This entire absence of drapery, however, it was impossible wholly to justify on principle. For, as I have already indicated when distinguishing the head from other parts of the body, it is undeniable that the spiritual expression of the form is restricted to the face and the pose and movement of the whole, to the general mien, which is pre-eminently eloquent by virtue of the arms, hands, and position of the legs. For these organs, whose activity is in an outward direction, have still, and precisely by the nature of their pose and movement, for the most part the expression of a spiritual deliverance. The other members of the body, on the contrary, are and remain solely productive of a sensuous beauty; and the distinguishing features which are visible on them can only be bodily vigour, development of muscle, or degrees of delicacy and softness, such as characterize respectively the two sexes, age, youth, and childhood. As a means, therefore, of expressing what is spiritual in the form, the nudity of these parts is also from the standpoint of beauty indifferent; and it is only due to our moral sense, when, that is to say, the main thing lookedfor is the paramount presentation of the spiritual in man, that such parts should be veiled. What in general ideal art does in the case of every separate part of the body is to remove the necessary limitations of animal life in its detailed particularities, such as little veins, wrinkles, hairs of the skin, and so forth, and simply to enforce and emphasize the spiritual impression of the form in its vital outlines, and this is precisely what drapery effects. It covers up the superfluity of the organs, which are no doubt necessary for the body's self-support, but are in other respects superfluous as an expression of the spirit's import. We are, therefore, not entitled to assert without condition that the nudity of figures of sculpture in every respect betrays a higher sense of beauty, and a greater ethical freedom and emaculacy. It was in this respect, as in others, that a just and spiritual instinct dominated the Greek.
Children, Cupid for example, where we find the bodily presentment one of unreserved innocence, and the spiritual beauty consisting just in this; or, to take other examples, youths, youthful gods, heroic gods, and heroes, such as Perseus, Hercules, Theseus, Jason, in which cases heroic courage, and the use and elaboration of the bodily frame in works of bodily strength and permanence is of most importance; or wrestlers in the national games, where it is not so much the content of the action, the spirit and individuality of character, as the physical aspect of the exploit, the vigour, suppleness, and free play of the muscles and limbs, which is the source of exclusive interest; or finally fauns and satyrs, Bacchantes in the frenzy of the dance, no less than Aphrodite, in so far as the sensuous charm of her beauty is emphasized—such are the kind of examples which were rendered in the nude by antique sculpture. Where, on the contrary, a more lofty significance and reflection, a more ideal earnestness is made prominent, where in general the natural features are not superlatively emphasized, there we get drapery. So Winckelmann adduces a case where among ten statues of the female form only one is wholly undraped. Among the goddesses Pallas, Juno, Vesta, Diana, Ceres and the Muses are pre-eminently those which are veiled in drapery, while among the gods such a treatment particularlyapplies to Jupiter, and the bearded Indian Bacchus, with some others.
(γ) And finally with regard to the principle of drapery, it is unquestionable that we have here a subject that critics are very fond of discussing, and which has consequently to some extent been already well thrashed out. I will, therefore, limit myself to the few following remarks.
Generally we have no reason to lament the fact that our modern feeling of what is respectable is somewhat averse to setting up totally nude figures. For if the drapery merely permits the pose in question to be entirely transpicuous instead of covering it up, we lose nothing at all; rather the drapery is just that which rightly fixes the emphasis, and is in this respect even an advantage, in so far as it draws us aside from the direct view of that which as merely sensuous is without true significance, and simply shows us what is there in relation to the situation expressed by means of pose and movement.
(αα) Once accept this principle, and it may at first sight appear that such covering is of most signal advantage for the artistic treatment, which conceals the contour of the limbs, and consequently also the pose as little as possible, precisely in fact as this is the case with our sufficiently enclosingmoderngarments. Our closely fitting sleeves and trousers follow the outlines of the form, and stand in the way of the motion and mien least of all by their making the entire form of the limbs visible. The long white garments and bulging-out hoses of the Orientals, on the contrary, are intolerable to our sense of vivacity and multifarious activities, and are only fitting for folk who, like the Turks, sit the whole day long in one place with legs crossed, or only perambulate slowly and with great gravity. And yet we are conscious at the same time—indeed the very first glance at either modern statues or pictures will establish the truth for us—that our modern clothing is entirely unartistic. In other words what we behold in it really is, as I have already in another passage, insisted, not the fine, free, and vital outlines of the body in their tender and flowing elaboration, but stretched out sacks with stiff folds. For albeit we do obtain the most generalized form, yet thebeauty of the organic undulations is lost; and what we really look at is a contrivance of exterior aim, a matter of tailor's work, which in one place is stitched together, in another folded back over, and yet in another made tightly fitting—in other words, as a whole, forms that are not free, folds and surfaces which are fastened together by stitch, buttons and button holes. To all intents and purposes such a clothing as this is simply a cover and veil, which, while devoid of any real form of its own, yet in its other aspect, though in a general sort of way following the organic contour of limbs, hides from the view just that sensuous beauty and vital rondour and undulation which belongs to them, merely to replace it with the material aspect of the mechanically elaborated stuff of which it is composed. And thus we get what is so entirely inartistic in our modern form of garments.
(ββ) The principle for an artistic type of clothing, then, consists in this that it is at the same time treated as a work of architectonic design. Such a work is simply an environment, in which a man can likewise move in freedom, and which must essentially possess and declare on its part a determinate shape of its own as its mode of covering quite apart from the form which it encloses. Add to this such a work, in its aspect of a thing which is worn and carried, must freely follow its own mechanical texture. A principle of this type follows in the track of the kind of draping which we find adopted in the ideal sculpture of the ancients. Particularly here do we find that the mantle is as it were a house in which free motion is possible. It is no doubt carried, but is only made fast at one point, namely, on the shoulder. For the rest it evolves its particular form according to the modifications brought about by its own weight; it hangs, falls along the ground, and casts folds spontaneously, and only receives through the pose the varied changes of this free kind of configuration. In like manner there is little to impair essentially, if in varied degree, the freedom of disposition in other parts of antique drapery. This it is which constitutes its artistic quality. It is only in drapery such as this that we do not face something which is a burden, and something artificial, whose shape merely displays an external constraint and necessity, whichis rather something itself independent in its form, and which, however, accepts from a spiritual source, that is the pose of the figure, its point of departure. For this reason the garments of the ancients are only fastened to the body so far as is actually unavoidable, that is, to prevent their collapse, and are modified by the pose of it. In all other respects they hang freely about it, and themselves in their power of movement through the motion of the body give yet further support to the same principle. And this is wholly as it should be; for the body is one thing and its drapery another, and the latter ought thereby to receive its full due and be displayed in its freedom. Modern clothing on the contrary is either wholly carried by the body and purely in subjection to it, so that even the pose itself is too emphatically repeated, and it merely follows the forms of the limbs, or, in cases where it is able to secure an independent form in the formation of folds, it is after all merely the tailor's work who makes this form according to the exigences of fashion. The material is, on the one hand, dragged up and down by the various parts of the body and their movements, and, on the other, by its stitches and seams. On grounds of this description the antique form of drapery is by a long way to be preferred to our modern style as the ideal standard for works of sculpture. No end has been written with every resource of antiquarian research over the form and details of the ancient ways of draping, for although men as a rule do not permit themselves to chatter much over fashion in their clothes, the kind of cloth, border, cut, and every other such detail, yet they find ample justification from the antiquarian standpoint for treating these trifling matters also as important, and of talking about them with even greater prolixity than is permitted to woman herself in her unchallenged field of supremacy.
(γγ) It is, however, a totally different problem we have to consider when the question is asked whether modern clothing, that is, the kind so greatly to be contrasted with the antique, is in all cases to be rejected. This question is of particular importance when we examine the case of portrait statues; and inasmuch as its main interest closely touches a principle of importance to art as we have it now, we will consider it at rather greater length. When nowadayswe have to create a portrait of some contemporary it becomes necessarily a part of it that the drapery and the environment are both accepted from the actual facts of their individual existence, for, inasmuch as it is just this actual person which is here made the object of art, this external framework, to which the clothing essentially belongs, is in its reality and truth precisely that which is most important. And this is more especially to be observed when what is aimed at is the presentment before our vision in our individuality of well-defined characters whose greatness and activity in anyparticularsphere have been remarkable. Whether it be in a picture, or in the marble, an individual is, in fact, exhibited to our immediate vision in a bodily mode, in other words under external conditions, and to seek to carry the portrait beyond such a restriction would virtually imply the self-contradiction that the individual was associated with that which was essentially untrue, and this for the reason that the service, what is peculiar and distinguished in actual men, consists precisely in their active relations to the real, that is in their life and action in definite professional spheres. And if this individual activity is to be made clear to us the environment must exhibit nothing that is foreign to or tends to impair the effect. A famous general, for example, has lived in respect to his professional surroundings with cannon, rifles, and powder before his eyes. If we intend to depict him in his professional activity we recur most naturally to the way he gives orders to his adjutants, commands the line of battle, and advances against the enemy. And with yet more detail such a general is not merely one of a class, but is distinguished by the particular style of his uniform. He is either a leader of infantry or a stalwart hussar, and so forth. In every example of this kind we have some exceptional form of habiliment which is appropriate to the circumstances. Moreover a famous general is simply a famous general, not necessarily a law-giver, poet, or even very possibly a religious man; he commands in all respects as a soldier; he is just that; he is, in a word, no complete totality, and this alone gives us the ideal and divine type. For the divinity of the ideal figures of sculpture is to be sought in nothing so much as this that their character andindividuality are appertinent to no particular relations and professed callings, but are rather removed from such division, or, in the case that the idea of such relations is mooted, it is so placed before us that we are forced to believe about such individuals that their powers of performance are unlimited. For reasons such as the above a demand to represent the heroes of our time or the more recent Past, when their heroism is of a restricted nature, in ideal drapery is very superficial. Such a demand testifies no doubt to a zeal for artistic beauty, but a zeal which is unintelligent, and in its devotion to the antique overlooks the fact that the greatness of the ancients likewise reposes essentially in the lofty comprehension of all that they accomplished. In other words, they have, no doubt, represented what is essentially ideal, but they have not sought to enforce a form that is opposed to reality. If the entire content of the individuals in question is not of an ideal character, then their draping ought not to be such; and if a powerful, determined, and resolute general does not already possess a countenance indicative of the lineaments of Mars, then to drape him with Greek drapery would be as much a folly as though we popped a bearded man in a maiden's petticoats. Despite this truth, however, modern clothing does involve us in considerable difficulty because it is subject to fashion, and consequently subject to change. For the rational principle of fashion consists in this that it exercises over Time the claim to be always subject to modification. A robe, according to some particular cut, soon passes out of fashion, and it is only in fashion so long as it pleases. But when the fashion is over, we cease to be used to it, and what pleased us a few years back now appears suddenly ridiculous. For this reason only those forms of garments are appropriate for statues which carry the specific character of a period in a more permanent type; but, in general, it may be advisable to find a middle way, as our artists attempt to do. Yet, despite of the rule, it is generally a mistake to clothe portrait statues in modern clothing when they are either small, or the object sought after is simply a familiar presentation. In such cases mere busts are best, which are the more easily lifted to an ideal elevation, simply neck and breast being retained, inasmuch as the head and thephysiognomy thus remain of most importance, and everything else is relegated to incidental insignificance. Where we have large-sized statues on the contrary, more particularly where the pose is one of tranquillity, we see at once, because they are in repose, how they are draped; and large-sized male figures, even in the painted portrait, when clothed after modern wont can only with difficulty be raised over what is insignificant. As instances we may mention the full-figure seated portraits by old Tischbein of Herder and Wieland, of which we have excellent engravings on copper. One feels at once, when looking at them, that it is a somewhat stale, flat, and unprofitable business to gaze at their breeches, stockings, and shoes, and absolutely so to see their cosy, self-contented posture on a sofa, where they have their hands lying happily together over their paunches.
It is another matter with portrait statues of individuals where, either in respect to the period of their activity they are far removed from our own, or are themselves essentially of an ideal greatness. In such cases what is old is already divested of the temporal aspect and has passed into the more indefinite background of the general idea, so that in this release from its particular form of actuality it is also in the mode of its drapery capable of an ideal presentation. And this is still more true in the case of individuals, who by virtue of their self-subsistency and the ideal fulness of what are otherwise the mere limitations of their particular profession, and detached from what is merely the activity of a definite period of time, create independently for themselves a free totality, a world of relations and activities, and consequently should appear, even in the aspect of their habiliments, as exalted above the familiar guise of every-day life in their ordinary temporal costume. As far back as the Greeks we find statues of Achilles and Alexander, on which the more individual traits of portraiture are of so fine a quality that we should rather imagine them to be sons of gods than human beings. In the case of the genial and greathearted youth Alexander this is quite as it should be. And in much the same way, moreover, Napoleon himself has been lifted to such a fame, and is a genius of so comprehensive a grasp, that there is no reason why he shouldnot be depicted in ideal drapery, which indeed would not be unfitting for Frederick the Great, when the object is to celebrate him in all his greatness of soul. No doubt the size of the statues is here, too, of importance. In the case of small figures, which carry an air of familiarity, the three-cornered little hat of Napoleon is out of place no less than the famous uniform and the arms crossed over breast, and, if we desire to have before us the great Frederick as "old Fritz," we may have him pictured for us with hat and stick as we find him on tobacco boxes.
Hitherto we have considered the Ideal of sculpture in its general character and in the further aspect of the more detailed forms which distinguish it. We havethirdlyonly left us to emphasize the fact that the Ideals of sculpture, in so far as, in respect to their content, they have to manifest what is substantive in individualities, and in respect to their external form the human bodily shape, are also under the necessity of an advance in which theparticularityof their presentation is differentiated, and an aggregate of specific individuals is thereby created, just as we already, in the classical type of art, recognize the embracing circle of the Greek gods. We may, no doubt, very possibly imagine to ourselves there can only be oneexemplumof the finest beauty and perfection, which may be, moreover, concentrated in its absolute completeness in one statue. Such a conception of one Ideal in its purity is deficient in insight and indeed ridiculous. For the beauty of the Ideal consists just in this, that it is no purely general form or standard, but essentially individuality, and consequently possesses both particularity and character. It is simply owing to this that vitality is imported into works of sculpture, and it is this[174]which expands the one abstract beauty, in a totality of essentially definite creations. Taken as a whole, however, this aggregate is, if we regard its content, one with marked limits; and the reason is that a number of categories, which we are, for example, accustomed to employ in ourChristian outlook, fall absolutely away in the case of the genuine Ideal of sculpture. The ethical points of view and virtues, for example, such as were brought together by the Middle Ages and our modern world in a synthetical nexus of duties which yields to some modification, moreover, in every epoch, has no meaning at all when applied to the ideal gods of sculpture; it is simply absent from such a circle altogether. Consequently we can as little expect to find here the presentation of sacrifice, of egotism overcome, of the conflict, against what is sensuous, of the victory of chastity and so forth, as that of incommutable fidelity, of the honour and honesty of either man or woman, or of the expression of religious meekness, subjection, and blessedness in God. All these virtues, qualities, and conditions repose in part on the breach between what is spiritual and what is corporeal; and in part they retire altogether beyond what is of the body within, the intimate shrine of the soul, or betray the individual personal life in its separation from its entirely concrete and explicit substance, as also in its struggle to find again mediation in the same. Moreover, the circle of these veritable gods of sculpture is no doubt a totality, but, as we already discovered in our consideration of the classical type of art, it is, when we examine the distinguishing differences of its notion, no stringently articulated and unified system. Moreover, the particular examples are every one of them to be distinguished from all the others in their essentially definite and self-exclusive individuality, albeit they are not thus set apart by virtue of the characteristics of a purely abstract mintage, but rather, on the contrary, include much which they share in common relatively to their ideal and divine substance.
We will now pass in review the distinctions above indicated under the following aspects:
First, we have to examine purely external marks, incidental attributes, style of drapery, style of armour, and such like, indications with the detail of which Winckelmann deals at exceptional length.
Secondly, we shall see how the most important differences do not merely consist in external marks and traits of this kind, but rather in the individual configuration andhabitusof the entire figure. What is most important in this respectis the distinction ofage,sex, no less than that of thedifferent sphere, from which the works receive their content and form, whether they are the impressions of gods, heroes, satyrs, fawns, or such representations as reach their final dissolution in the attempt to render animal images.
And,thirdly, we propose to direct the attention on aparticularexample of each class, in the individual form of which sculpture elaborates these general differences. Here, no doubt, we are faced with a multiplicity of material, and can only permit ourselves to deduce parts of it by way of example, a province, too, as it moreover is which implies a large experience.
(a) In considering thesefirstmere attributes and all such external accessories, the kind of ornament, armour, tools, vessels, and in general all that is associated with mere environment, we find that such things are of a very simple character in superior works of sculpture, and retained only in a temperate and restricted degree, so that we see little of them beyond what is suggestive or sufficient to appeal to our minds. It is the independent figure, that is its expression and not outside accessories, which has to give us the spiritual significance and its manifestation. Conversely, however, marks of this kind are nevertheless necessary, in order to enable us to recognize the particular gods. In other words divinity in its universal guise, which is the source of the substantive part of the presentment in the case of each individual, asserts, by virtue of this very equality of ground-basis, close affinity between the expression of each example and also between the individual figures, so that every god is to this extent withdrawn from the aspect of his particularity, and can indeed further pass through other conditions and modes of expression, than would otherwise belong to them. For this reason we do not as a rule have set before us the particular characterization with complete seriousness; and it is frequently these external additions which exclusively make the particular god intelligible. Among these indicating marks I will allude briefly to the following.
(α) I have already discussed the realattributeswhen the classical type of art and its gods presented an opportunity. In sculpture the same lose yet more their self-subsistent, symbolical character, and merely retain the right to appearas the external presentation and form which is referable to simply one aspect of the specific gods, a presentment which is true to this extent or approximately so. Such marks are frequently borrowed from animal life, as for example when Zeus is represented with the eagle, Juno with the peacock, Bacchus with the tiger and panther, who are harnessed to his car, because, as Winckelmann observes[175], this animal is an exceptionally thirsty one, and, moreover, fond of wine; and in the like manner we have Venus with her hare. Other attributes are tools or utensils of some kind, which are related to activities and actions, which may be ascribed to any particular god by virtue of his or her specific individuality. So we have Bacchus depicted with the thyrsus wand, in order to entwine thereon the ivy-leaves and garlands; or he receives a wreath of laurel leaves, to indicate him as victorious in his expedition to India, or a torch, with which he lighted Ceres home.
Accessories such as these, among which I have here, of course, only adduced the most famous examples, are an exceptional stimulus to the acuteness and learning of our professors, and carry them into a kind of commerce in trifles, which too frequently leads them out of bounds, and finds significance in things where there is really none. As an example we are assured that two famous sleeping female figures in the Vatican and the Villa Medici are representations of Cleopatra, simply because they have a bracelet in the shape of a viper, and to the vision of such archaeologists a serpent at once suggests the death of Cleopatra, much as it would suggest to a pious father of the church the original serpent who seduced Eve in Paradise. It was, however, a prevailing custom for Greek women to wear bracelets in serpent coils, and such bracelets in fact were called by that name. Consequently the just sense of Winckelmann[176]has long ago rejected this interpretation, and Visconti has finally recognized[177]them as figures of Ariadne, as she at lasts sinks to sleep after her sorrow at the departure of Theseus. Although in uncounted cases acuteness of this quality shows itself at fault in dealing with detail of this kind, and makesitself appear contemptible in its departure from such insignificant facts, yet unquestionably both research and criticism of apparently unimportant facts are necessary, because it is only thereby that we can arrive at the closer determination of a figure. Yet even here the difficulty crops up, that attributes no less than form, do not in all cases point our conclusions to one god, but may be shared in common by several. We have the vase, for example, not only associated with Jupiter, Apollo, Mercury, Aesculapius, but also with Ceres and Hygiaea. Several goddesses receive the ear of corn; we find the lily in the hand of Juno, Venus, and Hope; and even the lightning is not the exclusive possession of Zeus, for it is shared by Pallas, who on her part again does not alone carry; the Aegis, but on equal terms with Zeus, Juno, and Apollo[178]. The source of the individual deities from a general significance of less determinate character which, they share itself is associated with ancient symbols, which were appertinent to this more general and consequently more widely shared nature.
(β) Accessories of this incidental nature are more in place with works which, already departing from the simple repose of the gods, represent actions, groups, or the series of figures such as we find on reliefs, and for this reason are able to make more extensive use of a variety of external indications and suggestions. On gifts dedicate to a devout purpose, which are frequent in all kinds of works of art and nowhere more frequent than, in the case of statuary, on statues of Olympic victors, but more particularly on coins and cut stones, the rich and prolific invention of the Greek found ample scope for the presence of symbolical references of this type, such as that to his city's locality and others like it.
(γ) Other signs are more removed from purely external significance, and penetrate deeper within the individuality of such deities. These themselves are a part of the particular type in question, and are an integrating factor in it. Among such we may mention the specific type of the drapery, armour, adornment of the hair, and other attire of a similar nature, in respect of which I must here content myself in elucidation with a few examples borrowed from Winckelmann,who exercised great acuteness in such matters. Among the several gods Zeus was pre-eminently recognizable by the general treatment of his hair, and our authority maintains[179], that any particular head can at once be determined as one intended for this deity or no by the hair over his forehead, or his beard, even though there be nothing else significant to arrest us. In other words he asserts that, "the hair is elevated in an outward curve on the brow, and its different divisions fall in a narrow curve with broken lines[180]down again." This type of hair-treatment was so rigorous, that we even find it persisted in among the sons and grandchildren of Zeus. So, for example, the head of Zeus is barely to be distinguished from that of Aesculapius in this respect, who consequently receives another kind of beard, more particularly over the upper lip, where the same is more depressed in its curve, whereas that of Zeus is rather folded over the angle of the mouth and intermingled with the beard on the chin. Winckelmann further recognizes the fine head of a statue in the Villa Medici, later in Florence, by means of the more curled beard, which, moreover, folds over the upper lip, and is of greater thickness, and must be distinguished from the heads of Zeus with their greater tendency to curled locks. Pallas, in direct contrast to Diana, wears her hair long, bound together in its downward fall from the head, and then beneath the fillet flowing in a series of locks. Diana, on the contrary, wears hers thrown up from all sides, and fastened in a knot on the crown of the head. The head of Ceres is up to the back portion covered with her veil. Add to this, in addition to the corn she carries, she holds a diadem as Juno does, in front of which, to quote our authority once more[181], the scattered hairs are thrown into a charming confusion, as though to suggest possibly her sorrow at the robbing of her daughter Proserpine. Individuality of the same kind is emphasized by other exterior means, as for example, when we recognize Pallas by her helmet and its particular shape, in her type of drapery and various other things.
(b) The truly vital individuality, however, in so far as it should find its mintage in sculpture by means of the spontaneous and beautiful bodily form, ought not to be asserted merely by such accessories as the external attributes or modes of things we have cited, but should be displayed no less in the form itself than in its expression. In attempting such an individualization the fine insight and creative power of the Greek artist increased in proportion as the figures of their deities possessed a substantive basis of essentially the same kind, from which, without wholly departing from it, it was their task so to elaborate the characteristic individuality that this ground-root of their conception was still maintained as a wholly vital and present fact. Nothing invites our admiration so much in the best works of antique sculpture than the exquisite attention the artist directed to the task of bringing the smallest traits of the presentment and expression into harmony with the entire figure, an attention which is, in fact, the source of such a harmony.
(α) If we inquire further after general distinctions of main importance which assert themselves as the substantive bases in most direct relation to the more individual severation of the bodily forms and their expression we may note,first, the distinction of more youthful figures in contrast to those of more mature age. In the genuine Ideal, as I have already stated, every trait, every particular part of the figure is expressed; and, moreover, the direct line, which is taken straight forward, avoids the abstractly level surface precisely as the circular form avoids the geometrical circle; and instead of this the vital variety of lines and shapes is elaborated in the finest way throughout by the nuances of their transitional forms which unite them. In juvenile and youthful age the boundaries of forms are less noticeably fluent, and pass into each other so finely, that we may compare them, I borrow the simile from Winckelmann[182], with the surface of a sea unruffled by the wind, of which we may say that, although in continuous motion, it is still. In the case of more advanced age, however, such distinguishing features are more definitely emphasized, and have to be elaborated with more pronounced characterization.Consummate male figures consequently are more likely to please us at the first glance, because the expression is throughout more distinct, and we wonder more readily at the knowledge and ability of the artist. Youthful examples appear more easy in their accomplishment because of their softness, and the smaller number of their distinguishing features. As a matter of fact, however, the opposite is the case. That is to say, in so far as "the forming of their parts in the interval between their first growth and their completion is permitted to be indefinite[183]," the joints, bones, sinews, muscles, are necessarily more delicate and tender, yet are none the less suggested. Antique art celebrates its triumph in just this fact, that even in its most delicate figures all parts throughout and their appropriate organization are somehow made perceptible in barely visible nuances of elevation and depression, by means of which the science and virtuosity of an artist is only followed by an observer whose research and attention is equally thorough. If, for example, to take the case of a delicate human figure, such as the youthful Apollo, the entire structure of the human body were not reproduced actually, and in all its essentials with consummate, if half veiled insight, the members might indeed appear well and fully rounded off, but they would be at the same time flaccid, without expression and variety, so that the entire effect could hardly satisfy. As a striking example of the distinction between the youthful body and a man's in mature age, we may adduce the sons and father in the Laocoon group.
Speaking generally the Greeks, in the representation of their deities, preferred the still youthful age, and even in heads and statues of Zeus and Neptune do not indicate old age.
(β) In the case of thesex, in which the figure is portrayed, the difference, that is, between male and female figures, we meet with a distinctive mark of still more importance. In general we may affirm of the latter what I have already briefly stated in the contrast drawn between the more youthful and more advanced age. The female figures are more tender and soft, the sinews and muscles, albeit they must be there, are less pronounced, the transitionallines are more flowing and malleable, yet in the wide interval of expression from the point of quiet earnestness, greater severity of power and dignity to that of the most delicate charm and grace of the love attraction, there is room for the richest gradations and variety. We find a wealth of form equally great in the male figures, in the treatment of which we have, moreover, the expression of elaborate bodily strength and courage. The cheerful tone of delight, however, is shared by all, a blithesomeness and blessed indifference, which soars above all particularity, associated not unfrequently with a trait of tranquil sorrow, a kind of smile through tears, in which we neither have wholly smile nor tears.
There is not a marked line of distinction here between the masculine and feminine character, for the more youthful figures of Bacchus and Apollo frequently are fined out to the point of feminine delicacy and softness, nay, we even find representations of Hercules in which there is so much the appearance of a young woman's form that critics have confused him with Iole, his sweetheart. And it is not merely this point of transition but even the combination of the male and female figure, which the ancients have expressly represented in their hermaphrodites.
(γ)Thirdly, and in conclusion, there is the question as to the main distinctions which the figure of sculpture receives in order that it may be classed within one of the specific divisions of subject-matter which constitute the content of the ideal outlook on the world appropriate to this art.
The organic forms which sculpture can utilize generally in its plastic effort are on the one hand the forms of humanity, on the other those ofanimallife. In respect to the animal forms we have already seen that in the case of the more severe type of the art at its culminating perfection they will only be found as attributes associated with the divine form, as when we find a hind with the hunting Diana, or Zeus with an eagle. And the same thing may be said of the panther, griffin, and similar figures. Apart from the genuine attributes animal forms are, however, accepted partly in combination with human shapes, and in part entirely by themselves. The extent, however, of such representations is of a limited character. Apart from figures of the roebuck itis above all the horse whose beauty and fiery animation obtains a recognition in plastic art, whether it be in union with the human form, or in its own free and independent shape. In fact, we find that the horse stands generally in a close relation to the courage, bravery, and dexterity of human heroism and heroic beauty, whereas other animals, such as the lion, which Hercules overcomes, and the wild boar, which Meleager kills, are objects of heroic deeds themselves, and consequently are entitled to a place within the circle of representation, when such are expanded in groups and reliefs where a freer field is admissible for situations of movement and action.
Thehumanfigure on its part, in so far as it is conceived in form and expression as pure Ideal, supplies the adequate form for the divine, which, being still in union with the sensuous material, is not capable of being concentrated in the simple unity ofoneGod, and can merely embrace acollectivewhole of divine figures. And similarly, to put the matter conversely, the human, whether we regard it according to its form or its expression, cannot pass out of the province of human individuality, albeit the same is at one time brought into intimacy and union with the divine, and at another with the animal nature.
For these reasons sculpture is faced with various sources out of which it can select and elaborate its subject-matter, and which I will now review. The essentially central source is, as I have already several times indicated, the sphere of theparticular gods.Their distinction from humanity pre-eminently consists in this, that as they, in respect to that which they express, appear essentially gathered up over and beyond the finitude of care and mortal passion within a blessed repose and everlasting youth, so, too, their bodily shapes are not merely purified from the finite particularity of mankind, but they are further detached from everything which would suggest the needs and necessary limitations of sensuous life, without, however, losing their vitality. We have, for example, an object of human interest in the way a mother pacifies her child. The Greek goddesses, however, are always represented as childless. Juno, according to the myth, tosses the young Hercules from her, and the Milky Way is the result. To associate a son with the majesticspouse of Zeus was beneath the dignity of the antique point of view. Even Aphrodite does not appear in sculpture as mother. Cupid is no doubt very near to her, but scarcely in the sense of her child. In the same way Jupiter is nursed by a goat, and Romulus and Remus are suckled by a wolf. Among Egyptian and Hindoo representations, on the contrary, we find many, in which deities receive mother's milk from goddesses. Among Greek goddesses the maiden form is that which is pre-eminent, this being that which to the least extent asserts the purely natural functions of the wife.
The above constitutes an important contrast between classical art and romantic, in the latter of which maternal love is a leading subject. After the gods we find that sculpture deals with heroes and those figures which have both the human and animal form in their composition, such as centaurs, fauns, and satyrs.
The line of distinction betweenheroesand gods is a very fine one; and much the same interval separates them from ordinary human life. Winckelmann observes with regard to a Battus on a coin of Cyrene, "With a single glance of tender jollity we could make a Bacchus of it, and one trait of god-like greatness would leave us an Apollo." And yet even in such cases human forms, where the object is to envisage the force of the will and bodily strength, tend in certain directions to make for greatness; the artist gave to the muscular development a vital activity and movement, and in violent actions set in motion all the springs of Nature's workmanship. Inasmuch as, however, we find the same hero subject to an entire series of conditions not merely distinct, but opposed to each other, the masculine forms here also frequently approximate to the feminine. This is, for example, the case where Achilles first appears among the maidens of Lycomedes. Here we do not find him in his full heroic strength such as he displays before Troy, but in drapery resembling that of a woman and a fascination of figure which almost conceals his sex. Hercules, too, is not always depicted in the gravity and power suggestive of the tedious labours which he performed, but in the milder impersonation of his service to Omphale, as also in the repose of his deification, and generally in a variety of situations. In other relations heroes possess the closest affinity for thefigures of the deities themselves, Achilles for that of Mars, for instance; it is consequently only after the most profound study that we can recognize the specific meaning of a piece of statuary merely from the characterization without further suggestion from attributes. Really expert connoisseurs can, however, deduce the character and shape of the entire figure from isolated pieces and supply what is missing; from which fact we again are instructed to admire the fine insight and the consequential character the individualization of Greek art displays to us, whose masters knew how to preserve and execute even the smallest detail in consonance with the entire effect.
Coming now tosatyrsandfaunswe find in them made visible what is throughout excluded from the lofty Ideal of the gods, the needs of mankind, the jollity of life, sensuous pleasure, satisfaction of excessive desire, and the like. Yet we find in particular young satyrs and fauns so remarkable for the beauty in which they are represented by the ancients that, to adopt a phrase of Winckelmann[184], "Every example of such figures may be exchanged, if we except the head, for a statue of Apollo, I refer to that one which is styled Sauroktonos, and possesses the same stansion of the legs." The heads of fauns and satyrs may be known by their pointed ears, their stiffly erected hair, and their little horns.
Asecondprovince of sculpture is occupied by what ishuman simply.In this we have above all else the beauty of human form as we find it set before us in its elaborate power and dexterity in the sacred games. Wrestlers, discoboli, and the like are its main subject-matter. In such productions sculpture proceeds in a way that is somewhat opposed to the mere portrait, in which department the ancients, even in cases where they actually copiedrealpersonages, still understood how to hold fast throughout to the principle of sculpture as we have come to know it.
Thelastfield that sculpture makes its own is that of independentanimalfigures, more particularly lions, hounds, and some others. Here, too, the ancients did not fail to grasp, make vital in its individuality, and enforce the principle of sculpture, the substantive significance of form, and indeed attained to such a perfection that, to take oneexample, the cow of Myron has become more famous than all his other works. Goethe, in "Kunst und Alterthum[185]," has described it with great charm of style, and pre-eminently drawn attention to the fact that, as we have already seen, such as animal function as suckling is only presented by Greek art in the entirely animal world. He entirely sets on one side poetical conceits such as we find in ancient epigrams, and with acuteness confines his attention to thenaïvetéof the conception out of which this most familiar of artistic themes arises.
(c) In concluding this chapter we have now to refer a little more closely to theparticularindividuals, in the characterization and vitality of which the distinctions above mentioned are elaborated, that is to say, for the most part to the presentment of gods.
(α) However much, speaking generally—and we may no doubt seek to enforce our conviction in reference also to the spiritual deities of sculpture—this spiritual significance is at bottom the emancipation of individuality—and the remark applies to Ideals also according to the degree of their ideality and nobility—to that extent as individuals their distinction from one another is less marked. And the astonishing thing in the problem of sculpture, as solved by the Greeks, consisted just in this, that despite of the universality and ideality of their gods they have none the less preserved their individuality and lines of distinction; they have done so despite the fact that in certain directions we are conscious of the endeavour to eliminate hard-and-fast boundaries and to depict particular forms in their transitional state. If, moreover, we are inclined to regard individuality in a way that suggests definite traits as being appropriate to definite deities, much as the traits of a portrait are so, a fixed type will thereby necessarily appear to be substituted for a vital creation and art will suffer accordingly. But this is quite as little in accordance with the facts. On the contrary we find that their invention in such individualization and vitalization gained in subtlety just in proportion as a substantive type lay at the roots of the same.
(β) Again, in considering the particular deities, we are inevitably led to the conviction that one individual is of commandinginfluence in determining all these ideal figures. This supreme value and dignity Pheidias attached in an unrivalled degree to the form and expression of his Zeus, albeit the father of the gods and mankind, is set before us at the same time with a blithe and benignant look throned in serenity of mature age, that is not in the first flush of youth, without, however, on the other hand emphasizing in the least any harshness of form or suggesting the feebleness of age. The most obvious parallels in form and gesture with Zeus are his brothers Neptune and Pluto, whose interesting statues in Dresden, for example, despite all that they share with him, nevertheless retain a clear line of distinction—Zeus himself, by virtue of the benignity of his lofty presence, Neptune, by virtue of his greater ruggedness, Pluto, who is a kindred type to the Egyptian Serapis, by virtue of his profounder gloom and melancholy.
Essentially more apart from Zeus are Bacchus and Apollo, Mars and Mercury, the first pair in their more youthful beauty and the greater delicacy of their figures, the second more masculine albeit beardless. Mercury, too, is more robust, more slender in shape, with exceptional fineness noticeable in the facial traits. Mars is not so much marked out from the others as Hercules might be in the strength of his muscles and other parts of his figure, but rather as a more youthful and beautiful hero of an ideal form.
Among the goddesses I will only refer to Juno, Pallas, Diana, and Aphrodite.
Just as Zeus among the masculine deities, so, too, Juno among the feminine displays in her figure and its expression the greatest dignity. The large circular-arched eyes are proud and commanding, in like manner, too, the mouth by which she is at once recognized more particularly in profile. Generally she presents the appearance of "a queen, who will rule, is to be revered and must awaken devotion[186]." Pallas, on the contrary, receives the expression of more austere maidenhood and chastity. Tenderness, love, and every kind of womanly weakness are kept away from her; her eyes are less expanded than those of Here, less emphatically arched and somewhat downcast in the tranquillity of reflection, just as her head is, which is not proudly erect as in thecase of the spouse of Zeus, although it is armed with a helmet. A very similar type of maidenhood characterizes the figure of Diana. She is, however, endowed with a more fascinating quality, more lightly poised, more slender, albeit there is no self-conscious delight in her charm. She is not given the pose of tranquil observation, but is generally in motion, pressing forward as toward some object in her vision.
Finally we have Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty as such, who is, along with the Graces and the Hours, alone depicted by the Greek artists as undraped and even here subject to exceptions. In her case nudity is justified on the good ground that she expresses, above all, sensuous beauty and its conquest, grace, attractiveness, tenderness, elevated and tempered by spiritual qualities. Her eye, even in cases where a more grave and lofty expression is emphasized, is smaller than that of Pallas and Juno, not so much in length, but narrower by reason of the lower eyelid being slightly raised, by which means Love's yearning look is admirably expressed. She varies, however, very considerably in the type expressed. In some cases her pose is more serious and powerful; in others delicacy and tenderness are most insisted upon; her age, too, is sometimes that of maidenhood, at other of riper years. Winckelmann compares the Medicean Venus to a rose which blossoms in the fair light of its own colour at daybreak. Uranian Aphrodite is, on the contrary, indicated by a diadem which resembles that worn by Juno, and which Venus victrix also wears.
(γ) The discovery of this plastic individuality, whose entire expression is wholly elaborated through abstract form and nothing further, was in a like degree of consummate perfection peculiar to the Greeks and is due to religion itself. A more spiritual religion can rest satisfied with the contemplation and devotion of the soul, so that works of sculpture pass for it simply as so much luxury and superfluity. A religion so dependent on the sense vision as the Greek was must necessarily continue to create, inasmuch as for it this artistic production and invention is itself a religious activity and satisfaction, and for the people the sight of such works is not merely so much sight-seeing, but is part of their religion and soul-life. And in general the Greeks dideverything with a public and universal aim in view, in which every man discovered his enjoyment, pride, and honour. In this public aspect the art of the Greeks is not merely an ornamental object, but a vital thing that meets a really felt want, in much the same sort of way as that of painting in its most glorious season responded to the life of Venice. Only on grounds such as these can we find a rational explanation, if we consider the great difficulties which the technique of sculpture implies, for the host of sculptured figures, this forest of statues of every kind, which in their thousand and indeed thousands, were to be met with inonesingle city, in Elis, in Athens, in Corinth, and even in towns of lesser importance, and in the same way in the greater Greece beyond and the islands of the Cyclades.
We have hitherto in our inquiry in the first instance looked about us for thegeneraldeterminants, out of which it is possible to develop the most adequate content for sculpture and the form which best responds to it. We discovered the classical Ideal supplied this content, so that in thesecondplace we were called to establish the precise mode, in which sculpture among the particular arts is most readily adapted to give shape to this Ideal. Inasmuch as we found, moreover, that this Ideal is only to be comprehended in its essential import asindividuality, not only did we find that the ideal outlook of the artist expand to a collective cyclus of ideal figures, but the external mode of representation and execution in actual works of art breaks up intoparticular typesof sculpture. In this latter direction we have still several points of view left us to discuss as follows:
First, there is the manner of representation, which, in so far as actual execution is concerned, either creates single statues, or groups, until finally in the relief we are confronted with the step of transition to painting.
Secondly, there is the external medium, in which these distinctions are given actual effect to.
Thirdly, we have to deal with the historical stages of evolution, or the process within which works of art are executed in the various types and material.
Just as, in the case of architecture, we made an essential distinction between independent building and that which was subservient we may also here establish a similar dividingline in sculpture, that is between such works that have an independent position and those which rather contribute to architectural decoration. In the case of the first the environment is nothing more than an artificially prepared locality, whereas in the latter cases their relation to the building which they adorn is of the first importance, and does not merely determine the form of the work of sculpture, but in a large measure even its content. Speaking in a summary way we may assert in this respect that single statues are set up on their own account, while groups anda fortiorireliefs tend to lose this independence and are utilized by architecture for its own artistic purposes.
(a) As to the single statue their original function is that of sculpture generally, that is to supply temple images as they are set up in the shrine of the temple, and all that surrounds them is in direct association with them.
(α) In such a case sculpture retains its most adequate purity. It displays the figure of the god apart from all situation, in beautiful, unimpaired, and inactive tranquillity, or at least free, unmolested, without definite action and development, such as I have on several occasions depicted, that is, in unconstrained situations.
(β) The earliest departure from this austere loftiness consists in this that the entire pose suggests the beginning of an action, or the conclusion of the same, without the god-like repose being thereby disturbed, or the figure being presented as in struggle or conflict. We place under this type the famous Medicean Venus and the Belvedere Apollo. In the times of Lessing and Winckelmann the admiration of the critical world over these statues, as the highest Ideal of art, was unconditional; nowadays, since we have come to know works more vital and substantial in their configuration, and more profound in their expressive power, we must deduct somewhat from this estimate; critics, in fact, place them in an age somewhat subsequent to the great period, an age in which the smoothness of their elaborate workmanship already suggests that to please is the main object, and the genuine grand and severe style is not persisted in. An English traveller goes so far as to say that the Apollo is "a theatrical coxcomb," and while admitting that the Venus has extraordinary softness, sweetness, symmetry, and coygrace, yet only finds in this a spiritual quality that is wanting in much, a negative perfection, and—a good deal of insipidity. We may generally review that transition from the former more severe repose and holiness as follows. Sculpture is no doubt the art of lofty seriousness, but this elevated austerity of the gods, inasmuch as the same are no abstractions, but individual figures, brings with it the absolute blithesomeness, and thereby a reflex attitude to reality and finite life, in which the blithesomeness of the gods does not express the feeling of absorption in such finite content, but the feeling of reconciliation, of spiritual freedom and alertness.
(γ) In consequence of this Greek art is throughout permeated with all the blithesomeness of the Greek genius, and has found its satisfaction, delight, and an object for its activity in a countless number of gratifying situations. When it once had discovered a way from the constraint of the abstractions of its presentment to an appreciation of vital individuality, which is the unifying factor of the whole, its joy in all that is indicative of life and cheerfulness became a real thing, and artists became occupied with a great variety of subjects, which, without glancing aside at anything suggestive of pain, horror, distortion or injurious, fixed as its final limit unoffensive humanity and remained thus. The ancients have in this respect executed much of the greatest excellence. I will here only mention, among the many mythological subjects of playful, that is playful in the most innocent way, interest, the sports of Cupid, in which we already see a close approach to the ordinary life of mankind, just as there were others in which the vitality of the presentment is the main interest, and indeed the very attempt to secure and execute such subject-matter itself contributes this blithesomeness and innocence to the effect. In this kind of way we may point out that the dice-players and satellite of Polycleitus were thought quite as highly of as his Argive statue of Here. The discus-throwers and racers of Myron were equally famous. How dear to this folk, too, and admired is that youth in a seated posture who extracts a thorn from his foot? There were many others of the same type of production in great measure merely by name. We are face to face with the fleeting moment ofnatural existence, which is here arrested for ever by the sculptor.
(b) Beginning with examples such as the above of a movement towards external objects, sculpture proceeds further in the representation of situations, conflicts, and actions yet more involved with motion, and at last arrives at the group. For with an increase of specific detail in the action we have placed before us the more concrete animation, which expands in contradiction, reactions, and thereby, too, in the presence of several figures essentially related and intertwined with each other.
(α) At first we have, however, merely tranquil juxtapositions, such as, for example, the two colossal horse-tamers, which are set up in Rome on Mount Cavallo, and indicate Castor and Pollux. The one statue is commonly ascribed to Pheidias, the other to Praxiteles. There is, however, no strong evidence for this, although the extraordinary excellence of conception, and the no less exquisite thoroughness of the execution justifies names as famous. Such are entirely independent groups, which as yet express no real action, or the result of it, and are wholly appropriate as representations of sculpture and public exposition before the Parthenon, where it appears they were originally placed.
(β) Sculpture, however, is equally occupied in the group with the presentment of situations, which have as their content conflicts, discordant actions, pain, and other similar conditions. In this direction, too, we can only speak highly of the genuine artistic insight of the Greeks, which did not set forth such groups independently, and by themselves, but brought them, for the reason that sculpture has already made a departure from its peculiar, that is to say its self-subsistent, province, into closer relation to architecture. The temple figure, that is the isolated statue, stood in unimpaired tranquillity and sacredness within the inner shrine. The external pediment, on the contrary, was decorated with groups which represented definite actions of the god, and consequently admitted of more animated movement in its elaboration. The famous group of Niobe and her children is of this type. The general form for the co-ordination of each part is determined by the space which the group in question had to fill. The principal figure stood in themiddle, and was thus able to be the largest in size and most prominent. The rest according as they were placed in the direction of the acute angle of the gable-end had to submit to other postures, the limit being reached by that of a reclining figure.
Of other famous works I will here only mention the Laocoon group. It has now for over forty years been the object of much inquiry and controversy. In particular it has been regarded as a matter of real importance, whether Virgil in his description followed this work of sculpture, or the sculptor adopted his work to the scene depicted by Virgil, whether Laocoon here is actually crying out, and whether it is appropriate in a work of sculpture to attempt to express such a cry, and many more criticisms of this kind. Critics have worried themselves up and down with such matters of psychological interest for the simple reason that they have not as yet secured the sort of enthusiasm and critical acumen which Winckelmann possessed; and, moreover, arm-chair professors are more readily disposed for such investigations for the reason that not unfrequently they have neither the opportunity granted them to see real works of art, nor the capacity to grasp them for what they are when they do so. The most essential thing which can occupy our attention in this group is this namely, that in the supreme pain, the supreme truth, the convulsive tension of the body, the distention of all the muscles, the noble aspect of beauty is still preserved, and the process has not been carried in the remotest degree to the extremes of grimace, distortion, and over-strain. Despite of this, however, the entire work belongs without doubt—we have only to consider its subject-matter, the artificiality of its co-ordinate grouping, the disposition of each posed figure and the type of its elaboration—to a much later period, which already seeks to pass beyond simple beauty and vitality by means of a deliberate obtrusion of science in the configuration and muscular development of the human body, and no less is anxious to please by refined excess in its executive elaboration. The step from the ingenuous ease and greatness of art to a mere mannerism is already taken.
(γ) Works of sculpture may be set forth in very various places, such as in the entrances to columned halls, forecourts,landings of staircases, niches, and so forth. It is just in this variety of local position and architectural setting, which, on its account too, is variously related to human circumstances and conditions, that the content and object of such works of art are for ever changing, approaching as such art does in the group yet more closely our humanity. It is, however, a serious defect to place groups that embody much movement and variety of figure on the top of a building without further background against the sky. In other words the colour of the sky may sometimes be gray, at others blue and dazzlingly bright, so that it is impossible to see the outlines of the figures. Yet these outlines, that is, the silhouette we find in them, is just what is most important; it is the main thing which we recognize, and which simply makes the rest intelligible. For in the case of a group we find that many portions stand in front relatively to others, an arm before the trunk of the body, or one leg in front of another. Now the fact of distance alone disturbs the clearness and intelligible articulation of such parts, or at least tends to do this more emphatically than in the case of outlined portions which are independent. We have only to imagine a group depicted on a piece of paper in which certain parts of a figure are strongly and sharply indicated, while others on the contrary are marked with lines of less defined and arresting definition. This is precisely the effect of a statue's lines, and yet more those of groups, which have no other background but that of the sky; in the latter case we only see a sharply indicated silhouette, in which, so far as what is within the compass of that outline, only relatively weaker articulation is visible.
This is the reason that, to take an example near home, the Victory on the Brandenburg gate in Berlin not only affects us strongly by virtue of its simplicity and repose, but can be readily followed through its separate figures. The horses, in fact, stand far from each other, without either of them impairing the view of the other; and similarly the figure of Victory rises sufficiently high above them. Conversely the Apollo drawn in a car by griffins, which we have on the Opera House, is less satisfactory from this point of view, however artistic the entire conception and technical work may be in other respects. By the favour of a friend Isaw these figures before they were taken from the workshop. The effect promised was noble. But as we see them now at such a height, we have far too much of one outline partly obscuring another, which in its turn is backed by something else, and consequently is less freely and clearly silhouetted than would be the case were all the figures silhouetted in their simple outlines[187]. The griffins, which necessarily, on account of their shorter legs, do not stand up either so highly or so freely as horses, have wings into the bargain, and Apollo, too, has his tuft of hair and his lyre. All this detail is too much for the position, and only tends to make the outlines obscure.
(c) The final mode of representation, in which sculpture makes an important step in the direction of the principle of painting is therelief; in the first instance the high-relief, and after it the low-relief. The condition here is the surface, the figures standing on one and the same plane, so that the spatial totality of the figure, which is the point of departure of sculpture, more and more tends to disappear. The older form of relief, however, does not as yet approximate so closely to painting, which involves distinctions of perspective between the foreground and background, but rather holds fast to the surface or plane as such without permitting the different objects to project into or to retire within the distinctions of their spatial position by means of an artificial reduction of size. In the present case figures in profile are preferred, and they are placed side by side on an even surface. A simple treatment of this kind does not admit the content of complicated actions, but actions which in real life already adopt more or less of one and the same line of motion, processions of all kinds, whether those of sacrifice or Olympian victors or others. Add to this the relief is capable of the greatest variety of form. It not only fills up and decorates the friezes and walls of temples, but is attached to utensils of all kinds, sacrificial bowls, votive gifts, shells, goblets, urns, lamps, and so forth; it is the adornment of seats and tripods, and is closely allied to the skilled crafts.Here as nowhere else the ingenuity of invention receives the fullest scope in every kind of form and combination, and is no longer in position to retain the true object of independent sculpture.
We have, by our acceptance of the principle of individuality, which is fundamental to sculpture, been compelled not merely to emphasize in separation the different provinces of the divine, human and natural, from which plastic art accepts its subject-matter, but also to classify the several modes of presentation in the single statue, group, or relief. In the same way we have to discover a like variety of division in thematerialwhich the artist can make use of in his works. For different kinds of content and mode of presentation are more particularly congenial to different kinds of sensuous material, and betray a secret attraction to and affinity with such.
By way of generalization I will merely here permit myself the remark that the ancients, in addition to the extraordinary excellence of their invention, equally excite our astonishment by reason of the amazing elaboration and versatility of their technical accomplishment. Both aspects present an equal difficulty in sculpture, because the means at hand here for such presentation are without the ideal many-sidedness, which is at the disposal of the other arts. Architecture is no doubt poorer still in this respect; but it is not her province to embody spirit in its vitality, or what is actually alive in Nature in a material which is by itself wholly inorganic. This elaborate dexterity in the absolutely consummate treatment of pure material is, however, bound up with the notion of the Ideal itself, for its very principle is a complete entrance into the sensuous concreteness and the blending together of the Ideal with its external mode of existence. The same principle is therefore once again asserted, where the Ideal attains its executed form and realization. In this respect we have no reason to wonder, when it is asserted that artists, in periods distinguished by great executive ability, either executed their works of marble in clay without models, or, ifthey had recourse to them, set about their work in a much freer and unconstrained manner than is the case in our own times, where, to put the fact bluntly, it only makes copies which are now executed in marble after originals carried out in the clay[188]. The old artists retained in fact the vital enthusiasm, which is always to a more or less extent lost in the case of copies and replicas, although it is undeniable that now and again we meet with defective work in famous masterpieces, as, for example, eyes that are not of the same size, ears one of which is placed lower than the other, feet that are of unequal length and others of the same kind. They did not lay so much stress on the absolute precision of the compass in such things as ordinary production and art criticism, that mediocrity of talent which imagines itself so profound, is wont to do; and it can do little else.
(a) Among the different materials in which sculptors have executed images of gods, wood is one of the most ancient. A trunk, a post at the top of which a head can be indicated, such was the beginning. Among the earliest examples of the temple image many are of wood, but the material was also used even in the days of Pheidias. The colossal Minerva of Pheidias at Plataea was mainly carved from wood which was gilded, the head, hands, and feet being of marble[189]; Myron, too[190], executed a Hecate out of wood here with only one head and body, and no doubt for Aegina, where Hecate was most revered and a festival took place annually in her honour, a festival which the Aeginetans maintained the Thracian Orpheus had inaugurated for them.