, but it is always forcible;\nnevertheless one seldom hears a comment upon the colours in his works,\nthe superior design and general beauty of the compositions far\noutweighing the purely sensorial elements therein. Titian in fact\nsecured an approximately just balance between form and colour, while\nwith his great followers the colour usually exceeded in strength the\nrequirements of the design. In the time of Tintoretto and Veronese the\nprestige and prosperity of Venice were rapidly declining, but we have\nbeen so accustomed to associate with this city during the Renaissance, a\nluxurious life with something of the character of an Eastern court, that\ngorgeous colour of any kind does not seem out of place as one of its\nproducts. But this special appropriateness has not the effect of\nelevating the gay coloured voluptuous forms of the artists named,\nobservable in their classical and allegorical works, to a high level in\nart. We cannot accommodate the forms to the ideas of the poets who\ninvented or described them, or to the attributes with which they were\ncommonly associated; and the colouring tends to bring them closer to\nearth. While we feel bound to admire the colouring, we are equally\ncompelled to regret the particular application.[67]\n\nSpeaking generally, when the design is good we remember the composition\nirrespective of the colours, but when the beauty of the work depends\nupon the colour harmony it fades from our memory as soon as our eyes\nexperience new colour combinations. The imagination may call up the\nharmony again upon the mind, but the pleasure experienced from this\nreflection must be very feeble indeed because the senses are not\ndirectly affected thereby. It can have no more effect than a written\ndescription of the harmony.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 20 (See page 206)\n  The Storm, by Jacob Ruysdael (_Berlin Museum_)]\n\nThe painter is at liberty to make what use he will of colour so long as\nhe provides a thing of beauty, but he must remember that the\nappreciation of colour harmony is dependent not only upon the condition\nof the optic nerves of the observer, but also upon his experience at the\ntime of observation. As to the first consideration little heed need be\ntaken, because rudimentarily the nerve structure is equal or nearly so,\nin all persons, and while accident at birth may provide in some an\nadvanced condition which in others is only obtained by exercise, yet in\nrespect of colours, experience in complex harmony is gained\ninvoluntarily in contact with every-day nature. Hence for the purpose of\nthe painter, all men may be considered alike in regard to the\nrecognition of colour harmony. But individual experience at the time of\nobservation of a painting varies largely,[68] a circumstance which is\nnot of importance in dealing with works of the higher art, but becomes\nof great significance when considering the lower forms. No organ of the\nbody is so susceptible to fatigue as the eye, and a painting of the kind\nknown as a colour scheme may or may not be pleasing according as the\ntone is a relief or otherwise to the sight. Sometimes a few seconds are\nsufficient to fatigue the eye, as for instance when it is directed\ntowards a vivid maroon hanging, but let a landscape with a grey tone be\nplaced on the hanging and considerable pleasure will be involuntarily\nexperienced through the relief to the optic nerves. Remove the picture\nto a grey wall, and it will instantly lose its charm, except such as\nit may possess apart from the colour.\n\nAs with particular tones, so with colours generally. People habituated\nto conditions of nature where extremes of sun effects are uncommon, as\nin the northern latitudes, may be temporarily pleased with schemes of\nglowing colours on their walls, because these relieve the monotony of\ndaily experience, but they must necessarily quickly tire, as with all\nexceptional conditions of life which are concerned with the senses only.\nHow soon one is fatigued with bright colours generally is obvious to any\nvisitor to a public gallery which is crowded with pictures. In an hour\nor less the fatigue of his eyes becomes so extreme that his whole\nnervous system is affected, and he loses energy of both mind and body.\nBut brilliant colors used sparingly with good designs may be a perpetual\nsource of pleasure. Place a fine work by Rubens or Paolo Veronese in a\nliving-room and it will attract attention every time one enters, for the\ncolouring will always be a change from the normal eye experience. One\nturns to the picture involuntarily, and then the design is observed, and\nso one passes from sensual to intellectual pleasure. This process is\nrepeated day by day, and the work never tires. Of course it is a\ncondition that the design is able to hold the attention, otherwise the\nbright colours would serve little better purpose than if they defined a\ngeometrical pattern.\n\nNowadays quite a number of paintings are produced in which unusual tones\nare given to signs or shadows, but these are not to be taken seriously\nby the earnest student. In the sunlight, amidst certain surroundings,\nthe arm of a woman may appear for some moments to have a bluish tone,\nbut the artist would be entirely wrong to paint a bluish arm. The\npicture is to be seen under all lights, and if the tones be contrary to\ngeneral experience under any of these lights, then the work appears to\nbe a falsity, for the artist does not, and cannot, reproduce the\nconditions which together bring about the exceptional colours. To the\nnormal eye under ordinary circumstances, the arm of a woman is of flesh\ncolour, and the artist is not at liberty to vary this tone. He has to\nrepresent what appears to be true in general opinion, whether it be\nreally true or not under certain conditions. The dictum of Aristotle in\nregard to poetry--that what appears probable, though in reality is\nimpossible, is better than what seems improbable but is really\npossible--is equally true in painting. In fact it is of more importance\nthat this maxim should be remembered in painting than in poetry, because\nthe signs of the painter are permanent. A poet or novelist may refer to\na passing exceptional sun effect, for the impression on the mind of the\nreader would probably be as transient as, or more transient than, the\neffect itself, but with the painter the transient effect becomes fixed.\nThe blue arm is always blue, and in a very short time becomes a\ndisagreeable unreality. It may be claimed that the objectionable sun\neffects are not really exceptional, though they are seldom noticed; but\nfor the purpose of art, what appears to be exceptional must be\ndefinitely regarded as so, and for this reason discarded by the artist\nwho desires to paint a good picture.\n\nGenerally then, the value of colour lies firstly in its correspondence\nwith nature, for upon this depends its harmony and the assistance it\nlends to the recognition of the beauty in the whole composition. Beyond\nthis it may or may not have an ephemeral value according to local\nconditions. In any case colour must ever be subordinated to design in a\npicture, and this is what Poussin meant when he said that particular\nattention to colour is an obstacle to the art student.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II\n\n\n\n\nILLUSIONS IN THE PAINTER'S ART\n\nINTRODUCTORY\n\n\nThe painter is occupied in a perpetual struggle to produce an illusion.\nHe does not directly aim for this, but except in the very highest art\nwhere ideals are realized, the better the picture he paints, the greater\nthe illusion. The natural test of the value of his work is its\ncorrespondence with nature, and the nearer it so corresponds, the more\ncomplete the illusion. But the whole picture is never an illusion (we\nleave out of consideration those instances where artificial devices are\nused to conceal the surroundings of the actual painted surface), for the\nframe and other material evidence inform us of the art. The illusion,\nwhen it exists, is forced upon our minds from moment to moment as our\neyes travel over the work. It occurs to us perhaps that a face \"lives,\"\nthat the drapery is true to life, that the tones are real, and so on,\nand obviously these circumstances cannot impress us in this way unless\nwe are momentarily deceived. And it is a sign of good quality in the\nwork when we are so struck. This does not mean that the closer the\nimitation, the better the picture: on the contrary it is rare to find a\ngood work of art produced by an exact imitator. The duty of the artist\nis to generalize everything that can be generalized without departing\nfrom the character of the thing represented. True there are degrees of\ngeneralization which depend on the nature of the design, the size of the\nwork, the accessories, and other matters, but if a just balance of\ngeneralization be secured throughout, then the imitation is better than\na closely detailed reproduction, because a work is always involuntarily\njudged from general, and not from particular, experience. A portrait for\ninstance is a much better work of art if we can say of it \"This is a\ngood portrait of a man,\" than if we are compelled to confine ourselves\nto \"This is a good portrait of Mr. Jones,\" even if the lineaments of the\nparticular countenance are better defined in the latter example than in\nthe former. The illusion would be stronger, for we are more intimately\nacquainted with \"a man\" than with \"Mr. Jones.\" And so with accessories.\nAn exceptionally fine rose or cabbage is never so good in a painting as\none of these articles which is of an average type, because with this the\nillusion is more certain, for it is not likely to be disturbed with a\nmental inquiry into the unusual article.\n\nThe painter may produce his illusions then without sacrificing anything\nin his art, and with the surety that good paintings necessarily result\nin momentary illusions except when form or expression above life\nexperience are dealt with.\n\nThe first and most important illusion in the art is that of relief, for\nwithout this no other illusion can be produced. It is a general\ncondition applying to all work on a flat surface. The other illusions\nthat may be provided are: (a) of opening distance in landscape; (b) of\nmotion in natural actions, as in flowing water; (c) of human and animal\nactions; (d) of suspension and motion in the air. The two first are\ndealt with under \"Landscape\"; the others are now considered.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nILLUSION OF RELIEF\n\n\nThe greatest value in the illusion of relief lies in its assistance to\nrecognition, for with the forms rounded by shading and separated with\nthe appearance of relief which they have in nature, details of the work\nare less likely to complicate the design to the eye, than if the flat\nsurface of the canvas be emphasized by the avoidance of relief. For the\neye has to be considered before the mind, and it is of immense\nimportance that the brain should have the least possible work to do in\nassisting the eye to interpret a thing of art. It would appear then that\nthe minimum extent to which relief should be given in a painting is that\npoint below which the things painted do not seem to have their three\ndimensions indicated. Beyond this the painter is at liberty to proceed\nas he pleases. Some great artists, notably Lionardo, were inclined to\nthink that it is impossible to give too much relief to a figure, and\nthis may be so theoretically, but practically there is a line to be\ndrawn because life is limited, and after a certain point is reached, the\nwork of shading for relief is so tedious an operation, that half a\nlifetime would be required to execute a picture of three or four\nfigures if the artist wished to produce the strongest illusion in his\npower to give. A Russian artist of high merit who essayed the task,\nspent an average time of five years in ceaseless toil on each figure he\ncompleted, and even then frequently remarked that he had not given to\nhis figures the full relief he desired to exhibit. It is well known that\nLionardo gave long and close attention to this matter in his pictures,\nand he produced some extraordinary examples of relief, of which the\nfinest is, perhaps, the Litta Madonna,[a] but one cannot help regretting\nthat he did not rest satisfied with a lower point of excellence in\nrespect of the illusion, so that he could spend more time in general\ndesign.\n\n  [a] At the Hermitage. See Plate 21.\n\nApart from the relief given by shading in painting, there is an\nimportant mechanical method of improving the illusion, though this can\nonly be occasionally adopted. The figures in any well painted picture\nwill appear to stand out in high relief if we lose sight of the frame\nand other surroundings which distinctly inform us that the work is a\nflat surface. This is why a painting invariably seems to improve if seen\nthrough a tube of such diameter that the frame is excluded from the\nvision. Advantage of this fact has been many times taken in the\nexhibition of single pictures, when, by the exclusion of the frame, the\nconcealment of the edges of the work by curtain arrangements, and the\nconcentration of all the available light upon the canvas, such perfect\nrelief has been obtained that observers have been sometimes unable to\ndistinguish the art from the life. It was the effect of the\nsurroundings of a picture upon the sight, that led to a practice in\ndesign resulting in the exclusion of these surroundings to some extent\nwhen the eye is directed towards the centre of the work where the\nprincipal figure is commonly stationed. This practice is to avoid\naccessories as far as possible near the figure, and to provide\nconsiderable open space above it, and also at the sides when the\ncomposition allows, so that the observing eye has not of necessity to\nrange close to the frame of the picture. In a good design of this kind\nthe central figure or figures come out in strong relief, the attraction\nof the work being consequently much enhanced. Obviously the painted\nfigures should be of life size, or nearly so, for the illusion of relief\nto be strikingly marked, and the conditions necessarily prevent the\nadoption of the scheme in a design of many figures. It is most\nsuccessful with a single figure, and has been carried out with two\nfigures, but never with more than two except in a few pictures of great\nsize.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 21 (See page 240)\n  The Litta Madonna, by Lionardo da Vinci (_Hermitage_)]\n\nThe number of artists who have taken advantage of this mechanical device\nis not large, but it includes some of the first masters. The plan may be\nused in both exterior and interior scenes. In the former the figures\nmust be thrown against the sky, and it is a distinct advantage if there\nbe no trees or other objects on either side of the figures, which also\nstand out above the horizon, though this is immaterial if the figure be\nset in a confined space, as an arch, or between the columns of a loggia,\nand the foliage is not seen through this space.\n\nThe most famous pictures where the scheme is used in exterior work are\namongst the finest portraits known to us, namely, Lionardo's Mona Lisa,\nand Raphael's Maddalena Doni and Angelo Doni.[a] In 1504 or thereabouts,\nLionardo painted a portrait of Mona Lisa sitting in a loggia, the wall\nof which reached to a third of the height of the canvas.[b] On the wall\nat each side of the design is a column divided down the centre by the\nedge of the canvas. There is a landscape setting, in which the middle\ndistance is hidden by rising ground, and only part of the head appears\nabove the horizon. In 1505 Raphael made a study from this picture in\nwhich he retained the columns, but raised the wall, and threw the whole\nhead of the figure against the sky. He used this study for the portrait\nof Maddalena Doni, but in this he still further improved the design by\nremoving the columns, and extending to the shoulders that part of the\nfigure above the horizon, the line of which divides the picture in equal\nhalves, instead of being drawn at two thirds of the height as in the\nfirst Mona Lisa. When Lionardo executed the Louvre portrait of this\nlady, he removed the columns, but slightly reduced the portion of the\nhead seen against the sky. Raphael's plan, which was also used in the\nportrait of Angelo Doni, is obviously far superior to that in the Mona\nLisa design, for the relief is necessarily better marked. The scheme was\nnot new to Raphael at the time, except in portraiture, for it is\nexhibited in three of his very early sacred works.[c]\n\n  [a] The first at the Louvre, and the others at the Pitti Palace,\n        Florence.\n\n  [b] This painting, or one corresponding to it, is in the Boston\n        Museum, U. S. A. See Note 56.\n\n  [c] Saint Sebastian, at Bergamo; The Redeemer at Brescia; and The\n        Prophets and Sybils at Perugia.\n\nOne of the best examples in existence of this method of securing relief\nis Tintoretto's Presentation of the Virgin.[a] On the right of the\npicture is a wide flight of stairs, curving round as they ascend. The\nVirgin is moving up these steps in advance of some attendants, and the\ncurved stairway enables all the figures to stand out in fine relief\nagainst the sky. If well managed some considerable space above the\nfigures is sufficient for the illusion even if the sides are partly\nclosed, as in Albertinelli's beautiful Salutation.[b] Where only a small\nportion of the figure can be shown above the horizon, the use of a faint\nfar distance helps in the scheme of relief. Thus, in Marco Basaiti's\nChrist on the Mount of Olives,[c] where Christ stands on the top of a\nrock which hides the middle distance, His head only is above the\nhorizon, but the rest of the figure is thrown against a faint far\ndistance, the relief being excellent. A modification of this plan is\nobservable in Lionardo's Virgin and Child with St. Anne.[d]\n\n  [a] Madonna del Orto, Venice.\n\n  [b] Uffizi Gallery, Florence.\n\n  [c] Venice Academy.\n\n  [d] The Louvre.\n\nSo far as the writer has been able to ascertain, the first known\npainting where a crucifix is thrown against the sky is by Antonella da\nMessina.[a] The Cross is fixed in the foreground and extends to the top\nof the picture, being cut half-way up and just below the feet of Christ\nby the line of the horizon. The relief is very fine. This scheme was\nimitated with more or less success but never quite so perfectly, till\nTitian produced his magnificent Cross. Here the Crucifix is cast against\na sombre evening sky, with the Virgin and two imploring Saints at the\nfoot.[b] Rubens improved upon this design with several variations. In\none he hid the foot of the Cross, though the tops of buildings are seen\nin the middle distance[c]; and in another, which is still finer, the\ntime of the scene is late evening, and dark vague outlines suggest a\nlandscape. But all these examples are cast into the shade by Van Dyck's\nAntwerp picture, than which there is certainly no more impressive\npainted Crucifixion in existence. In this the foot of the Cross is not\nshown, nor is there any ground to be seen, and the figure stands out\nagainst a dark forbidding sky, awful, but sublimely real, as if set in\nboundless space for all eternity.[d]\n\n  [a] National Gallery, London.\n\n  [b] Ancona Gallery.\n\n  [c] Antwerp Museum.\n\n  [d] This work was repeated several times with variations. See\n        Plate 22.\n\nThere are many variations of the above designs, particularly among the\nWorks of Venetian artists, but those quoted may be regarded as typical.\nHow easy it is to hinder the illusion is seen in Sodoma's Sacrifice of\nAbraham,[a] where both figures are set against the sky, but trees behind\nthem and at the side destroy the relief, though the foliage is by no\nmeans thick. In Girolami da Libri's Madonna and Child with St. Anne, a\npomegranate tree interposes[b]; and a curtain falls at the back of a\ngroup by Bernadino da Conti,[c] the illusion in both cases being\nconsequently robbed of its effect.\n\n  [a] Pisa Cathedral.\n\n  [b] National Gallery, London.\n\n  [c] Poldo Pezzoli Museum, Milan.\n\nSome of the Dutch artists of the seventeenth century used a clear sky\nfor the purpose of enhancing the relief of their figures, but as these\nare usually of a comparatively small size, the result is only partially\neffective. Albert Cuyp and Philip Wouverman painted many pictures with\nmen and animals silhouetted above the horizon, and Paul Potter executed\na few of the kind, but of all Dutch painters, Jan Steen secured the best\nrelief with his Terrace Scene.[a] In more recent times the scheme has\nseldom been adopted for the purpose of relief, but a few Scottish\npainters practised it in the early nineteenth century. Simson followed\nCuyp's plan,[b] and Dyce in a sacred piece equalled the best of the old\nmasters in his manner of producing the illusion.[c] Grant also painted a\nfine example.[d] Some portrait painters of the English school of the\neighteenth century used the scheme in a partial way, but they commonly\nplaced clouds behind the figures thrown against the sky, thus disturbing\nthe illusion.\n\n  [a] National Gallery, London.\n\n  [b] National Gallery, Edinburgh.\n\n  [c] St. John Leading the Virgin from the Tomb, National Gallery of\n        British Art, London.\n\n  [d] The Countess of Chesterfield and Mrs. Anson, Gilmour Collection,\n        Scotland.\n\nThere is only one method of using this device for assisting in the\nproduction of relief in interiors. This is to throw the figure against a\nhigh wall which is undecorated or nearly so. The figure must be some\nlittle distance in front of the wall, and it is observable that the best\neffect is obtained when the light throughout the room is equal, but in\nany case the wall should not have less light than the figure. Inasmuch\nas the figure has to be of life size or nearly so, to produce the\ndesired result, a very large picture would be necessary for the\nrepresentation of a standing adult; hence the plan is not attempted with\na life-size figure, except with a sitting adult or a standing child.\nBefore this scheme was used for the human figure, that master of relief,\nM. A. Caravaggio, adopted it for a simple still-life work.[a] A basket\nof fruit on a plain table, with a high bare wall at the back--the canvas\nnow sombre and darkened, like the soul of the artist, but still\nremarkable for the relief: this was the first application to interiors\nof a plan which had been used in exteriors by some of the greatest\nmasters for more than a century.\n\n  [a] Ambrogia Museum, Milan.\n\nSo far as can be gathered from existing works, thirty or forty years\nelapsed after the picture of Caravaggio was painted before the scheme\nwas brought into use for the human figure in interiors. In 1630, or\nthereabouts, Velasquez produced his Christ at the Column.[a] Here the\nwall is not actually high, but Christ is shown seated on the floor, and\nhence there is ample wall space over which the eye may rove. It is\npossible that the adoption of the plan in this instance was the result\nof accident, but the very unusual pose of Christ hardly warrants the\nsuggestion. Velasquez painted no more pictures of the kind till a\nquarter of a century later, when he produced Las Meninas. In this the\nrelief is excellent, but it would have been still better without the\npicture on the wall, and the open door in the background, though the\nfigure seen on the steps through the doorway lends assistance to the\nillusion.\n\n  [a] The Prado, Madrid.\n\nTowards the middle of the seventeenth century, some followers of the\nNeapolitan school used the plan occasionally, but the best existing\nItalian works of the time where it is seen are from the hand of Evaristo\nBaschenis, a Bergamese monk. He was an excellent painter of still-life,\nand produced several pictures, each with a boy or a woman seated in the\nmiddle of a room near a plain table on which rests a dish of fruit or a\ngathering of various articles, while at the back there is a high bare\nwall. In all of these works a fine relief is exhibited, though they are\nnow considerably marred by darkened shadows. A few years later the plan\nwas adopted by some Dutch artists, and later still in France and\nGermany. Chardin, who in more ways than one seems to have been a French\nBaschenis, used it in several pictures. In recent times since the study\nof Velasquez has become a vogue, many artists have successfully followed\nthe plan, and one of the finest examples of it in existence--Lydia\nEmmet's Patricia[a]--dates as late as 1915.\n\n  [a] Exhibition of the National (American) Association of Portrait\n        Painters, N. Y., 1915. See Plate 23.\n\nThere are several minor mechanical ways of enhancing relief, most of\nthem providing a setting which acts as a kind of inner frame to the\ndesign, the object being to reduce the effect of the actual frame in\ndisturbing the illusion. Portrait painters of the Dutch, Flemish, and\nEnglish schools, have often placed half length figures in painted ovals\non canvas rectangles, and in the case of Hals he sometimes further\nimproved the illusion by extending a hand of the subject over the oval.\nHanneman used this oval in a most exceptional way. On a large canvas he\npainted the bust portraits of Constantine Huygens and his six children,\neach in a separate oval, the father being in the centre.[a] The scheme\nis strangely effective, for the attention of the observer is\ninvoluntarily confined to one portrait at a time. In genre pictures a\ndoorway may act as the inner frame, but this is only of material value\nif the picture be of considerable size. The Dutch painters, notably\nGerard Dow, loved to paint figures leaning over window-sills, this\nmethod usually enhancing the relief, because the eye is apt to be\nconfined for a time to the window-frame. Perhaps the best use of a\nwindow for the purpose of relief is Rembrandt's Samson Menacing His\nFather-in-law, where the old man's head and hands, of life size, are\nseen protruding from a small window.[b]\n\n  [a] Hague Gallery.\n\n  [b] Berlin Gallery.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nILLUSION OF MOTION\n\n     With human figures--With animals.\n\n\nFrom the earliest times great sculptors, in producing a single figure in\naction, have chosen for the representation a moment of rest between two\nsteps in the action, so that the character of these steps is instantly\nrecognized by the observer, whose imagination unconsciously carries\nthrough the action. If every part of the figure is built up conformably\nwith the action, with due regard to the position from which the statue\nis to be seen, an illusion of motion will follow, though this is\nnecessarily so rapid that the effect upon the observer is indirect: he\ntranslates the impression into appreciation of the lifelike attitude of\nthe figure. Nearly all the ancient Greek sculptured figures known to us,\ncommencing with those of Myron, are characterized by this excellence in\ndesign, and so with the best work of the Italian Renaissance. Modern\nsculptors of repute have also endeavoured to provide the illusion, Rodin\nin particular holding that it should be the aim of every sculptor.[69]\n\nThe painter is in a different position from the sculptor because the\nlatter may design his figure with special reference to the position it\nis to occupy, and so he can in a measure compel the observer to see it\nin a particular way. Thus, the base of the statue may be some height\nabove the ground, in which case the observer must necessarily run his\neyes up the figure from the feet; or it may be seen first in a\nthree-quarter view so that the position of the limbs will apparently\nchange as the observer moves to the front. Such accidental circumstances\nmay be considered by the sculptor in his plan. The painter has no such\nadvantage, for his figure is the same from whichever point it is to be\nseen, within reasonable limits; but he has compensation in the use of\ntones and accessories of which the sculptor is deprived. That the\npainter may provide an excellent illusion with a single figure in action\nis evidenced by Raphael's superb St. Margaret, where the Saint is seen\nstepping over the dragon.[a] Every part of her body, and every fold of\ndrapery is used in the expression of movement, the effect being so\nperfect that we cannot disassociate the figure from the action.[70]\n\n  [a] At the Louvre. See Plate 27.\n\nThe painters of the first century of the Renaissance never properly\nrepresented a figure in the act of walking, and there are few pictures\neven of the fifteenth century where a serious attempt is made to choose\nthe best moment in which to exhibit such a figure. The first successful\nessay in the task seems to have been in The Tribute Money of\nMasaccio,[a] who indeed was fifty years ahead of his fellows in the\nfaithful representation of action. There was a jump of two decades or\nso after Masaccio to the next good figure, which was that of an\nattendant in Filipo Lippi's complex tondo at Florence.[b] This figure\nmust have caused considerable surprise at the time, for it was copied\ninto several works by subsequent artists, notably Domenico\nGhirlandaio,[c] and probably suggested the fine figure carrying a jar of\nwater on her head in Raphael's Fire at the Borgo.[d] But Raphael, who\nmastered every problem in composition, solved this one so completely\nthat he left nothing for his successors to learn respecting it. Not only\nare the limbs of his moving figures so perfectly arranged that we see\nonly action, but folds of the drapery used on the figures are sufficient\nto indicate preceding movements,[e] and this is so even when the figures\nare stationary, but the head, arms, or upper part of the body have\nmoved.[f] This extraordinary feature of Raphael's work will ever form a\nsubject of astonishment and admiration.\n\n  [a] Santa Maria del Carmine, Florence.\n\n  [b] Madonna and Child with other scenes from her life, Uffizi,\n        Florence.\n\n  [c] Birth of St. John Baptist, Santa Maria Novello, Florence.\n\n  [d] Fresco at the Vatican.\n\n  [e] See Deliverance of St. Peter, Flight of Lot and his Family, Moses\n        Striking the Rock, and others at the Vatican.\n\n  [f] The Transfiguration, Vatican.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 22 (See page 244)\n  Christ on the Cross, by Van Dyck (_Antwerp Museum_)]\n\nThe painter has a comparatively easy task in presenting an illusion with\nseveral figures presumed to be moving, for he has only to comply with\ntwo simple conditions. The first is that the particular step represented\nin the act of progression of any individual should vary from the steps\nof the persons immediately behind or in front of him; and secondly that\nthe actions of the different persons be connected with each other so far\nas possible. With these conditions reasonably fulfilled, illusion of\nmotion necessarily follows. Naturally in such a mechanical matter, the\ncharacter of the invention depends upon the scale of the design. When\nthe moving figures are presumed to be comparatively near at hand, the\nposition of the limbs must be entirely presented, or the progression\nwill appear broken. The effective illusion presented in Burne-Jones's\nGolden Staircase is due to his ingenuity in so arranging the numerous\nfigures descending the winding stairs, that all their feet are visible.\nIn the case of a crowd of figures of whom some are supposed to be moving\nand others standing still, the visibility of the limbs is of less\nimportance than the connection of the various actions. In Menzel's\nMarket in Verona,[a] the illusion, which is remarkable, is entirely\nproduced by the skill in which innumerable instances of action are made\ndependent upon others. An illusion is created in the same way though in\na lesser degree by Gustave Dore in several works.[b] When the motion\narises from the actions of the arms of a number of persons, it suffices\nif the arms are in various positions, as in Menzel's Iron Mill, and\nCavalori's Woolworkers[c] where many men are using long tools; but if\nthe limbs are working together, an illusion is impossible. The beauty of\nGuardi's great picture, Regatta on the Grand Canal, is much diminished\nby the attitude of the gondoliers, who all hold their poles in the\nsame position.\n\n  [a] Dresden Gallery.\n\n  [b] See Samson Slaying the Philistines.\n\n  [c] Palazzo Vecchio, Florence.\n\nWhere many persons are moving together in the same direction, great care\nhas to be exercised in presenting the actions conformably with the rate\nat which the movement is proceeding, for upon this of course depends the\nangles of the bended knees, and the extent to which some of the feet may\nbe carried from the ground. In slow natural movements, as where a number\nof men are dragging a heavy burden, it is rare to find an artist wrong\nin his representation[a]; but in the case of numerous figures walking\nirregularly, a true nearground design is uncommon, the painter usually\ngiving insufficient action, with the result that his figures present a\nstagy appearance.[b] But a defect of this kind is not so serious as\nwhere several men, not being in marching order, are moving in the same\ndirection with their feet in similar positions, and each with a foot off\nthe ground,[c] for this is only an aggravation of a case where the\npicture shows but a single figure walking with one foot in the air.\n\n  [a] For good examples see Benoit's Morning of July 14, 1789,\n        Poynter's Building the Treasure City, and Colton's Royal\n        Artillery Memorial (sculptured relief).\n\n  [b] Dehodencq's Bohemians Returning from a Fete, Chaumont Museum.\n\n  [c] As in Breton's Cry of Alarm.\n\nAn illusion of motion may be given to a line of figures in the middle\ndistance of a landscape by simply winding the road along which they\npass[a]; but the angles of the turns must be large, for when they are\nsmall, or when there is a distinct zigzag, the illusion is destroyed\nthrough the lengthy operation of the eye in comprehending the whole\nscene.\n\n  [a] Diaz's Descent of the Bohemians.\n\nWhen many figures are moving close together, even if they be marching to\nthe same step, an illusion of movement may be given by the\nrepresentation of a flying figure proceeding in the same direction. This\nscheme has been adopted in sculpture with high success, as in the Shaw\nMemorial at Boston,[a] and the Marseillaise of Rude.[b] In painting,\nseveral horizontal figures may be used, but they must be placed\nirregularly to avoid the appearance of formality. Some modern French\nartists are responsible for effective designs indicating the arrival of\nspring by an overhead figure flying above young people moving through\nflowery fields.[c]\n\n  [a] By A. Saint-Gaudens.\n\n  [b] Arc de Triomphe, Paris.\n\n  [c] See Aman-Jean's decorative panels at the Sorbonne.\n\nA suggestion of motion may be obtained by exhibiting a number of persons\nengaged in similar actions, but shown in a consecutive series of stages\nthereof. This plan is admirably worked out by Watteau in his Embarkation\nfor Cythera.[a] A line of couples commences at the right of the picture,\nproceeds towards the left, and then descends a slope to the place of\nembarkation. The first couple are sitting and conversing, the next are\nin the act of rising, and the third have just risen and are about to\nfollow the other couples already walking, the whole device being most\neffective. A similar kind of illusion is caused by Rubens in his Diana\nand Nymphs pursued by Satyrs.[b] On the extreme right of the picture\nsome of the figures are stationary; then come a few who are struggling,\nand finally some running nymphs and satyrs, a perfect progression of\nevents being suggested.\n\n  [a] In the Louvre, and repeated with variations at Berlin.\n\n  [b] The Prado, Madrid. See Plate 27.\n\nIllusion of motion is more easily obtained with animals than with human\nfigures, providing they are fairly large, because of the greater number\nof their feet and the consequent wider variation between the apparent\nand the real movements. It is exceedingly difficult to produce a\nsuggestion of motion with a single animal represented in a natural\nattitude, but the painter is only concerned with what appears to be\nnatural or probable, and not with what is actually so. We have only a\ngeneral idea of the action of a horse in nature from what we see, and\nconsequently in design this action must be generalized irrespective of\nnatural possibilities. Some artists combine parts of different actions\nas exhibited in a series of photographs in order to represent a moment\nof action as it is generalized to the eye, but this is only serviceable\nwhere the presumed action of the animal is one of a series of similar\nevents, as in walking or trotting. It would not answer in the case of an\nisolated action, as jumping or rearing, because such actions vary with\nthe circumstances surrounding them, as the height of the jump or the\ncause of the rearing. In these events therefore the artist may\nexaggerate to a great extent without appearing to present impossible\nmovements. In fact nearly all good pictures of one or two horses in\naction are strong exaggerations of nature, but this hardly affects\ntheir aesthetic worth because the action is not recognized as abnormal or\nimpossible. The finest painting of horses in action known to us, is\nRegnault's Automedon with the Horses of Achilles,[a] where the animals\nexhibit spirit and movement far above experience, but even if we did not\nknow that they are presumed to be immortal, we should only regard the\naction as exceptional, for it does not appear to be impossible.\n\n  [a] Boston Museum, U. S. A. See Plate 28.\n\nThere is ample scope for the presentation of an illusion with a number\nof moving animals. All that is necessary is that they should be kept\nfairly well together with their legs in various moving attitudes. This\nillusion is perfectly managed by many of the French painters of battle\nscenes in the nineteenth century, notably Horace Vernet,[a] Gros,[b]\nChartier,[c] Morot,[d] and Meissonier.[e] The action in the cavalry\ncharges of Morot and Chartier is amazingly true to life. Even three or\nfour animals will suffice for an illusion,[f] but this cannot be\nprovided with the smaller animals, as sheep or goats, because although a\nseries of progressive actions may be given to those outside animals in a\nflock whose legs are visible to the spectator of the picture, the scale\nto which they are painted is necessarily so small that the eye has an\nentirely insufficient range for operating the illusion. Where several\nhorses are represented as moving at considerable speed, it is necessary\nthat some of their feet should touch the ground, otherwise the illusion\nis destroyed, or else the animal may appear to be racing through the\nair.[g] The effect is not so disturbing when all the feet of the moving\nanimals are on the ground,[h] or where they are hidden by herbage,[i] or\nwhere all the animals are on their hind legs,[j] though in these\ninstances an illusion is almost impossible.\n\n  [a] La Smalah at Versailles.\n\n  [b] The Combat of Nazareth.\n\n  [c] Jena, 1806, and Hanau, 1813.\n\n  [d] Reichsoffen.\n\n  [e] 1814.\n\n  [f] Rosa Bonheur's Ploughing in Nivernois.\n\n  [g] Fromentin's Couriers des Ooled Nayls, Luxembourg; Schreyer's The\n        Attack, N. Y. Public Library; and Gericault's Epsom, Louvre.\n\n  [h] A. Brown's The Drove.\n\n  [i] Uhde's Cavalry Soldiers Going into Action, Muffel Collection.\n\n  [j] Snyder's Hunt, Munich Gallery.\n\nIn cases where horses and men are crowded together, and are struggling\nin confusion, it is only necessary in order to provide an illusion, that\nno action should be entirely separated from the others. There was a fine\nexample of this work in a lost drawing or painting of Titian, of\nPharaoh's Host Overwhelmed in the Red Sea[a]; and many artists of the\nRenaissance produced like illusions in pictures of the rape of the\nSabines. Where the movement is spread over a large area, and the scale\nto which the animals are drawn is comparatively small, the various\ngroups engaged must obviously be connected together in a series. Franz\nAdam arranges a scheme of this kind in a battle scene, using running\nsoldiers or hauled guns as links in the chain.[b]\n\n  [a] An engraving on wood by A. Andreani is in existence.\n\n  [b] A Bavarian Regiment before Orleans, Munich.\n\nAn illusion of motion is sometimes assisted by the title of the picture.\nA remarkable example of this is Robert's The Israelites Depart. Although\nindividual action cannot be distinguished owing to the scale of the\ndesign, yet when one is acquainted with the title, the imagination is\ninstinctively set to work, and the enormous crowds packing the wide\nstreets seem to be streaming in one direction. Obviously for the title\nto have this effect, the number of signs must be overwhelming, and there\nmust be no possibility of interpreting the picture in two ways; that is\nto say, accessory signs must be used to indicate the direction in which\nthe crowd is moving.[71]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nILLUSION OF SUSPENSION AND MOTION IN THE AIR\n\n     With the assistance of drapery--Of clouds--Of winged\n     figures--Miscellaneous devices.\n\n\nThe representation of figures suspended in the air, or moving through\nit, has never offered much trouble to painters, though necessarily\ninvolving an apparent miracle. The very slightest pretended physical\nassistance suffices for the illusion, and this help is usually rendered\nin the shape of flying drapery, winged figures, clouds, or artificial\ndevices based upon the contact of two or more figures. The only\ndifficulty met with is in respect of an upward vertical movement. Here,\nwings or clouds can scarcely be made to differentiate between a rising\nand a falling movement, and flying drapery is of little service inasmuch\nas a rush through the air would, if the feat were actually performed,\ncause the drapery to cling to the figure. The surest remedy for the\ndisabilty is to support the figure directly by winged figures placed at\na considerable angle from the vertical, but this plan is only rarely\nadopted by great masters because of the consequent complications in the\ndesign of the group. Since flying drapery is commonly added to the\nfigure presumed to be ascending, and seeing that artists almost\ninvariably insist upon giving their ascending figures upright attitudes,\nit is seldom that the movement is correctly expressed. Usually the\nfigure appears to be held immovably in suspension, but occasionally,\nowing to the drapery arrangement, a descending movement is indicated.[a]\nWithout the assistance of winged figures, the illusion of ascension can\nonly be given when the figure is shown directed upwards at an angle of\nat least fifteen or twenty degrees from the vertical. As a rule the\nlarger the angle, the more easy is the production of an illusion. With a\nfairly large angle, and an appropriate arrangement of limbs and drapery,\nheavy figures can be made to appear naturally ascending, as in Rubens's\nBoreas and Orithyia, both voluptuous forms.[b]\n\n  [a] As in Murillo's Ascension of Christ, Madrid Academy.\n\n  [b] Venice Academy.\n\nOnly a very few of the first artists have been able to give an illusion\nof movement in the air by use of drapery alone, the device adopted by\nMichelangelo in the Sistine Chapel frescoes being perhaps the most\neffective. He throws behind the moving figure of the Deity a large fold\nof drapery, which assumes an oval or nearly round shape, the whole\nacting as a concave framework for the Deity and attending Angels.[a] The\nsuccess of the plan arises of course from the apparent resistance to the\nair offered by a large and compact surface. This form with more or less\nmarked modifications in the concavity was probably used by the ancient\nGreeks in their paintings, as a nearly similar arrangement is found in a\nsculptured figure which has come down to us, though in this case a\nrunning movement is indicated.[b] It is also seen in some Pompeian\nfrescoes, where it is applied to figures moving through the air and on\nthe ground.[c] Raphael adopted the device occasionally,[d] but generally\nvaried it with excellent effect by flowing out from the waist a large\nscarf-like fold to take a circular form above the head and shoulders of\nthe figure,[e] or by causing heavy drapery to flow out from the lower\npart of the body.[f] No doubt in the case of Raphael, the extraordinary\ngrace of figure, and the perfect pose of the limbs, assist the illusion.\nTintoretto and other artists of the Renaissance used an oval drapery in\na similar way; while sometimes the figure is half hidden within it,[g]\nand Le Sueur wrapped part of the figure in folds before forming the\noval.[h] There seems to be a simple virtue in any oval form connected\nwith figures presumed to be suspended in the air. It was quite common in\nthe early days of the Renaissance for the Deity or Virgin and Child to\nbe placed in a regular oval framework, sometimes supported by Angels or\ncherubs, and the illusion was usually successful.[i] Rubens by way of\nexperiment went a little further in one picture, for he placed the\nVirgin and Child in an oval picture frame supported by cherubs.[j] This\nhowever does not seem so novel as some of Perugino's ovals which are\nbordered with the heads of cherubs.[k]\n\n  [a] See Plate 24.\n\n  [b] The Son of Niobe, Uffizi Gallery, Florence.[72]\n\n  [c] Herculanum et Pompei, vol. iv., by Roux Aine.\n\n  [d] Ceiling of the Hall of Heliodorus, Vatican.\n\n  [e] Vatican frescoes God Separating Water and Earth, and God Appearing\n        to Isaac.\n\n  [f] The Creation of the Sun and Moon.\n\n  [g] Poussin's St. Francis Zavier, Louvre.\n\n  [h] The Virgin appearing to St. Martin.\n\n  [i] See the Assumption of Orcagna, and of Luca di Tome; Giunto\n        Pisano's Christ and the Virgin; and Mainardi's Madonna giving\n        her Girdle to St. Thomas.\n\n  [j] Virgin and Child, Chiesa Nuovo, Rome.\n\n  [k] Ascension of Christ, Perugia; Assumption, Florence Academy, and\n        others.\n\nWings are seldom sufficient to suggest lightness in the air, because\nthey can scarcely be designed of the size and strength which we judge to\nbe proportionate to the presumed weight of the body, without making the\nform appear abnormal, though there are instances in which partial\nsuccess has been achieved by using comparatively small figures and\ngiving them unusually large wings.[a] The use of more than a single pair\nof wings is hardly permissible because of the apparent anomaly. Actually\none pair is not less incomprehensible from an anatomical point of view\nthan several pairs, but custom has driven from our minds any suggestion\nof incongruity in respect of the representation of the common type of\nAngel. Naturally when skilfully arranged, the more wings, the stronger\nthe illusion of flight, and if a habit of giving four wings to an Angel\nwere engendered, we should perhaps see nothing strange in them. Even six\nwings have been given to Angels without making them appear\nungraceful.[b]\n\n  [a] J. H. Witt's Bless the Lord.\n\n  [b] Picart's The Burning Coal.\n\nWhen there is no assistance, as clouds or flowing drapery, lent to\nAngels to promote the illusion of suspension, it is necessary to give\nthem an attitude which is nearly horizontal. Properly managed, a pair\nof comparatively small wings may in this way appear to support a heavy\nform.[a] Luini actually adds the weight of the body of St. Catherine to\nthree Angels, flying horizontally, who carry her to the tomb[b]; an\ninvention, strangely enough, followed by Kulmbach in Germany at about\nthe same time.[c] In both cases the illusion is excellent. Some of the\nearly Flemish and German masters, including Van Eyck[d] and Holbein,[e]\nemployed Angels in scenes with the Virgin to hold suspended behind her\nseat, large falls of brocaded material, and it is curious to note that\nthe Angels themselves seem to be supported by the drapery. In order to\nassist the suggestion of lightness, Perugino sometimes arched the lower\nlimbs of the Angels, adding a narrow tape scroll[f]; an addition\nimproved upon by Raphael who substituted for the scroll a loosened\ngirdle flying out from the waist.[g]\n\n  [a] Rembrandt's The Angel quitting Tobias, Louvre.\n\n  [b] The Brera, Milan.\n\n  [c] St. Mary's, Krakan.\n\n  [d] Virgin and Child at the Fountain, Antwerp.\n\n  [e] Virgin and Child, Augsburg.\n\n  [f] The Ascension, Borgo San Sepolcro, Perugia.\n\n  [g] Creation of Woman, Castello Gallery; Prophets and Sybils, Perugia,\n        and others.\n\nThe most frequently used form of support for figures in suspension are\nirregular masses of clouds, upon which the figures sit or stand, and\noccasionally are partly enfolded therein. Sometimes the cloud bank is\nmore or less shaped for the purpose of relief, or for variety in design.\nThus, Raphael makes part of the cloud a perfect footrest for the\nVirgin,[a] and Palma Giovane does a similar thing for a figure of\nChrist,[b] but in this case the illusion is hazarded as the seat is not\ndirectly indicated. Ingres produces an excellent illusion by making the\nfootrest a small separate cloud,[c] which is a variation from the\npractice of many painters of the Renaissance, who used a separate cloud\nfor each personage in the composition, or even with each foot as with\nCarlo Crivelli.[d] In a fresco of the Evangelists at Florence, each of\nthem sits with his insignia on a foliated bank of clouds.[e] Perugino in\nusing a similar plan sometimes places the clouds at the bottom of the\npicture, no part of the earth being seen, so that the illusion is\nconsiderably enhanced.[f] At other times he shows Angels apparently\nrunning through the air, with each front foot resting on a tiny cloud,\ngiving the impression that it is fastened there.[g] Durer extended this\nplan by directly attaching a small cloud to each foot, the effect being\nsomewhat whimsical.[h] Titian was unsuccessful in the use of an isolated\ncloud.[i] In a Resurrection scene Christ stands on a small thin cloud,\nand holds a flag-pole, the lower end of which rests upon the cloud.\nObviously with such a design no suggestion of ascent can enter the mind.\n\n  [a] Foligna Madonna, Vatican.\n\n  [b] Christ in Judgment, Venice.\n\n  [c] The Oath of Louis XIII.\n\n  [d] Coronation of the Virgin, Milan.\n\n  [e] Santa Maria. By an unknown artist of the Ghirlandaio school.\n\n  [f] Christ's Rule.\n\n  [g] Madonna and Child with Penitents, and others.\n\n  [h] The Virgin with a Canary, Berlin.\n\n  [i] Urbino Gallery.\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 23 (See page 247)\n  Patricia, by Lydia Emmet (_Private owner, N. Y._)]\n\nSome artists, as Luca Signorelli,[a] hide the lower part of the figure\nbehind clouds, but this method, while indicating suspension, cannot\nprovide an illusion of movement without an assisting device. Thus\nSchonherr shows an Angel so concealed in a nearly horizontal position\nwith wings fully expanded, the effect being good.[b] When a figure is\nsuspended on clouds, very rarely indeed is repose emphasized by placing\nit in a horizontal position, but Poussin once adopts the plan,[c] and\nGuercino goes so far as to represent a reclining Angel resting her head\non her hand as if suffering from fatigue.[d] Perfect repose of the Deity\nin an upright position on clouds is produced by Gustave Dore, who\nreduces the size of the earth, above which He stands, to an\ninsignificant proportion, so that the imagination sends it moving round\nbelow Him.[e]\n\n  [a] Madonna and Child in Glory, Arezzo.\n\n  [b] The Agony in the Garden.\n\n  [c] Adam and Eve.\n\n  [d] Martyrdom of St. Peter, Modena.\n\n  [e] Creation of the Earth.\n\nQuite a number of artists represent the suspended figures standing on\nthe backs of cherubs or cupids, which in their turn are supported by\nclouds, as for instance, R. Ghirlandaio,[a] Liberale di Verona,[b] and\nFrancesco da Cotignola.[c] Fra Bartolommeo places a single foot of the\nDeity on a cherub who holds a banderole, the illusion being\nexcellent.[d] Domenichino adopts a most ingenious device in St. Paul's\nVision. He shows the Apostle being carried to Heaven by winged cherubs,\nwho appear to find the weight considerable, and to struggle under it.\nThere is little else to induce the illusion, which is complete.[e] A\nsimilar scheme is successfully managed in Prud'hon's Abduction of\nPsyche. Tassaert uses a like device, but in addition has a cherub\nsupporting each arm of the Virgin. Palma Vecchio makes the Virgin stand\non the outstretched wings of a cherub, but her robe blows upwards,\ngiving her the appearance of descending instead of ascending.[f] Rubens\nhas three alternatives in the use of cherubs. The figure sits on clouds\nwith feet resting on small globes sustained by cherubs[g]; or the\ncherubs hold the dress and mantle of the Virgin; or they help to control\nthe clouds upon which she sits.[h] In some of his pictures of the\nImmaculate Conception, Murillo also uses globes, but places the cherubs\non them instead of under. Francia has a picture in which cherubs hold up\nclouds bearing the Virgin,[i] a device once used by Rembrandt.[j] Genga\nshows the Deity kneeling upon the heads of cherubs, a scheme not\nsatisfactory.[k] Cherubs were used by Titian to hold up the Virgin and\nclouds,[l] while Velasquez rested the robes on clouds, but used cherubs\nto sustain the Holy Mother.[m]\n\n  [a] The Madonna giving her Girdle to St. Thomas, Prato.\n\n  [b] The Magdalene and Saints.\n\n  [c] Adoration of the Shepherds, Ravenna Academy.\n\n  [d] The Deity with SS. Catherine and Magdalene.\n\n  [e] Assumption of the Virgin.\n\n  [f] Assumption of the Virgin, Venice.\n\n  [g] The Deity and Christ, Weimar.\n\n  [h] Assumption of the Virgin at Dusseldorf, Augsburg, Brussels, and\n        Vienna.\n\n  [i] Madonna and Child in Glory, Berlin.\n\n  [j] The Ascension, Munich.\n\n  [k] The Magdalene and Saints, Milan.\n\n  [l] Assumption of the Virgin, Venice.\n\n  [m] Coronation of the Virgin, Madrid.\n\nThe illusion is usually more complete when Angels are used instead of\ncherubs for support, apparently because they may be presumed to have\ngreater strength, and the plan was adopted by some of the earlier\nmasters of the Renaissance. The simple design of Rubens in resting the\nfoot of Christ on the arm of a flying Angel is quite successful.[a]\nFontana places the Deity on clouds supported by Angels,[b] a method\nadopted by Granacci, who however assists the illusion by adding two\nAngels who are directly supporting the figure.[c] Peter Cornelius has\nthe Deity with His foot on a small globe which is held in position by\nAngels.[d] A fine example of their use is shown by Gutherz. Two Angels\nwith large outstretched wings are bearing the body of a woman to Heaven.\nShe lies recumbent upon a lengthy hammock formed by the robes of the\nAngels, the ends of the drapery being gathered up by the flying\ncherubs.[e] The illusion is perfect. Rembrandt also has a beautiful\ndesign in a Resurrection scene, for he shows the figure of Christ as a\nshade whose hands are held by a flying Angel lifting Him to Heaven.[f] A\nfew artists, as Poussin[g] and Bouguereau,[h] use Angels to carry the\nfigure with no other assisting device, but if the body is recumbent it\nis necessary that the Angels should be in a nearly upright position,\notherwise they will appear to be moving horizontally.[i] Rubens in an\nAscension uses the strange method of placing an Angel beneath Christ,\nbut without touching Him.[j] The drapery flies out at the back, so that\nwithout some assistance he would appear to be descending; but the Angel\nbelow, with her hands held up, seems to correct the position. Guido Reni\ncarries the Virgin up with Angels who support her beneath, and she seems\nin fact to be standing on their shoulders.[k] In one instance Correggio\nsubstitutes a smiling boy for an Angel, and he holds up a cloud on which\nthe Virgin sits.[l] There are many works where winged figures hold a\nbody in suspension, most of them providing excellent illusions. Among\nthe best is Lux's Sarpedon, where the body of the Trojan is held up for\nJupiter to kiss.[m]\n\n  [a] Ascension of Christ, Vienna.\n\n  [b] Vision of the Resurrection.\n\n  [c] The Virgin giving her Girdle to St. Thomas, Uffizi Gallery,\n        Florence.\n\n  [d] Let there be Light.\n\n  [e] \"They shall bear thee up.\"\n\n  [f] Munich Gallery.\n\n  [g] Assumption of the Virgin, and Vision of St. Paul.\n\n  [h] Assumption of the Virgin.\n\n  [i] Bouguereau's Une Ame au Ciel.\n\n  [j] The Academy, Venice.\n\n  [k] Assumption of the Virgin, Munich.\n\n  [l] Madonna and Child with Saints, Parma.\n\n  [m] The Luxembourg.\n\nEven a simple banderole or scarf suffices to indicate movement in the\nair if well arranged. Usually a flying cherub holds an end of the\nbanderole, and Ferri shows a wingless putto even, flying with no other\nassistance.[a] Boucher creates an illusion by the bold device of\nconnecting two cupids with a narrow scarf blown out into a\nsemicircle[b]; and in another instance very narrow tape streamers\nsuffice.[c]\n\n  [a] David plans a Temple.\n\n  [b] Birth of Venus.\n\n  [c] Altdorfer's Nativity at Berlin.\n\nThe use of thick smoke for suspension purposes is nearly always\nsuccessful, because volumes of smoke in nature necessarily tend to move\nupwards; but obviously this scheme can only be arranged when an altar is\npossible. The plan is not uncommon in pictures relating to Cain and\nAbel, and the Translation of Enoch. In one of the latter subject, Hoet\nmakes part of the smoke from an altar envelop the surrounding ground so\nas to widen the volume, while Schnorr achieves the same end by curling\nround the smoke as it ascends into the form of a large saucer upon which\nthe Deity sits,[a] a method slightly varied by Amiconi.[b]\n\n  [a] God's Promise to Abraham.\n\n  [b] God Appearing to Moses.\n\nWhere a number of figures are connected together in a circular form in\nthe air, the double illusion of suspension and motion follows naturally,\nprovided their attitudes indicate a circular movement. An excellent\nexample of this is shown in a picture by Botticelli, where Angels dance\nin the air over the hut of the Nativity.[a] The finest work of the kind\nin existence is probably Schwind's Pleiads, in which the stars are\nrepresented by a circle of beautiful nude women.[b] Extraordinary\nactivity is suggested by the perfect arrangement of the limbs and light\nflowing drapery used. Bouguereau has a work of a similar kind, The Lost\nPleiad, but here the dancers are upright, and the circle is only\naccessory to the title figure.[c] Watteau is fairly successful in giving\nan illusion of suspension to cupids even with a half circle, though the\ninvention is somewhat formal.[d]\n\n  [a] National Gallery, London.\n\n  [b] Denner Collection. See Plate 25.\n\n  [c] Brooklyn Museum, New York.\n\n  [d] The Berlin example of the Embarkation for Cythera.\n\nSome of the devices used to bring about an illusion are most ingenious.\nThus in his Bacchus and Ariadne,[a] Tintoretto actually applies a\ndisability of his art for the purpose. Venus is shown in a horizontal\nposition in the air, placing a crown of stars upon the head of Ariadne.\nBacchus is standing by, and the form of the goddess floats just at the\nback of him, the lower side of her hip being on a level with the top of\nhis head. Seeing that the head is covered with a profusion of vine\nleaves, it is impossible for the artist to indicate, or the observer to\nrecognize, that the goddess does not actually touch the head of Bacchus,\nand she apparently balances herself upon his head while crowning\nAriadne, the artist having been careful to place the centre of gravity\nof her figure over the apparent point of contact. A similar kind of\nillusion is provided by Burne-Jones, whose Angel of the Annunciation is\nupright in midair near the ground, but her feet seem to find support\non the branches of a shrub.[b] Rossetti, in the same subject, shows the\nAngel with his feet wrapped in flames, the weight being thus apparently\nremoved. The design seems bizarre, perhaps because of the absence of an\nexpression of surprise which one would expect to see on the countenance\nof the Virgin at so extraordinary a phenomenon.[73] Schwind also uses a\ndisability of his art for an illusion in his Phantom of the Forest.[c]\nShe moves near the ground away from the spectator with such rapidity\nthat her robe, a simple rectangular piece of drapery, has opened out\nwide from the front, and hides her figure from the shoulders down, so\nthat from the point of view of the observer she may, or may not, be\ntouching the ground as she moves.\n\n  [a] Ducal Palace, Venice.\n\n  [b] Tate Gallery, London.\n\n  [c] Schack Gallery, Munich.\n\nHow slight the apparent support need be, is indicated in Bouguereau's\nAurora and Twilight. Each figure is represented by a nude woman holding\na light scarf, the first rapidly, and the second slowly, skimming the\nsurface of a stream of water with soft touches of the feet, and yet\nthere is no anomaly that strikes the mind. A still more daring device is\nused by Battistello, though quite successfully. He places two wingless\nputti in the air, but one holds up the other, and this action seems to\nsustain them both.[a] Another amazing design is from the hand of A. P.\nRoll, who shows a nude-man in the air clutching another, and apparently\nstruggling to pull him down, yet the action seems perfectly natural.[b]\n\n  [a] Adoration of the Shepherds, San Martino, Naples.\n\n  [b] Design for the Petit Palais, Paris.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\n\nNOTE 1. PAGE 2\n\nIt is usual and proper to distinguish three kinds of beauty in painting,\nnamely, of colour, of form, and of expression. But form must be defined\nby tones, and colour without form is meaningless: hence in the general\nconsideration of the painter's art, it is convenient to place form and\ncolour together as representing the sensorial element of beauty.\nNevertheless colour and form are not on the same plane in regard to\nsense perception. Harmony of colour is distinguished involuntarily by\nnerve sensations, but in the case of harmony of form there must be a\ncertain consideration before its aesthetic determination. The recognition\nof this harmony commonly appears to be instantaneous, but still it is\ndelayed, the delay varying with the complexity of the signs, that is to\nsay, with the quality of the beauty.\n\n\n\nNOTE 2. PAGE 2\n\nBenedetto Croce, the inventor of the latest serious aesthetic system,\ntalks of the \"science of art,\" but he says[a]:\n\n     Science--true science, is a science of the spirit--Philosophy.\n     Natural sciences spoken of apart from philosophy, are complexes\n     of knowledge, arbitrarily abstracted and fixed.\n\nIt is perhaps needless to say that Croce's aesthetic system, like all the\nothers, collapses on a breath of inquiry. On the purely philosophical\nside of it, further criticism is unnecessary, and its practical outcome\nfrom the point of view of art is not far removed from the amazing\nconclusions of Hegel. From the latter philosopher we learn that an idol\nin the form of a stone pillar, or an animal set up by the primitive\nraces, is higher art than a drama by Shakespeare, or a portrait by\nTitian, because it represents the Idea (Hegel's unintelligible\nabstraction--see Note 5), while Croce tells us that \"the art of savages\nis not inferior, as art, to that of civilized peoples, provided it be\ncorrelated to the impressions of the savages.\" Clearly if this be so, we\nare not surprised to learn from Croce that Aristotle \"failed to discern\nthe true nature of the aesthetic.\" Nevertheless, whatever be the outcome\nof Croce's arguments, his system is at least more plausible than that of\neither Hegel or Schopenhauer, for while these two invent highly\nimprobable abstractions upon which to base their systems, Croce only\ngives new functions to an old and reasonable abstraction.\n\n  [a] _Aesthetic_, Douglas Ainslie Translation, 1909.\n\n\n\nNOTE 3. PAGE 3\n\nThe writer does not mean to suggest that these systems are set up for\nthe purpose of being knocked down: he desires only to indicate surprise\nthat in new works dealing with the perception of beauty, it is\nconsidered necessary to restate the old aesthetic theories and to point\nout their drawbacks, albeit the fatal objections to them are so numerous\nthat there is always fresh ground available for destructive criticism.\nThe best of the recent works on the subject that have come under the\nnotice of the writer, is E. F. Carritt's review of the present position\nin respect of aesthetic systems. Though profound, he is so comprehensive\nthat he leaves little or nothing of importance for succeeding critics to\nsay till the next system is put forward. Yet here is his conclusion[a]:\n\n     If any point can be thought to have emerged from the foregoing\n     considerations, it is this: that in the history of aesthetics we\n     may discover a growing pressure of emphasis upon the doctrine that\n     all beauty is the expression of what may be generally called\n     emotion, and that all such expression is beautiful.\n\nThis is all that an acute investigator can draw from the sum of the\naesthetic systems advanced. Now what does this mean? Let us turn to the\nlast page of Carritt's book and find the object of the search after a\nsatisfactory aesthetic system. It is, he says, \"the desire to understand\ngoodness and beauty and their relations with each other or with\nknowledge, as well as to practise or enjoy them.\" If we accept beauty as\nthe expression of emotion, how far have we progressed towards the\nindicated goal? Not a step, for we have only agreed upon a new way of\nstating an obvious condition which applies to the animal world as well\nas to human beings. Beyond this there is nothing--not a glimpse of\nsunshine from all the aesthetic systems laid down since the time of\nBaumgarten.\n\nMore than twenty years ago Leo Tolstoy pointed out the unintelligible\ncharacter of these systems, but no further light has been thrown upon\nthem. Nevertheless Tolstoy's own interpretation of the significance of\nbeauty cannot possibly meet with general approval. He disputes that art\nis directly associated with beauty or pleasure, and finds in fact that\nwhat we call the beautiful representation of nature is not necessarily\nart, but that[b]\n\n     Art is a human activity, consisting in this, that one man\n     consciously, by means of certain external signs, hands on to others\n     feelings he has lived through, and that other people are affected\n     by these feelings, and also experience them.\n\nThis definition may mean almost anything, and particularly it may imply\npure imitation which Tolstoy condemns as outside of art. But it\ncertainly does not include many forms of what we call art, the author\nspecially condemning for instance, _Romeo and Juliet_, and declaring\nthat while _Faust_ is beautiful, \"it cannot produce a really artistic\nimpression.\" The definition then seems to represent little more than a\nquibble over terms. Tolstoy says that the beautiful representation of\nnature is not art, but something else is. Very well then, all we have to\ndo is to find a new term for this representation of nature, and the\nposition remains as before except that the meaning of the term \"art\" has\nbeen changed.\n\n  [a] _The Theory of Beauty_, 1914.\n\n  [b] _What is Art?_ Aylmer Maude Translation.\n\n\n\nNOTE 4. PAGE 8\n\nThe evolutionary principle has been applied to art by Herbert Spencer\nand J. A. Symonds, but not in the sense in which it is used in\nconnection with the development of living organisms. Spencer traces a\nprogression from the simple to the complex in the application of the\narts, but not in the arts themselves[a]; and Symonds endeavours to prove\nthat each separate marked period of art shows a progression which is\ncommon to all; that is, from immature variations to a high type, then\ndownwards through a lower form represented by romanticism or elegance,\nto realism, and from this to hybrid forms.[b] Spencer's argument is\nsuggestive, but his conclusions have been mostly upset by archaeological\ndiscoveries made since his great book was published. The illustrations\ngiven by Symonds are highly illuminating, but they are very far from\npostulating a general law of evolution operating in the production of\nart.\n\n  [a] _First Principles_.\n\n  [b] Essay on _Evolutionary Principles_.\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 24 (See page 260)\n  The Creation of Adam, by Michelangelo (_Vatican_)]\n\n\n\nNOTE 5. PAGE 8\n\nIt seems necessary to mention Hegel's art periods, though one can only\ndo so with a feeling of regret that a man who achieved a high reputation\nas a philosopher should have entered the province of art only to\nmisconstrue its purpose with fantastic propositions which have no\nhistorical or other apparent foundation. He divides art history into\nSymbolic, Classic, and Romantic periods respectively. To accomplish this\nhe invents or discovers a new abstraction which he calls the Idea, this\nrepresenting man's conception, not of God, but of His perfection--His\nsupreme qualities, so that in one sense the Idea may be called the\nAbsolute, in another the Spirit, and in another, Truth. These terms are\nin fact interchangeable, and each may be a manifestation of another, or\nof God. This Idea, he says, being perfect beauty, is the basic concept\nof art. In archaic times man was unable to give expression to this\nconcept, so he represented it by symbols: hence the earliest art was\nSymbolic art. In the time of the Greeks man had so advanced that he was\nable to give higher expression to the Idea, and he embodied it in a\nperfect human form. This is the Classic period, which Hegel indicates\ncontinued till Christianity spread abroad, when Classic form, though\nperfect as art, was found insufficient for the now desired still higher\nexpression of the Idea. This expression could not be put into stone, so\nother arts than sculpture were used for it, namely, poetry, painting,\nand music, which are placed together as Romantic art. This is as nearly\nas possible a statement of the periods of Hegel in short compass. It is\nimpossible to interpret logically his arguments, nor is it necessary,\nfor his conclusions when tested in the light of experience, develop into\ninexplicable paradoxes and contradictions which border on the\nridiculous. Needless to say, the acceptance of this division means the\nannihilation of our ideas of the meaning of art, and the condemnation to\nthe limbo of forgetfulness of nearly all the artists whose memory is\nhonoured.\n\nThe general interpretation of the terms \"Classic Art\" and \"Romantic Art\"\nwidely differs from that of Hegel, and varies with the arts. In the\nliterary arts the distinction is obvious, but the terms are used to\ndefine both periods and classes; in architecture the Gothic period is\nusually called the Romantic epoch; and in painting the terms have\nreference to manner, the more formal manner being called Classic, and\nthe soft manner, Romantic; though it is commonly understood that\nRomantic art is especially concerned with subjects associated with the\ngentler side of life. But there is no general agreement. Some writers\nassert that Giorgione was the first of the romanticists, others give the\npalm to Watteau, a third section to Delacroix, and a fourth to the\nBarbizon School. We must await a clear definition of \"Romantic Art.\"\n\n\n\nNOTE 6. PAGE 8\n\nIt may be reasonably argued that the want of development of the plastic\narts in England during the literary revival, was largely due to\nartificial restrictions. Fine paintings were ordered out of the churches\nby Elizabeth, and many were destroyed; while, following the lead of the\ncourt, there was little or no encouragement offered by the public to\nartists except perhaps in portraiture. Flaxman truly said of the\ndestruction of works of art in this period, that the check to the\nnational art in England occurred at a time which offered the most\nessential and extraordinary assistance to its progress.\n\n\n\nNOTE 7. PAGE 16\n\nDuring the last half century or so, various writers of repute, including\nRuskin and Dean Farrar, have professed to find in the poorer works of\nthe Italian painters of the fourteenth century, and even in paintings of\nMargaritone and others of the previous century, evidence of strong\nreligious emotion on the part of the artists. It is claimed that their\npurpose in giving simple solemn faces to their Madonnas and Saints, was\n\"to tell the sacred story in all its beauty and simplicity\"; that they\npossessed a \"powerful sincerity of emotion\"; that they \"delivered the\nburning messages of prophecy with the stammering lips of infancy,\" and\nso on. It is proper to say that there is nothing to support this view of\nthe early painters. We find no trace of any suggestions of the kind till\nthe last of these artists had been dead for about four hundred years,\nwhile their lives, so far as we have any record, lend no warranty to the\nstatements. The painters of the fourteenth century took their art\nseriously, but purely as a craft, and it was not uncommon with them to\ncombine two or three other crafts with that of painting. They designed\nmostly sacred subjects for the simple reason that the art patrons of the\nday seldom ordered anything else. In their private lives they associated\ntogether, were generally agreeable companions, and not averse to an\noccasional escapade. Moreover the time in which they lived was notable\nfor what we should call loose habits, and indeed from the thirteenth\ncentury to the end of the fifteenth, religious observances and practices\nwere of a more hollow and formal character than they have ever been\nsince.\n\nThe position occupied by these painters in the progression of art from\nthe crude Byzantine period upwards, corresponds with that of the Roman\npainters of the third and fourth centuries in the progression downwards\nto the Byzantine epoch, and there is no more reason for supposing that\nthe Italians were actuated by special emotions in their work, than that\nthe Romans were so moved. In both cases the character of the work, as\nReynolds put it in referring to the Italians, was the result of want of\nknowledge. The countenances usually presented by both Roman and Italian\nartists have a half sad, half resigned expression, because this was the\nonly kind of expression that could be given by an immature painter whose\nideal was restricted by the necessity of eliminating elements which\nmight indicate happiness. Giotto, Taddeo Gaddi, Duccio, and a few more,\nwere exceptions in that their art was infinitely superior to the average\nof the century, but all from Giotto downwards, laboured as craftsmen\nonly. No doubt they often worked with enthusiasm, and in this way their\nemotions may have been brought into play, but there is no possible means\nof identifying in a picture the emotions which an artist may have\nexperienced while he was painting it.\n\nAs to the sad expression referred to in these Italian works, it may be\nobserved that Edgar A. Poe held that the tone of the highest\nmanifestation of beauty is one of sadness. \"Beauty of whatever kind,\" he\nsays, \"in its supreme development invariably excites the sensitive soul\nto tears.\"[a] But Poe is clearly mistaken here. It is not the beauty of\nthe work that affects the emotions to tears, when they are so affected,\nbut the subject of the design exhibiting the beauty. A picture or poem\nrepresenting a sad subject may be very beautiful, but the sadness itself\nwould not assist the beauty, though it might increase the emotional\neffect. The higher forms of beauty rarely draw our tears, but elicit our\nadmiration without direct thought of anything but the beauty.\n\nWho would weep when in front of the greatest marvels of Greek sculpture?\n\n  [a] _The Philosophy of Composition._\n\n\n\nNOTE 8. PAGE 21\n\nIt is commonly, but wrongfully, supposed that Rembrandt used his\nbroadest manner in painting commissioned portraits. The number of his\nportraits known to exist is about 450, of which fifty-five are\nrepresentations of himself, and fifty-four of members of his household,\nor relatives. There are, further, more than seventy studies of old men\nand women, and thirty of younger men. The balance are commissioned\nportraits or groups. This last section includes none at all of his\npalette knife pictures, and not more than two or three which are\nexecuted with his heaviest brushes. Generally his work broadened in his\nlater period, but up to the end of his life his more important works\nwere often painted in a comparatively fine manner, though the handling\nwas less careful and close.[a] The broadest style of the artist is\nrarely exhibited except in his studies and family portraits. Further it\nis extremely unlikely that a palette-knife picture would have been\naccepted in Holland during Rembrandt's time as a serious work in\nportraiture.\n\n  [a] See among works dating after 1660, The Syndics of the Drapers,\n        Portrait of a Young Man, Wachtmeister Collection; Lady with\n        a Dog, Colmar Museum; and Portrait of a Young Man, late Beit\n        Collection.\n\n\n\nNOTE 9. PAGE 22\n\nDarwin pointed out the permanent character of the changes in the nerves,\nthough he submitted another demonstration[a]:\n\n     That some physical change is produced in the nerve cells or nerves\n     which are habitually used can hardly be doubted, for otherwise it\n     is impossible to understand how the tendency to certain acquired\n     movements is inherited.\n\n  [a] _The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals._\n\n\n\nNOTE 10. PAGE 23\n\nReynolds evidently had little faith in original genius. Addressing Royal\nAcademy students, he said[a]:\n\n     You must have no dependence on your own genius. If you have great\n     talents, industry will improve them; if you have but moderate\n     abilities, industry will supply the deficiency. Nothing is denied\n     to well-directed labour; nothing is to be obtained without it.... I\n     will venture to assert that assiduity unabated by difficulty, and a\n     disposition eagerly directed to the object of its pursuit, will\n     produce effects similar to those which some call the result of\n     natural powers.\n\nOn another occasion Reynolds observed of Michelangelo[b]:\n\n     He appears not to have had the least conception that his art was to\n     be acquired by any other means than great labour; and yet he of all\n     men that ever lived, might make the greatest pretensions to the\n     efficacy of native genius and inspiration.\n\nGibbon said that Reynolds agreed with Dr. Johnson in denying all\noriginal genius, any natural propensity of the mind to one art or\nscience rather than another.[c] Hogarth also agreed with Reynolds, for\nhe describes genius as \"nothing but labour and diligence.\"\n\nCroce says that genius has a quantitative and not a qualitative\nsignification, but he offers no demonstration.[d] Evidently he is\nmistaken, for the signification is both quantitative and qualitative. It\nis true that what a Phidias, or a Raphael, or a Beethoven puts together\nis a sum of small beauties, any one of which may be equalled by another\nman, but he does more than represent a number of beauties, for he\ncombines these into a beautiful whole which is superior in quality and\ncannot be estimated quantitatively. We may possibly call Darwin a genius\nbecause of the large number of facts he ascertained, and the correct\ninferences he drew from them, but we particularly apply the term to him\nby reason of the general result of all these facts and inferences, this\nresult being qualitative and not quantitative. Croce probably took his\ndictum from Schopenhauer, who, however, represented degrees of quality\nas quantitative,[e] which is of course confusing the issue.\n\n  [a] Reynolds's Second Discourse.\n\n  [b] His Fifth Discourse.\n\n  [c] Gibbon's _Memoirs of my Life and Writings_.\n\n  [d] _Aesthetic._\n\n  [e] Essay on \"Genius.\"\n\n\n\nNOTE 11. PAGE 32\n\nIt is often observed by advocates of \"new\" forms of art that the work of\nmany great artists has been variously valued at different periods--that\nleaders of marked departures in art now honoured, were frequently more\nor less ignored in their own time, while other artists who acquired a\ngreat reputation when living, have been properly put into the background\nby succeeding generations. For the first statement no solid ground can\nbe shown. In painting, the artists since the Dark Age who can be said to\nhave led departures of any importance, are Cimabue, Giotto, the Van\nEycks, Masaccio, Lionardo, Duerer, Giorgione, Raphael, Michelangelo,\nTitian, Holbein, Claude, Rubens, Rembrandt, Velasquez, Watteau,\nReynolds, and Fragonard. All of these had their high talents recognized\nand thoroughly appreciated in their lifetime. In sculpture the\nexperience is the same, for there is no sculptor now honoured whose work\nwas not highly valued by his contemporaries. So with poetry, but before\nthe invention of printing and in the earlier days of this industry,\npoetry of any kind was very slow in finding its way among the people.\nWhat might seem nowadays to have been inappreciation of certain poets\nwas really want of knowledge of them.\n\nThere is more truth in the assertion that many artists who had a high\nreputation in their lifetime are now more or less disregarded, though\nit does not follow from this that there has been a reversal of opinion\non the part of the public, or a variation in the acuteness of aesthetic\nperception. Generally we find that these artists very properly held the\nposition they occupied in their time and country, and if they do not now\nstand on exalted pedestals it is only because we compare them with men\nof other periods and places, which their contemporary countrymen did\nnot do, at least for the purpose of establishing their permanent\nposition in art. Carlo Maratta for instance was celebrated in Italy as\nthe best painter of his country in his time, and even now we must so\nregard him, but his contemporaries as with ourselves did not place him\non so high a level as his great predecessors of the sixteenth century,\nand some of the seventeenth. A special reason why many of the\nseventeenth century artists of Italy have fallen in public esteem may be\nfound in the fact that they excelled mostly in the production of\nsensorial beauty, paying little attention to intellectual grace, and the\nripening of general intelligence as time goes on makes us more and more\nsensitive to beauty of mind.\n\n\n\nNOTE 12. PAGE 34\n\nThere have been many definitions of \"Impressionism\" given, but they vary\nconsiderably. Professor Clausen describes it as the work of a number of\nartists whose interest is in recording effects of light, seeking to\nexpress nature only and disregarding old conventions.[a] Mr. D. S.\nMacColl says that an impressionist is[b]\n\n     a painter who, out of the completed contacts of vision constructs\n     an image moulded upon his own interest in the thing seen, and not\n     on that of any imaginary schoolmaster.\n\nThis definition is insufficient by itself, but the writer makes his\nmeaning clearer in the same article when he says:\n\n     Impressionism is the art that surveys the field, and determines\n     which of the shapes and tones are of chief importance to the\n     interested eye, and expresses these and sacrifices the rest.\n\nAccording to C. Mauclair, an acknowledged authority on impressionism,\nthe impressionist holds:\n\n     Light becomes the one subject of a picture. The interest of the\n     objects on which it shines is secondary. Painting thus understood\n     becomes an art of pure optics, a seeking for harmonies, a species\n     of natural poem, entirely distinct from expression, style, drawing,\n     which have formed the main endeavour of preceding painting. It is\n     almost necessary to invent a new word for this special art, which,\n     while remaining throughout pictural, approaches music in the same\n     degree as it departs from literature or psychology.[c]\n\nWhat can be said of so amazing a declaration? The arts of painting and\nmusic do not, and cannot, have any connection with each other. They are\nconcerned with different senses and different signs, and by no stretch\nof the imagination can they be combined. Seeing that musical terms when\nused in respect of painting by modern critics are almost invariably made\nto apply to colour harmonies, we may infer that a confusion of thought\narises in the minds of the writers from the similar physical means by\nwhich colour and sound are conveyed to the senses concerned. But this\nsimilarity has nothing to do with the appreciation of art. The aesthetic\nvalue of a work is determined when it is conveyed to the mind,\nirrespective of the means by which it is so conveyed.\n\nAccording to La Touche it was Fantin Latour who invented modern\nimpressionism. Braquemond relates that La Touche told him the following\nstory.[d] He (La Touche) was one day at the Louvre with Manet, when they\nsaw Latour copying Paolo Veronese's Marriage at Cana in a novel manner,\nfor instead of blending his colours in the usual way, he laid them on in\nsmall touches of separate tones. The result was an unexpected brilliancy\n(\"papillotage imprevu\") which amazed but charmed the visitors.\nNevertheless when Manet left the Louvre with La Touche, he appeared\nanything but satisfied with what he had seen, and pronounced it humbug.\nBut Latour's method evidently sunk into his mind, for a few days later\nhe commenced to use it himself. Thus, added La Touche, was modern\nimpressionism unchained. The date of this visit was not given by La\nTouche, but 1874 was subsequently suggested. This account does not fit\nin with the statement of MacColl that when Monet and Pissarro were in\nLondon during the siege of Paris, the study of Turner's pictures gave\nthem the suggestion of these broken patches of colour.[e] If this be\ntrue Monet must have antedated Manet in the application of isolated\ntones.\n\nD. S. Eaton asserts that in the Salon of 1867, there was exhibited a\npicture by Monet which was entitled Impressions,[f] and from this arose\nthe word \"Impressionist\"; but Phythian says that the word resulted from\nMonet's \"Impression, soleil levant,\" exhibited in 1874 at the Nadar\nGallery in Paris with other works from Le Societe Anonyme des Artistes,\nPeintres, Sculpteurs, et Graveurs. Phythian adds[g]:\n\n     Thus, unwittingly led by one of the exhibitors, visitors to the\n     exhibition came to use the word \"impressioniste,\" and within a few\n     days a contemptuously unfavourable notice of the exhibition\n     appeared in _Le Charivari_ under the heading \"Exposition des\n     Impressionistes.\" It was not until the lapse of several years that\n     the name came into general use. The painters to whom it was applied\n     disowned it because it was used in a depreciatory sense. Eventually\n     however, unable to find a better one, they adopted it.\n\nAnother origin of Impressionism is given by Muther. He says[h]:\n\n     The name \"Impressionists\" dates from an exhibition in Paris which\n     was given at Nadar's in 1871. The catalogue contained a great deal\n     about impressions--for instance, \"Impression de mon pot au feu,\"\n     \"Impression d'un chat qui se promene.\" In his criticism Claretie\n     summed up the impressions, and spoke of the Salon des\n     Impressionistes.\n\nBut the real origin of impressionism must be sought earlier than 1871,\nfor in 1865 Manet exhibited his Olympia in the Salon des Refuses. This\npicture did not represent what was understood as impressionism ten years\nlater, but it led the way towards the establishment of the innovation,\nin that it pretended that healthy ideas and noble designs were secondary\nconsiderations in art. Certainly Manet could not descend lower than this\nwretched picture, and in this sense his subsequent work was a distinct\nadvance.\n\n  [a] Royal Academy Lectures.\n\n  [b] Article on \"Impressionism,\" _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, 11th\n        Edition.\n\n  [c] _L'Impressionism, son histoire, son esthetique, ses maitres._\n\n  [d] _Le Journal des Arts_, 1909.\n\n  [e] Article on \"Impressionism,\" _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, 11th\n        edition.\n\n  [f] _Handbook of Modern French Painting._\n\n  [g] _Fifty Years of Modern Painting._\n\n  [h] _History of Modern Painting_, vol. iii.\n\n\n\nNOTE 13. PAGE 35\n\nThe reason given by impressionists for the juxtaposition of pure colours\nis that the natural blend produced is more brilliant than the tone from\nthe mixed colours applied, but it is pointed out by Moreau-Vauthier that\nthe contrary is the case. He says[a]:\n\n     We find in practice that the parent colours do not, with material\n     colours, produce the theoretical binaries. We get dark, dull\n     greens, oranges, and violets, that clash with the parent colours.\n     To make them harmonize we should be obliged to dim these material\n     colours, to transform them, and consequently to lose them partly.\n\n  [a] _The Technique of Painting_, 1912.\n\n\n\nNOTE 14. PAGE 37\n\nCezanne and Van Gogh are not usually put forward as representative\nimpressionists, but it is impossible to differentiate logically between\nthe various \"isms\" of which impressionism is the mother, and to attempt\na serious argument upon them would be apt to reflect upon the common\nsense of the reader. The sincere impressionist certainly produces a\nthing of beauty, however ephemeral and lacking in high character the\nbeauty may be, but most of the productions of the other \"isms\" only\nserve the purpose of degrading the artist and the art.\n\n\n\nNOTE 15. PAGE 40\n\nThis form of picture is by no means new, though except among the\ninventors of sprezzatura, and the modern impressionists, it has always\nbeen executed as a rough sketch for the purpose of settling harmonies\nfor serious work. Lomazzo relates that Aurelio, son of Bernadino Luini,\nwhile visiting Titian, asked him how he managed to make his landscape\ntones harmonize so well. For reply the great master showed Aurelio a\nlarge sketch, the character of which could not be distinguished when it\nwas closely inspected, but on the observer stepping back, a landscape\nappeared \"as if it had suddenly been lit up by a ray of the sun.\"[a]\nFrom Luini's surprise, and inasmuch as we have no record of similar work\nbefore his time, it is reasonable to suppose that Titian was the first\ngreat artist to use this form of sketch for experimental purposes.\n\n  [a] _Trattato dell' Arte de la Pittura._\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 25 (See page 269)\n  The Pleiads, by M. Schwind]\n\n\n\nNOTE 16. PAGE 40\n\nThe example of this picture at the Pitti Palace is specially noted\nbecause it seems impossible that the duplicate in the Uffizi Gallery can\nbe by Raphael, for it has obvious defects, some of which have many times\nbeen pointed out. The expression is vastly inferior to that in the Pitti\nportrait, for instead of a calm, noble, benign countenance, we have a\nhalf-worried senile face which is anything but pleasant. Raphael was the\nlast man to execute a portrait of a Pope without generalizing high\ncharacter in the features. It will be observed also that in the Uffizi\nportrait, the left hand is stiff and cramped, and the drapery\nungracefully flowing, while both uprights of the chair are actually out\nof drawing. There are other examples of the same picture in different\nmuseums, but the Pitti work is far above these in every respect, and\nseems the only one which can be properly attributed to the master.\nPassavant affirms that some of the repetitions of the work were\ncertainly made in the studio of Raphael under his orders, and thinks\nthat the duplicates passed for originals even in his time.[a]\n\n  [a] _Raphael d'Urbin_, vol. ii.\n\n\n\nNOTE 17. PAGE 41\n\nTo the knowledge of the writer, the only logical connection between the\nwork of Rembrandt and impressionism that has been suggested, is from the\npen of Professor Baldwin Brown, who remarks[a]:\n\n     Rembrandt in his later work attended to the pictorial effect alone,\n     and practically annulled the objects by reducing them to pure tone\n     and colour. Things are not there at all, but only the semblance, or\n     effect, or impression of things. Breadth is in this way combined\n     with the most delicate variety, and a new form of painting, now\n     called \"impressionism\" has come into being.\n\nThe professor is mistaken here. During the last fifteen years of his\nlife, apart from portraits, a few studies of heads, and some colour\nexperiments with carcases of meat, Rembrandt executed, so far as is\nknown, about three dozen pictures, and in all of these he effectually\nprevents us from forming a general impression of the designs before\nconsidering the more important details, by concentrating nearly all the\navailable light upon the countenances of the principal personages\nrepresented; while in the management of the features, the whole purpose\nof the chiaroscuro is for the purpose of obtaining relief. Moreover the\npictures are nearly all groups of personages in set subjects, and there\nwould be no meaning in the designs if the objects were \"practically\nannulled,\" for particular action and expression are necessary for their\ncomprehension.\n\nAs to Velasquez there is no evidence tending to support the statement\nthat he was an impressionist. The first authority on the artist has\ndefinitely pointed out that he never took up his brushes except for an\nimportant and definite work: \"he neither painted impressions nor\ndaubs.\"[b]\n\n  [a] Article on \"Painting,\" _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, 11th edition.\n\n  [b] _Velasquez_, by De Beruete, 1902.\n\n\n\nNOTE 18. PAGE 49\n\nIt will always be a matter of surprise that so much popularity was\nsecured by the light sketches of the Barbizon School, considering their\ngeneral insignificance from the point of view of art, and the\nconspicuously artificial means adopted for their exploitation. Some of\nthe artists of this school, having accomplished many studio works of\nmerit, acquired the habit of painting in the open air. By this method\nit is impossible to execute a comprehensive natural scene, and the\npainters did not attempt the task, but they produced numberless sketchy\nworks of local scenes under particular atmospheric conditions. They\nlaboured honestly and conscientiously, and their sketches were put out\nfor what they were and nothing more. The paintings would probably have\nretained their place as simple studies had not some commercial genius\nconceived the idea of putting them into heavy, gorgeous, gilt frames.\nWith this embellishment they were successfully scattered round the\nworld, mostly in the newer portions, much to the general astonishment.\nThe _raison d'etre_ of the frames puzzled many persons, though it was\nfrequently observed that the pictures do not look well unless surrounded\nby ample gold leaf. Thus, C. J. Holmes, Director of the London National\nGallery, and an authority on impressionism, notes[a]:\n\n     Barbizon pictures are almost invariably set in frames with an\n     undeniably vulgar look. Yet in such a rectangle of gilded\n     contortion a Corot or a Daubigny shows to perfection: place it in a\n     frame of more reticent design, and it becomes in a moment flat,\n     empty, and tame.\n\nThe purpose of this frame is obvious. The eye is caught by the dazzling\nglitter, and feels immediate relief when it rests upon the quiet grey\ntone of the painting, the pleasurable sensation resulting therefrom\nbeing mistaken for involuntary appreciation of the beauty of the work.\n\nAs finished paintings these Barbizon sketches are novel, but as studies\nthey are not, for similar work has been executed for two or three\ncenturies, and particularly by the Dutch artists of the seventeenth\ncentury. In every considerable collection of drawings such sketches may\nbe found, and there is scarcely a Barbizon painter whose work was not\nanticipated by a Dutch master. One has only to examine the drawings in\nthe public art institutions of Europe by De Molyn, Blyhooft, Jan de\nBischop, Lambert Doomer, Berghem, Avercamp, and others, to find examples\nwhich, if executed now, might easily be taken for works by the Barbizon\nmasters.\n\n  [a] _Notes on the Science of Picture-Making._\n\n\n\nNOTE 19. PAGE 52\n\nIn recent times attempts have been made to upset the dictum of Aristotle\nas to the imitative character of the arts generally, exception being\ntaken in respect of music and architecture. The first objection as to\nmusic arose with Schopenhauer, though he does not appear to have been\nquite certain of his position. He stated that while the other arts\nrepresent ideas, music does not, but being an art it must represent\nsomething, and he suggested that this something is the \"Will,\" the term\nbeing used in the Schopenhauer philosophical sense, that is to say,\nimplying the active principle of the universe, not being God. This means\nnothing at all from the point of view of art, and cannot even be\nseriously considered. The most notable essay on the subject since\nSchopenhauer is from the pen of Sidney Colvin who places music and\narchitecture in a non-imitative group by themselves, the former on the\nprincipal ground that \"it is like nothing else; it is no representation\nor similitude of anything whatever\"; while architecture, he says,\n\"appeals to our faculties for taking pleasure in non-imitative\ncombinations of stationary masses.\"[a] But what Aristotle meant is that\nthe arts are imitative in character, and not that they necessarily\nattempt to produce works of similitude with nature, this being evident\nfrom the fact that he pointed out that the higher works of art surpass\nnature, and he divided poetry and painting into three sections, of\nwhich the first is better than life, and the third inferior to it.\n\nThe musician in producing his art proceeds in precisely the same way as\nthe poet or painter. He takes natural signs and rearranges them in a new\norder, producing a combination which is not to be found complete in\nnature, but every sign therein is natural and must necessarily be so.\nThe higher the flight of the poet, or musician, or painter, or sculptor,\nthe farther is the result from nature, but nevertheless the whole aim of\nthe musician, as of the poet, is to represent emotional effects or\nnatural phenomena beyond experience in life, as the great sculptor\nrepresents form and expression, and the great poet besides these things,\nevery abstract quality, passion, and emotional effect, above this\nexperience; but he cannot do more; he cannot represent something outside\nof nature, and so must imitate, that is, in the sense of representation.\n\nDarwin notes that even a perfect musical scale can be found in nature.\nHe says[b]:\n\n     It is a remarkable fact that an ape, a species of the gibbon\n     family, produces an exact octave of musical sounds, ascending and\n     descending the scale by half tones. From this fact, and from the\n     analogy of other animals, I have been led to infer that the\n     progenitors of man probably uttered musical tones, and that\n     consequently, when the voice is used under any strong emotion, it\n     tends to assume, through the principle of association, a musical\n     character.\n\nIt has been further demonstrated that the strength of the sensory\nimpressions from certain sounds is due to the structure of the ear, and\nthat generally a particular kind of sound produces a similar kind of\nemotional effect in animals as in man. Obviously the musician is\npowerless to do more than widen or deepen this effect. Colvin admits\nthat the musician sometimes directly imitates, as when he produces the\nnotes of birds or the sounds of natural forces, or when he represents\nparticular emotions; but he regards the former instances as hazardous\nand exceptional, and indicates that a particular emotional harmony may\naffect the hearers differently. True, but the hazard of the first\ncondition is the result of the limitations of the artist, and the second\ncondition is the consequence of the limitations of the art. The effect\nof music being purely sensorial must vary with the emotional conditions\nsurrounding the hearer. The musician does what he can, but he is unable\nto go so far as the poet and produce an emotional effect which will with\ncertainty be recognized by every person affected, at all times, as\nhaving the same particular bearing.\n\nTaine separates music (\"properly so called\" as distinguished from\ndramatic music) and architecture from the imitative arts, as they\n\"combine mathematical relationships so as to create works that do not\ncorrespond with real objects.\"[c] Obviously the whole purpose of\ndramatic music is to imitate the effects of the passions, but its\nnecessary inclusion amongst the imitative arts upsets the dictum of\nTaine, for the emotional effects of one kind of music only differ from\nthose of another kind when they differ at all, in the character of the\nnatural emotional effects represented.\n\nIn the case of the architect, seeing that his art is subordinated to\nutility, his scheme, his measurements, and the character of his\nmaterials, are largely or almost entirely governed by conditions outside\nof his art, and consequently it is only possible for him to represent\nnature to a limited extent. Rarely can he vaguely suggest a natural\naisle beneath the celestial dome, a rock-walled cave whose roof soars\ninto obscurity, or a fairy grotto backed by a beetling cliff. Sometimes\nhe may cause us to experience similar effects in kind to those we feel\nwhen we recognize grandeur in nature, but usually he is compelled to\nconfine his beauty to harmonies produced by symmetrical designs of\nstraight lines and curves. But in his simplest as in his most complex\ndesigns, he must follow nature as closely as possible. Purely ornamental\nforms always appear more beautiful when the parts have a direct\nmathematical relationship with each other than when they have not; that\nis to say, when the parts appear to be naturally related. Thus, that a\ncross appears to be less agreeable to the sight when the horizontal bar\nis below the centre of the perpendicular than when it is above this\npoint, is due to what appears to be a want of balance because the form\nis unobservable in nature. In trees the horizontal parts are usually\nabove the middle of the height of the observable trunk, and in the\nexceptions nature gives the whole tree a conical or other shape, the\nrelative position of the horizontal parts being obscured in the general\nform.\n\nAs with parts of forms, so with the forms as wholes. Other things being\nequal, that design is the best where the forms are directly proportioned\none with the other and with the whole, and this is because we are\naccustomed to the order of design in nature where everything is balanced\nby means of direct proportions and corresponding relations. The\narchitect therefore, like the musician or poet, must represent nature so\nfar as he can within the limits of his art, though his representation is\ncomparatively weak owing to the artificial restrictions imposed upon\nhim.\n\n  [a] Article on \"Fine Arts,\" _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, 11th Edition.\n\n  [b] _The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals._\n\n  [c] _On the Ideal in Art._\n\n\n\nNOTE 20. PAGE 54\n\nThe dictum of Aristotle in reference to metre in poetry related only to\nepic and dramatic verse, for what we understand as lyric poetry was\nseparated by the Greeks as song in which of course metre is compulsory.\nIt is doubtful whether a single definition can cover both epic poetry,\nwhose beauty lies almost wholly in the substance, and lyric verse where\nthe beauty rests chiefly in qualities of expression and musical form,\nand in which indeed the substance may be altogether negligible. A\ncursory examination of Watts-Dunton's definition of \"Poetry,\" which is\nadmittedly the best put forward in recent times, shows its entire\ninadequacy. \"Absolute poetry,\" he says, \"is the concrete and artistic\nexpression of the human mind in emotional and rhythmical language.\"[a]\nThis would exclude from the art some of the finest sacred verse, which,\nthough in the form of prose, has been recognized as poetry from time\nimmemorial. Metre is only one of the devices of the poet for\naccomplishing his end---the presentation of beautiful pictures upon the\nmind, but in high poetry there is a still more compulsory artifice which\nis not included in Watts-Dunton's definition, and that is metaphor. In\nthe form of words the details of a picture can only be dealt with\nsuccessively, and not simultaneously, and without metaphor the poet\nwould sometimes be in the position of the painter who should present a\ndozen different pictures each containing only one part of a composition,\nand call upon the observer to put the pieces together in his mind.\nFurther the term \"absolute\" in the definition quoted has no\ncomprehensible meaning if it does not exclude a good deal of verse which\nis commonly recognized as poetry, while, as is admitted by Watts-Dunton,\nthere is much accepted lyric verse without concrete expression.\n\nIn high poetry as in high painting, the beauty appeals both to the\nsenses and the mind, and in each art the quality descends as the\nsensorial overbalances the intellectual appeal, and the effect becomes\nmore ephemeral. In the very highest of the plastic arts, colour has\nlittle value except in assisting definition; and in the very highest\npoetry musical form has only an emphasizing value, for the sensorial\nbeauty arising from form in the one case, and form and action in the\nother, entirely overpowers the harmonies of colour and tone\nrespectively. But colour without design is meaningless, so that it\ncannot be applied in the fine arts apart from design: hence in painting,\ncolour presents no complication in respect of definition. On the other\nhand music, with or without association with poetry, is equally an art\nsince in either case it imitates the effects of human emotions in a\nbeautiful way. Thus, where metre is present poetry is a combined art,\nand seeing that metre may not be present, a definition of \"Poetry\" must\ncover what may be in one case a pure, and in another, a compound art.\n\n  [a] Article on \"Poetry,\" _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, 11th edition.\n\n\n\nNOTE 21. PAGE 55\n\nThere seems to be a tendency to overestimate the disparity between\ntranslations of high poetry and the originals. The value of a\ntranslation depends primarily upon the character of the thing\ntranslated, since it is the form that is unreproducible in another\ntongue, and not the substance. In epic and dramatic poetry where the\nform is of secondary importance, a good literal translation may come\nmuch nearer to the original than a translation of a lyric where the form\nis usually of at least equal importance with the substance. We lose less\nof Homer or Sophocles than of Sappho or Theocritus in translation. In\nthe case of epic poetry the higher its character, the closer to the\noriginal appears the translation, because the form is of less relative\nimportance. More of Dante is lost than of Homer in literal translation,\nbut the difference narrows when the new versions are in metrical form,\nfor the use of metre in translation is necessarily more detrimental as\nthe substance of the original increases in power, and this relative\nweakening is emphasized as the beauty of form in the translation is\nraised. Pope is farther from Homer than Chapman, and Chapman than the\nprose translations of Buckley and Lang. As we descend in the scale of\nthe art, so it becomes more difficult to reproduce the poet in\ntranslation, and in most lyric poetry the beauty seems almost entirely\nlost in another tongue from the original, though when the substance is\nof weight, and the translator is himself a good poet, he sometimes gives\nus a paraphrase with a high beauty of its own. Some modern poets seem to\neschew substance altogether. Much of the verse of esteemed French and\nBelgian poets is quite meaningless in literal translation, the authors\nrelying for the effects entirely upon musical form and beauty of\nexpression.\n\n\n\nNOTE 22. PAGE 66\n\nLessing points out this remarkable picture of Homer as emphasizing the\nbeauty of Helen, observing:\n\n     What could produce a more vivid idea of beauty than making old age\n     confess that it is well worth while the war which cost so much\n     blood, and so much treasure?\n\nNevertheless the remark of the old men does not seem to mean so much as\nthe description of the sages and their reference to the goddesses. It is\ndifficult to imagine several wise men agreeing that the sanguinary war\nof nine years was really excusable in view of Helen's beauty, and the\nstatement therefore is naturally received as a permissible overcolour.\nConsequently the effect of the remark would be discounted, and unlikely\nto be sufficient for the purpose of the poet. True, the Greeks seem to\nhave been childlike sometimes in their simplicity, but there is no\nevidence that they were so wanting in a sense of proportion as to accept\nliterally this opinion of the elders. But when we observe the senility\nof the elders, and the physical feebleness which has apparently rendered\nthem incapable of sensual pleasures, then indeed we must marvel at a\nbeauty which excites their emotions so powerfully as to bring the\ngoddesses to their minds.[a]\n\nIn discussing the suitableness of this incident as a subject for a\npainting, Lessing remarks that the passion felt by the old men was \"a\nmomentary spark which their wisdom at once extinguished,\" but later on,\nreferring to the possibility that the veil worn by Helen when she passed\nthrough the streets of Troy had not been removed when she was seen by\nthe elders, he points out[b]:\n\n     When the elders displayed their admiration for her, it must not be\n     forgotten that they were not seeing her for the first time. Their\n     confession therefore did not necessarily arise from the present\n     momentary view of her, for they had doubtless often experienced\n     before the feelings which they now for the first time acknowledged.\n\nThis is very true, but it only serves to deepen the impression of\nHelen's beauty, for the element of surprise is removed from the minds of\nthe elders, the mere sight of her, veiled or unveiled, being sufficient\nto recall the passionate thrills previously experienced.\n\n  [a] See on this subject Quintilian, viii., 4.\n\n  [b] _Laocoon_, Roennfeldt translation.\n\n\n\nNOTE 23. PAGE 67\n\nIn nearly all the instances of sublimity quoted by Longinus there is\nthis particular merit of brevity---the picture is thrown upon the brain\nimmediately, without pause or anything whatever to complicate the\nbeauty. But the learned critic directs attention only to the magnificent\nthoughts and the appropriate use of them, without pointing out the\nextraordinary condensation of the language employed. Apart from the\ninstance from Genesis given, there is another of his examples in which\npractically the whole beauty of the picture is produced by the rapidity\nof its presentation. This is the exclamation of Hyperides when accused\nof passing an illegal decree for the liberation of slaves--\"It was not\nan orator that made this decree, but the battle of Chaeronea.\" Longinus\nobserves[a]:\n\n     At the same time that he exhibits proof of his legal proceedings,\n     he intermixes an image of the battle, and by that stroke of art\n     quite passes the bounds of mere persuasion.\n\nBut it was rather the manner in which the battle was introduced than the\nfact of its introduction, that gave force to the argument. If instead of\nconfining himself to a short brilliant observation, Hyperides had\ncarefully traced cause and effect in the matter, he would still have\nintermixed an image of the battle, but he would not then have produced a\nwork of art.\n\nStill finer instances of the use of brevity in expresssion by the orator\nare to be found in the speeches of Demosthenes. For example in his\noration On the Crown he says: \"Man is not born to his parents only, but\nto his country.\" A whole volume on the meaning and virtue of patriotism\ncould not say more: hence the sublime art. The simple statement lights\na torch by which we examine every convulsion in history; presents a\nmoving picture in which we see the motives and aspirations guiding the\npatriots of a hundred generations; sets an eternal seal of nobility upon\nthe love of man for his native country. And a few words suffice. The\nsame thought might be elaborated into a large volume, but the art would\nfly with the brevity.\n\n  [a] _On the Sublime_, XV., William Smith translation.\n\n\n\nNOTE 24. PAGE 68\n\nThere are many translations of the Ode to Anactoria, but the best of\nthem reflects only slightly the depth of passion in the original. The\nversion which most nearly represents the substance, while maintaining\nthe unhalting flow of language, is perhaps that of Ambrose Philips\n(1675-1749), which runs thus:--\n\n  Blest as th' immortal gods is he,\n  The youth who fondly sits by thee,\n  And hears, and sees thee all the while\n  Softly speak, and sweetly smile.\n\n  'Twas this deprived my soul of rest,\n  And raised such tumults in my breast;\n  For while I gazed, in transport tost,\n  My breath was gone, my voice was lost.\n\n  My bosom glowed; the subtle flame\n  Ran quick through all my vital frame;\n  O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung;\n  My ears with hollow murmurs rung.\n\n  In dewy damps my limbs were chilled;\n  My blood with gentle horrors thrilled;\n  My feeble pulse forgot to play;\n  I fainted, sunk, and died away.\n\nThe English reproductions of this ode in the Sapphic measure are not\nvery successful, the difficulty of course being due to the practical\nimpossibility of fulfilling the quantitative conditions of the strophe\nwithout stilting the flow of language, or unduly varying the substance.\nBut it has been shown by Dr. Marion Miller in his translation of\nSappho's Hymn to Aphrodite, which is much higher in substance and\nsomewhat less condensed in expression than the Ode to Anactoria, that\nwith certain liberties in respect of quantities, a very beautiful\nsemblance of the Sapphic measure may be produced in English. His\ntranslation of this hymn is unquestionably the best in our language,\nthough this is perhaps partly due to the fact that he is almost the only\ntranslator who has adhered to the text in regard to the sex of the loved\nperson. To make the object of affection a man seems inappropriate to the\nlanguage employed in the verse. (It is proper to mention that a license\ntaken by Dr. Miller in his translation---where he renders the passage\nrelating to the sparrows, as \"clouding with their pinions, Earth's wide\ndominions\"--suggested to the present writer the somewhat similar picture\nto be found on Page 111.)\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 26 (See page 250)\n  St. Margaret, by Raphael (_Louvre_)]\n\n\n\nNOTE 25. PAGE 68\n\nThe gradual decadence of the great period of Grecian sculpture is well\nmarked by the successive variations of the Cnidian Aphrodite of\nPraxiteles. The copy of this at the Vatican is no doubt a close\nrepresentation of the original, but later there was commenced a long\nseries of variations, all of them more or less complicating the design.\nFirst a pillar was substituted for the vase, reaching nearly to the\narmpits, and the left forearm rested upon it, while drapery fell down\nthe front, so that some exertion was required to separate the figure to\nthe eye. Then a dolphin was substituted for the pillar, the head of the\nanimal resting on the ground, and the body rising up straight with\nthe bent tail forming the support. Then for this was placed a dolphin\nwith its body corkscrew shaped, which was particularly weak as it tended\nto deprive the figure of repose. After this, while the dolphin was\nmaintained, a cestus was sometimes added, and heavy drapery applied in\nvarious folds. Finally the attitude of the figure was changed, that of\nthe Venus de' Medici being adopted, while the pillar or dolphin was\nretained. Each alteration necessarily diminished the beauty of the\nfigure.\n\n\n\nNOTE 26. PAGE 69\n\nReynolds seems to have been disappointed with the frescoes of Raphael\nwhen he first saw them, and this fact has been called in evidence by\nsome modern critics to support their contention that the art of the\ngreat masters is really inferior to that wherein design is subordinated\nto colour. But Reynolds very definitely admitted that his first\nimpression was wrong, for after studying the frescoes, he notes[a]:\n\n     In a short time a new taste and a new perception began to dawn upon\n     me, and I was convinced that I had originally formed a false\n     opinion of the perfection of art, and that this great painter was\n     well entitled to the high rank which he holds in the admiration of\n     the world.\n\nReynolds was quite a young man when he went to Rome, and his\nappreciation of Raphael increased as his experience matured. More than\ntwenty years after the visit, he remarked that Raphael had \"a greater\ncombination of the high qualities of the art than any other man,\"[b] and\nten years later he affirmed that the Urbino artist stood foremost among\nthe first painters.[c] Reynolds supposed that his lack of appreciation\nof the frescoes when he first saw them arose from want of immediate\ncomprehension of them: he was unaccustomed to works of such great power,\nbut it is to be observed that his inspection was a very short one, and\nwe may reasonably draw the conclusion that changing light conditions had\nmuch to do with the effect the paintings left upon him at the time. When\none enters a room where the light differs materially in intensity or\nquality from that experienced just previously, it is advisable to rest\nquietly for a little while before examining works defined by colour, in\norder that the eyes may become accustomed to the new light.\n\n  [a] Reynolds's _Italian Note Book_.\n\n  [b] His Fifth Discourse at the Royal Academy.\n\n  [c] His Twelfth Discourse.\n\n\n\nNOTE 27. PAGE 73\n\nThat the judgment of the public upon a work of art is final seems to\nhave been recognized by all the ancient writers who dealt with the\nmatter, and that the Greeks generally held this view is evident from\nmany incidents, notably the reference to public judgment in the great\ncompetition between Phidias and Alcamenes. During the Renaissance also\nthe opinion held good, and it is worth noting that the suggestion\nsometimes made that Michelangelo did not conform to this view is\nunsupported by evidence. Vasari relates the following anecdote[a]:\n\n     He [Michelangelo] went to see a work of sculpture which was about\n     to be sent out because it was finished, and the sculptor was taking\n     much trouble to arrange the lights from the windows to the end that\n     it might show up well; whereupon Michelangelo said to him: \"Do not\n     trouble yourself, the important thing will be the light of the\n     piazza\"; meaning to infer that when works are in public places, the\n     people must judge whether they are good or bad.\n\nLionardo went so far as to advise artists to hear any man's opinion on\nhis work, \"for,\" he said, \"we know very well that though a man may not\nbe a painter, he has a true conception of the form of another man.\"[b]\nIt is a common misconception with the general public, though not among\nserious artists, that by reason of their profession artists are better\njudges of works of art than other men. Obviously the recognition of\nbeauty in art is apart altogether from the means by which it is created,\nand subject to the exceptions noted elsewhere, all men are alike able to\nappreciate high beauty. Winckelmann even advised his readers against the\njudgment of artists on the ground that they generally preferred what is\ndifficult to what is beautiful,[c] but experience with the great art\nbodies in Europe who hold exhibitions does not support this view. It is\nonly the weaker artists who are liable to be prejudiced in such matters,\nand when the judges are of high attainments in art, they almost\ninvariably make the same choice in competitions that would be made if\ngeneral opinion were solicited. But although artists cannot be better\njudges of high-class works of art (as beautiful things) than other men\nof equal intelligence, their training usually enables them to\ndistinguish obscure forms of beauty which would be unrecognized by the\ngeneral public, and in matters of colour to differentiate between\nephemeral and more or less permanent harmonies. Hence while the public\ninterests would not suffer from the introduction of the lay element in\njudging high class sculpture and painting, it is obvious that the\nconsideration of works where the lower forms of beauty only are\nproduced, as in formal decoration, should be confined to the profession.\n\nIn music alone of the arts, for reasons already given, special\ncultivation is necessary for the judgment of the higher forms of beauty.\n\n  [a] _Life of Michelangelo Buonarotti_, De Vere translation.\n\n  [b] McCurdy's _Lionardo da Vinci's Note Books_.\n\n  [c] _History of Ancient Art_, Part V., 6.\n\n\n\nNOTE 28. PAGE 74\n\nIt is commonly supposed that the vast multitude of men and women--the\ntoilers in the fields and factories, and their families, do not\nappreciate great works of art; that rarely they take an interest in any\nkind of art, and then only in simple representations of everyday\nincidents. This is so apparently, but it is not strictly true. The great\nbulk of working people grow up amidst surroundings where they do not\nhave an opportunity of seeing good works of art. They toil from morn to\neve during their whole life: their imaginations are almost entirely\nconfined to their means of livelihood, their daily routine of labour,\nand their household duties. A \"mute inglorious Milton\" remains mute\nbecause he wants the knowledge and experience around which his fancy may\nroam, and a potential Raphael dies in obscurity from the enforced\nrigidity of his imagination. But even so, notwithstanding that the\nnervous activities and the imaginations of the poorer workers remain\nundeveloped, they are still subservient to the irrevocable laws of\nnature. Their faculties may be little changed from childhood in respect\nof matters appertaining to the higher senses, but they still exist. So\nit comes about that in all times since art has been practised, the\npaintings and sculptures of the greater masters have been well\nappreciated by the multitude when they could come into contact with\nthem. In modern times great works of art are seldom available to the\nmasses except in public galleries where their sense perception and minds\nare quickly confused and fatigued--in fact rendered incapable of\nlegitimate use, but the trend of popular opinion is very decidedly\nsettled by the experience of those business houses which undertake the\nreproduction of important works. There are many times the demand for\nprints and cards of pictures belonging to the higher forms of art, as\nfor instance, sacred and historical subjects, and portraits, than for\ninteriors and landscapes, and so incessant is this demand for the better\nworks, that a painter desiring to copy one of the great Raphael or\nCorreggio Madonnas at Florence for reproduction, will usually have to\nwait three or four years after entering his name, before his turn comes\nto set up his easel. It is rather the want of intelligent contact with\nthem, than indifference to them, that is due the apparent lack of\ninterest in great works of art on the part of the labouring classes.\n\nThere is a deal of truth in the incisive remarks of Leo Tolstoy when\ndealing with this question. He says [a]:\n\n     Art cannot be incomprehensible to the great masses only because it\n     is very good, as artists of our day are fond of telling us. Rather\n     we are bound to conclude that this art is unintelligible because it\n     is very bad art, or even is not art at all. So that the favourite\n     argument (naively accepted by the cultured crowd), that in order to\n     feel art one has first to understand it (which really means to\n     habituate oneself to it), is the truest indication that what we are\n     asked to understand by such a method, is either very bad art,\n     exclusive art, or is not art at all.\n\nOne may observe however that, as a rule, it is only inferior artists who\ncomplain of the want of public appreciation of great works of art.\n\n  [a] _What is Art?_ Aylmer Maude translation, 1904.\n\n\n\nNOTE 29. PAGE 78\n\nAccording to Lessing and Watts-Dunton, what the former calls the\ndazzling antithesis of Simonides--\"Poetry is speaking painting, and\npainting dumb poetry\"--has had a wide and deleterious effect upon art\ncriticism. Lessing, who wrote _Laocoon_ about 1761, said in his preface\nin reference to this saying:\n\n     It was one of those ideas held by Simonides, the truth of which is\n     so obvious that one feels compelled to overlook the indistinctness\n     and falsehood which accompany it.... But of late many critics, just\n     as though no difference existed, have drawn the crudest conclusions\n     one can imagine from this harmony of painting and poetry.\n\nWatts-Dunton, writing a few years ago, added to this[a]:\n\n     It [the saying of Simonides] appears to have had upon modern\n     criticism as much influence since the publication of Lessing's\n     _Laocoon_ as it had before.\n\nLessing points out that the Greeks confined the saying to the effect\nproduced by the two arts, and (evidently referring to Aristotle) did not\nforget to inculcate that these arts differed from each other in the\nthings imitated and the manner of imitation.\n\nSince the business of both poetry and painting is to throw pictures on\nthe mind, the declaration of Simonides must be accepted, but it has no\nparticular meaning as applied either to criticism or the practice of the\narts. It is merely a fact of common knowledge put into the form of a\nmisleading _jeu d'esprit_, though one has a natural reluctance in so\ndescribing a time-honoured saying. There is room for doubt whether it\nreally had the effect upon criticism that is alleged. Annibale Carracci\nvaried it slightly into a better form with \"Poets paint with words, and\npainters speak with the pencil,\" and it was certainly as well known in\nhis time as in the eighteenth century, yet we find no particular\nevidence of weak art criticism either in the sixteenth or seventeenth\ncentury. Moreover allegorical painting was not less common in these\ncenturies than in the century following; and while there was\nunquestionably a spurt of descriptive poetry in the eighteenth, it is\ndifficult to trace a connection between this phenomenon and general\ncriticism based upon the dictum of Simonides. In regard to later times,\nthe statement of Watts-Dunton wants demonstration.\n\n  [a] Article on \"Poetry,\" _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, 11th edition.\n\n\n\nNOTE 30. PAGE 79\n\nA few distinguished poets have attempted to portray beauty of form by\ndescription of features, but they have all been signally unsuccessful.\nThe best known essay of the kind is Ariosto's portrait of Araminta,\nwhere he closely describes all details of her features and form, using\nforty lines for the purpose; but put together the pieces as one will, it\nis quite impossible to gain from them an idea of the beauty of her\ncountenance.[a] This is pointed out by Lessing. The very length of the\ncatalogue is apt to kill the beauty as one endeavours to dovetail the\nseparate elements. Perhaps the lines of Cornelius Gallus to Lydia form\nthe most perfect poetical delineation of a beautiful face known to us,\nbut as will be seen from the translation below, they are quite\ninsufficient to enable us to picture the beauty of the combined features\non our minds.[b]\n\n  Lydia! girl of prettiest mien,\n  And fairest skin, that e'er were seen:\n  Lilies, cream, thy cheeks disclose;\n  The ruddy and the milky rose;\n  Smooth thy limbs as ivory shine,\n  Burnished from the Indic mine.\n  Oh, sweet girl! those ringlets spread\n  Long and loose, from all thy head;\n  Glistening like gold in yellow light\n  O'er thy falling shoulders white.\n  Show, sweet girl! thy starry eyes,\n  And black brows that arching rise:\n  Show, sweet girl! thy rose-bloom cheeks,\n  Which Tyre's vermillion scarlet streaks:\n  Drop those pouting lips to mine,\n  Those ripe, those coral lips of thine.\n\n  [a] _Orlando Furioso_, C. VII.\n\n  [b] C. A. Elton translation.\n\n\n\nNOTE 31. PAGE 80\n\nIf there be one example of descriptive poetry relating to landscape\nwhich throws upon the mind a complete natural scene during the process\nof reading, it is the beautiful chant of the Chorus in _Oedipus\nColoneus_. The perfection of form and majestic diction of this poetry\nare remarkable, but the successful presentation of the picture on the\nmind is largely due to the simple and direct language used, and the\nastonishing brevity with which the many features of the scene are\ndescribed. Green dells, fields, plains, groves, rocks, flowers, fruit,\nand rushing waters, are all brought in, and the few lines used do not\nprevent the introduction of the Muses, the jovial Bacchus with the\nnursing nymphs, and radiant Aphrodite. All modern poetry descriptive of\nlandscape entirely fails in presenting a comprehensive view. It is too\ndiscursive--over descriptive, to permit of the mind collecting the\ndetails together as one whole. Here is the best prose version of the\nlines of Sophocles[a]:\n\n     Thou hast come, O stranger, to the seats of this land, renowned for\n     the steed; to seats the fairest on earth, the chalky Colonus; where\n     the vocal nightingale, chief abounding, trills her plaintive note\n     in the green dells, tenanting the dark-hued ivy, and the leafy\n     grove of the god, untrodden, teeming with fruits, impervious to the\n     sun, and unshaken by the winds of every storm; where Bacchus the\n     reveller ever roams attending his divine nurses. And ever day by\n     day the narcissus, with its beauteous clusters, bursts into bloom\n     by heaven's dew, the ancient coronet of the mighty goddesses, and\n     the saffron with golden ray; nor do the sleepless founts of\n     Cephisus that wander through the fields fail, but every day it\n     rushes o'er the plains with its limpid wave, fertilizing the bosom\n     of the earth; nor have the choirs of the Muses loathed this clime;\n     nor Aphrodite too, of the golden reign.\n\n  [a] Oxford translation.\n\n\n\nNOTE 32. PAGE 81\n\nIt is perhaps necessary to remind some readers that the term \"invention\"\nis used in two senses in art, referring to the original idea or scheme,\nor to the preparation of the design embodying the idea. In poetry and\nfiction the term has the former significance; in painting and sculpture\nthe latter. The restriction in the use of the term in the last named\narts is compulsory. (See Chap. III., and Note 33.)\n\n\n\nNOTE 33. PAGE 81\n\nApparently Lessing did not observe that inasmuch as the painter cannot\npresent the beginning and end of an incident, he must necessarily take\nhis moment of action from the literary arts or from nature. The critic\nnotices that the painter does not invent the action he depicts, but\nstates that this is due to his indifference towards invention, developed\nby the natural readiness of the public to dispense with the merit of\ninvention in his case. That is to say, the public expects the painter to\ntake his idea from the poet or from nature, and looks to him only for\ncorrect design and execution: hence the painter is under no necessity to\ninvent his own scheme.\n\nIt is curious that a reason of this kind for the practice of the painter\nshould be put forward by so keen a critic as Lessing, but it is not\naltogether surprising when we remember the discussion as to whether\nVirgil drew his representation of the Laocoon incident from the\ncelebrated sculptured group, or the sculptors adopted the device of the\npoet. Lessing definitely settled the point in favour of the poet as the\nauthor of the design, and since his time this decision has been\nconfirmed over and over again by practical evidence. But the conclusion\nof Lessing seems obvious in the absence of any such evidence. As we\nmust exclude the possibility of both poet and sculptors taking the\ndesign from the same original source, it is clear that the poet could\nonly have imitated the sculptors on the supposition that they had so\nwidely varied the legend as to necessitate a new beginning and end of\nthe story, these being provided by the poet. Consideration of such a\nseries of events is not permissible, as it would reflect upon the common\nsense of the sculptors, and actually degrade the poet.\n\nConsequent upon the inability of the painter to originate a scheme for a\npicture, the famous proposition of Lessing as to the relative importance\nof invention and execution with the poet and painter, must fall to the\nground. The critic states that our admiration of Homer would be less if\nwe knew that he took certain of his work from pictures, and asks[a]:\n\n     How does it happen that we withdraw none of our esteem from the\n     painter when he does no more than express the words of the poem in\n     forms and colours?\n\nHe suggests as an answer to this:\n\n     With the painter, execution appears to be more difficult than\n     invention: with the poet on the other hand the case seems to be\n     reversed, and his execution seems to be an easier achievement than\n     the invention.\n\nThe word \"invention\" is to be taken here in the sense of plot or fable,\nand not as the details of design invented by the painter for the purpose\nof representing the action described by the poet. The premisses of\nLessing's argument therefore will not stand, for the painter cannot\noriginate a fable by means of a picture. And sequential to this of\ncourse, the painter can be of no service to the poet. Homer could not\ndraw an original scheme from a painting. Nor may the poet take a detail\nfrom the painter, for this has already been borrowed. A poet may vary a\ndetail in a legend because he can make the successive parts of his\nrelation fit in with the variation, but the painter can only deal with a\nsingle moment of action, and if this does not correspond with an\naccepted legend, then his design appears to be untrue.\n\nIt may be said in regard to painting, that the relative difficulty of\nthe invention (the work of gathering and arranging the signs) and the\nexecution, varies with the character of the art. In the higher forms, as\nsacred and historical work, the invention is the more difficult; in\nordinary scenes of life and labour the trouble involved in invention\nwould about equal that in execution; while in the lower forms, as\nlandscape and still-life, the execution is obviously the more difficult.\nIn the case of the poet, the idea or fable is the hardest part of his\nwork, but the relative difficulty of the arrangement of the parts, and\nthe execution, would naturally depend upon the general character of the\ncomposition, and the form of the poem.\n\n  [a] _Laocoon_, Phillimore translation.\n\n\n\nNOTE 34. PAGE 82\n\nThe works here referred to are those designed for the purpose of\nachieving a political or social aim, or conveying instruction or moral\nlessons. There are many examples of good art where advocacy of a social\nor administrative reform is presented by way of incident or accessory,\nthough the art itself is never, and cannot be, assisted thereby.\n\"Didactic Art,\" if such a term may be appropriately used, is practically\na thing of the past, but judging from certain conventions the opinion\nseems to be rather widely held that art should point a moral when\npossible, and an opinion of Aristotle is not infrequently called in to\nsupport this view. But when Aristotle connected morals with art, he\nevidently did not mean to suggest that art should have a moral purpose,\nbut that it should have a moral tendency in not being morally harmful,\nfor art which is not morally harmful must necessarily be morally\nbeneficial. The general connection of the good with the beautiful in\nancient Greece seems to have merely implied that what is good is\nbeautiful, and what is beautiful is good, or should be good, and not\nthat goodness is a manifestation of beauty, or beauty of goodness. It\nwas admitted that the two things may not coincide.\n\n\n\nNOTE 35. PAGE 85\n\nThat landscape painting may be of considerable value in assisting\nscientific exploration is instanced by an anecdote related to the writer\nby a geological friend. Professor Jack, formerly Government Geologist of\nQueensland, while travelling in that colony, having put up one night at\nthe house of a small squatter, noticed on the walls of the interior, a\nnumber of colour drawings which had been painted by a son of the settler\nfrom views in the neighbouring hills. One of these drawings showed a\nreddish-brown tint running down the slope of a grey and nearly barren\nhill. This caught the eye of the professor who asked the artist if the\ncolours roughly represented the natural conditions, and receiving an\naffirmative reply, recommended the squatter to prospect the ground for\nminerals. This was done with the result that profitable copper deposits\nwere found. It seems that in Australia many of the best mineral veins\nare capped with iron, and run through schistose rocks traversed by\ndioritic dykes. Professor Jack was well aware that the hills in the\ndistrict were formed of these rocks and dykes, and as the reddish-brown\nstreak indicated iron oxide, it occurred to him that the iron might be\nthe cap of a lode holding valuable minerals.[a]\n\n  [a] This note is from _The Position of Landscape in Art_, by the\n        present author.\n\n\n\nNOTE 36. PAGE 87\n\nRemarkable evidence of the universality of ideals, is afforded by the\ngalaxy of French sculptors who appeared in the thirteenth century. They\ncould have had no teachers beyond those responsible for the stiff and\nformal works characterizing the merging of Norman with Gothic art; they\ncould have seen few of the fragments of ancient sculpture; and yet they\nleft behind them monuments which rival in noble beauty much of the work\nproduced in the greatest art period. How their art grew, and how it\nwithered; how such a brilliant bloom in the life of a nation should so\nquickly fade, needs too detailed an argument to be ventured upon here,\nif indeed a properly reasoned explanation can be given at all; but the\nflower remains, as great a pride to mankind as it is a glory to France:\nremains, though sadly drooping, for the petals of Rheims are gone.\n\nNow these Frenchmen were in much the same position as the early Greeks.\nThey were confronted with the task of making images of their objects of\nworship for great temples. They had no more real knowledge of the\nPersonality of Christ, the Virgin, and most of the Saints than had the\nGreeks of the Homeric gods and legendary heroes, and like the Grecian\nsculptors they fully believed in the spiritual personages and religious\nevents with which they dealt. The Grecian and French artists therefore\nstarted from the same line with similar general ideals, for the ancient\nworkers took no heed of Homer and Hesiod in respect of the failings of\ntheir gods; and they both had only pure formalities in sculpture behind\nthem. And what was the result? The ideal divine head of the Christian\nFrenchman is much the same as that of the Greeks in regard to form, and\nonly varies in expression with the character of the respective religious\nconceptions.\n\nThe French sculptors did not reach the sublime height of the Phidian\nschool, nor did they attempt the more human beauty typified by the\ngiants of the fourth century B.C.; but apart from these, and leaving\naside considerations of the nude with which they were little concerned,\nthey climbed to the highest level of the latter end of the fourth\ncentury and the beginning of the third--the level attained by those\nGrecian sculptors who more or less idealized portrait heads by adding\nPhidian traits. And it would appear that in reaching towards their goal\nthey followed the same line of thought as the Greeks, and arrived at\nsimilar conclusions in respect to every detail of the head and pose of\nthe figure. As a rule they gave to the faces of Christ and the Saints a\nlarge facial angle, set the eyes in deeply and the ears close to the\nhead, and generally worked on parallel lines with the principal\nsculptors of Peloponesia living sixteen hundred years before their time.\nIt is perhaps natural that they should make similar variations in the\nproportions of the figures to provide for the different levels from\nwhich they were to be seen, but it is curious that they should adopt the\npractice followed by the Greeks in the representation of children in\narms, by minimizing to the last degree the figure of the Infant Christ\nin the arms of the Madonna. They could not have more closely imitated\nthe Greeks in this respect had they had Grecian models in front of them.\nNo doubt they fixed the position of the Child at the side of the Virgin\nin order that the line of her majestic form might not be broken, and\nthat her face might be revealed to observers below the level of the\nstatues, but that they should have made the Child so extremely small and\ninsignificant considering His relative importance compared with that of\nthe Grecian infant in arms, is remarkable.\n\n\n\nNOTE 37. PAGE 90\n\nIt is too early yet to fix definitely the position of Rodin in art.\nThere is much sifting of his works to be done, for of all artists with a\nwide reputation, he was perhaps the most variable. Still he may be\ncalled one of the greater artists, and so is amongst the rare exceptions\nmentioned, for he executed one or two hideous figures, the most notable\nbeing La Vieille Heaulmiere.[a] This cannot properly be described as a\nwork of art because it is revolting to the senses: it is merely a\nspecies of writing--a hieroglyph, and Rodin's own apology for it is a\ndirect condemnation, since a work of sculpture cannot be good if general\nopinion does not approve of it. He says[b]:\n\n     What matters solely to me is the opinion of people of taste, and I\n     have been delighted to gain their approbation for my La Vieille\n     Heaulmiere. I am like the Roman singer who replied to the jeers of\n     the populace, _Equitibus Cano_. I sing only for the nobles; that is\n     to say for the connoisseurs. The vulgar readily imagine that what\n     they consider ugly is not a fit subject for the artist. They would\n     like to forbid us to represent what displeases and offends them in\n     nature. It is a great error on their part. What is commonly called\n     \"ugliness\" in nature can in art become full of great beauty. In the\n     domain of art we call ugly what is deformed, whatever is\n     unhealthy.... Ugly also is the soul of the vicious or criminal\n     man.... But let a great artist or writer make use of one or other\n     of these uglinesses, instantly it becomes transfigured: with a\n     touch of his fairy wand he has turned it into beauty: it is\n     alchemy: it is enchantment.\n\nRodin then goes on to refer to the description of ugly objects by the\npoets, in support of his argument that they may be represented by the\npainter! It was his error in confusing the objects of the literary with\nthose of the plastic arts, that led him to carve La Vieille Heaulmiere,\nfor he admitted that he wished to put into sculpture what Villon had put\ninto a poem. Professor Waldstein properly pointed out that, this being\nso, the observer of the sculpture should be provided with a copy of the\npoem when in front of the statue, adding[c]:\n\n     and even then the work remains only the presentation of a female\n     figure deformed in every detail by the wear and tear of time, and\n     of a life ending in disease and nothing more. It is the worst form\n     of literary sculpture, of which we have had so much by artists who\n     represent the very opposite pole of the modern realists.\n\nElsewhere the respective positions of the poet and painter (or sculptor)\nin the representation of ugliness are dealt with, but it may be added\nthat in the case of La Vieille Heaulmiere, Rodin does not render in\nsculpture the poem of Villion, but only a part of it, for of course he\ncould not show the progression in the life of the courtesan, indicated\nby the poet, which progression puts an entirely different complexion\nupon the ugly figure of the poet compared with that of the sculptor.\nClearly Rodin was misled when he said that people of taste have given\ntheir approbation to his appalling figure, for it has been condemned\namong all classes, while its few defenders have failed to support their\nopinions by reason or experience.\n\nWe may note that at another time Rodin reflected upon the character of\nthe ancient Greek sculpture for the very reason upon which he bases his\nclaim for public approval of La Vieille Heaulmiere. He says[d]:\n\n     That was the fault of the Hellenic ideal. The beauty conceived by\n     the Greeks was the order dreamed of by intelligence, but it only\n     appealed to the cultivated mind, disdaining the humble.\n\nHere also is a confusion of ideas, for the intelligence cannot dream of\na special kind of beauty which would not be recognized by the humble,\nunless it were so feeble as to be altogether below Greek conceptions.\nThe aim of the Greek sculptors was to appeal to all classes, and in this\nthey were eminently successful.\n\n  [a] At the Luxembourg.\n\n  [b] Gsell's _Art, by Auguste Rodin_.\n\n  [c] _Greek Sculpture and Modern Art_, 1914.\n\n  [d] Gsell's _Art, by Auguste Rodin_.\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 27 (See page 254)\n  Diana and Nymphs, by Rubens (_Prado, Madrid_)]\n\n\n\nNOTE 38. PAGE 92\n\nRuskin considered the figure of Christ, known as Le Bon Dieu d'Amiens,\nat Amiens Cathedral, the noblest ideal of Christ in existence,[a] and\nDean Farrar wrote of it: \"Christ is represented as standing at the\ncentral point of all history, and of all Revelation.\"[b] It is true that\nthe sculpture is a noble representation of Christ, but this is not\nbecause it is a Christian ideal. In type it is purely Greek of the late\nfourth or early third century B.C. The expression is general, exhibiting\nthe calm repose that the Greeks gave to a great philosopher.\n\n  [a] _The Bible of Amiens._ See Plate 2.\n\n  [b] _The Life of Christ as Represented in Art._\n\n\n\nNOTE 39. PAGE 97\n\nIn the case of the Madonna, Michelangelo does not appear to produce an\nideal woman: he only gives an improved woman. His nearest approach to\nthe ideal is in his early Pieta at St. Peter's, but even here the Virgin\nis only a less earthly prototype of his later figures. The Madonna in\nthe Holy Family at the Uffizi is much inferior, being merely a slightly\nennobled Italian peasant. The other Madonnas are far higher in character\nand seem to suggest the antique, except that the more material\nqualities of woman are always present. The Madonnas at the Bargello and\nSan Lorenzo are of the same general type as the figure in the Last\nJudgment, the Night in the Medici Chapel, the Leda in the Bargello, and\nthe Venus in the sketch made for Pontormo. This being so, it may be\nimagined when the Leda is called to mind, that it is hard to associate\nthe two Madonnas with Christian ideals. The figures are magnificent\nworks, but they are behind the Madonnas of Raphael from the point of\nview of Christian conceptions. The expression is general, and all the\ncountenances except one, indicate unconcern with surroundings; not the\nsublime unconcern of a Phidian god, which implies an apparent disregard\nof particulars because they are necessarily understood with an\nall-powerful comprehension of principles, but an unconcern which\nsuggests a want of deep interest in life. The exception is the San\nLorenzo Madonna, in which a certain calm resignation is the principal\nfeature in expression. Michelangelo was more successful with his men\nthan with his women. His painted prophets in the Sistine Chapel are as\nsublime as his scenes from the Creation; and his Moses in St. Peter's is\nrightly regarded as the first sculpture of the Renaissance.\n\n\n\nNOTE 40. PAGE 99\n\nWhen the Pieta of Michelangelo (in St. Peter's, Rome) was first exposed,\nsome comment was made upon the comparatively youthful appearance of the\nVirgin, and Condivi relates that he spoke to the sculptor on the\nsubject. In reply Michelangelo said[a]:\n\n     Don't you know that chaste women preserve their beauty and youthful\n     character much longer than those who are not chaste? How youthful\n     then must appear the immaculate Virgin who cannot be supposed ever\n     to have had a vitiated thought. And this is only according to the\n     natural order of things: but why may not we suppose in this\n     particular case, that nature might be assisted by Divine\n     interposition, to demonstrate to the world the virginity and\n     perpetual purity of the Mother? This was not necessary in the Son,\n     nay, rather on the contrary, since Divine omnipotence was willing\n     to show that the Son of God would take upon Him, as he did, the\n     body of man, with all his earthly infirmities except that of sin.\n     Therefore it was not necessary for me to make the human subordinate\n     to the Divine character, but to consider it in the ordinary course\n     of nature under the actual existing circumstances. Hence you ought\n     not to wonder that from such a consideration, I should make the\n     most holy Virgin-Mother of God, in comparison with the Son, much\n     younger than would otherwise be required, and that I should have\n     represented the Son at His proper age.\n\n  [a] Lanzi's _History of Painting in Italy_, Roscoe translation,\n        vol. i.\n\n\n\nNOTE 41. PAGE 100\n\nA few modern painters have produced works in which the Holy Family are\npictured in lowly surroundings, but generally they appear to shock the\npublic sense of propriety. Many persons will remember the sensation\ncaused by Millais's The Carpenter's Shop, where Christ is shown as a boy\nof about ten years of age in the workshop of St. Joseph, and Holman\nHunt's Shadow of the Cross. Later artists have been still more\nrealistic, notably Uhde, whose sacred scenes almost stagger one with\ntheir modern suggestions, and Demont-Breton, whose Divine Apprentice\nrepresents the Boy Christ sharpening a tool at a grindstone which is\nturned by the Virgin.\n\n\n\nNOTE 42. PAGE 108\n\nUnquestionably the rapid advance in Italian art in the fifteenth century\nwas largely due to the influence of the ancient Greek and Roman remains.\nIndeed there are very few sculptors of the period who fail to show\nevidence of studies in Greek forms and ornaments, while in painting\nthere are hundreds of figures which could scarcely have been designed in\nthe absence of antique models. True in some cases the artists do not\nappear to have gone beyond the ancient literature, as with Masaccio who\nmust have had Homer in his mind when he painted his figures of Eve in\nthe Florence frescoes, and Piero di Cosimo, whose fanciful compositions\nsavour of the old legends wrapped up in fairy stories; but many painters\nwere steeped both in the art and literature of Greece and Rome, and made\ngood use of them.\n\nBut the most direct evidence of the influence of Greek art upon Italian\nartists of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, is to be found\nin the splendid series of bronze statuettes of the period. In their\nmonumental figures the sculptors were more or less confined in their\ndesigns by considerations of portraiture, conventional drapery and\nsymbols, and local requirements, and while they were greatly assisted by\nGreek experience, yet only rarely were they strictly at liberty except\nwith ornaments and accessories. But in the small bronze figures their\nfancy could roam at will, and they made good use of this freedom in\ndisplaying their ready acceptance of the first principle in the design\nof the human figure recognized by the Greeks--that the sculptor must\narrive at perfection of form if that be possible; that this perfection\nis not to be found in any single form in life, and consequently the\nartist must combine perfected parts into a harmonious whole,\nindependently of particular models. The agreement with this principle\nwas general, with scarcely an exception amongst the bronze figure\ndesigners, and the result was that in the period say, from 1450 to 1525,\nthere was executed a series of bronzes fully representative of the\nhighest level which plastic art has reached since the greater days of\nGreece. Right up to the time of the maturity of Michelangelo, nearly\nevery bronze figurine cast is purely Grecian in type, and every\nornament, and even every accessory which is not from its nature of\ncontemporary style, can be traced to Greece, either directly or through\nRome.\n\nMichelangelo brought about a change in accentuating the muscular\ndevelopment of the body, and before the middle of the sixteenth century\nmost sculptors had come under his influence. This was unfortunate for he\nalone seemed to be capable of harmoniously combining Greek lines with\nmuscular power. A few of his contemporaries, as Sansovino, Leone,\nCellini, learned how to join, with due restraint, his innovations with\nmodifications of the Greek torso, but generally the imitation of the\ngreat Florentine initiated a decadence, as it was bound to do, for it\nwas accompanied with life modelling, and so meant a radical departure\nfrom the Greek forms. Giovanni di Bologna alone among the later\nsixteenth century sculptors, was strong enough to move in an independent\ndirection. He restrained the accentuation of the muscles, and lightened\nthe Greek type of torso, combining with these conditions an elegance in\ndesign which has never since been surpassed.\n\nThis then is the principal cause of the high aesthetic value of the\nRenaissance bronzes: the human form exhibited by them is altogether more\nbeautiful than the form coming within the compass of life experience.\nThen the details of work on the bronzes are immensely superior to those\nof the general modern handiwork. For instance the chiselling of such men\nas Riccio and Cellini, has never been equalled since their time, save\nperhaps by Gouthiere. And how poor, comparatively, are the present-day\ncastings! How carefully the old masters worked; how particular they were\nwith their clay; how skilfully they prepared their wax, and how slowly\nand deliberately the mould! How many artists now would have the patience\nto make such a mould? For the beautiful patinas on many of the\nRenaissance bronzes, age is mostly responsible, though lacquers were\noften used for the provision of artificial patinas, particularly after\nthe middle of the sixteenth century, the finest being found on some of\nthe works of Giovanni di Bologna. The tone of natural patina depends\nlargely upon the kind of oxidation to which the bronze has been\nsubjected, and it is no doubt often affected by the alloy used. Few\nmodern artists have given close attention to the alloys, while the\nmethod of casting is now usually regarded as a detail of minor\nimportance.\n\nSeeing that the production of figurines accompanied every civilization\nfrom the dawn of history to the collapse of the Roman Empire, it is\ncurious that the renaissance of sculpture after the Dark Age should have\nprogressed a long way before general attention was again turned to these\nbronzes. There are a few figures of animals which seem to be Italian\nwork of the late trecento, but beyond these the small cast bronzes made\nin Italy before the maturity of Ghiberti, were practically confined to\nMadonnas and Saints, mostly gilt, made to fill Gothic niches, or adorn\nthe altars of churches and private chapels. Slender Saints they were as\na rule, but always elegant, with serene countenances and delicate\nfeatures; beautifully modelled as became the inheritors of the\ntraditions of the Pisanos. It was somewhere about the middle of the\nfifteenth century that Italy commenced to make ungilt statuettes\nsuitable for household ornaments, and fully ten or fifteen years more\npassed away before they were produced with any regularity. The earliest\nof them of any importance appear to be a couple of Flagellators from the\ndesign of Ghiberti. They are fine pieces of work, evidently from clay\nmodels made for the scourging scene in one of the gates of the Florence\nBaptistry--gates described by Michelangelo as worthy to fill the portals\nof Paradise. These figures date about 1440. There is a Child Christ of a\nfew years later by Luca della Robbia; and two or three figures from\nmodels of Donatello may be assigned to the neighbourhood of 1450. In the\nnext ten years were turned out some figures from remaining models of\nDonatello which had been used for his work at Prato and Padua.\n\nSo far the small bronzes made were from studies for larger works of\nsculpture, but about this time intense interest began to be taken in the\nremains of Greek and Roman art, and no doubt it was the increased\nimportance attached to the antique bronze figures, mostly household gods\nof the Greeks, Etruscans, and Romans, that first led the principal\nRenaissance artists to turn their attention to similar work. From this\ntime on, for a century and a half, these bronze figures were regularly\nmade. The existing figurines may be broadly classified in four\ndivisions, namely, the Paduan and Florentine figures executed prior to\n1525; those of the school of Michelangelo; those of the Venetian school\nheaded by Sansovino; and those of Giovanni di Bologna and his school.\nLeaving out of consideration the small ornaments for inkstands, vases,\netc., the little animals, and the purely commercial imitations, chiefly\nVenetian, made at the end of the sixteenth century, the total number of\nRenaissance bronzes now known is roughly six thousand. Of these under a\nhundred are from models for larger works by Ghiberti, Donatello,\nVerrocchio, Lionardo, Michelangelo, and a few lesser lights; about two\nthousand represent original designs specially prepared for bronze\nproduction; some three thousand five hundred are duplicates of, or\nslight variations from, these originals, executed by pupils or near\ncontemporaries of the masters; and the balance of four hundred or so,\nare direct reproductions of, or variations from, antique sculptures.\nNaturally all collectors aim for the first two sections, but the third\nsection contains many fine bronzes, often close to the originals, with\nequally good patinas. They vary greatly, though they are all ascribed in\ncommerce to the artists responsible for the originals.\n\nThe character of these variations is best seen in the case of Riccio,\nthe most prolific of the bronze workers of the Renaissance. He designed\nand executed under forty small bronze figures and groups, besides some\nlarge bronze works of high importance. Of his small pieces there are in\nexistence about a hundred duplicates made by his pupils and immediate\ncontemporaries, who also adapted into household ornaments, various\ndetails from his larger works, bringing up the number of Riccios made\nfrom his models during his lifetime, other than by himself, to about a\nhundred and fifty. These are all bronzes of a high order. Then about an\nequal number of both kinds of models were reproduced during the twenty\nyears following his death, all fairly good, but often slightly varied\nfrom the originals; and finally there are Riccios copied by Venetian\ncraftsmen in the third quarter of the sixteenth century, sometimes\nconsiderably varied, and occasionally with purely Venetian ornaments\nadded. These last mark the first distinct decadence in the small bronze\nart of the period. Next to Riccio among the earlier sculptors, in the\nnumber of bronzes designed, was his great contemporary, Antico, who\naccomplished some thirty or so. He differed from Riccio in that while\nthe latter adhered to the Grecian practice in the design of details and\nornaments, but varied the modelling somewhat to bring it more in\nconformity with the contemporary ideas of elegance, Antico kept strictly\nto the Grecian modelling, but commonly varied the ancient designs.\nThere are few duplicates of Antico's work, made either during his\nlifetime or after. As with Riccio, his imitators overcame the difficulty\nof the chiselling by leaving it out, relying upon the wax to give close\nenough resemblance to the originals.\n\nOf the other small bronze sculptors prior to the maturity of\nMichelangelo, few executed more than half a score of figures. The best\nknown are the immediate successors of Donatello in the Paduan school, as\nBertoldo and Bellano, and the giants of the Florentine school, as\nFilarete and A. Pollaiuolo. Bronzes by these artists are very rare, and\nso are the duplicates of them made by pupils, though Bertoldo, who\nreminds one strangely of Lysippus, had occasional imitators for the next\ntwo centuries. These bronzes include many models which have not been\nequalled by the greatest of later sculptors, and they will never be\nmatched until there arises a new school of sculptors resolved to imbibe\nthe truths which the Renaissance artists gleaned from the ancient\nGreeks.\n\n\n\nNOTE 43. PAGE 110\n\nThe writer has used Greek and Roman names for these gods to some extent\nindiscriminately, in accordance with the universal custom in art.\nNevertheless the practice is to be regretted as it tends to complicate\nthe general ideas of the Greek and Roman religions. Notwithstanding the\noccasional direct association of some of their deities with human\npersonages by their poets, the Romans regarded their gods as purely\nspiritual beings, having no special earthly habitation, or sex relations\nwith the human race, while their powers widely differed from those of\nthe respective Greek deities with whom they are commonly identified.\nAuthorities differ as to whether the gods were supposed to have\nspiritual marital relations with each other.[a] In any case the whole\nnature of their religion precluded the development amongst the Romans of\na separate sacred art. Their sculptured gods, which were taken from\nGrecian models, were symbols rather than presumed types.\n\n  [a] See J. G. Frazer's _Adonis, Attis, Osiris_, 1914, vol. ii.; and W.\n        W. Fowler's _Religious Experience of the Roman People_, 1911.\n\n\n\nNOTE 44. PAGE 111\n\nIf we may judge from the headless figures of the goddesses, commonly\nknown as the Three Fates, from the east pediment of the Parthenon, there\nseems to be little difference between the general lines of the feminine\ntorso represented by the Phidian ideal, and those of the Praxitelean\nmodel. The Parthenon torsos are more massive proportionately, but the\nobject of both Phidias and Praxiteles was evidently to straighten the\nouter lines of the torso as nearly as possible, making due allowance for\nthe varied natural swellings of their respective forms. It is obvious\nthat the use of attire gave Phidias (presuming the Parthenon figures\nreferred to were designed by him, as they probably were) a latitude in\nvarying the proportions of the torsos which he could not have exercised\nin the case of nude forms. Unclothed, the figures would appear unwieldy,\nand the graceful flowing lines resulting from the partly clinging\ndrapery could not be so completely presented with nude reclining or\nsemi-reclining figures. There are other features also which prevent the\nnude representation of such massive forms. Thus, the breasts would\nnecessarily be out of proportion in size, and widely separated. These\nconditions are common in fifth century and archaic figures, and do not\nappear to be defects in forms of life size or less, but they would be\nstrikingly noticeable in super figures of the broad massive type with\nPhidian lines. The addition of light drapery, however, converts the\napparent faults into virtues, for the artist is enabled therewith to\ngive new sweeping curves to the forms which conspicuously enhance the\ngeneral beauty of the figure.\n\nA still more amazing instance where the use of drapery allows the artist\nto vary the recognized proportions of the feminine form to an extent\nwhich would be impossible with nude figures, is the celebrated Ariadne\nat the Vatican.[a] This beautiful work, which is of the Hellenistic\nperiod, shows the daughter of Minos attired in a light flowing single\ngarment, and reclining on a couch, asleep. The upper part of her body\nleans against the head of the couch, but the remainder is extended\nnearly at full length. The extraordinary feature of the work is that the\nlength of the figure is altogether out of proportion with the head and\nwith the breadth of the torso, being much too great, and yet so\nskilfully is the drapery arranged that this very defect becomes an\nadvantage, for it enables a lofty grace, almost approaching grandeur, to\nbe given to the figure, which would be impossible without the\nexaggeration. By the excellent device of a closely arranged cross fold\nof drapery passing round the middle of the figure, the artist apparently\nshortens it, so that the eye of the observer is not held by its great\nlength. Only one other example of the supreme use of drapery in this way\nseems to be known--a bronze sitting figure of Calliope,[b] which is of\nthe late Hellenistic period, and is obviously of the same school as the\nAriadne marble.\n\n  [a] See Plate 29.\n\n  [b] Dreicer Collection, New York.\n\n\n\nNOTE 45. PAGE 112\n\nPraxiteles is known to have executed at least four other statues of\nAphrodite besides the Cnidian example, but this last is the only one as\nto which we have fairly complete records, and of which copies have been\nclosely identified. It is also the most celebrated. We may therefore\naccept the work as typical for comparative purposes.\n\n\n\nNOTE 46. PAGE 113\n\nThere has been much discussion as to whether Apelles showed the same\nextent of figure as is represented in the sculpture, a common suggestion\nbeing that he brought the surface of the water to the waist line; but it\nis evident that the painting corresponded with the sculpture in this\nparticular. The artist had to represent the goddess walking towards the\nshore. If he brought the water to the waist line he could not definitely\nsuggest movement, as a deflection of the shoulder line might mean that\nthe goddess was in an attitude of rest, corresponding to the pose of\nnearly all the sculptured figures of the Praxitelean school. On the\nother hand if he carried the water line down towards the knees, the\nadvance of the right leg would be most marked, and the effect disturbing\nbecause of the loss of repose, a quality at all times valuable in a\npainting of a single figure, and really necessary in the representation\nof Venus. The artist very properly reduced the portion of the thighs\nvisible to the smallest fraction possible compatible with an expression\nof movement, in order to give the figure the greatest repose attainable.\nUnder any circumstances there was nothing to gain by showing the water\nreaching to the waist.\n\nCertain details of the picture by Apelles are to be obtained from\nGrecian epigrams. Thus, one by Antipater of Sidon contains these\nlines[a]:\n\n  Venus, emerging from her parent sea,\n    Apelles' graphic skill does here portray:\n  She wrings her hair, while round the bright drops flee,\n    And presses from her locks the foamy spray.\n\nFrom this it would appear that the position of the goddess when painted\nwas presumed to be comparatively near the artist, otherwise the separate\ndrops of falling water would not have been observed. The last line in\nthe following epigram by Leonides of Tarentum indicates the ideal\ncharacter of the countenance, though evidence of this is scarcely\nnecessary[b]:\n\n  As Venus from her mother's bosom rose\n  (Her beauty with the murmuring sea-foam glows),\n  Apelles caught and fixed each heavenly charm;\n  No picture, but the life, sincere and warm.\n  See how those finger tips those tresses wring!\n  See how those eyes a calm-like radiance fling!\n\n  [a] Translated by Lord Neaves.\n\n  [b] Translated by Lord Neaves.\n\n\n\nNOTE 47. PAGE 124\n\nSo far as the writer knows, Piero was the only artist of the Renaissance\nwho used this mythological story for a composition (his picture has\nhitherto been called an allegory), a circumstance which is rather\nsingular considering the suitableness of the subject for the provision\nof effective designs. The Greek sculptors in dealing with the legend\nconfined themselves to the moment when Athena threw down the pipes,\napparently for the reason that this instant gave an opportunity of\nrendering Marsyas in a strong dramatic action. The famous statue of the\nfaun after Myron in Rome, is supposed to have formed part of a group\nrepresenting Athena and Marsyas immediately after the pipes were\ndropped, and the design appears on still existing coins and vases of the\nfifth and fourth centuries B.C. Piero takes a later moment, showing\nMarsyas comfortably squatting in the foreground of a delightful fanciful\nlandscape, expressing boyish satisfaction with the prizes he is about to\ntry. He is properly shown as a satyr instead of in the faun form of the\nsculptor. There appears to be no legitimate place in painting for a\nfaun, while a satyr may at times be appropriately introduced into a\npastoral composition.\n\n\n\nNOTE 48. PAGE 125\n\nControversy has raged around this picture for something like seventy\nyears. The work came to light before 1850 at a public auction sale when\nit was attributed to Mantegna, with whom of course it had nothing to do.\nThen it was pronounced a Raphael, but this was disputed by Passavant who\nheld that on account of the thin lower limbs of the figures, and the\nminute way in which the landscape was painted, it could not be by\nRaphael, but was of the school of Francia, or by Timoteo della Viti.\nMorelli brought back the attribution to Raphael, and the work then came\ninto the possession of the Louvre. Subsequently Pinturicchio and\nPerugino were alternately suggested as the painter, and to the latter\nthe picture was assigned by the Louvre authorities. All are agreed that\nthe date of the work is about 1502. It does not seem possible that\nPerugino could have painted the picture, for the subject and invention\nare entirely foreign to him, while the lithe active form of Apollo does\nnot consort with the least formal of his known figures. The landscape is\nmuch in his manner, but so it is also in the style of Raphael's early\nperiod, while the small buildings therein are closely finished as in\nsome of Raphael's other works of the time.[a] Perugino used similar\ntowers and buildings, but being a more experienced painter he did not so\nfinely elaborate the details. The suggestion relating to the school of\nFrancia was afterwards very properly withdrawn, and Pinturicchio must be\nruled out on account of the landscape, apart from the supple figure of\nApollo of which he was incapable. There remain then only Timoteo della\nViti and Raphael as the possible painters of the work. But it cannot\nreasonably be suggested that Timoteo could have accomplished so perfect\na figure as the Apollo, and moreover so original a figure. It certainly\nrequired an exceptionally bold mind to overcome the difficulty in\nrendering the traditionally semi-feminine form of Apollo by representing\nhim as a young man just past his teens. Besides, the general delicacy of\nthe work is not in the style of Timoteo. Passavant's objection to the\nlimbs is overruled by the presence of similar limbs in the Mond\nCrucifixion. It would seem then that Morelli was right in assigning the\nbeautiful little picture to the youthful period of the greatest of all\npainters.\n\n  [a] See Portrait of a young Man at Budapest, and the Terranuova Virgin\n        and Child at Berlin.\n\n\n\nNOTE 49. PAGE 138\n\nThe white races are here referred to merely by way of example, and there\nis no intention to suggest that the more or less uncivilized peoples\nhave no perception of beauty. It is well known that both semi-civilized\nand savage races differ from the whites in the matter of beauty, and the\nfact has been partly responsible for several theories for explaining\naesthetic perception, notably that of association, laid down by Alison\nand Jeffrey, but long since discarded. Seeing that there is no\ndifference in kind between the sense nerves of the whites and the\nblacks, they must necessarily act in the same way. That the blacks\nappreciate as beautiful forms which the whites disregard, seems to\narise partly from want of experience, partly from training, and partly\nfrom neglect in the exercise of the sense nerves. Take for example an\ninhabitant of Morocco where corpulency is commonly regarded as an\nelement of beauty in women. If none but Moroccan women are seen or\npictured, it is impossible for a higher form of beauty than is to be\nfound amongst them to be conceived, for the imagination cannot act\nbeyond experience. In cases where the Moroccan has had experience of\nboth white and black, it is certain that, other things being equal, the\nwhite woman would be the more admired, for this is the general\nexperience among the black races, and is strikingly noticeable in\nAmerica with the descendants of African tribes. The appreciation of very\nfat women can easily be understood on the ground of custom or training.\nA youthful Moroccan may be firmly of opinion that corpulency is not an\nelement of beauty, but seeing that his older acquaintances hold a\ncontrary view, he may well form the conclusion that his judgment is\nwrong, and so accept the decision of his more mature countrymen. It is\nquite common among the whites for people to doubt their own aesthetic\nperceptions when an inferior work of art is put forward as a thing of\nbeauty. The general want of appreciation of certain musical harmonies on\nthe part of uncivilized peoples is undoubtedly due to the neglect of the\nsense nerves concerned, for these are not cultivated except to a small\nextent involuntarily. The most ignorant and poor of the whites\nunavoidably come into frequent contact with the simpler forms of art,\nbut the savage races see only the result of their own handiwork. The\nuncivilized races can scarcely be expected to admire the higher reaches\nof art wherein intellectual considerations enter, except for their\nsensorial excellence.\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 28 (See page 256)\n  Automedon and the Horse of Achilles, by Regnault (_Boston Museum_)]\n\n\n\nNOTE 50. PAGE 139\n\nThere seems to be some uncertainty as to whether Fragonard intended his\nsplendid series of the Frick collection to represent the subjects\nusually assigned to them, namely, The Pursuit (or The Flight of Design,\na title given to the original sketch for the picture); The Rendezvous\n(or The Surprise, or The Escalade); Souvenirs (or Confidences, or The\nReader); The Lover Crowned (or Before the Painter); and The Abandonment\n(or The Reverie). It is suggested that the works have an allegorical\nsignification connected with art, and certainly three of them--the\nfirst, second, and fourth--could be so interpreted. But magnificent\npaintings of this kind are usually fitted for many allegorical\nsuggestions. Each picture represents an incident of common experience,\nelaborated with beautiful figures in a perfect setting. This approaches\nthe summit of the painter's art, for no conception can be greater apart\nfrom spiritual ideals. It is symbolism in its highest form--of universal\nexperience in which all are interested. The works are not to be taken as\na necessary sequence (the last of the series was painted twenty years\nafter the others), but the scheme of one or more of them has come within\nthe experience of every man and woman since the world began.\n\n\n\nNOTE 51. PAGE 149\n\nSeeing that this precise dignified pose, coming so near the line of\nexaggeration, but never crossing it, is present in all the authenticated\nportraits of Titian, save those of very aged persons, we may reasonably\nconsider the pose an important factor in determining the validity of\ncertain portraits as to which a doubt has arisen. Thus in the case of\nthe Physician of Parma[a] (this title is admittedly wrong), which has\nbeen variously given to Titian and Giorgione, the verdict must be in\nfavour of Titian, for the pose is certainly his, while it is unknown in\nany work of Giorgione. On the other hand, the portrait of Catherine\nCornara,[b] commonly ascribed to Titian, but also attributed to\nGiorgione,[c] cannot be by the former master; nor is the Portrait of a\nMan (with his hand on a bust),[d] which seems to pair with the Cornara\nportrait. The portrait known as An Old Man Asleep,[e] sometimes given to\nTitian, clearly does not belong to him.\n\nIt should be noted that the general confusion observable for many years\nin the estimation of Giorgione's work arose from the attribution to him\nof paintings executed in the comparatively broad manner of Titian, but\nwhich this artist did not adopt till Giorgione had been dead for a\ndecade or more. The recent exhaustive critique of Lionelli Venturi[f] of\nthe earlier master has cleared the air, and we now know the range of his\nwork very positively. Giorgione was less fine in some of his paintings\nthan in others, for he paid more attention to chiaroscuro as he matured,\nbut there is no instance where he painted in the broader manner\noccasionally exhibited by Titian. All the works in the style of The\nConcert and The Three Ages are now known to be by other hands than those\nof Giorgione, and it must be unfortunately admitted that not a single\npainting by him exists either in England or America.\n\n  [a] Vienna Gallery.\n\n  [b] Cook Collection, London.\n\n  [c] By Herbert Cook in _Giorgione_.\n\n  [d] Uffizi Gallery, Florence.\n\n  [e] The Brera, Milan.\n\n  [f] _Giorgione e il Giorgionismo_, 1913.\n\n\n\nNote 52. Page 156\n\nHals is another artist as to whom many misconceptions have arisen in\nregard to his use of a very broad manner in his portraits. There is a\ntotal of about 350 works attributed to him, of which some two thirds are\nsingle portraits, and twenty are portrait groups. The balance includes\nover thirty genre pictures, mostly with single figures, and fifty heads\nof boys and girls generally shown in the act of laughing. It is in his\ngenre work that the broad manner is mostly observable, and only very\noccasionally is it to be found in his portraits. In the more important\nworks of the artist, even during his later period, his manner is by no\nmeans broad,[a] though it is not so fine as in his best years, say from\n1635 to 1650. This estimate can however only be general, as his dated\npaintings of different periods after 1630 often correspond so closely\nthat it is difficult to assign dates to the other pictures with\ncertainty.\n\nPerhaps the frequent attribution to Hals of works by his pupils and\nimitators, has had something to do with the public estimation of the\nbreadth of his manner. This was often greatly exaggerated by his\nfollowers, and many portraits are given to him which he could not\npossibly have painted. In his important work on the artist, Dr. von Bode\npoints out that some of the duplicates of his pictures were apparently\nexecuted by his pupils, but these are not separated in the book.[b] It\nis a simple matter to divide the works painted by Hals from the studio\ncopies and the portraits of imitators. His brushwork and impasto were\nquite exceptional. He had a firm direct stroke, never niggled or\nscumbled, and his loading was restrained though very effective. Quite\nnaturally his pupils, however industrious and skilled, could not\nclosely imitate his remarkable freedom in handling. They were incapable\nof firm decisive strokes throughout a portrait, and endeavoured to\novercome the loading difficulty by using brushes of a coarseness foreign\nto the master when rendering light tones. Moreover Hals was nearly\nperfect in drawing, and in this there are usually marked defects in the\nstudio copies.\n\n  [a] See Stephanus Gereardts, Antwerp Museum; Isabella Coymans,\n        E. Rothschild Collection, Paris; Lady with a Fan, National\n        Gallery, London; and William van Heythuysen, Liechtenstein\n        Collection, Vienna.\n\n  [b] _Frans Hals: his Life and Work_, 1914.\n\n\n\nNOTE 53. PAGE 161\n\nThe term \"grace\" as applied in art has so many significations that it is\ndifficult to deal with one of them without confusion. What is here\nspecially referred to is the grace of pose designed by the artist. The\nobject of the portrait painter is to pose his sitter so that the grace\nindicated shall appear natural and habitual, a feature as important now\nin the appearance of women as it was twenty-five centuries ago when\nSappho asked[a]:\n\n  What country maiden charms thee,\n    However fair her face,\n  Who knows not how to gather\n    Her dress with artless grace?\n\nBut the grace of pose never appears to be artless, after the first\ninspection, unless there is something in the expression to hold the\nmind. Without this appeal to the mind the portrait must soon tire, and\nthe pose become artificial and stiff, that is to say, in representations\nof life size, for in miniature portraiture the countenance seldom or\nnever crosses the vision involuntarily.\n\nIn the ancient Greek forms, Winckelmann distinguishes four kinds of\ngrace--lofty, pleasing, humble, and comic--but the grace exhibited by\nsculptured forms necessarily depends upon the harmony of expression,\ncharacter of form, and pose. This should be the case with painted\nportraits also, but drapery restrictions and accessories commonly compel\na limitation in the design of the artist. In three quarter and full\nlength portraits it is impossible to depart from the dress customary at\nthe period of execution, unless the sitter assume a classical character,\nand this is only possible in comparatively few instances. In any case\nthe pose should always be subordinated to the expression.\n\n  [a] Free translation (quoted by Wharton), the term \"artless grace\"\n        being implied but not expressed by Sappho.\n\n\n\nNOTE 54. PAGE 167\n\nThe remarkable range of Raphael in expression has been commented upon by\nmany critics, and practically all agree with Lanzi in his eloquent\nsummary[a]:\n\n     There is not a movement of the soul, there is not a character of\n     passion known to the ancients and capable of being expressed in\n     art, that he (Raphael) has not caught, expressed, and varied in a\n     thousand different ways, and always within the bounds of\n     propriety.... His figures are passions personified; and love, hope,\n     fear, desire, anger, placability, humility, and pride, assume their\n     places by turns as the subject changes; and while the spectator\n     regards the countenances, the air, and the gestures of the figures,\n     he forgets that they are the work of art, and is surprised to find\n     his own feelings excited, and himself an actor in the scene before\n     him.\n\n  [a] _History of Painting in Italy_, vol. i., Roscoe translation.\n\n\n\nNOTE 55. PAGE 169\n\nThis Pompeian fresco is supposed to be a copy of the picture of\nTimanthes, but there is an ancient marble relief of the same subject at\nFlorence, the design of which is also said to have been taken from the\nGrecian painter, though it differs considerably from the fresco.\nQuintilian observes as to the work of Timanthes, that having rendered\nCalchas sad, Ulysses still more sad, and Menelaus with the deepest\nexpression of grief possible in art, the painter could not properly\nportray the countenance of Agamemnon, who as father of Iphigenia was\npresumed to be the most deeply affected of all present, and so covered\nhis head, leaving the intensity of his suffering to be understood.[a]\n\n  [a] _School of Oratory_, ii.\n\n\n\nNOTE 56. PAGE 172\n\nThe authenticity of the Boston example of Mona Lisa is still in dispute.\nSo far no serious objection to it has been brought forward, and there\nare certain points in its favour, as the presence of the columns which\nare reproduced in Raphael's sketch, and the bold brushwork of the\ndrapery where this can be distinguished. But there is another example of\nthe work in existence, and this fact, with the natural hesitation in\npronouncing definitely on so important a matter, will probably leave the\nauthenticity of the picture undecided for a long time. Meanwhile the\nliterature upon Mona Lisa is ever increasing, and some important facts\nhave been recently brought out. Amongst these is an announcement by A.\nC. Coppier that the lady was not a Florentine, but a Neapolitan of the\nGheradini family, and that she was married in 1495, when eighteen years\nof age.[a] She would therefore be twenty-seven years old in 1504 when\nthe picture which Raphael sketched is supposed to have been painted. But\nthe Mona Lisa in the Louvre was completed between 1515 and 1519; hence\nthere is much to ascertain as to the history of the work.\n\n  [a] _Les Arts_, No. 145, 1914.\n\n\n\nNOTE 57. PAGE 172\n\nThe various suggestions that have been made as to the meaning of Mona\nLisa's smile, seem to have no other foundation than the fancies of\nmystic minds. The smile has been called dangerous, sinister, ambiguous,\nprovocative, purposely enigmatic, significant of a loose woman,\nexpressive of sublime motherhood, reminiscent of Eastern intrigue, and\nso on, the mildest criticism of this kind affirming that the smile will\never remain an enigma. It is of course impossible for any meaning to be\nput into a smile by the painter, other than that of pleasure.\nPsychological suggestions are possible with the poet or novelist, but\nnot with the painter. If there be any enigma or mystery in a picture,\nthen the art is bad, for the work is incomprehensible, but there is no\nproblem to be solved in Mona Lisa's smile. It is not different from any\nother smile except in degree, and of course in the quality appertaining\nto the particular countenance. Lionardo, with his scientific turn of\nmind, was not likely to attempt the impossible by trying to mix\npsychology with paint.\n\n\n\nNOTE 58. PAGE 178\n\nIt is necessary to dissent from the conclusion of Lessing as to the\nrepresentation of ugliness by the poet. He says in referring to Homer's\nportrayal of Thersites[a]:\n\n     Why in the case of ugliness did he adopt a method from which he so\n     judiciously refrained in that of beauty? Does not a successive\n     enumeration of its compound parts diminish the effect of ugliness,\n     just as a similar enumeration of its parts destroys that of beauty?\n     Undoubtedly it does, but in this very fact lies Homer's\n     justification. For the very reason that ugliness in the poet's\n     description is reduced to a less repulsive appearance of bodily\n     imperfection, and in point of its effect ceases as it were to be\n     ugliness, the poet is enabled to make use of it.\n\nIt is true that as he cannot present a particular form of beauty by\ndescription, so the poet cannot describe an ugly countenance in such a\nway that it may be pictured on the mind as a whole; but on the other\nhand, as he can, by reference to its effect, or by imagery, present a\ngreater beauty than the painter can portray, so he may by similar means\nsuggest a more hideous form of ugliness. And apart from this, while a\ndetail in the description of a beautiful countenance is immaterial until\nit is combined with other details, a detail of ugliness may in itself be\nsufficient to render the countenance wholly repulsive to the reader.\nThus, if one said of a maid that her cheeks were a compound of the lily\nand the rose, this would not necessarily imply that she was generally\nbeautiful; but if it were said of a man that he had a large bulbous\nnose, we should consider him ugly whatever the character of his other\nfeatures. It was only necessary for Milton to refer to one or two\ndetails of the figure of Sin, to throw upon our minds a form of\nappalling ugliness.[b]\n\nA successive enumeration of its component parts, does not therefore\ndiminish the effect of ugliness, as Lessing claims, but increases it. On\nthe other hand a successive enumeration of the parts of beauty does not\ndestroy the beauty, but simply fails to represent it.\n\nThe poet may use ugliness where the painter cannot, because his ugly\nform does not dominate the scene, save for an instant or two, being\nquickly subordinated by surrounding conditions of speech and action;\nwhereas the ugly figure of the painter is fixed for ever. Further, the\npoet may surround his description of the ugly thing with beautiful\nimagery and lofty sentiment, practically hiding the ugliness with a\ncloak of beauty; but the painter can only depict the ugly thing as it\nis, naked to the sight, without gloss or apology.\n\n  [a] _Laocoon_, Ronnfeldt translation.\n\n  [b] _Paradise Lost_, ii.\n\n\n\nNOTE 59. PAGE 190\n\nIt has been suggested that the foot of Hercules in this fine bronze was\nplaced upon the skull of an ox to indicate a successful hunt,[a] but\nHercules was a demigod, and so could not be connected in art with any\nbut a superhuman task or exploit. Moreover the only instance recorded in\nmythological history where Hercules fought with an ox (unless the feat\nof strength against the white bull of Augeas be called a fight), is that\nof the Cretan bull, which was captured and not killed. There is no other\nsculptured figure now known where a foot is placed on the skull of an\nox, but Pausanias records that he saw one in a temple of Apollo at\nPatrae, the figure being that of the god himself.[b] Pausanias attributes\nthe motive of the design to Apollo's love of cattle. There is no doubt\nabout the significance of the Frick bronze. The skull of an ox, and\nrams' heads are frequently found on ancient tombs, and acanthus leaves\nwere commonly used both in Greece and Rome as funereal signs, while the\nbase of the statuette, which is cast with the figure, is clearly\nintended to represent an altar. It is noticeable that the form of\nacanthus leaf used is Roman, suggesting that Pollaiuolo had access to\nthe reproductions of tomb inscriptions made to the order of Lorenzo de'\nMedici.\n\nThere is apparently no other existing design of a hero contemplating\ndeath, but Lysippus carved several figures, now lost, of Hercules in a\nsad or depressed mood. In the most celebrated of these, the demigod was\nseated in a thoughtful attitude on a lion's skin, and it is possible\nthat this design was connected with the contemplation of death, because\nit was produced in relief soon after the time of Lysippus, and later in\na Pompeian fresco, in both cases in the presence of Lichas, the bearer\nof the poisoned garment.\n\n  [a] Bode's Preface to the _Catalogue of the Morgan Bronzes_.\n\n  [b] Pausanias, vii.\n\n\n\nNOTE 60. PAGE 192\n\nThe attempt of Ruskin to raise landscape to a high level in the art of\nthe painter[a] need scarcely be referred to here, so completely have his\narguments been refuted elsewhere.\n\nThe authority of Alexander Humboldt has been sometimes quoted in support\nof the assertion that landscape can appeal to the higher attributes, the\npassage relied upon affirming that descriptive poetry and landscape\npainting \"are alike capable in a greater or lesser degree of combining\nthe visible and invisible in our contemplation of nature.\" But it is\nclear from the whole references of the writer to these arts, that he\nmeans nothing more by his statement than that a painting or descriptive\npoem may, like an actual landscape, induce a feeling of wonder at the\npowers of the original Cause of nature. The opinion of Humboldt upon the\nposition of landscape painting may be gathered from his definite\nobservation that it has \"a more material origin and a more earthly\nlimitation than the art which deals with the human form.\"[b]\n\n  [a] _Modern Painters_, vols i. and ii., and the preface to the second\n        edition of the work.\n\n  [b] _Cosmos_, vol. ii.\n\n\n\nNOTE 61. PAGE 194\n\nIt is doubtful whether an artist can invent a form of tree which does\nnot exist in nature, without producing something of the character of a\nmonstrosity. From the point of view of dimensions, the two extreme forms\nof trees used in painting, are represented in Raphael's Madonna with\nthe Goldfinch[a] as to the slender forms, and as to the giant trunks, in\ntwo or three of Claude's pictures. The very beautiful trees of Raphael\nhave been often regarded as pure inventions, and Ruskin was actually\nsurprised that the artist did not delineate the \"true form of the trees\nand the true thickness of the boughs\";[b] but as a matter of fact\nprecisely similar trees (a variety of ash) are to be found in the\nvalleys of the Apennines to this day. All the change that Raphael made\nwas to transport the trees from a sheltered spot to an open position.\nVery similar trees are introduced in the same master's Apollo and\nMarsyas.[c] Perugino was the first painter to use them, and in some of\nhis earlier works he made them of great height,[d] but he gradually\nmodified the form till he approached the perfect symmetry and delicacy\nof Raphael's examples.[e] Marco Basaiti introduced them into at least\nthree of his pictures, and they are also to be found in works by Timoteo\ndella Viti and Francia.[f] Higher and equally slender trees have been\nappropriately used by Antonio della Ceraiuolo,[g] and even by so late a\npainter as Nicholas Poussin.[h]\n\n  [a] Uffizi Gallery, Florence.\n\n  [b] _Modern Painters_, vol. iv.\n\n  [c] The Louvre.\n\n  [d] Baptism of Christ, Perugia; and The Crucifixion, Florence.\n\n  [e] The Deposition, Pitti Palace.\n\n  [f] Madonna and Child in a Rose Garden, Munich.\n\n  [g] The Crucifixion, Florence Academy.\n\n  [h] Diana sleeps in the Forest, Prado, Madrid.\n\n\n\nNOTE 62. PAGE 194\n\nIn noting the fact that the great landscape artist invents his designs,\nByron observes that nature does not furnish him with the scenes that he\nrequires, and adds[a]:\n\n     Nature is not lavish of her beauties; they are widely scattered,\n     and occasionally displayed, to be selected with care, and gathered\n     with difficulty.\n\nHad Byron been a painter, he would have known that the trouble of the\nartist is due to the over, and not the under, supply of beauty by\nnature. The artist sees the beauty, but cannot identify it with\nparticular signs, and so has to invent a scene himself, using nature\nonly for sketches or ideas.\n\n  [a] _Art and Nature._\n\n\n\nNOTE 63. PAGE 200\n\n\"The force of natural signs,\" says Lessing, \"consists in their\nresemblance to the things they represent.\"[a] In a criticism upon the\nsecond part of _Faust_, G. H. Lewes writes[b]:\n\n     The forms which are his (the artist's) materials, the symbols which\n     are his language, must in themselves have beauty and an interest\n     readily appreciable by those who do not understand the occult\n     meaning. Unless they have this they cease to be art: they become\n     hieroglyphs. Art is picture painting, not picture writing.\n\nWhile this is generally true, beauty in the lesser signs of the poet is\nof greater importance than in those of the painter, because a painting\nis looked upon direct as a whole, while a poem has to be comprehended in\nits parts before it can be properly considered as a whole.\n\n  [a] Laocoon.\n\n  [b] _Life of Goethe_, 2d edition.\n\n\n\nNOTE 64. PAGE 203\n\nAlthough those of the fifteenth-century artists who treated landscape\nseriously did not thoroughly understand perspective, yet they were\nseldom at a loss in representing distance, that is, in the clear\natmosphere which they invariably used. They were diffident in attempting\ndistance with unbroken level country, and till quite the end of the\ncentury there is no instance where middle and far distance are shown\ntogether, even with the assistance of hilly ground. The almost\ninvariable practice of the leading painters who made landscape a feature\nin their works, was to introduce water leading back from the foreground,\nso that breaks therein could be used to indicate distance. More or less\nnumerous jutting forks of low lying land were thrown into the stream\nfrom either side, this plan being successfully adopted in Italy,[a]\nFlanders,[b] and Germany.[c]\n\nEarly in the sixteenth century much improvement was made in the use of\nwater for providing distance, and a few of the Venetian painters gave\nsome consideration to aerial perspective, but the most perfect example\nof this perspective in the period is contained in an early work of\nRaphael.[d] In the background is a lake extending into a gradually\ndeepening haze, and in this a boat is so skilfully placed as to increase\nconsiderably the apparent distance to the horizon. This picture is a\ndistinct advance upon the Venetian distance work of the time.[e] Later\non in the century an artist rarely introduced water into a view\nspecially to assist in producing distance by means of boats, more\nadvanced methods being adopted. Titian used sunlight effects with\nvarying shadows,[f] or alternating clear and wooded ground.[g] These\nplans, and the use of water with the addition of trees and low hills,[h]\nconstitute the chief devices to be found in the late sixteenth-century\nItalian pictures. Some of the sun effects rendered for distance purposes\neven before Titian's best time are quite effective, though formal.[i]\n\n  [a] See Piero di Cosimo's Death of Procris, National Gallery, London,\n        and Mars and Cupid, Berlin.\n\n  [b] Van Eyck's Chancellor Rollin before the Virgin, and Bout's\n        Adoration of the Magi.\n\n  [c] Lucas Moser's Voyage of the Saints (1431), Tiefenbroun, Germany.\n\n  [d] Central panel in a triptych of the Crucifixion, Hermitage,\n        Petrograd. This picture has been sometimes attributed to\n        Perugino, but it is unquestionably from the hand of Raphael.\n\n  [e] See Titian's Jacopo Pesaro presented to St. Peter, Antwerp.\n\n  [f] Charles V. at Muehlberg, Madrid.\n\n  [g] Meeting of Joachim and Anna, Padua; and others.\n\n  [h] Bronzino's Venus and Cupid, Uffizi, Florence.\n\n  [i] Schiavone's Jupiter and Io, Hermitage.\n\n\n\nNOTE 65. PAGE 204\n\nLessing apparently overlooked the possibilities of landscape painting in\nhis dictum as to progressive actions. He writes[a]:\n\n     If painting on account of the signs and means of imitation which it\n     employs, and which can only be combined in space, must entirely\n     renounce time, then progressive actions cannot, in so far as they\n     are progressive, be included in the number of its subjects, but it\n     must content itself with coexistent actions, or with mere bodies,\n     which on account of their position cause an action to be suspected.\n\nIt is true that a series of progressive human actions cannot be included\nin one painting, but progressive natural actions can be so included when\nthe progression is regular and repeated and the actions are clearly\nseparated to the eye. Although the painter can only depict a moment of\ntime, he can show the whole progression, which is not the case in a\nseries of human actions, as in the example quoted by Lessing, of\nPandarus arranging his bow, opening his quiver, choosing an arrow, and\nso on.\n\nStrange to say, De Quincey, in an explanatory note to Lessing's\nobservations, also overlooks the movement of water broken by rocks,\nthough he refers specially to landscape painting. He says[b]:\n\n     In the succession of parts which make up appearance in nature,\n     either the parts simply repeat each other (as in the case of a man\n     walking, a river flowing, etc.), or they unfold themselves through\n     a cycle, in which each step effaces the preceding, as in the case\n     of a gun exploding, where the flash is swallowed up by the smoke\n     effaced by its own dispersion.\n\nBut for the purpose of the painter, the action of water breaking over\nledges and boulders does not correspond with the case of a man walking\nor a river flowing, because the series of events forming the progression\nin the case of the water breaking, cover such time and space that the\nevents can be distinctly separated by the eye. Clearly also this action\nshould not be included in De Quincey's second category, because the\nrepetition is both regular and (to all intents and purposes) perpetual.\nThere should therefore be a third category to comprise those repeated\nprogressive acts in which the events can be so separated by the eye as\nto be portrayed on canvas in the order of their progression, and in such\na way that the whole progression, and the meaning of it, are at once\napparent.\n\n  [a] _Laocoon_, Phillimore translation.\n\n  [b] Essay on \"Lessing.\"\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: PLATE 29 (See page 329)\n  Greek Sculpture of Ariadne (_Vatican_)]\n\n\n\nNOTE 66. PAGE 208\n\nProfessor Clausen relates that Whistler told him that his object in\npainting nocturnes was to try and exhibit the \"mystery and beauty of the\nnight.\" It is obvious that Whistler was here confusing psychological\nwith visual impressions. The depth of gloom, the apparently limitless\ndark void which the eye cannot penetrate, mean mystery in a sense,\nbecause we can never accustom ourselves to the suggestion of infinity\ninvolved in something which is boundless to the senses. A sensation of\nthe sublime may consequently arise, and this means beauty in a\npsychological sense. But we are considering art and not psychology.\nWhere nothing is distinguished, nothing can be painted, and if there be\nsufficient light for objects to be determined, there can be no mystery\nfor the painter. If he be desirous of representing Night, he must follow\nthe example of Michelangelo and symbolize it.\n\nIt is curious that since the death of Whistler, a picture entitled\nMysteries of the Night has been painted by another American artist--J.\nH. Johnston. A figure of a beautiful nude woman is standing on a rocky\nshore in a contemplative attitude, with the moonlight thrown upon her.\nThe design is excellent, but the realistic modelling of the figure\neffectually kills any suggestion of mystery.\n\n\n\nNOTE 67. PAGE 231\n\nVasari mentions that Michelangelo, though admiring the colour and manner\nof Titian regretted that the Venetian painters did not pay more\nattention to drawing in their studies.[a] In quoting this, Reynolds\nobserved[b]:\n\n     But if general censure was given to that school from the sight of a\n     picture by Titian, how much more heavily and more justly would the\n     censure fall on Paolo Veronese, and more especially on Tintoretto.\n\nReynolds himself rightly excluded Titian when he condemned the later\nVenetian painters of the Renaissance for their exaggeration of colour,\nand no doubt Titian was also exempted by J. A. Symonds in his trenchant\ncriticism of the work of this school. When dealing with the decline of\nLesbian poetry after the brilliant period of Sappho, he wrote[c]:\n\n     In this the Lesbian poets were not unlike the Provencal\n     troubadours, who made a literature of love, or the Venetian\n     painters, who based their art on the beauty of colour, the\n     voluptuous charms of the flesh. In each case the motive of\n     enthusiastic passion sufficed to produce a dazzling result. But as\n     soon as its freshness was exhausted there was nothing left for art\n     to live on, and mere decadence to sensuality ensued.\n\n  [a] _Life of Titian_.\n\n  [b] Reynolds's Fourth Discourse.\n\n  [c] _Studies of the Greek Poets_, vol. i.\n\n\n\nNOTE 68. PAGE 232\n\nSir George Beaumont relates of Reynolds[a]:\n\n     On his return from his second tour over Flanders and Holland, he\n     observed to me that the pictures of Rubens appeared much less\n     brilliant than they had done on his former inspection. He could not\n     for some time account for this little circumstance; but when he\n     recollected that when he first saw them he had his notebook in his\n     hand for the purpose of writing down short remarks, he perceived\n     what had occasioned their now making a less impression than they\n     had done formerly. By the eye passing immediately from the white\n     paper to the picture, the colours derived uncommon richness and\n     warmth; but for want of this foil they afterwards appeared\n     comparatively cold.\n\n  [a] Cunningham's _Lives of the British Painters_.\n\n\n\nNOTE 69. PAGE 249\n\nRodin[a] observes that in giving movement to his personages, the artist\n\n     represents the transition from one pose to another--he indicates\n     how insensibly the first glides into the second. In his work we\n     still see a part of what was, and we discover a part of what is to\n     be.\n\nRodin points to Rude's fine statue of Marshal Ney, and practically says\nthat here the illusion is created by a series of progressive actions\nindicated in the attitude: the legs remaining as they were when the\nsword was about to be drawn, and the hand still holding the scabbard\naway from the body, while the chest is being thrown out and the sword\nheld aloft. Thus the sculptor\n\n     compels, so to speak, the spectator to follow the development of an\n     act in an individual. The eyes are forced to travel upwards from\n     the lower limbs to the raised arm, and as in so doing they find the\n     different parts of the figure represented at successive instants,\n     they have the illusion of beholding the movement performed.\n\nRodin himself has followed a similar course with much success. The\nancient Greek sculptors, when representing a figure in action,\ninvariably chose a moment of rest between two progressive steps in the\naction. The Discobolus and Marsyas of Myron, and particularly the\nAtalanta in the Louvre, are fine examples.\n\n  [a] _Art, by Auguste Rodin_, compiled by Paul Gsell, 1916.\n\n\n\nNOTE 70. PAGE 250\n\nMengs, in referring to the arrangement of the drapery in Raphael's\nfigures, says[a]:\n\n     With him every fold has its proper cause; either in its own weight\n     or in the motion of the limbs. Sometimes the folds enable us to\n     tell what has preceded; herein too Raphael has endeavoured to find\n     significance. It can be seen by the position of the folds, whether\n     an arm or a leg has been moved forwards or backwards into the\n     attitude which it actually occupies; whether a limb has been, or is\n     being, moved from a contracted position into a straightened one, or\n     whether it was extended at first and is being contracted.\n\n  [a] _The Works of Anton Raphael Mengs_, vol. ii., D'Azara translation.\n\n\n\nNOTE 71. PAGE 258\n\nBesides assisting in providing an illusion, the title of a picture may\nlend great additional interest to it. Thus in Millet's The Angelus the\nassociations called up by the title act most powerfully on the mind, and\none almost listens for the sound of the bell.[a] A work of a\nsimilar character is Bonvin's Ave Maria, where the nuns of a convent are\nanswering the call[b]; and Horace Walker has a picture with the same\ntitle, in which a boy who is driving cattle, stops in front of a\nCrucifix by the wayside[c]. An excellent example of this added interest\nis the title of Turner's great picture of the _Temeraire_,[d] as to\nwhich R. Phillimore writes[e]:\n\n     It is not difficult to imagine the picture of an old man-of-war\n     towed by a steam tug up a river. The execution of such a subject\n     may deserve great praise and give great satisfaction to the\n     beholder. But add to the representation the statement that it is\n     \"The fighting Temeraire towed to her last berth, \" and a series of\n     the most stirring events of our national history fills our\n     imagination.\n\n  [a] The Louvre.\n\n  [b] The Luxembourg.\n\n  [c] Corcoran Gallery, Washington.\n\n  [d] National Gallery, London.\n\n  [e] Preface to translation of Lessing's _Laocoon_.\n\n\n\nNOTE 72. PAGE 261\n\nThere is an antique sculptured group in the Vatican in which a precisely\nsimilar figure of the son of Niobe has his left hand on the shoulder of\nhis sister who has fallen to her knees from the effect of a wound, and\nit is very reasonably suggested that the Florence figure originally\nformed part of a like group. But the explanation of the act given by\nPerry[a] and others, that the drapery was raised by the brother to\nshield the girl, will scarcely hold good, as the folds are spread out at\nthe back, forming a concavity, whereas they would fall loosely if the\nyouth were resting. Apart from this, his legs are widely separated, and\nin a running position. It may therefore be surmised that in the Vatican\ngroup the artist intended to represent the precise moment when the\nfleeing youth reached his sister.\n\n  [a] _Greek and Roman Sculpture._\n\n\n\nNOTE 73. PAGE 270\n\nIt is curious that among the countless pictures of the Annunciation, in\nvery few indeed has surprise been expressed in the countenance and\nattitude of the Virgin, though it is impossible to imagine an incident\nmore properly calling for profound astonishment on the part of the\nprincipal personage in a composition, even in the absence of startling\nmiraculous accessories such as that introduced by Rossetti. Probably the\nreason for this is connected with the difficulty of expressing great\nsurprise unaccompanied with some other feeling, as pleasure, or sorrow,\nor fear, but there does not seem to be any cause why an exalted joyful\nexcitement should not be exhibited. Mrs. Jameson thinks that the Virgin\nshould not appear startled, as She was \"accustomed to the perpetual\nministry of Angels who daily and hourly attended on Her,\"[a] but it is\nquestionable whether this can be properly assumed by the artist, and in\nany case from the point of view of art, the action should correspond\nwith the nature of the event as it is generally understood. Of the few\nmasters who have indicated surprise in an Annunciation picture,\nTintoretto has gone the farthest. He shows the Virgin with Her lips\nparted, and both hands held up, evidently with astonishment,[b] an\nexample followed by Paris Bordone.[c] Raphael in an early picture\nrepresents Her holding up one hand, but the attitude might signify the\nreception of an announcement of importance.[d] Perugino shows Her with\nboth hands raised, but otherwise She appears unconcerned.[e] A few other\nartists, including Venusti and Foppa, and among modern men, Girodet,\nadopt Raphael's method of composition. Rubens goes a step farther, and\nrepresents the Virgin apparently standing back with surprise, though\nthis is only faintly suggested by the facial expression.[f]\n\n  [a] _Legends of the Madonna._\n\n  [b] Scuolo di San Rocoo, Venice.\n\n  [c] Sienna Gallery.\n\n  [d] The Vatican.\n\n  [e] Santa Maria Nouvo, Perugia.\n\n  [f] Vienna Gallery.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX OF SCULPTORS, PAINTERS, AND WORKS OF ART\n\n\nNOTE.--The Schools to which the earlier Italian painters belonged are\ngiven in brackets.\n\n\nA\n\n  Adam, Franz, 1815-1886, German\n    --Bavarian Regiment before Orleans, 257\n\n  Aivasovsky, I. K., 1817-1900, Russian, 205\n\n  Albani, Francesco, 1578-1660, Italian, 163\n    --Toilet of Venus, 118\n\n  Albertinelli, Mariotto, 1467-1512, Italian [Florentine]\n    --The Salutation, 243\n\n  Alcamenes, fifth century B.C., Greek, 304\n\n  Altdorfer, A., 1480 (_c._)-1538, German\n    --The Nativity, 268\n\n  Aman, Jean, 1860-, French\n    --Sorbonne panels, 254\n\n  Ancher, Anna K., 1859-, Danish\n    --The Funeral, 189\n\n  Andreani, A., 1540-1623, Italian, 257\n\n  Angelico, Fra (Giovanni da Fiesole), 1387-1455,\n          Italian [Florentine], 17, 101\n\n  Antico (Pier Giacomo Ilario), worked late 15th and early 16th century,\n          Italian, 326\n\n  Antonella da Messina, 1421 (_c._)-1493, Italian [Venetian]\n    --Crucifixion, 243\n\n  Antonio del Ceraiolo, worked first half sixteenth century,\n          Italian [Florentine], 345\n\n  Apelles, fourth century B.C., Greek, 10, 44\n    --Venus Anadyomene, 113, 330, Plate 4;\n    Alexander in the character of Jupiter, 209\n\n  Avercamp, Hendrick van, 1585-1663, Dutch, 292\n\n\nB\n\n  Bartolommeo da Bagnacavallo (Bart. Ramenghi), 1484-1542,\n          Italian [Bolognese]\n    --Holy Family, 103\n\n  Bartolommeo, Fra (Baccio della Porta, or Bart. di Pagholo), 1475-1517,\n          Italian [Florentine]\n    --Adoration of the Shepherds, 265\n\n  Bartolozzi, Francesco, 1725-1815, Italian, 164\n\n  Basaiti, Marco, died after 1521, Italian [Venetian]\n    --The Dead Christ, 93;\n    Calling of the Children of Zebedee, 93;\n    Christ on the Mount of Olives, 243\n\n  Baschenis, Evaristo, 1617-1677, Italian, 247\n\n  Battistello (Giovanni Battista Caracciolo), 1580-1641, Italian, 17\n    --Adoration of the Shepherds, 271\n\n  Bellano, Bartolommeo, 1430-1498, 327\n\n  Benjamin-Constant, J. J., 1845-1902, French, 184\n\n  Benoit-Levy, Jules, 1866-, French\n    --Morning of July 4, 1789, 253\n\n  Berghem, Nicholas (or Berchem), 1620-1683, Dutch, 47, 292\n\n  Bernadino da Conti, died 1525, Italian [Venetian]\n    --Virgin and Child, 245\n\n  Bernini, G. L., 1598-1669, Italian, 31, 33\n\n  Berritini, Pietro, 1596-1669, Italian, 31\n\n  Bertoldo di Giovanni, 1420 (_c._)-1491, Italian, 327\n\n  Bischop, C, 1630-1674, Dutch, 292\n\n  Blyhooft, Z., 1622 (_c._)-1698, Dutch, 292\n\n  Boecklin, A., 1827-1901, German, 208\n    --Vita Somnium breve, 180;\n    Pieta, 170\n\n  Boltraffio, G. A., 1467-1516, Italian [Milanese]\n    --Virgin and Child, 103\n\n  Bonfiglio, Benedetto, 1420-1496 (_c._) Italian [Perugian]\n    --Virgin and Child, 103\n\n  Bonheur, Rosa, 1822-1899, French\n    --Ploughing in Nivernois, 256\n\n  Bordone, Paris, 1500-1570, Italian [Venetian]\n    --Annunciation, 354\n\n  Both, Andries, 1609-1644, Flemish, 47\n\n  Both, Jan, 1610 (_c._)-1652, Flemish, 47\n\n  Botticelli, Sandro (Alessandro di Mariano dei Filippi), 1444-1510,\n          Italian [Florentine] 96\n    --Pieta, 169;\n    Nativity, 269;\n    Reposing Venus, 117;\n    Athena and the Centaur, 124\n\n  Boucher, Francois, 1704-1770, French\n    --Louvre Portrait, 173;\n    Sleeping Venus, 118;\n    Birth of Venus, 268\n\n  Bough, S., 1822-1878, British\n    --Borrowdale, 204\n\n  Bouguereau, A. W., 1825-1905, French\n    --Assumption of the Virgin, 267;\n    Une ame au Ciel, 267;\n    Birth of Venus, 115;\n    Aurora, 271;\n    Twilight, 271;\n    The Lost Pleiad, 269\n\n  Bouts, Dirk, 1400-1475, Flemish\n    --Adoration of the Magi, 347\n\n  Braquemond, J. F., 1833-, French, 285\n\n  Bramantino (Bartolommeo Suardi), 1468-(_c._) 1530, Italian [Milanese]\n    --Christ, 93;\n    Virgin and Child, 103\n\n  Breton, Jules, 1827-1906, French\n    --Cry of Alarm, 253\n\n  Breughel, Jan, 1569-1642, Flemish, 46\n\n  Breughel, Pieter, 1528-1569, Flemish, 90\n\n  Bril, Paul, 1554-1626, Flemish, 46\n\n  Bronzino (Angelo Allori), 1502-1572, Italian [Florentine]\n    --Venus and Cupid, 348\n\n  Brown, Arnesby, 1866-, British\n    --The Drove, 257\n\n  Burne-Jones, E. B., 1833-1898, British\n    --Annunciation, 270;\n    Golden Stairs, 252;\n    Dies Domini, 93\n\n\nC\n\n  Cabanel, Aexandre, 1823-1889, French\n    --Venus Anadyomene, 115\n\n  Calamis, fifth century B.C., Greek, 9\n\n  Canaletto (Antonio Canale), 1697-1768, Italian, 47\n\n  Canova, Antonio, 1757-1822, Italian\n    --L'Amour et Psyche, 191\n\n  Cappelle, Jan van de, 1624(_c._)-1679, Dutch, 46\n\n  Carracci, Agostino, 1558-1601, Italian, 31\n\n  Carracci, Annibale, 1560-1609, Italian, 31\n\n  Carracci, Ludovico, 1555-1619, Italian, 31\n\n  Caravaggio, M. (Michelangelo Amerighi), 1569-1609, Italian, 17, 246\n\n  Cavalori, Mirabello, middle sixteenth century, Italian [Florentine]\n    --The Carpet Weavers, 252\n\n  Cellini, Benvenuto, 1500-1571, Italian, 17, 323\n\n  Cephisodostos, early fourth century B.C., Greek\n    --Irene and Pluto, 101\n\n  Cezanne, Paul, 1839-1906, French, 37, 288\n\n  Chardin, J. S., 1699-1779, French, 173, 247\n\n  Chartier, H., 1870 (_c._)-, French\n    --Jena, 256;\n    Hanan, 256\n\n  Chase, W. M., 1849-1916, American\n    --Master Roland, 165\n\n  Cignani, Carlo, 1628-1719, Italian, 32, 164\n\n  Cimabue, Giovanni, 1240 (_c._)-1302, Italian [Florentine] 92, 95, 283\n    --Virgin and Child, 101\n\n  Cipriani, G. B., 1727-1785, Italian, 164\n\n  Claude Lorraine (Claude Gelee), 1600-1682,\n          French, 17, 30, 47, 195, 198, 201, 283\n    --Arcadian Landscape, Plate 17\n\n  Clausen, George, 1852-, British, 284, 349\n\n  Cogniet, L., 1794-1880, French.\n    --Tintoretto Painting his Dead Daughter, 191\n\n  Colton, W. R., 1867-, British\n    --Royal Artillery Memorial, 253\n\n  Constable, John, 1776-1837, British, 48, 195, 208\n\n  Copley, J. S., 1737-1815, American\n    --Death of Chatham, 190\n\n  Corenzio, Bellisario, 1588 (_c._)-1643, Greek, 17\n\n  Cornelius, Peter, 1783-1867, German\n    --Let there be Light, 267\n\n  Correggio (Antonio Allegri), 1494-1534,\n          Italian [Parma], 43, 69, 102, 108, 142\n    --Vice, 179;\n    Virtue, 179;\n    Mercury instructing Cupid, 130;\n    Madonna and Child with Saints (Parma), 268;\n    Parma frescoes, 229\n\n  Costa, Lorenzo, 1460-1535, Italian [Ferrarese]\n    --Coronation of the Virgin, 102;\n    Cupid crowning Isabella d'Este, 225\n\n  Cosway, Richard, 1742-1821, British, 164\n\n  Cot, P. A., 1837-1883, French\n    --The Storm, 210\n\n  Courbet, G., 1819-1877, French\n    --Funeral at Ornans, 189\n\n  Coypel, Antoine, 1661-1742, French, 163\n\n  Coypel, Noel, 1628-1707, French, 163\n\n  Crivelli, Carlo, 1440 (_c._)-1496, Italian (Venetian)\n    --Coronation of the Virgin, 264\n\n  Crome, John, 1769-1821, British, 208\n\n  Cuyp, Albert, 1605-1691, Dutch, 203, 245\n\n\nD\n\n  Dalsgaard, Christen, 1824-, Danish\n    --The Child's Coffin, 189\n\n  Damophon, second century B.C., Greek, 122\n\n  Danby, F., 1793-1861, British, 209\n\n  Dehodencq, E. A., 1822-1882, French\n    --Bohemians returning from a Fete, 253\n\n  Delacroix, E. V. E., 1798-1863, French, 278\n\n  Delaroche, Paul (Hippolyte Delaroche), 1797-1856, French\n    --Death of Queen Elizabeth, 190\n\n  Demont-Breton, V., 1859-, French\n    --The Divine Apprentice, 321\n\n  Diaz, N., 1807-1876, French\n    --Descent of the Bohemians, 253\n\n  Dolci, Carlo, 1616-1686, Italian\n    --Christ Blessing, 175\n\n  Domenichino (Domenico Zampieri), 1581-1641, Italian, 19\n    --St. Cecilia, 176;\n    St. Paul's Vision, 265\n\n  Donatello (Donate di Betto Bardi), 1385 (_c._)-1466,\n          Italian, 30, 101, 108, 325\n\n  Doomer, Lambert, 1647 (_c._)-1694, Dutch, 292\n\n  Dore, Gustave, 1832-1883, French\n    --Creation of the Earth, 265;\n    Samson Slaying the Philistines, 252\n\n  Dossi, Dosso, 1479-1552, Italian [Ferrarese]\n    --Muse instructing a Court Poet, 175;\n    Nymph and Satyr, 175\n\n  Dow, Gerard, 1613-1675, Dutch, 46, 248\n    --The Dentist, 176\n\n  Duccio, Boninsegna di, 1260 (_c._)-1340, Italian [Siennese], 280\n    --Madonna and Child, 101\n\n  Dumont, Jacques (Le Romain), 1701-1781, French\n    --Madame Mercier and Family, 173\n\n  Duerer, Albrecht, 1474-1528, German, 45\n    --The Virgin with a Canary, 264\n\n  Dyce, William, 1806-1864, British\n    --St. John leading the Virgin from the Tomb, 245\n\n\nE\n\n  Eakins, Thomas, 1844-1916, American\n    --Dr. Cross's Surgical Clinic, 185\n\n  Emmet, Lydia, 1866-, American\n    --Patricia, 247, Plate 23\n\n  Ercole di Roberti (E. di R. Grandi), 1470 (_c._)-1531,\n          Italian [Ferrarese]\n    --The Concert, 175\n\n  Everdingen, E. van, 1612-1675, Dutch, 204\n\n\nF\n\n  Falconet, P. E., 1741-1791, French, 169\n\n  Ferrari, Gaudenzio, 1484-1549, Italian [Milanese]\n    --Madonna and Child, 173\n\n  Ferri C., 1634-1689, Italian\n    --David plans a Temple, 268\n\n  Feuerbach, A., 1828-1880, German\n    --Medea, 170\n\n  Filarete (Antonio Averlino), (_c._) 1399-1470, Italian, 327\n\n  Flaxman, John, 1755-1826, British, 130\n\n  Fontana, B. (G. B. Farinati), 1532-1592, Italian\n    --Vision of Resurrection, 267\n\n  Foppa, Vincenzo, 1427 (?)-1515, Italian [Milanese]\n    --Annunciation, 354\n\n  Fragonard, J. H., 1732-1806, French, 43, 283\n    --The Pursuit, 139;\n    The Rendezvous, 335;\n    Souvenirs, 335;\n    The Lover Crowned, 335;\n    The Abandonment, 335;\n    Venus Awakened by Aurora, 118\n\n  Francesco da Cotignola (F. dei Zaganelli), worked early sixteenth\n          century, Italian [Parma]\n    --Adoration of the Shepherds, 265\n\n  Francia (Francesco Raibolini), 1450-1517, Italian [Bolognese], 332\n    --Madonna and Child in Glory, 266;\n    Madonna and Child in a Rose Garden, 345\n\n  Fries, Hans, (_c._) 1450-1520, German\n    --Virgin and Child with St. Anne, 103\n\n  Frith, W. P., 1819-1909, British\n    --Poverty and Wealth, 178\n\n  Fromentin, E., 1820-1886, French, 185\n    --Couriers des Ooled Nayls, 257\n\n\nG\n\n  Gaddi, Taddeo, 1300-1366, Italian [Florentine], 280\n\n  Gainsborough, T., 1727-1788, British, 160\n    --Mrs. Leybourne, 174;\n    Lady Sheffield, 174\n\n  Genga, Girolamo, 1476-1551, Italian.\n    Magdalene with Saints, 266\n\n  Gericault, Jean Louis, 1791-1824, French\n    --Epsom, 257\n\n  Ghiberti, Lorenzo, 1381-1455, Italian, 324\n\n  Ghirlandaio, Domenico, 1449-1494, Italian [Florentine], 30, 96\n    --Old Man and Boy, 151;\n    Birth of St. John Baptist, 251;\n    Death of St. Francis, 144\n\n  Ghirlandaio, Ridolfo, 1483-1560, Italian [Florentine]\n    --Madonna giving her girdle to St. Thomas, 265\n\n  Gilbert, John, 1817-1897, British\n    --Slaying of Job's Sheep, 209\n\n  Giordano, Luca, 1632-1705, Italian, 32\n\n  Giorgio, Francesco di, 1439-1502, Italian [Siennese]\n    --Christ bereft of His clothes before the Crucifixion, 93\n\n  Giorgione (Giorgio Barbarelli), 1477-1510,\n          Italian [Venetian], 278, 283, 336\n    --Adrastus and Hysipyle, 210, 225;\n    The Sleeping Venus, 116\n\n  Giotto (Giotto di Bondone), 1267 (_c._)-1337,\n          Italian [Florentine], 95, 108, 280, 283\n    --Madonna and Child, 101\n\n  Giovanni di Bologna (Jean de Douai), 1524-1608, French or Flemish, 323\n    --Mercury, 129\n\n  Girodet de Roncy, A. L., 1767-1842, French\n    --Burial of Atala, 191;\n    Annunciation, 355\n\n  Girolamo da Libri, 1472-1555, Italian [Venetian]\n    --Virgin and Child, 244\n\n  Gouthiere, Pierre, 1740-1806, French, 323\n\n  Goyen, Jan van, 1596-1656, Dutch\n    --View of The Hague, 195\n\n  Granacci, Francesco, 1477-1544, Italian [Florentine]\n    --The Virgin giving her girdle to St. Thomas, 267\n\n  Grant, Francis, 1803-1878, British\n    --Countess of Chesterfield and Mrs. Anson, 245\n\n  Greco, El (Dominico Theotocopuli), 1547 (_c._)-1614, Greek, 19\n\n  Grien, Hans Baldung, 1480-1545, German\n    --The Three Ages, 180;\n    Sacred and Profane Love, 182;\n    Pictures representing Death, 186\n\n  Gros, A. J., 1771-1835, French\n    --The Combat of Nazareth, 256;\n    Timoleon of Corinth, 170\n\n  Guardi, Francesco, 1712-1793, Italian\n    --Regatta on the Grand Canal, 252\n\n  Guercino (G. F. da Cento), 1590-1666, Italian\n    --Martyrdom of St. Peter, 265\n\n  Gutherz, C, 1844-1907, Swiss\n    --\"They shall bear thee up,\" 267\n\n\nH\n\n  Hacker, A., 1858-, British\n    --The Cry of Egypt, 170\n\n  Hals, Franz, 1580-1666, Dutch, 155, 248, 336\n    --The Laughing Cavalier, 177;\n    Stephanus Gereardts, 337;\n    Isabella Coymans, 337;\n    Lady with a Fan, 337;\n    Willem van Heythuysen, 337;\n    Merry Company at Table, 175\n\n  Hanneman, Adrian, 1611-1680, Dutch\n    --Constantine Huygens and Children, 248\n\n  Heim, F. J., 1787-1865, French, 184\n\n  Henneberg, R. F., 1825-1876, German\n    --Race for Fortune, 187\n\n  Hobbema, M., 1638-1709, Dutch, 46, 49, 202\n    --Landscape, Plate 18\n\n  Hoet, G., 1648-1733, Dutch\n    --Translation of Enoch, 269\n\n  Hogarth, W., 1697-1764, British, 225, 282\n\n  Holbein, Hans, 1497-1543, German, 283\n    --The Barber Surgeons, 220;\n    Holy Family, 103;\n    The Ambassadors, 40, 157;\n    Virgin and Child, 263\n\n  Homer, Winslow, 1836-1910, American\n    --All's Well, 176, Plate 15\n\n  Hoppner, John, 1758-1810, British, 161\n\n  Humphrey, Ozias, 1742-1810, British, 164\n\n  Hunt, W. H., 1827-1910, British\n    --Shadow of the Cross, 321;\n    The Scapegoat, 227\n\n\nI\n\n  Ingres, J. A. D., 1780-1867, French\n    --Oath of Louis XIII., 264;\n    [OE]dipus and the Sphinx, 186;\n    Birth of Venus, 115\n\n  Innes, George, 1825-1894, American\n    --Niagara Falls, 211\n\n\nJ\n\n  Johnstone, J. H., 1857-, American\n    --Mysteries of the Night, 350\n\n\nK\n\n  Kampf, Arthur, 1864-, German\n    --Night of March 31, 1888, 189\n\n  Kauffmann, Maria Angelica, 1741-1807, German, 164\n\n  Kaulbach, W. von, 1805-1874, German\n    --Marguerite, 170\n\n  Keyser, Thomas de, 1596 (_c._)-1679, Dutch\n    --Lesson in Anatomy, 185\n\n  Kulmbach, Hans (Hans Suess), 1476 (_c._)-1522, German\n    --Entombment of St. Catherine, 263\n\n\nL\n\n  Lancret, Nicolas, 1660-1743, French, 180\n\n  Lard, F. M., late nineteenth century, French\n    --Glory Forgets not Obscure Heroes, 191\n\n  La Touche, G., 1854-1913, French, 285\n    --Firework pictures, 213\n\n  La Tour, Maurice Q., 1704-1788, French\n    --Madame de la Popeliniere, 174;\n    Mdlle. Camargo, 174;\n    Madame de Pompadour, 174\n\n  Latour, I. H. Fantin, 1836-1904, French, 285\n\n  Lawrence, Thomas, 1769-1830, British, 161, 224\n\n  Le Brun, Charles, 1619-1690, French, 163\n    --Death of Cato, 191\n\n  Leighton, F., 1830-1896, British\n    --Captive Andromache, 171\n\n  Leoni, Leone, died 1590, Italian, 323\n\n  Le Sueur, E., 1616-1655, French, 163\n    --Venus reposing, 118;\n    The Virgin appearing to St. Martin, 261\n\n  Levy, H. L., 1840-1904, French\n    --Young Girl and Death, 191\n\n  Liberale di Verona, 1452-1519, Italian [Veronese]\n    --Magdalene with Saints, 265\n\n  Lionardo da Vinci, 1452-1519,\n          Italian [Milanese], 16, 18, 30, 96, 172, 283, 325\n    --The Last Supper, 69, 93;\n    Mona Lisa (Paris), 151, 242, 341\n      --(formerly Boston), 242, 340;\n    Litta Madonna, 240, Plate 21;\n    Virgin and Child with St. Anne, 172, 243\n\n  Lippi, Filippo, 1406-1469, Italian [Florentine], 96\n    --Virgin and Child, 103, 251\n\n  Loefftz, L., 1845-, German\n    --The Dead Christ, 171\n\n  Longepied, L., 1849-1888, French\n    --Immortality, 191\n\n  Longhi, Pietro, 1702-1762, Italian, 31\n\n  Lorenzetto, P., first half fourteenth century, Italian [Siennese]\n    --Madonna and Child, 101\n\n  Lotto, Lorenzo, 1480-1556, Italian [Venetian]\n    --Three Ages of Man, 179;\n    Triumph of Chastity, 226\n\n  Luca di Tome, first half fourteenth century, Italian [Siennese], 261\n\n  Luini, Aurelio (A. del Lupino), 1530-1593, Italian [Milanese], 288\n\n  Luini, Bernadino (B. del Lupino), 1475 (_c._)-1536, Italian [Milanese]\n    --Entombment of St. Catherine, 263;\n    Salome, 173\n\n  Lux, H. L., late nineteenth century, French\n    --Sarpedon, 268\n\n  Lysippus, fourth century B.C., Greek, 10\n    --Hercules in depressed mood, 344\n\n\nM\n\n  Mainardi, S., died about 1515, Italian [Florentine]\n    --Madonna giving her girdle to St. Thomas, 261\n\n  Maitre de Flemelle (Robert Campin), 1375 (_c._)-1444,\n          French or Flemish, 93, 170\n\n  Manet, Edouard, 1832-1883, French, 286\n    --Boy with a Sword, 165;\n    Dejeuner sur l'Herbe, 181;\n    Olympia, 287\n\n  Mantegna, Andrea, 1431-1506, Italian [Paduan]\n    --The Infant Christ, 102;\n    Virgin and Child, 175\n\n  Margaritone of Arezzo, 1216-1293, Italian [Tuscan], 279\n\n  Maratta, Carlo, 1625-1713, Italian, 33, 284\n\n  Martin, John, 1789-1854, British\n    --Plague of Hail, 210;\n    Destruction of Pharaoh, 210;\n    \"I have Set My Bow in the Cloud,\" 210\n\n  Masaccio (Tommaso Guidi), 1402-1429, Italian [Florentine], 283, 322\n    --The Madonna enthroned, 104;\n    Tribute Money, 250\n\n  Matisse, Henry, 1876-, French, 37\n\n  Matsys, Quentin, 1463 (_c._)-1530, Flemish, 93\n\n  Meissonier, J. L. E., 1815-1891, French\n    --1814, 256\n\n  Mengs, Anton R., 1728-1779, German, 352\n    --St. John Baptist Preaching, 175\n\n  Menzel, A., 1815-1905, German\n    --Market Place in Verona, 252;\n    Iron Mill, 252\n\n  Meyer, K., 1618-1689, Swiss, 179\n\n  Michelangelo Buonarotti, 1475-1564,\n          Italian [Florentine, Roman], 10, 13, 16, 18, 19, 30, 43, 69,\n          92, 229, 260, 233, 350\n    --Holy Family (Florence), 182;\n    Last Judgment, 90, 93;\n    Reposing Venus, 117;\n    Leda, 320;\n    Night, 320;\n    San Lorenzo Madonna, 320;\n    Bargello Madonna, 320;\n    Pieta, 320;\n    Moses, 320;\n    Bacchus, 132;\n    St. Stephen, 93;\n    Creation of Adam, Plate 24\n\n  Mignard, Pierre, 1610-1695, French, 163\n\n  Millais, J. E., 1829-1896, British\n    --The Carpenter's Shop, 321\n\n  Millet, J. F., 1814-1875, French\n    --The Angelus, 352\n\n  Molyn, P., 1592(_c._)-1661, Dutch, 292\n\n  Monet, C. J., 1840-, French, 286\n\n  Montagna, B., 1450(_c._)-1523, Italian [Venetian]\n    --The Virgin Enthroned, 102\n\n  Moro, Antonio, 1512-1575, Flemish\n    --Catilina of Portugal, 159;\n    Maria of Austria, 159\n\n  Morot, A. N., 1850-, French\n    --Reichsoffen, 256\n\n  Moser, Lucas, first half fifteenth century, German\n    --Voyage of the Saints, 347\n\n  Murillo, B. E., 1618-1682, Spanish, 19, 163\n    --Holy Family, 103;\n    Ascension of Christ, 260;\n    Immaculate Conception pictures, 266\n\n  Myron, fifth century B.C., Greek, 9, 249\n    --Discobolus, 352;\n    Marsyas, 331, 352\n\n\nN\n\n  Nattier, J. M., 1685-1766, French, 164\n    --Madame Louise, 173\n\n\nO\n\n  Orcagna (Andrea di Cione), 1308(_c._)-1370, Italian [Florentine]\n    --Assumption of the Virgin, 261\n\n  Orchardson, W. Q., 1835-1907, British\n    --The Borgia, 189\n\n\nP\n\n  Palma Giovane (Jacopo Palma), 1544-1628, Italian [Venetian]\n    --Christ in Judgment, 264\n\n  Palma Vecchio (Jacopo Palma), 1480(_c._)-1528, Italian [Venetian]\n    --Reposing Venus, 117;\n    Assumption, 266\n\n  Parmigiano (Francesco Mazzuoli), 1504-1540, Italian [Parma]\n    --Madonna and Child with Saints, 103\n\n  Pedrini, Giovanni (Giampietrino), late fifteenth and early sixteenth\n          centuries, Italian [Milanese]\n    --Madonna, 173\n\n  Perronneau, J. B., 1715-1783, French\n    --Madame Olivier, 173\n\n  Perugino, Pietro (Pietro Vanucci), 1446-1524,\n          Italian [Umbrian], 17, 332\n    --Christ's Rule, 264;\n    Deposition, 345;\n    Assumption of the Virgin, 262;\n    Ascension, 262, 263;\n    Baptism of Christ, 345;\n    Madonna with Child and Penitents, 264;\n    Annunciation, 354;\n    Crucifixion (Florence), 345\n\n  Phidias, fifth century B.C., Greek, 7, 10, 44, 57, 91, 108, 122, 328\n    --Olympian Zeus, 68;\n    Parthenon Athena, 68, 123\n\n  Picart, B., 1673-1733, French\n    --The Burning Coal, 262\n\n  Piero di Cosimo (Piero Rosselli or Piero di Lorenzo), 1462-1521,\n          Italian [Florentine], 322\n    --Marsyas and the Pipes of Athena, 124, 225, 331;\n    Death of Procris, 347;\n    Mars and Cupid, 347\n\n  Pinturicchio, B., 1454-1513, Italian [Umbrian], 332\n\n  Pisano, Giovanni, fourteenth century, Italian\n    --Madonna and Child, 101\n\n  Pisano, Giunto, first half thirteenth century, Italian\n    --Christ and the Virgin, 261\n\n  Pisano, Niccolo, 1206 (_c._)-1278, Italian\n    --Infant Christ, 108\n\n  Pissarro, C., 1830-1903, French, 286\n\n  Polidoro da Caravaggio (Polidoro Caldara), died 1543,\n          Italian [Neapolitan], 169\n\n  Pollaiuolo, Antonio (A. di Jacopo Benci), 1429-1498,\n          Italian [Florentine], 327\n    --Hercules contemplating death, 190, Plate 16, 343\n\n  Polyclitus, fifth century B.C., Greek\n    --Hera, 120\n\n  Polygnotus, fifth century B.C., Greek\n    --Frescoes from Homer, 69\n\n  Pontormo (Jacopo Carrucci), 1493-1558, Italian [Florentine], 142\n    --Venus Reposing, 117\n\n  Potter, Paul, 1625-1654, Dutch, 203, 245\n\n  Poussin, Gaspar (Gaspar Dughet), 1613-1675, French, 195\n\n  Poussin, Nicholas, 1594-1665, French, 16, 30, 47, 163, 195\n    --Jonah cast into the sea, 210;\n    Assumption of the Virgin, 267;\n    St. Francis Xavier, 261;\n    Vision of St. Paul, 267;\n    Venus Reposing, 117;\n    Adam and Eve, 265;\n    Diana Sleeps in the Forest, 345;\n    Descent from the Cross, 168\n\n  Poynter, E. J., 1836-, British\n    --Building the Treasure City, 253\n\n  Praxiteles, fourth century B.C., Greek, 7, 10, 13, 44, 136, 328\n    --The Cnidian Aphrodite, 112, 329;\n    Hermes and the Infant Bacchus, 101, 109, 129\n\n  Prevost, Jean, died 1529, French\n    --Old Man and Death, 186\n\n  Prudhon, P. P. 1758-1823, French\n    --Crucifixion, 170;\n    Abduction of Psyche, 266\n\n\nR\n\n  Raeburn, Henry, 1756-1823, British, 161\n    --The Farmer's Wife, 174;\n    Mrs. Lauzun, 174;\n    Mrs. Balfour, 174;\n    Dr. N. Spens, 166\n\n  Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio), 1473-1520,\n          Italian [Umbrian, Florentine, Roman], 7, 10, 13, 16, 18, 28,\n          43, 57, 69, 92, 108, 125, 137, 142, 167, 229, 283\n    --God Appearing to Isaac, 261;\n    God Separating Water from Earth, 261;\n    Creation of the Sun and Moon, 261;\n    Transfiguration, 251;\n    Julius II., 40, 151, 289;\n    School of Athens, 144;\n    Parnassus, 125;\n    Prophets and Sybils, 243, 263;\n    Foligna Madonna, 263;\n    Creation of Woman, 263;\n    Maddalena Doni, 242;\n    Angelo Doni, 242;\n    Study from Mona Lisa, 242;\n    The Redeemer, 243;\n    Madonna and Child (Bridgewater), 102;\n    Madonna and Child with St. John (Berlin), 102;\n    Holy Family (Madrid), Deliverance of St. Peter, 251;\n    Fire at the Borgo, 251;\n    Flight of Lot and his Family, 251;\n    Crucifixion, 347;\n    Moses Striking the Rock, 251;\n    Saint Cecilia, 176;\n    Saint Sebastian, 243;\n    Venus Anadyomene, 113;\n    Christ Blessing, 93;\n    Casa Tempi Madonna, 173;\n    Cowper Madonna, 173;\n    Leo N. and the Cardinals Medici, 157;\n    Fornarina, 173;\n    Portrait of a Young Man, 173;\n    Mercury and Psyche, 129;\n    St. Margaret, 250, Plate 26;\n    Annunciation, 354;\n    Apollo and Marsyas, 125, 332, 345;\n    Virgin with a Goldfinch, 173, 345;\n    Sistine Madonna, 230\n\n  Ravestyn, Jan van, 1572-1657, Dutch, 158\n\n  Redon, O., died 1917, French\n    --Death, the Friend, 188\n\n  Regnault, H., 1843-1871, French\n    --Automedon and the Horses of Achilles, 256, Plate 28\n\n  Rembrandt van Ryn, H., 1606-1669, Dutch, 20, 21, 152, 160, 283, 289\n    --Rembrandt and Saskia, 177;\n    Angel quitting Tobias, 263;\n    Lesson in Anatomy, 185;\n    Lady with a Dog, 281;\n    Ascension of Christ, 266, 267;\n    Night Watch, 21;\n    Syndics of the Drapers, 281;\n    Portrait Young Man (Beit Coll.), 281;\n    do. (Wachtmeister Coll.), 281;\n    Martin Day, 150;\n    Machteld von Doorn, 150;\n    Samson menacing his father-in-law, 248\n\n  Reni, Guido, 1575-1642, Italian\n    --Assumption of the Virgin, 268\n\n  Rethel, A., 1816-1859, German\n    --Death at a Masked Ball, 187;\n    Death the Friend, 188\n\n  Reynolds, Joshua, 1723-1792, British, 142, 154, 160, 224, 282, 350\n    --The Infant Hercules, 176;\n    Mrs. Siddons as Tragedy, 161;\n    Mrs. Billington as Cecilia, 161;\n    Hon. Lavinia Bingham, 174;\n    Mrs. Abington, 174;\n    Viscountess Crosbie, 166\n\n  Riccio (Andrea Briosco), 1470-1532, Italian, 323, 326\n\n  Ribera, Giuseppe, 1593-1656, Italian, 17\n\n  Rigaud, H., 1659-1743, French, 163\n    --Louis XV. as a boy, 173\n\n  Robbia, Luca della, 1400-1482, Italian, 325\n\n  Robbia, Andrea della 1435-1525, Italian, 104\n\n  Roberts, David, 1796-1864, British\n    --The Israelites depart, 257\n\n  Rodin, A., 1840-1917, French, 249, 351\n    --La Vieille Heaulmiere, 317\n\n  Roll, A. P., 1847-, French, 271\n\n  Romano, Giulio (G. Pippi), 1492-1546, Italian [Roman]\n    --Holy Family, 104\n\n  Romney, George, 1734-1802, British, 142, 161, 164\n    --Lady Hamilton as a Bacchante, 174;\n    William Booth, 174;\n    Mrs. Thomas Raikes, 165;\n    The Ladies Spencer, 166;\n    Mrs. Yates, 174;\n    Mrs. Tickle, 174\n\n  Rosa, Salvator, 1615-1673, Italian, 32\n    --Samuel's Curse, 179\n\n  Rosalba (Rosalba Carriera), 1675-1757, Italian, 164\n\n  Roslin, A., 1718-1793, French, 173.\n\n  Rossellino, Antonio, 1429-1479, Italian, 104\n\n  Rossetti, D. G., 1828-1882, British\n    --Annunciation, 270\n\n  Rubens, P. P., 1577-1640, Flemish, 16, 20, 30, 46, 152, 226, 283\n    --Assumption of the Virgin (Dusseldorf), 266;\n    do. (Vienna), 266;\n    do. (Augsburg), 266;\n    do. (Brussels), 266;\n    Ascension (Vienna), 267;\n    do (Venice), 268;\n    Deity and Christ, 266;\n    Diana and Nymphs, 254, Plate 27;\n    Harvest Landscape (Munich), 211;\n    do. (Wallace Coll.), 211;\n    Virgin and Child (Rome), 262;\n    Birth of Venus, 115;\n    Landscape with a Rainbow, 211;\n    Shipwreck of Aeneas, 211;\n    Annunciation (Vienna), 355;\n    Landscape with Baucis and Philemon, 210;\n    Funeral of Decius, 188;\n    Boreas and Oreithyia, 260;\n    Landscape by Moonlight, 209;\n    Toilet of Venus, 118;\n    Christ on the Cross, 244;\n    Death of Seneca, 190;\n    The Four Philosophers, 157;\n    David's Last Song, 176;\n    Marie de' Medici series, 226\n\n  Rude, Francois, 1794-1855, French\n    --Marshal Ney, 351;\n    Marseillaise, 254\n\n  Ruysdael, Jacob, 1628 (_c._)-1682, Dutch, 49, 203, 208\n    --The Rising Storm, 206, Plate 20;\n    Landscape with flowing water, 204, Plate 19;\n    The Marsh, 203\n\n\nS\n\n  Sacchi, Andrea, 1600-1661, Italian, 164\n\n  Saint-Bonvin, F., 1817-1887, French\n    --Ave Maria, 353\n\n  Saint-Gaudens, A., 1848-1907, American\n    --Shaw Memorial Relief, 254\n\n  Salviati, F. (Francesco de Rossi), 1510-1563, Italian [Florentine]\n    --Justice, 179\n\n  Sansovino (Jacopo Tatti), 1486-1570, Italian, 323\n\n  Sarto, Andrea del (Andrea Agnolo), 1488-1530,\n          Italian [Florentine], 142\n    --Holy Family (Hermitage), 104\n\n  Sassoferrato (Giovanni Battisto Salvi), 1605-1685, Italian, 164\n\n  Scheffer, Ary, 1795-1858, Dutch\n    --Temptation of Christ, 178\n\n  Schiavone, Andrea, 1462-1522, Italian [Venetian]\n    --Jupiter and Io, 348\n\n  Schnorr, J. von K., 1794-1872, German\n    --God's Promise to Abraham, 269\n\n  Schongauer, Martin, (_c._) 1445-1491, German, 45\n\n  Schonherr, C., nineteenth century, German\n    --Agony in the Garden, 265\n\n  Schreyer, Adolf, 1828-1899, German\n    --The Attack, 257\n\n  Schwind, M., 1804-1871, Austrian\n    --The Pleiads, 269, Plate 25;\n    Rainbow, 212;\n    Phantom in the Forest, 270\n\n  Scopas, fourth century B.C., Greek, 10\n    --Demeter, 122, Plate 7\n\n  Sebastiano del Piombo (Sebastiano Luciani), 1485-1547,\n          Italian [Venetian]\n    --Concert, 181\n\n  Signorelli, Luca, 1440 (_c._)-1521, Italian [Umbrian], 191\n    --Portrait of a Man, 182;\n    Madonna and Child, 103, 264\n\n  Simson, William, 1800-1847, British, 245\n\n  Snyders, Frans, 1579-1677, Flemish, 216, 257\n\n  Sodoma, Il, (Giovanni A. Bazzi), 1477-1549, Italian [Siamese]\n    --Sacrifice of Abraham, 244\n\n  Steen, Jan, 1629-1679, Dutch\n    --Terrace Scene, 245\n\n\nT\n\n  Tassaert, O., 1800-1874, French, 17\n    --Assumption of the Virgin, 266\n\n  Teniers, David, 1610-1690, Dutch, 90\n\n  Terburg (or Terborch), Gerard, 1617-1681, Dutch, 46\n    --Peace of Munster, 158\n\n  Thoma, Hans, 1839-, German\n    --Temptation of Christ, 187;\n    Cupid and Death, 178;\n    Sin and Death, 187;\n    Progress of the gods to Walhalla, 212;\n    Rainbow, 211;\n    View of Laufenburg, 204\n\n  Thomson, John, 1778-1840, British\n    --Fast Castle, 207;\n    Dunluce Castle, 207\n\n  Tiepolo, G. B., 1692-1769, Italian, 31\n\n  Timanthes, fourth century B.C., Greek\n    --Sacrifice of Iphigenia, 168, Plate 14, 339\n\n  Tintoretto (Jacopo Robusti), 1518-1594, Italian [Venetian], 261\n    --Bacchus and Ariadne, 270;\n    Annunciation, 354;\n    Presentation of the Virgin, 243\n\n  Titian (Titiano Vecelli), 1477-1576,\n          Italian [Venetian], 13, 40, 108, 148, 152, 283, 336, 350\n    --Assumption of the Virgin, 266;\n    Sacred and Profane Love, 138, 181;\n    Resurrection, 264;\n    Madonna of the Cherries, 102;\n    Meeting of Joachim and Anna, 102;\n    Three Ages of Man, 179;\n    Madonna with SS. Anthony and John, 104, 348;\n    Jacopo Pesaro presented to St. Peter, 347;\n    Paul III. with the two Brothers Farnese, 157, 164;\n    Reposing Venus (Uffizi), 116;\n    Venus Anadyomene, 115;\n    Aretino, 144;\n    Man with the Gloves, 151;\n    Duke of Alba, 144;\n    portraits of Philip II., 144;\n    Charles V. at Muehlberg, 149, 347;\n    portraits of his Daughter, 149;\n    Duke of Ferrara, 149;\n    Physician of Parma, 336;\n    Toilet of Venus, 118;\n    Christ on the Cross, 244;\n    Pharaoh's Host overwhelmed, 257;\n    self-portrait, 149;\n    Venus and the Organ Player, 166\n\n  Turner, J. M. W., 1775-1851, British, 16, 17, 201\n    --Arundel Castle, 210;\n    The _Temeraire_ towed to her last berth, 353\n\n\nU\n\n  Uhde, Fritz von, 1848-, German, 321\n    --Cavalry going into action, 257;\n    Revenge, 187;\n    The Three Magi, 104\n\n\nV\n\n  Van der Neer, A., 1619-1683, Dutch, 208\n\n  Van de Velde, W., 1633-1707, Dutch, 46\n\n  Van der Venne, A. P., 1589-1661, Dutch\n    --The Soul Fishery, 211\n\n  Van der Weyden, Roger, 1400 (_c._)-1464, Flemish, 93, 170\n\n  Van Dyck, Anthony, 1599-1641, Flemish, 142, 148, 157, 216\n    --Four Ages, 180;\n    Christ on the Cross, 244, Plate 22;\n    Earl of Pembroke, 165;\n    Earl of Bedford, 150;\n    Philip le Roy, 165;\n    Henrietta Maria (Windsor), 150;\n    portrait of his Wife, 166;\n    Earl of Newport, 150;\n    Countess of Devonshire, 165\n\n  Van Eyck, Jan, 1385 (_c._)-1441, Flemish, 283\n    --Virgin and Child at the Fountain, 263;\n    Arnolfini and his Wife, 40;\n    Chancellor Rollin before the Virgin, 347\n\n  Van Gogh, V., 1853-1890, Dutch, 37, 288\n\n  Velasquez, D. R. de Silva, 1599-1660, Spanish, 152 _et seq._, 283\n    --Christ at the Column, 246;\n    Las Meninas, 155, 247;\n    Coronation of the Virgin, 266;\n    The Drinkers, 182;\n    The Three Musicians, 175;\n    The Breakfast, 155;\n    portraits of Philip IV., 153;\n    Olivares, 149;\n    Innocent X., 151;\n    Don Antonio el Ingles, 149;\n    Rokeby Venus, 119;\n    Surrender of Breda, 155;\n    Christ in the house of Martha, 155\n\n  Venusti, Marcello, died after 1579, Italian [Florentine]\n    --Annunciation, 354\n\n  Verestchagin, V., 1842-1904, Russian, 184\n\n  Vermeer, Jan (of Delft), 1632-1675, Dutch, 20\n\n  Vernet, E. J. Horace, 1789-1863, French\n    --La Smalah, 256\n\n  Veronese, Paolo (Paolo Caliari), 1528-1588,\n          Italian [Venetian], 231, 286, 350\n\n  Verrocchio, Andrea del, 1435-1488, Italian, 325\n\n  Viti, Timoteo della, 1470-1523, Italian [Umbrian], 332, 345\n\n\nW\n\n  Walker, Horatio, 1858-, American\n    --Ave Maria, 353\n\n  Watteau, Antoine, 1684-1721, French, 278, 283\n    --Embarkation for Cythera (Paris), 254;\n    do. (Berlin), 269\n\n  Watts, George F., 1817-1904, British\n    --Death, the Friend, 188, 191\n\n  West, Benjamin, 1738-1820, American\n    --Death of General Wolfe, 190\n\n  Whistler, J. A. McN., 1834-1903, American, 50, 349\n\n  Wiertz, A., 1806-1865, Belgian\n    --The Orphans, 189;\n    Things of the Past, 226\n\n  Wilson, Richard, 1714-1782, British, 48\n\n  Witt, J. H., 1840-1901, American\n    --Bless the Lord, 262\n\n  Wouverman, Philip, 1614-1670, Dutch, 203, 245\n\n\nZ\n\n  Zurbaran, Francisco, 1598-1662, Spanish, 19\n\n\n\n\nGENERAL INDEX\n\n\nA\n\n  Actors in stage roles, portraits of, 223\n\n  Aerial perspective, Claude the first master of, 47;\n    its importance, 198;\n    method of producing, 200\n\n  Aesthetic systems, all of them untenable, 3, 274;\n    Carritt on, 274;\n    of Hegel, 277;\n    of Croce, 273\n\n  Ages of man, pictures contrasting the, 179\n\n  Allegorical painting, when secondary art, 225\n\n  Angel of Death in art, instances of, 191;\n    symbol of, 188\n\n  Angels, representation of, in aerial suspension and flight, 262, 266\n\n  Animal painting, in action, 255;\n    ideals in, not possible, 56\n\n  Annunciation, The, indication of surprise in expression, 270, 354\n\n  Apelles, his Venus Anadyomene, 113, 330;\n    epigrams on, 331\n\n  Aphrodite (_see_ Venus)\n\n  Apollo, his representation in art, 124\n\n  Architecture, its position in the Fine Arts, 53;\n    imitative character of, 53, 294;\n    unconcerned with ideals, 58;\n    produces sensorial beauty only, 64;\n    simplicity its keynote, 75;\n    standard of judgment in, 75;\n    S. Colvin on, 292\n\n  Ares (_see_ Mars)\n\n  Aristotle, on imitation in art, 215, 292;\n    on metrical form in poetry, 54, 296;\n    his division of the painter's art, 62;\n    his connection of morals with art, 314\n\n  Art, definition of, 1;\n    its mimetic character, 52;\n    sensorial beauty, first aim of, 72;\n    must deal chiefly with types, 55;\n    independent of social and political conditions, 4;\n    of psychological impulses, 8, 14;\n    great periods of, 8;\n    suggested evolution in, 7;\n    \"Classic\" and \"Romantic,\" 278;\n    relation of, to nature, 55;\n    popular appreciation of, 74;\n    Grecian, cause of its decline, 10;\n    Italian Renaissance of, cause of its decline, 11;\n    limitation of sculpture and painting in, 81;\n    Tolstoy's definition of, 275;\n    ideals in (_see_ The Ideal in Art)\n\n  Artemis (_see_ Diana)\n\n  Artists, training necessary for, 25;\n    cause of variation in work of, 20;\n    reputations of great, 283;\n    as judges of works of art, 305\n\n  Arts (_see_ Fine Arts)\n\n  Assent, Law of General, 72 _et seq._\n\n  Associated Arts, the arts associated, 53;\n    first law of the, 60;\n    highest art in, recognized by general opinion, 77;\n    ideals in, 58;\n    cannot properly be used for moral or social purposes, 82;\n    their method of producing beauty, 78 _et seq._;\n    limitations of, 80\n\n  Athena, her representation in art, 123\n\n  Atmospheric effects, limitations in producing, 202;\n    exceptional phases, 202\n\n\nB\n\n  Bacchus, his representation in art, 131\n\n  Barbizon School, anticipated by Dutch masters, 291;\n    sketches of the, of little importance, 290;\n    use of heavy gilt frames for works of the, 291\n\n  Beauty, definitions of, unsatisfactory, 2, 59;\n    alleged objectivity of, 2;\n    highest form of, 72;\n    unconnected with philosophy, 2;\n    first law of, in the Associated Arts, 60;\n    ideal, 86;\n    kinds of, in the arts, 4, 60, 273;\n    degrees of, in the arts generally, 60, in painting, 83;\n    sensorial (or emotional), 60, 72;\n    intellectual (or beauty of expression), 2, 273;\n    of form, 273;\n    of color, 228 _et seq._;\n    methods of producing, 78;\n    as the \"expression of emotion,\" 275;\n    Longinus on the highest, 73;\n    standard of judgment of, in poetry, 77,\n      in sculpture, 77,\n      in painting, 77,\n      in architecture, 75,\n      in fiction, 77,\n      in landscape, 194,\n      in still-life, 214,\n      in secondary art, 219 _et seq._;\n    general agreement in respect of, 86\n\n  Bon Dieu d'Amiens, Ruskin on, 319;\n    Farrar on, 319;\n    corresponds with certain Greek art, 319, Plate 2\n\n  Brevity in expression, highest beauty in poetry, marked by, 65\n\n  Broad style of painting, cause of, with great artists, 21;\n    its limitations, 39;\n    advocacy of, by impressionists, 38;\n    as used by Rembrandt, 281;\n    by Hals, 336\n\n  Bronze statuettes of the Renaissance, 321 _et seq._\n\n  Byron on nature and art in respect of landscape, 345\n\n\nC\n\n  Caricature, its place in art, 225\n\n  Carritt, E. F., on the result of aesthetic systems, 275\n\n  Cave men, their art, 5\n\n  Ceres (_see_ Demeter)\n\n  Chaldean Art, Illustration of, Plate 1\n\n  Character of Artists, influence of, in their work, 16\n\n  Cherubs, use of, in assisting illusion of suspension in the air, 265\n\n  Christ, representation in art, 92;\n    the established ideal, 92;\n    Ruskin on the best ideal of, 319\n\n  Christian conception of the Deity, its effect in art, 88\n\n  \"Classic Art,\" Hegel's definition, 277;\n    varied meanings of the term, 278\n\n  Claude Lorraine, the first great landscape painter, 47;\n    the cause of his success, 16;\n    Goethe on, 49;\n    the model for Turner, 49\n\n  Clausen, G., his definition of Impressionism, 284;\n    on Whistler's nocturnes, 349\n\n  Clouds, use of, in relation to air-suspended figures, 263\n\n  Coast views, illusion of motion in, 206\n\n  Color, beauty of, 228 _et seq._;\n    its relative importance, 228;\n    in landscape, 194;\n    juxtaposition of pure colors, 35, 287;\n    by Venetian artists, 231, 350;\n    exceptional color effects, 234;\n    its use by impressionists, 34 _et seq._\n\n  Colvin, S., claims music and architecture as non-imitative arts, 292\n\n  Comedy, its place in the painter's art, 224\n\n  Contentment, quality of expression in the Madonna, 97;\n    in Venus, 119\n\n  Contrast, its use in composition, 177;\n    of forms, 177;\n    of ages, 179;\n    of beauty and strength, 177;\n    of Good and Evil, 178;\n    of Poverty and Wealth, 178;\n    of Vice and Virtue, 178;\n    of nude and clothed figures, 180\n\n  Correggio, and the sublime, 229\n\n  Criticism, the new, 29\n\n  Croce, B., his aesthetic system, 273;\n    on genius, 282\n\n\nD\n\n  Darwin, C., on the result of nerve exercise, 281;\n    on natural music, 293\n\n  Death, representation of, 183 _et seq._;\n    in the Crucifixion, 184;\n    typified by a skeleton, 186;\n    in massacres and executions, 184;\n    in interior scenes, 190;\n    funeral scenes, 188;\n    scenes of approaching, 190;\n    Angel of, 188\n\n  Decorative art, imitation in, 218\n\n  Deformity in art, 89\n\n  Deity, the, representation of, 92;\n    ideals of, 91\n\n  Demeter, representation of, 121, Plate 7\n\n  Demosthenes, example of his art, 300\n\n  De Quincey, T., on the representation of progressive actions, 348\n\n  Descriptive poetry, its limits, 79;\n    in the seventeenth century, 308;\n    example from Sophocles, 310,\n      from Cornelius Gallus, 309\n\n  Diana, representation of, 126\n\n  Dignity, in portraiture, 146;\n    practice of Titian, 148;\n    of Van Dyck, 148;\n    of Velasquez, 149\n\n  Dionysus (_see_ Bacchus)\n\n  Drama, The, pictures from the written, 221;\n    from the acted, 222;\n    importance of tragedy in painting, 221\n\n  Drapery, with use of in sculpture,\n    proportions possible which are not feasible in nude figures, 328;\n    use of, in painting by Raphael, 251, 352;\n    for assisting illusions, 260\n\n  Dutch painters of the seventeenth century,\n    their limited imaginations, 19\n\n\nE\n\n  Eaton, D. C., on the origin of impressionism, 286\n\n  Egyptian art, its early high development, 7, Plate 1\n\n  Emotional element in beauty (_see_ Beauty)\n\n  Emotions, The, influence of, in the work of artists, 16;\n    expression of, in relation to beauty, 275\n\n  Evolution, not applicable to art generally, 7;\n    Spencer on, 276;\n    Symonds on, 276\n\n  Execution in painting, must be balanced with imagination, 18;\n    of Hals, 155;\n    of Lionardo, 18;\n    of Rembrandt, 19;\n    of Velasquez, 153\n\n  Expression, in ideals generally, 86;\n    in Christian ideals, 91 _et seq._;\n    in classical ideals, 106 _et seq._;\n    in portraiture, 141 _et seq._;\n    in the representation of grief, 168;\n    with the smile, 171;\n    the open mouth, 174;\n    in the exhibition of deformity, 89;\n    in scenes of death, 183;\n    of Raphael, 339;\n    of Rembrandt, 42;\n    of the fourteenth century Italian painters, 279;\n    of the thirteenth century French sculptors, 315;\n    in the literary arts, 65 _et seq._\n\n\nF\n\n  Falconet, E., on the representation of grief, 169\n\n  Farrar, Dean, on the ideal of Christ, 319;\n    on the early Italian painters, 279\n\n  Fiction, as a fine art, 4, 52;\n    one of the Associated Arts, 53;\n    imitation in, 52;\n    forms of, 69;\n    basic and structural in character, 81;\n    standard of judgment in, 73;\n    in relation to sensorial beauty, 79;\n    unconcerned with ideals, 58\n    (_see also_ Novel)\n\n  Fine Arts, imitative in character, 52;\n    classified according to their signs, 53;\n    their methods of producing beauty, 78;\n    standards of judgment in the, 77\n\n  Fireworks, unsuitable for the painter, 212\n\n  Flight, representation of\n    (_see_ Illusion of suspension and motion in the air)\n\n  Flowers, their representation in still-life, 216;\n    in decorative art, 217\n\n  Foreground in landscape, illusion of opening distance in, 202\n\n  Form, beauty of, 273;\n    ideal, 86\n\n  Frames of pictures, their use in Barbizon works, 291;\n    exclusion of, in artificial means to secure relief, 240\n\n  French sculptors of the thirteenth century,\n    their forms in the Greek manner, 315;\n    their representation of the Virgin and Child, 101, 315\n\n  Frescoes, necessarily divided into sections, 69;\n    Reynolds on Raphael's, 303\n\n  Funeral scenes in art, 188\n\n\nG\n\n  General opinion, standard of judgment in all arts except music, 73, 77\n\n  Genius, how produced, 21 _et seq._;\n    Reynolds on, 282;\n    Johnson on, 282;\n    Hogarth on, 282\n\n  Geology, study of, may be assisted by landscape painting, 315\n\n  Gods, Mythological (_see_ Grecian, under their separate headings);\n    Roman, 328\n\n  Grace, inferior as a special quality in portraiture, 164;\n    as applied in Greece and Rome, 162;\n    in sixteenth century art, 163;\n    in seventeenth century art, 163;\n    in England in the eighteenth century, 164;\n    in France, 163;\n    kinds of, 338\n\n  Grandeur, highest quality of beauty in architecture, 75;\n    practically impossible in landscape, 193;\n    in portraiture, 160;\n    in Van Dyck's works, 160;\n    in Gainsborough's works, 160\n\n  Grecian art, cause of its decline, 10;\n    development of, compared with that of the Renaissance, 10 _et seq._\n\n  Grecian sculpture, its high place in art, 106;\n    ideals in, 88, 95;\n    representation of adults with children in, 100;\n    studied by the great masters of the Renaissance, 108;\n    in portraiture, 145\n\n\nH\n\n  Hals, Franz, his facility, 155;\n    his limited imagination, 155;\n    his broad manner, 336;\n    the works of pupils attributed to him, 337\n\n  Hegel, G. W., his \"periods\" in art, 277\n\n  Hephaestus (_see_ Vulcan)\n\n  Hera (_see_ Juno)\n\n  Hercules, his representation as contemplating death, 190\n\n  Hermes (_see_ Mercury)\n\n  Historical painting, its place in art, 83\n\n  Hogarth, W., on genius, 282\n\n  Holmes, C. J., on the framing of Barbizon pictures, 291\n\n  Homer, example of his art, 65\n\n  Hood, T., his moods and his work, 17\n\n  Horses, representation in action, 255\n\n  Human figure, principal sign in the Associated Arts, 53, 73;\n    produces highest form of beauty, 72;\n    general ideal of, 86;\n    Greek ideals, 106\n\n  Humboldt, A., on the position of landscape in art, 344\n\n  Humorous subjects, their place in the painter's art, 224\n\n  Hyperides, example of his art, 300\n\n\nI\n\n  Ideal in art, The, only possible in respect of the human form, 57, 87;\n    inapplicable to form without expression, 86;\n    definition of, 86;\n    must be general, 86;\n    general agreement in respect of, 87;\n    can only be applied to excellence, 89;\n    limitation of, 56;\n    ideals of the Greeks, 89, 91,\n      of the early Italians, 94,\n      of the thirteenth century French sculptors, 315,\n      of the Deity, 88, 91,\n      of Christ, 92, 94,\n      of the Madonna, 95,\n      of Zeus, 88,\n      of the other Grecian deities, 89,\n      of Phidias, 10,\n      of Raphael, 97, 137,\n      of Praxiteles, 10,\n      in, of Michelangelo, 320;\n    general ideals, 135;\n    universality of, 138, 315;\n    ideal qualities, 89\n\n  Illusion of continuity, in death scenes, 189\n\n  Illusion of movement, in landscape, 197;\n    in sea views, 205;\n    in coast views, 206;\n    in sculpture, 249, 351;\n    in figure painting, 250 _et seq._;\n    in animal painting, 255 _et seq._;\n    may be suggested by title of work, 257\n\n  Illusion of opening distance, in distance landscape, 197;\n    in nearground work, 203;\n    in sea views, 205\n\n  Illusion of relief, its value in painting, 236;\n    mechanical methods of producing, 240\n\n  Illusion of suspension and motion in the air, with the assistance\n    of flowing drapery, 260;\n    of clouds, 263;\n    of cherubs, 265;\n    of Angels, 266;\n    of smoke, 268\n\n  Imagination, The,\n    influence of precocious, in the production of genius, 23;\n    must be balanced with skill in execution, 18;\n    of Lionardo, 18;\n    of the Dutch painters, 19;\n    of the Spanish painters, 19;\n    of Shakespeare, 23, 24\n\n  Imitation, the province of art, 52;\n    should be generalized, 237;\n      in landscape, 194,\n      in still-life, 214,\n      in decorative art, 218,\n      in architecture, 294,\n      in music, 293;\n    of other arts by the painter, 221 _et seq._;\n    Aristotle on, 215;\n    S. Colvin on, in respect of the fine arts, 292\n\n  Impressionism, definitions of, 25, 284 _et seq._;\n    its origin, 285 _et seq._;\n    its influence, 38;\n    its limitations, 35;\n    its defects, 34 _et seq._;\n    its effects, 51;\n    its correspondence with Sprezzatura, 32\n\n  Industry, the key to success in art, 24, 282\n\n  Inspiration in art, not recognized by great artists, 16;\n    actual instances of, unknown, 15;\n    suggested national, 9 _et seq._;\n    individual, 14\n\n  Interiors, pictures of, their place in art, 84\n\n  Invention in art, its relative importance, 54;\n    in poetry, 54;\n    in painting, 312;\n    Lessing on, in poetry and painting, 312;\n    in landscape, 193;\n    the term used in two senses, 311\n\n  Irony, works conveying, unsuitable for the painter, 224\n\n  Italy, Art of, decline of the Renaissance, 11 _et seq._;\n    in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, 30 _et seq._;\n    Renaissance ideals, 12\n\n\nJ\n\n  Japanese, their practice in decoration, 217\n\n  Johnson, Dr., on genius, 282\n\n  Juno, representation of, by the painter, 120\n\n  Jupiter, Greek representation of, 88, 89;\n    ideal of, 89, 91;\n    by the painter, 109\n\n\nL\n\n  Landscape painting, its place in art, 48, 84;\n    produces only sensorial beauty, 192;\n    Humboldt on, 344;\n    signs in, 199;\n    disadvantages of, 44;\n    limitations in, 192 _et seq._, 348;\n    varieties of, 49;\n    relative difficulty of execution in, 48;\n    compositions must be invented, 194;\n    illusion of motion in, 197 _et seq._;\n    precise imitation necessary in, 194;\n    as a useful art, 314;\n    early development of, 46,\n      in ancient Rome, 45,\n      in Italy, 47,\n      in Holland, 46,\n      in England and France, 48\n\n  Lanzi, A. L., on the range of Raphael in expression, 339\n\n  La Touche, G., on the origin of impressionism, 286\n\n  Latour, Fantin, and the origin of impressionism, 285\n\n  Laugh, a, when unobjectionable in painting, 177\n\n  Lessing, G., on progressive actions, 348;\n    on the relative importance of invention and execution, 312;\n    on the representation of grief, 169;\n    on descriptive poetry, 309;\n    on signs in art, 346;\n    on Homer and the beauty of Helen, 298;\n    on the Laocoon design, 311;\n    on the dictum of Simonides, 307;\n    on ugliness in poetry and painting, 341\n\n  Lewes, G. H., on the execution of signs in art, 346\n\n  Lightning, its use in landscape, 209;\n    must be subordinated, 209;\n    where used in painting by great masters, 210\n\n  Lionardo da Vinci, his imagination compared with his execution, 18;\n    his relief, 239;\n    on success in painting, 16;\n    his representation of Christ, 93\n\n  Literary arts,\n    the painter must take his action from them or from nature direct, 81\n    (_see_ Poetry and The Novel).\n\n  Literary movement in England in the sixteenth century, 278\n\n  Longinus, on the test of the sublime and beautiful, 73;\n    on certain examples of beauty in the literary arts, 300\n\n  Luini, A., On an \"impressionist\" landscape by Titian, 288\n\n\nM\n\n  MacColl, D. S., on the origin of impressionism, 284\n\n  Madonna, The, her representation,\n      the test of art during the Renaissance, 12,\n      by Cimabue and Giotto, 95,\n      in Crucifixion scenes, 99;\n    her surroundings in art, 99,\n      her representation at different ages, 98,\n      Michelangelo on her presumed age, 320;\n    her presumed social condition, 100;\n    the ideal of the early Italian, 12, 95,\n      of Raphael, 97,\n      Michelangelo's portrayals of, 320;\n    limitations in the ideal of, 98\n\n  Madonna and Child,\n    representation of, by thirteenth century French sculptors, 101, 315;\n    in Italy, 101;\n    changes in grouping of, in the fifteenth century, 101;\n    practice of later artists, 102 _et seq._\n\n  Manner in painting, its limitations, 39;\n    the public indifferent to, 39;\n    of Rembrandt, 21;\n    of Hals, 336\n\n  Manet, E., his connection with the rise of impressionism, 287\n\n  Marine painting (_see_ Sea views)\n\n  Mars, representation of, in painting, 128\n\n  Mauclair, C., on impressionism, 285\n\n  Mengs, A. R., on Raphael's treatment of drapery, 352\n\n  Mercury, his representation in painting, 129\n\n  Metaphor, with the poet, 65, 227, 296;\n    with the painter, 226\n\n  Michelangelo, and the sublime, 229;\n    his studies in Greek art, 108;\n    Reynolds on, 282;\n    his ideals of the Madonna, 320;\n    on her presumed age at the Crucifixion, 320;\n    on the cause of Raphael's success, 16;\n    on the public judgment of works of art, 304;\n    on the Venetian painters, 350\n\n  Miller, Marion M., his translation of Sappho's Hymn to Aphrodite, 302\n\n  Minerva (_see_ Athena)\n\n  Modesty, quality in expression unsuitable to a goddess, 119\n\n  Mona Lisa, the Louvre example, 151, 172;\n    the Boston example, 172;\n    her reputed age in the picture, 240;\n    her smile, 341\n\n  Mood, influence of, in the work of artists, 17\n\n  Moonlight scenes, their place in art, 208\n\n  Morals, pictures illustrating, their place in art, 85\n\n  Moreau-Vautier, C., on the juxtaposition of pure colors, 287\n\n  Music,\n    highest beauty in, produced by complex combinations of signs, 73;\n    greatest works in, the least popular, 75;\n    ideals not possible in, 58;\n    cannot present intellectual beauty, 64;\n    standard of judgment in, 305;\n    cannot be connected with painting, 285;\n    its connection with poetry, 54, 76;\n    imitative character of, 53, 293;\n    claimed by Colvin as non-imitative, 292;\n    Darwin on natural, 293\n\n  Muther, R., on the origin of Impressionism, 287\n\n  Mystery in painting, indicates inferior art, 341\n\n  Mythological subjects, their place in painting, 83, 133\n\n\nN\n\n  Nature, relation of, to art, 57;\n    and landscape, Byron on, 345\n\n  Near-ground painting in landscape, 202\n\n  Neptune, his representation in painting, 127\n\n  Nerves of the senses,\n    their advanced condition at birth cause of precocity in art, 21;\n    alike in all people, 86;\n    connection of genius with development of, 22;\n    physiological changes in, 22, 72;\n    Darwin on the, 281\n\n  Night, should be symbolized in painting, 350;\n    Whistler attempts to represent beauty of, 349\n\n  Nocturnes, origin of Whistler's, 349\n\n  Norwich school of painting, 48\n\n  Novel, the, compared with the short story, 70;\n    limit of, 71;\n    of little service to the painter, 221 (_see_ Fiction)\n\n  Nude with clothed figures, contrasts of, 180\n\n\nO\n\n  Objectivity of beauty, 2\n\n  Open Mouth, The, 174;\n    when not objectionable, 177\n\n\nP\n\n  Painter, the, his requirements, 25\n\n  Painting, imitative character of, 52;\n    degrees of beauty in, 83;\n    compared with sculpture, 135;\n    its relation to poetry, 307;\n    general ideals in, 86 _et seq._;\n    classical ideals in, 106 _et seq._;\n    Christian ideals in, 91 _et seq._;\n    action cannot be originated in, 81;\n    great, marked by simplicity, 69;\n    standard of judgment in, 73;\n    general expression in, 167;\n    relation of invention to execution in, 312;\n    broad manner of, 39;\n    of divinities, 109;\n    of classical scenes, 133;\n    of humorous subjects, 224;\n    of contrasts, 177 _et seq._;\n    of scenes from fiction, 221,\n      from the written drama, 221,\n      from the acted drama, 222;\n    of portraits in character, 222;\n    of ugliness, 341;\n    deformity in, 178;\n    representation of death in, 183;\n    portrait, 141 _et seq._;\n    landscape, 192 _et seq._;\n    of moonlight scenes, 208;\n    of still-life, 214;\n    secondary art of, 85, 219;\n    metaphor in, 226;\n    color in, 228 _et seq._;\n    impressionist, 25;\n    of events in time, 219;\n    symbolical, 227;\n    Barbizon school of, 290;\n    quality of grace in, 161,\n      of contentment, 97,\n      of modesty in respect of goddesses, 119;\n    illusion of relief in, 239 _et seq._;\n    illusion of movement in, 249,\n      in animal action, 255,\n      of opening distance, 197,\n      of suspension in the air, 259,\n      in representation of progressive actions, 204,\n      of continuity, 189,\n      assisted by title, 257;\n    portraiture, 141 _et seq._\n\n  Pastoral occupations, pictures representing, 84\n\n  Periods of art, not attributable to national aesthetic stimulus, 8;\n    Hegel's, 277\n\n  Phidias, his exalted position in art, 10;\n    his ideals, 91\n\n  Philips, A., his translation of Sappho's Ode to Anactoria, 301\n\n  Philosophy, art not specially related to, 2\n\n  Pythian, F., on the origin of impressionism, 286\n\n  Poe, Edgar A., on sadness and beauty, 280\n\n  Poetry, the highest art, 81;\n    its imitative scope, 52;\n    not primarily a combined art, 55;\n    value of metrical form in, 54;\n    its association with music, 76;\n    its relation to painting, 307;\n    cannot depict sensorial beauty by description, 79;\n    descriptive, 309;\n    in relation to human beauty, 79,\n      to natural beauty, 79;\n    basic and structural in character, 81;\n    its range unlimited, 81;\n    ugliness in, 341;\n    standard of judgment in, 73, 76;\n    Watts-Dunton's definition of, 296;\n    translations of, 297\n\n  Pompeian Frescoes, 45, 162, 169, 170, 171, 261, 344\n\n  Popular appreciation of art, 73 _et seq._, 306;\n    Tolstoy on, 307\n\n  Portraiture, its position in art, 141;\n    variation in work of portraitists, 141;\n    generalization, 143;\n    added qualities in, 148;\n    quality of dignity in, 146;\n    quality of nobility in, 161;\n    action in, 164;\n    use of the smile in, 171;\n    of stage characters, 223;\n    in ancient Greece, 145, 162;\n    in ancient Rome, 145;\n    of women, 158;\n    of Raphael, 151;\n    of Titian, 148;\n    of Moro, 159;\n    of Van Dyck, 150;\n    of Rembrandt, 150;\n    of Velasquez, 149, 152;\n    of Hals, 155;\n    of Reynolds, 160;\n    of Gainsborough, 160;\n    of Romney, 161;\n    effects of fashion in, 159;\n    quality of grace in, 161;\n    limitations in, 141, 143;\n    decoration in, should be subordinated, 156;\n    multiple portraits, 156\n\n  Poseidon (_see_ Neptune)\n\n  Praxiteles, his development of new ideals, 111;\n    his Cnidian Aphrodite, 111\n\n  Precocity in art, cause of, 22\n\n  Progressive actions, in figure subjects, 254;\n      in sea views, 204;\n      in coast scenes, 206;\n      in landscape, 203;\n    Lessing on, 348;\n    De Quincey on, 349\n\n  Psychological influence in art conceptions, alleged, 14\n\n\nQ\n\n  Quintilian: on the Sacrifice of Iphigenia, by Timanthes, 340\n\n\nR\n\n  Rainbow, its use in landscape, 210 _et seq._\n\n  Raphael, and the sublime, 229;\n    his superiority the cause of the decline of the Renaissance, 11;\n    his achievement in the ideal Madonna, 12 _et seq._, 140;\n    the composition of his ideal, 97;\n    his range in expression, 167;\n    Lanzi on, 339;\n    his representation of movement, 250;\n    his portraiture, 151;\n    his drapery arrangements, 250;\n    his representation of suspension in the air, 261;\n    his study of ancient art, 108;\n    his fresco work, 69;\n    Michelangelo on, 16;\n    his trees, 345\n\n  Recognition, Law of, explanation of, 57;\n    examples of, 65 _et seq._;\n    music and architecture excluded from the, 64;\n    division of the arts in applying, 62\n\n  Relief (_see_ \"Illusion of Relief\")\n\n  Rembrandt, his imagination compared with his execution, 20;\n    cause of variation in his work, 21;\n    his simplicity, 150;\n    his broad work, 289;\n    his use of color, 152;\n    his position in art, 44;\n    his representation of character, 42;\n    suggested as impressionist, 41, 290;\n    compared with the idealists, 43;\n    his palette-knife pictures, 281;\n    classification of his portraits, 281\n\n  Renaissance (_see_ Italy, Art of)\n\n  Repose, in portraiture, 164;\n    in the representation of Venus, 116\n\n  Reynolds, Joshua, his high position in portraiture, 160;\n    on color, 350;\n    on the representation of grief, 169;\n    on the cause of excellence in painting, 282;\n    on genius in art, 282;\n    nobility in his portraits, 160;\n    as a painter of women, 161;\n    on the work of Raphael, 303;\n    on Michelangelo, 282;\n    on the early Italian painters, 280;\n    on the Venetian painters, 350;\n    his portraits of actors in character, 224;\n    his use of the smile, 174\n\n  Rodin, A., on the suggestion of movement in sculpture, 249, 351;\n    on ugliness in art, 317;\n    his La Vieille Heaulmiere, 317;\n    on Greek ideals, 319\n\n  Romans, The ancient, had no separate sacred art, 328\n\n  \"Romantic Art,\" its various meanings, 278;\n    Hegel's period of, 277\n\n  Romney, G., the quality of grace in his portraits, 161\n\n  Ruskin, J., on the trees of Raphael, 345;\n    on the ideal of Christ, 319;\n    on the position of landscape in art, 344;\n    on the Italian painters of the fourteenth century, 279\n\n  Ruysdael, Jacob, his painting of breaking water, 204, 206;\n    his near-ground work, 203\n\n\nS\n\n  Sacred Art, offers highest scope for the artist, 63;\n    in Greece, 91;\n    in Italy, 12\n\n  Sadness, as a quality of beauty, 280\n\n  Saints, representation of, 104\n\n  Sappho, her Ode to Anactoria, and the cause of its beauty, 67;\n    translation of the Ode, 301;\n    her Hymn to Aphrodite, 302\n\n  Satan, representation of, 178\n\n  Satire, works conveying, unsuited to the painter, 224\n\n  Schopenhauer, on music as a non-imitative art, 292\n\n  Sculpture, its imitative scope, 52;\n    ideals in, 135;\n    compared with painting, 135;\n    importance of simplicity in, 68;\n    standard of judgment in, 73;\n    illusion of motion in, 249;\n    Rodin on the illusion, 351;\n    in ancient Greece, 106;\n    in Greek and Roman portraiture, 145;\n    thirteenth century French, 315\n\n  Sea views, illusion of opening distance in, 204;\n    progressive actions in, 206\n\n  Secondary Art, its nature, 85;\n    in historical work, 220;\n    in actions drawn from the novelist, 221;\n    from the written drama, 221;\n    from the acted drama, 222;\n    humorous pictures, 224;\n    in allegorical and symbolical painting, 225 _et seq._\n\n  Shakespeare, his imagination, 23;\n    example of his art, 66;\n    represents characters above experience, 61\n\n  Short story, the, its essentials, 70;\n    compared with the novel, 69 (_see also_ Fiction)\n\n  Signs, of the fine arts, 56;\n    separation of the arts according to character of, 53;\n    the two classes of, in art, 56;\n    must be completely painted, 199;\n    Lewes on, 346;\n    Lessing on, 346;\n    suggestive, belong to the poet and not to the painter, 200\n\n  Simonides, on the relation of poetry to painting, 307\n\n  Simplicity, necessary in the higher forms of the Associated Arts, 71\n\n  Skeleton, as a symbol in art, 186 _et seq._\n\n  Smile, the, transitory, should be avoided in art, 171;\n    in Raphael's work, 173;\n    in Lionardo's, 172, 341;\n    of the Milanese artists generally, 172;\n    in portraiture, 173;\n    in French portraits, 174;\n    in British, 174\n\n  Smoke, use of, in illusions of air suspension, 268\n\n  Sophocles, example of descriptive poetry from, 310\n\n  Spencer, Herbert, on evolution in art, 276\n\n  Sporting pictures, their place in art, 85\n\n  Sprezzatura, origin of, in the seventeenth century, 30 _et seq._;\n    correspondence with impressionism, 32\n\n  Stage scenes, pictures of, 222\n\n  Still-life, its place in art, 85, 214;\n    beauty in, 214;\n    its varieties, 215;\n    in decoration, 218;\n    custom of the Japanese in, 217\n\n  Stories, pictures illustrating, their place in art, 85, 221;\n    painter of, subordinate to the writer, 221\n\n  Sublime, The, Longinus on, 73;\n    painters who have achieved, 229\n\n  Supreme Being, final ideal of human form can only apply to, 88\n\n  \"Symbolic\" period of painting, Hegel's, 277\n\n  Symbolical painting, when secondary art, 227\n\n  Symonds, J. A., on evolution in art, 271;\n    on the Venetian artists, 350\n\n\nT\n\n  Taine, H., on music as a non-imitative art, 294\n\n  Tanagra figures, quality of grace in, 162\n\n  Temperament, influence of, on the work of artists, 16\n\n  Titian, as a portrait painter, 144;\n    the dignified pose in his figures, 148;\n    the pose a test of his portraiture, 335;\n    his impressionist landscape, 288;\n    his coloring, 231;\n    some doubtful attributions to, 336\n\n  Titles of pictures, may assist in providing illusion of motion, 257;\n    may add interest to a work, 352\n\n  Tolstoy, Leo, on the meaning of \"art,\" 275;\n    on popular appreciation of art, 307\n\n  Tragedy, only section of drama which the painter may properly use, 221\n\n  Translations of poetry, varying values of, 297\n\n  Trees in art, the slender trees of Raphael, 345;\n    of other artists, 345\n\n  Turner, J. M. W., secret of his success, 16\n\n  Twilight scenes, their place in art, 208\n\n  Types, importance of, in nature and art, 55\n\n\nU\n\n  Ugliness in art, may be used in poetry, but not in painting, 342;\n    Rodin on, 317;\n    Lessing on, 341;\n    Waldstein on, 318\n\n  Uncivilized races, their understanding of beauty, 333\n\n\nV\n\n  Van Dyck, A., 30;\n    his portraiture, 150\n\n  Velasquez, his place in art, 44;\n    his simplicity in design, 152;\n    his limited imagination, 155;\n    his execution, 153;\n    compared with the idealists, 43;\n    his perfect balance, 43;\n    claimed as an impressionist, 41, 290\n\n  Venus, her representation in art, 110;\n    Anadyomene, 114 _et seq._;\n    reposing, 116;\n    at her toilet, 118;\n    of Phidias, 111;\n    of Praxiteles, 111 _et seq._;\n    of Apelles, 113;\n    of Raphael, 114;\n    of Michelangelo, 117;\n    de' Medici, 119;\n    of Titian, 115;\n    of other artists, 115 _et seq._\n\n  Verestchagin, V., his war pictures, 184\n\n  Vinci, Lionardo da (_see_ Lionardo)\n\n  Virgin, The (_see_ Madonna, The)\n\n  Virtue and Vice, pictures representing, 178\n\n  Vulcan, representation in painting, 132\n\n\nW\n\n  Waldstein, C., on ugliness in sculpture, 318\n\n  Watts-Dunton, T., his definition of poetry, 296\n\n  Whistler, J. McN., his nocturnes, 349\n\n  Wings, use of, in suspended figures, 262\n\n  Women in portraiture, during the Renaissance, 159;\n    by Moro, 159;\n    by Van Dyck, 159;\n    by the eighteenth century British artists, 161;\n    Reynolds preeminent in painting of, 160\n\n\nZ\n\n  Zeus (_see_ Jupiter)\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"Art Principles with Special Reference to Painting: Together with Notes on the Illusions Produced by the Painter","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":105256}