THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM AN ESSAY IN COMPARATIVE /ESTHETICS SHOWING I HE IDENT1 I V I »F THE SOURCES, METHODS, AND EFFECTS OF COMPOSITION IN MUSIC, POETRY, PAINTING, SCULPTURE AND ARCHITECTURE /377S BY GEORGE LANSING RAYMOND, L.H.D. PROCESSOR OF /F.STHKTICS IN III IVEKS1TY; AUTHOR OF " ART IN THEORY," "THE REPRESENTATIVE SIGNIFICANCE OF FORM," " POETRY AS A REPRESENTATIVE AM." "PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ARCHITECTURE AS REPRESENTATIVE ART 1 ;," "RHYTHM AND HARMONY IN TOETRY AND MUSIC," "PRO- PORTION AND H IRMONY OF LINE AND COLOR IN PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ARCHITECTURE," ETC. THIRD EDITION, REl 7 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK AND LONDON Cbc Huichcrbochcr press , . . •• J9Q9 ... ... :•. : . -.: . ■ : • : ... : :••.,•••.• \ • • • . , • . • . • • 3.8.9:4;-\4 , fi\:5-- Copyright, 1893 BY «3. P. PUTNAM'S SONS "Cbc IKntcfccrbocfccr press, IRcw IJorlt * •• ...... ••,• »••• . V ! I* I • • • **:... :« •: ••,••.»• • .• . . . • •• ARTS PREFACE. Tins book is the result of an endeavor to trace to their sources in mind or matter the methods employed in the composition of the art-forms. As an incidental, yet, as it seemed, necessary step to the accomplishment of this en- deavor, the action of the mind in these methods has been identified with its action in scientific classification ; the methods have been arranged according to the logical order of their development ; they have had added to them, so as to render the whole presentation complete, a number hitherto recognized, if at all, only indirectly ; and their character and effects have been shown to be exemplified not alone in painting, sculpture, or architecture, to which it has been customary to confine consideration in essays of this kind, but equally in all the arts. The theoretical, too, has been so connected throughout with the practical — each principle unfolded has been so amply illustrated — that it is hoped that the work will meet the requirements of that large number of readers who, while interested in the one or the other of these phases of the subject, are not interested in both. Such a partial interest with reference to matters misunderstood if not understood in full, is — to say the least — unfortunate; so much so that any attempts, as in these pages, tending, however slightly, to remedy it ought to be welcomed. It is equally unfortunate too for critic and producer. In iii IV PREFACE. every age, of course, men of genius are prompted instinc- tively, entirely aside from any knowledge that they may have of aesthetic laws, to recognize and embody aesthetic effects. But where are such men who fail to find them- selves surrounded by the products of their inferiors ? and who is able wholly to resist the influence of these ? If it be true that art, like religion, is fountained in inspiration, it is true also that different sources of this differ in quality ; and that the stream which flows from the high region of the masters has a purity not characterizing that which rises in the low plane of their imitators. Poetry, painting, sculpture, and architecture were none of them of the same rank in the first century before Christ as in the fourth, or in the eighteenth after Him as in the sixteenth. Nor is the taste of any age, however it may stimulate ability or aspiration to produce, above the sway of fashions, good and bad, that, in proportion as they keep truth fettered, render excellence impossible. In order to attain this, the leader in art, as in religion, must break away from them, in fact from all the shackles of conventional traditionalism — one might almost say of historic criticism, broadly beneficial as this has been in many a direction, — and. searching back of them, must find within himself and in the world about him, those first principles that underlie the nature of both thought and things. Such are the conceptions in which this book has had its sources ; and in the degree in which the conclusions reached in it are accurate, and appeal as such to the readers of them, it will make evident that the effects for which the artist seeks are due to laws that operate far more inflexibly than sometimes is supposed ; it will sug- gest that originality, while more wide in scope than those imagine who confound the methods of the master-artists PREFA CE. V with their manner, has also limits ; and it will reveal be- yond a doubt why many works of so-called art produced to-day, because devoid of almost every element of art, can never be of permanent interest, as well as why, for reasons just the opposite, so many works that are now the classics of the past have charms that never can be lost. Princeton, N. J., November, i&y2. CONTENTS. I. PAGE Classification as the Basis of Method in Science and Art ....... i— 12 Spirit, Matter, and their Combination as Sources of Phenomena in Religion, Science, and Art — Limitations of the Present Hook — Why Thought must be Expressed in Terms of Matter — How In- audible and Invisible Menial Conceptions Come to be Represented in Language, Intonation, Writing. Carving, and Building — These Pass into " The Arts" when they begin to be Developed for the Sake of the Form — The Arts Represent Thought and Feeling through Elaborating Natural Forms Appealing to the Ear and Eye — Illustrations — The Artist Uses for this Purpose the Same Forms that All Men Do, who, before they can Understand and T'se them Effectively must, through Comparison, "Classify and Conquer" them — This the Basis of Knowledge in all Depart- ments — Science and Philosophy Classify Effects Conditioned upon Laws Operating underneath Natural and Mental Phenomena: Art Classifies Effects Conditioned upon 1 ,aws < (perating underneath /Esthetic Appearances or Forms — An Embodied finite Mind Requires body and I tefiniteness to Appeal to its Intelligence — The Artist Groups Phenomena Mentally to Gain a General Conception, then, in a Way Analogous to Classification, Groups them Materi- ally to Impart it — Connection between these Processes, and Representing in Ait both the Human Mind ami Nature — How the Artist, by Classifying the Forms of Nature, Represents his own Mind — And how, the forms of Nature— And how, beauty. vii Vlll CONTENTS. II. PAGE Unity and Comparison, Variety and Contrast Complexity and Complement in Classifi- cation and Composition .... 13-33 Introduction — Mental and Material Considerations Connected with Each of the Methods — Yet Divisible in a General Way into those Manifesting Effects of Mind, of Nature, and of both Combined- How Mental Considerations Lead to Unity — This Attained by Putting the Like with the Like by Way of Comparison — Exempli- fied in the Art-Forms : in Poetry — In Music — In Paintings In Statues — In Buildings of all Styles — In Natural Forms — This Method Necessary to Imaginative or any /Esthetic Expression How the Consideration of Natural Forms Leads to Variety — This Involves Putting the Like with the Unlike by Way of Contrast ; its Effects Illustrated in Classification — Variety in Poetry In Music — In Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture— Direct Antithesis as Related to Comparison — Its Effect in Literature — In Poetry — In Music — In Outline — In Color — How Considerations of Mind and Nature, or Unity and Variety, Lead to Complexity— How Comparison and Contrast Leads to Complement. III. Order, Confusion, Counteraction, Principality, Subordination, and Balance in Classi- fication and Composition . . . 34-51 Order— Follows Variety and Complexity, Owing to a Reassertion of the Mind's Requirements — Confusion, in Poetry, in Music, in the Arts of Sight— Counteraction — Its Influence in Classification — In Art— In Poetry— In Music— In the Arts of Sight— Principality- Connection between the Mental Conception and the Object Form- ing the Nucleus of the Class— Balance— Its Relations to Comple- ment, Counteraction, and Symmetry — To Twin Products in Nature. IV. Principality, Subordination, and Complement or Balance in Poetry and Music . . 52-68 Principality in the Arts of Sound Involves Something Kept Con- stantly before the Mind— Principality of Theme in an Epic— In a CONTENTS. IX PAGE Drama— Of Form in the Blank Verse of Long Poems— Of Short Poems, as in the Chorus — In the French Forms, Rondel, Triolet, Kyrielle— In the General Movement as Representing the General Thought — Illustrations — Principality as Illustrated by Musical Variations — And in Other Longer and Shorter Compositions — Subordination and Complement or Balance in Poetic Themes — In Poetic Form — In Pairs of Lines in Verse — Correspondence be- tween Poetry and Music in this Regard — Balance in Poetic Feet and Pairs of Words — The Same Method in Musical Themes and Phrases — Illustrations of its Application; of its Non-application — Complement between the Different Phrases and Chords and Measures. V. Principality, Subordination, and Complement or Balance in Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture 69-96 General Illustrations of the Effects of the Three Methods — Princi- pality by Size, Position, Direction of Lines, Color, and Shading — Illustrations — In Sculpture — In Architecture, through a Porch, Door, Window, Dome, Spire, etc. — Vertical and Horizontal Balance — Complement between Principal and Subordinate Features — Between the Subordinate, with the Principal Separating »hein — Groupings of Odd and of Even Numbers — Complement and Balance in Painting — In Sculpture — In Architecture — Approach- ing Symmetry in Large Public Buildings which Demand Effects of Dignity — Principality and Complement in Modern Public Buildings — Criticisms— Suggestions— Even and Odd Numbers in the Horizontal and Vertical Arrangements of Architecture. VI. Grouping and Organic Form in Poetry and Music 97 _II 3 The Principle of Grouping, Resulting from the Requirements .>f the Product — The Method, Conditioned by this Principle, Organ- izes the Group — Organism in Nature and in Classification — In Art- Composition — Organism in the Art-Product : the Feet, Trunk, and Head of Plato ; the Beginning, Middle, and End <>f Aristotle — Applied to Poetic Form — To the Sentence — To the Poem — X CONTENTS. PAGK Effects of Form Due to the Organic Order in which the Be- ginning, Middle, and End of Movement are Presented : Stedman — Where Thought is Didactic : Longfellow — Pope — Montgomery — In a Simile : Howitt — Waller — Hugo — Same Effects as Pro- duced by Form Irrespective of the Thought — Sherman — Wad- dington — Miller — Gosse — Scollard — A Like Principle Illustrated in Plots of Long Poems — In Music — A Periodic Form — Explanations of the Effect in Short and Long Compositions — In Reiterated Chords at their Beginning and Close — Same Principle in Oratory. VII. Grouping and Organic Form in Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture . . 1 14-124 Places Corresponding to Head, Trunk, and P'eet in a Picture — Necessity for Considering them — Different Kinds of Contour — Arches — Semicircles — Pyramids — Circles — Ovals — Wedge-Shapes — Same Effects Produced by Light and Shade and Color, Differing on Differing Sides, Above and Below, at the Centre and at the Circumference — Same Effects in Sculpture — The Pedestal or Foot, the Canopy or Head, on Out-Door Statuary — Architecture — The Foot in the Foundation— The Trunk in the Wall— The Head in the Roof — Architectual Grouping as a Whole. VIII. Other Methods of Classification and Com- position, as Deduced from those already Considered . . . ... 125-132 Recapitulation of the Principles and Methods Conditioned upon the Requirements of the Mind — And upon those of Matter — Other Methods Conditioned by the Product are now to be Considered — The Product a Combination of Effects — Produced Mainly upon the Mind ; or upon the Senses ; or Partly upon the Mind and Partly upon the Senses — Leading, respectively, to Likeness by Way of Congruity — Of Repetition— And of Consonance — Illustrations of the Three — All the Methods of Composition Result from Combin- ing these Three with the Seven General Methods Mentioned above — Chart of the Art-Methods — Additional Statements — Correspond- ence between these Methods and their Arrangements and those Given by Others. CONTENTS. XI IX. FAGK Congruity, Incongruity, and Comprehensiveness J33-I49 The Order of the Arrangement of the Methods in the Last Chapter Corresponds to that of the Use of them by the Artist — Who in Each Art must Start with a Mental Conception, and the Condition of Mind Underlying Comparison Based upon Congruity — General Effect of this — Incongruity in Nature and Art — Comprehensiveness — Congruity in Poetry — At the Basis of the Law of the Unities — Why the Latter is not Applicable to the Drama — Congruity, Incongruity, and Comprehensiveness in "Hamlet" — In "Lear" — In " Pa- tience"— The Same in the Development of Musical Themes — As in the Overture and Opera of " Tannhauser" — Congruity Uniting by Association Different Appearances in the Arts of Sight — Mainly this that Keeps Artists from Using together Forms of Gothic and Greek Architecture — Incongruity and Comprehensiveness in the Arts of Sight — Raphael's "Transfiguration" — Same Methods in Architecture. X. Central-Point, Setting, Parallelism, and Sym- metry ....... 150-161 Especial Importance of Arrangement in the Composition of Features alike by Way of Congruity — Connection between this Fact and the Methods now to be Considered — Difficulty of Determining the Term Central Point, and Objections to other Terms — Appropriateness of this — Same Difficulties and Objections to Terms for the Second Method — Appropriateness of the Term Setting — Connections between Central-Point and Principality, and Setting and Subordination — Parallelism — Symmetry and its Con- nection with the Methods Preceding it — Recapitulation — How Nature Suggests these Methods : the Vanishing Point and Radia- tion or Central-Point — Paws of Linear Perspective — Radiation Ulied to Principality and Unity — Setting in Nature — Parallelism in Pines of Horizon, Rivers, Hills, Trees, etc. — Manifestation in Individual Forms of Nature, of Central-Point, Setting. Parallelism, and Symmetry. Xli CONTENTS. XI. PAGE Illustrations of Central-Point, Setting, Par- allelism, and Symmetry .... 162-187 Introduction — Poetic Central-Point in the Climax — Setting in the Digression — Illustrations — Parallelism in Metaphors and Similes — In what is Termed Parallelism — And in Lines of Verse — Poetic Symmetry, with Illustrations — All three Methods in Poetic Form — How Manifested — Central-point and Setting in Music — Paral- lelism and Musical Harmony : Illustrations — Symmetry — Con- nection between Lines Radiating from a Central Point and the Appearance of Unity and Principality in Visible Objects — Illustra- tions from Paintings — Curved Lines of Radiation — Lines of Direction in Architecture — The Nature of Setting in the Arts that are Seen — Parallelism and its Connection with Order — Illustrations from Painting and Sculpture — How it Gives Unity to Forms Asso- ciated by Way of Congruity — Symmetry : Its Present Different from its Former Meaning — Symmetrical Paintings — Symmetry, an Application of the Principle of Complement to all the Features of the Two Sides of a Composition — Connection between Symmetry and Organic Form — Some Variety not Inconsistent with Symmetry. XII. Repetition, Alteration, and Alternation . 188-208 Importance and Order of Development of Repetition as Contrast- ed with Congruity — Repetition, a Necessary and Elementary Factor in All Forms — Alteration — How Differing from Variety — Alterna- tion and Other Allied Methods — The Influence of Repetition, Alteration, and Alternation upon Thought — How they are Exem- plified in Nature — In Art ; Poetic Repetition with Alteration in Lines, Feet, Alliteration, Assonance, Rhymes — In Recurring Re- frains, Choruses : Explanation of the French Forms of Verse — In Epithets and Phrases — Alternation in Accent and Lack of Accent and in Rhyming Lines — The Three Methods in Music — The Three in Primitive Forms of Ornamentation Appealing to Sight — In Painting : How Imitated from Nature and how Produced by Artistic Arrangements of Forms — Even of Landscapes — The Same in Color — In Sculpture — In Architecture — The Fundamental Reason why Styles should not be Mixed — Necessity of Unity of Effect. CONTENTS. Xlll XIII. PAGE Massing or Breadth 209-219 Connection between the Methods next on our List and those already Considered — Massing — Its Object is to Produce Cumula- tive or General Effects — In Poetry, by an Accumulation of the Effects of Sense and Sound — Of Sound alone — Connection between Massing and Central-Point as Illustrated in the Climax — Massing in Music — In Painting : the Meaning of Breadth in this Art as Restricted to Effects of Light and Shade — Means Used by the Artist in Producing these — Not necessarily One Mass of Light in One Composition: Three Masses — Breadth and Massing Analo- gous — The Same Principles Applied to Colors and Outlines — Massing in Sculpture — In Architecture : By Outlines and by Light and Shade. XIV. Interspersion, Complication, and Continuity, 220-242 Interspersion in Nature and Art — Complication in Nature and Art — Its Relation to Order — Continuity — Should not Disregard the Requirements of Variety — Illustrations — Interspersion and Complication in Poetry — In the Sense — Interspersion in the Form — Variety without Interspersion — Complication in the Form — Continuity and Drift — Interspersion, Complication, and Continuity in Music — The Two Former in Painting, Sculpture, and Architec- ture — Continuity in these Latter Arts — Present in Connection with Interspersion and Complication. XV. Consonance, Dissonance, and Interchange . 243-265 The Musical Meaning of the Term Shows it Allied to the Con- gruous — Also to the Repetitious — How the Same Meaning Attaches to the Word as Used in Other Arts — Three Ways in which Features Seemingly Alike may Differ: in Size, in Combination, in Material — Consonance and the Law of Help — Dissonance — Why Involved in Passing from One Key to Another — Why it Has Artistic Value — Interchange — Why Necessary to Harmony in Music — In Color and Outline — Poetic Consonance — Dissonance — Harmonizing of the Two — Musical Consonance — Dissonance — Consonance in Color in Connection with Difference in Texture — Value — Tone — Con- sonance nol Harmony — Nor is Dissonance Contrast— The Same xiv CONTENTS. Methods in Outline — In Painting and Architecture — Neglect of them in Architecture — Illustrations — Results — Importance of Harmony thus Produced — Which is not Inconsistent with Some Dissonance. XVI. Gradation, Abruptness, Transition, and Progress in Poetry and Music 266-277 Gradation and its Relation to Principality, Central-Point, and Massing — Abruptness, Transition, and Progress — Connection be- tween these Methods and those already Considered — Gradation in the Sounds and Colors of Nature — In its Outlines — Abruptness in Nature — And Transition — Difference between Continuity and Prog- ress — Gradation in the Thought and Form of Poetry — Abruptness — Transition — Gradation in Music — Abruptness — Transition — Con- tinuity in Poetry without Progress — With Progress — Continuity and Progress in Music. XVII. Gradation, Abruptness, Transition, and Progress in Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture 278-300 Gradation in Light and Shade — In Color — Abruptness — Transition — Connection between these Methods and Curved, Angular, and Mixed Effects of Lines — Reasons for the Extensive Presence of Curves in Nature and Art — Why the Curve is the Line of Beauty — The most Common Curve of Nature is a Literal Fulfilment of the Method of Gradation — As well as of All the Methods of Artistic Com- position — Curvature as Applied to the General Contour of Groups in Painting and Sculpture, especially to theLimbs of the Human Form — In Architecture — Why Curves are less Used in this Art — Gradation in Combinations of Lines or Contours — Abruptness in the Same — Gradation in the Outlines of Architecture : Spires, Towers, Foundations — Over Openings — In Italian Towers — Lines of Lower and Upper Window-Caps, Gables, and Roofs ; Rounded Arches Below and Pointed Above — The more Pointed Arches Below — Abruptness less Appropriate in Architecture than in Paint- ing and Sculpture — Progress in Painting and Sculpture : False Methods of Obtaining the Effect — Right Methods — In Architec- ture — Conclusion. Index 301-311 PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. TAGS i. Acropolis, Restoration of the West End of the 15 From White's " Plutarch." Mentioned on pages 16, 75, 89, 123, 207, 261. 2. Cologne Cathedral— Facade x 7 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages iS, 87, 90, 190, 207, 291. 3. Taj-m uial— Facade— Agra, India 19 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages iS, 77, 87, 96, 124, 180, 186, 190, 207, 261. 4. Edison Building, New York 21 From the Architectural Record. Mentioned on pages 22, 189, 208. 5. Central Congregational Church, Providence, R. 1 23 From the Architectural Record, Mentioned on pages 22, 189, 208. 6. Romans Besieging a German Fortress 27 From Baring-Gould's " Germany." Mentioned on pages 16, 26, 174, 1S2. 7. Eros, Statue of, in British Museum 30 I in Mailer's " Denkmaler der Alten Kunst." Mentioned on pages 31, 1S6, 2S9. 8. Tower with King 31 From Ruskin's " Elements of Drawing." Mentioned on page 31. 9. Ancient Kor in Cask 38 From Lane- Poole's " Moors in Spain." Mentioned on pages 37, 224. 10. School of Athens, by Raphaei 4* I p. in photograph of an engraving. Mentioned on pages 39, 82, 242, 289. xv XVI PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE ii. Gate of Serrano, Valencia, Spain 47 From Lane-Poole's " Moors in Spain." Mentioned on pages 4S, 79, 87, 96. 12. Sacred Heart, Church of, Paris, — Interior 49 From the Architectural Record. Mentioned on pages 18, 50, 190, 264. 13. Leaves Illustrating Principality, Subordination, and Complement 69 From Ruskin's " Elements of Drawing." Mentioned on page 69. 14. Piankli Receiving the Submission of Namrut and Others. . 70 From Rawlinson's " Ancient Egypt." Mentioned on pages 70, 189. 15. Henry II. Receiving from God the Crown, etc 71 From Baring-Gould's " Germany." Mentioned on pages 72, 189. 16. The Descent from the Cross, by Rubens 73 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 16, 72, 80, 144, 190, 214, 235, 257. 17. Leda, Statue at Florence 74 From Midler's " Denkmaler der Alten Kunst." Mentioned on pages 74, 85, 179, 2S9. 18. Titus, Statue from the Louvre 74 From Muller's " Denkmaler der Alten Kunst." Mentioned on pages 75, 85, 120, 180, 289. 19. Diana, Statue from the Louvre 75 From Muller's " Denkmaler der Alten Kunst." Mentioned on pages 75, 85, 120, 186. 20. Mercury, Bronze Statue of, from Herculaneum 76 From Muller's " Denkmaler der Alten Kunst." Mentioned on pages 75, 85, 120. 21. The Wrestlers, Sculpture of 77 From Abbott's " Pericles." Mentioned on page 75, 85. 22. Houses of Parliament, from Old Palace Yard 78 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 76. 23. St. Peter's, Rome — Facade 78 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 18, 77, 87, 96, 124, 186, 207, 265. PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. XV11 PAGE 24. Twin Villa 79 From Palliser, Palliser, ,V. Co., Architects, New York. Men- tioned on pages 77-79, 123, 124, 1S7. 25. Investiture of a Bishop by a King 80 From Baring-Gould's " Germany." Mentioned on pages 48, 79- 26. Pollice Verso, by Gerome 81 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 16, 30, 72, 8o, 82, 144, 172, 179, 1S2, 1S6, 217, 239, 257. 27. Discobolus, Statue of 83 From Turner's "Short History of Art." Mentioned on page 85. 28. Small House 84 From Palliser, Palliser, & Co., Architects, New York. Men- tioned on pages 85, 96, 124, 187. 29. Palace ok Justice, Lyons 85 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 87, 96, 261. 30. Suleymaniya Mosque 86 From Lane-Poole's " Turkey." Mentioned on pages 77, 90. 31. St. Mark's, Venice — with Campanile 88 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 18, 87, 90, 96, 124, 180, 186, 190, 207, 261, 262. 32. Canterbury Cathedral from Southwest 89 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 18, 77, 90, 124, 207, 261. 33. Iffley Church, England 90 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 92, 124. 34. Shadyside Presbyterian Church 91 From the Architectural Record. Mentioned on pages 92, 96, 124, 186, 190. 35. Plan for a Church, Exterior 93 From G. II. Edbrooke, Architect, New York. Mentioned on page 92. 36. Interior Ground Plan of Same Church 94 From G. H. Edbrooke, Architect, New York. Mentioned on page 92. XVI 11 PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE 37. Cathedral, Ground Plan for 95 From G. H. Edbrooke, Architect, New York. Mentioned on page 95. 38. La Belle Jardiniere, by Raphaei 116 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 116. 39. Madonna Della Sedia, by Raphael 117 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 117. 40. Evening, by Claude Lorraine 119 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 31, 118, 146, 156, 172. 41. Market of Athens Restored 121 From Harrison's " Greece." Mentioned on pages 79, 120, 122, 289. 42. St. Sophia, Constantinople 123 From Lane-Poole's " Turkey." Mentioned on pages 18, 76, 77, 96, 124, 180, 187, 190, 207, 261, 262. 43. Village Dance, by D. Teniers 143 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 16, 82, 144, 190. 44. A Storm, by J. F. Millet 145 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 144. 45. Group of Niobe, Sculpture from 146 From Muller's " Denkmaler der Alten Kunst." Mentioned on pages 16, 144, 204, 257, 298. 46. Transfiguration, by Raphael 147 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 72, 82, 116, 118, 148, 257. 47. Canal, by Corot 157 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 115, 118, 156, 158, !59, r 72, 238. 4S. Radiation in Natural Forms 160 From Ruskin's " Elements of Drawing." Mentioned on page 160. 49. Japanese Compositions 161 From Kotsugaro Yenouye's " Fine Art Pictures." Mentioned on pages 46, 161. 50. Cattle, by Troyon 173 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 16, 158, 172. PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. xix PAGE 51. Decline ok Carthage, by J. W. M. Turner 175 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 16, 31, 82, 118, 156, 159. I7 2 . 2 38- 52. The Soldier's Return, Reliei on National Monument near BlNGEN 1 )N THE RHINE 17° From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 16, 26, 174, 182, 257- 53. German Captive, Statue of, Va i m an 177 From Baring-Gould's " Germany." Mentioned on pages 176, 182, 257. 54. Mithras Stabbing the Bull — Sculptured Relief from the Louvre x 79 From Midler's " Denkmaler der Alten Kunst." Mentioned on pages 74, 120, 180, 218. 55. Othello, by Carl Becker 181 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 72, 174, 1S1, 239. 56. The Dancer, Fragmentary Sculpture of 1S3 I .111 Abbott's "Pericles." Mentioned on pages 16, 144, 182, 257. 57. Neh<>. Busi Inscribed with Name of, British Museum 184 From Ragozin's " Chaldea." Mentioned on page 183. 58. Lucia Madonna, by Fra Bartolommeo 185 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 72, 185. 59. The < >LD 1 "iv re 187 From Masson's "Mediaeval France." Mentioned on page 186. 60. Theatre vnd Ton-Halle, Pari <>i Design for 191 From the Architectural Record. Mentioned on pages 22, [90, 208, 261 . 61. Public Library, New London, Conn 193 From the Architectural Record, Mentioned on pages 123. 190. 62. The Vitruvian S« k< >i.i 200 From photograph of an engraving. Mentioned on page 200. 63. The Greek Fret 200 From photograph of an engraving. Mentioned <>n page 200. 04. Section of Ornamental Doorway, Khorsbad, Chaldea. .. . 201 1 rom Ragozin's "Chaldi Mentioned on page 201, XX PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE 65. Triglyphs and Metopes, from a Greek Temple 201 From photograph of an engraving. Mentioned on page 201. 66. Old Bridge at Coblentz, by Turner 203 From Ruskin's " Elements of Drawing." Mentioned on pages 48, 159, 174, 203. 67. St. Nizier, Church of, Lyons 205 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 22, 189, 206, 208, 261. 68. Salisbury Cathedral from the Northwest 207 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 18, 76, 90, 186, 190, 206, 261. 69. Poutou Temple, near Ningpo, China . . 208 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 18, 124, 207. 70. The Holy Night, by Correggio. . . 215 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 16, 72, 80, 120, 190, 214, 257. 71. Gate of the Palace, Nancy 218 From Masson's "Mediaeval France." Mentioned on pages 76, 219. 72. Chateau at Montigny 221 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 31, 37, 77, 78, 124, 222, 235. 73. Landscape with Water, by Corot 223 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 118, 156, 172, 174, 222, 234. 74. Window in the Alhambra 225 From Lane- Poole's " Moors in Spain." Mentioned on pages 37, 222, 236. 75. The Laocoon, Sculptured Group of 226 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 120, 182, 204, 235, 238. 76. Winchester Cathedral, England, South Aisle of 227 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 240. 77. St. Loo Cathedral, France, Interior of 234 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 240. 78. Beverley Minster, England, Interior of 235 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 241, 264. 79. Exeter Cathedral, Interior of 236 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 238, 241, 264 PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. xxi PAGE 80. St. Hilaire, Church of, Rouen 237 From a drawing. .Mentioned on pages 124, 241. Si. Fri »n 1 Elevation 238 From G. H. Edbrooke, Architect, New York. Mentioned on page 241. 82. Side Eleva 1 [on 238 From G. II. Edbrooke, Architect, New York. Mentioned on page 241. 83. Tower of Boris, Kremlin, Moscow 239 From a drawing. Mentioned on pages 124, 241. 84. Dome of Chiar.w \m i .. 1 1 w.v 240 From a drawing. Mentioned on page 241. 85. ChAteau de Randau, Vichy, France 258 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages, 124, 180, 262. 86. Chapel in Cai acombs < if St. Agnes, Rome 259 From Turner's " Short History of Art." Mentioned on page 262. 87. St. Botolph's Ciirufii, Pjoston, England, Interior of 260 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 262. 88. St. Martyn's Church, Canterbury, England, Interior of. 261 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 262. 89. Litchfield < ' \ 1 hedral, England, Interior of 262 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 262. 90. Farnese Palace, Komi. — Facade 263 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 265. 91. Curve Exemplifying Gradation 282 From Raskin's "Modern Painters." Mentioned on pages 282-2S4. 92. Curve Exemplifying Gradation 283 From Raskin's "Modem Painters." Mentioned on pages 282-284. 93. Theseus, Sci lpturi i >f 285 From Abbott's " Pericles.'' Mentioned on page 2S4. 94. The I n. \ m of Ananias, b^ Raphaei 288 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 72, 144, 257, 287, 297. XX ii PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. PA ( 95. Doorway of Church in Jak, Hungary 2 From Ltibke's " History of Art." Mentioned on pages 180, ( 291. 96. Arch in the Aljaferia of Zaragoza 21 From Lane-Poole's " Moors in Spain." Mentioned on pages ( 37, 180, 291. 97. Sienna Cathedral, Italy — FAgADE 2< ( From Turner's " Short History of Art." Mentioned on pages 18, 87, 207, 261, 291. 98. Rath-House, Brunswick, Germany 21 ( From Zimmern's " Hansa-Towns." Mentioned on page 295. 99. San Pedro de Cardena, Interior of 2< From Lane-Poole's " Moors in Spain." Mentioned on page 295 100. St. Maclou, Rouen, France 21 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 295. The author wishes to express his sense of obligation to the various artist publishers, and authors to whom he is indebted for kind permission to inse in this book such illustrations and poems as are owned by them, or protect! by their copyrights. THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 3 770 CHAPTER I. CLASSIFICATION AS THE BASIS OF METHOD IN" SCIENCE AND ART. Spirit, Matter, and their Combination as Sources of Phenomena in Religion, Science, and Art — Limitations of the Present Book — Why Thought must be Expressed in Terms of Matter — How Inaudible and Invisible Mental Conceptions Come to be Represented in Language, Intonation, Writing, Carving, and Building — These Pass into "The Aits" when the) begin to be Developed for the Sake of the Form — The Arts Repre- sent Thought and Feeling through Elaborating Natural Forms Appealing tu the Far and Eye — Illustrations — The Artist Uses for this Purpose the same Forms that all Men Do — Who, before they can Understand and Use them Effectively must, through Comparison, "Classify and Conquer" them — This the Basis of Knowledge in all Departments — Science and Philosophy Classify Effects Conditioned upon Laws Operating under- neath Natural and Mental Phenomena: Art Classifies Effects Con- *^ ditioned upon Laws Operating underneath .Esthetic Appearances or Forms — An Embodied Finite Mind Requires body and Definiteness to Appeal to its Intelligence — The Vrtist Groups Phenomena Mentally to Cain a General Con . then, in a Way Analogous t<> Classifica- tion, Groups them Materially to Imparl it Connection between these Processes, and Repre enting in Art both the Human Mind and Nature — How the Artist, by Classifying the Forms of Nature, Represents his own Mind — And how the Forms ol Nature— And how, Beauty. A LL the phenomena of life are traceable to two sources — spirit and matter. The respective results of the two, however, are not clearly distinguishable, so that, i 2 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. practically, we must always consider, as a third source, a combination of both. Subjects of thought of any impor- tance involve relations to all of the three ; but the chief place is assigned to the first source in religion, to the second in science, and to the third in art, the phenomena of which, corresponding to those of life in general, are all traceable to man as the possessor of mind, which is the embodiment of spirit ; to nature, which is the embodi- ment of matter ; and to a combination of the effects of mind and nature in a product. Of these, however, it is the latter which, in every case, determines the peculiar character of art as art. For this reason writers upon the subject usually start with a consideration of the product. Inasmuch, too, as, according to the conditions, this is a combination of ef- fects coming from both man and nature, they are obliged, to some extent, to consider in what ways it has been in- fluenced by both. But the emphasis given to either the one or the other source may cause a wide deviation in the lines of discussion. In the one case the relations of art to the representation of the thougJits and feelings experi- enced by the man engage the attention ; in the other its relations to the appearances and arrangements observed in nature. It is with the latter of these topics, but with it always as necessarily connected somewhat with the former, that this book has to deal. Nor will the whole even of this topic be treated. What is to be discussed is believed to be fundamental in character and comprehen- sive in results ; but nothing more will be undertaken than to show how, the conditions of mind and matter being what they are, those complex products which we ascribe to art have come to be in their material conditions what they are. By a psychologic process, in a case where the CLASSIFICATION AS THE BASIS OF METHOD. 3 prevailing and popular historic method will not suffice, an endeavor will be made to trace the sources of the laws of composition, to indicate how they are developed, what they are, why they operate as they do, and how, in all the arts, they operate in the same way. Let us begin by recalling why it is necessary for the purposes of art, or for any human purposes, that the things that have their source in mind should be connected or combined with the things that have their source in matter. The reason is obvious. Man is a social being, and likes to communicate the results of his mental pro- cesses. But others can learn of these onlv through their material organs of sight and hearing, and his thoughts and feelings in themselves are invisible and inaudible. He must, therefore, connect them in some way with things that are not so, with things that are sufficiently material to produce the desired material effects. These things he can find only in what is termed external nature. The process that he pursues is like this. lie hears sounds coining from waters, forests, beasts, birds, and, instinctively, from himself and other men ; and, being endowed with powers of imitation and reflection, he be- gins, in concurrence with his fellows, to use certain of these sounds for words, embodying conceptions which each sound, in its own way, has suggested to him. Later on he observes certain relations existing between objects signified by the words, and, according to some principle ol association or comparison, he compounds them, form- ing terms like ex-press, up-right-ness t under-standing, and he learns, at the same time, to connect these and all his words grammatically. Finally, through such processes, continued through many years, he comes to be able to convey his conceptions fully in intonations and langua 4 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. Again, he sees forms in nature, and by themselves, or in connection with other forms, they, too, necessarily sug- gest conceptions to him j and fee recognizes soon that these visible forms also, in fulfilment of the same princi- ples of association or comparison, can be made, by being imitated in whole or in part, to represent to his neighbor the conceptions that they have already suggested to him- self ; and beginning by rude sketches and constructions, leading, by-and-by, to the inventing of ideographic and hieroglyphic writing, and of ornamental designing, he finally comes to use, in order to convey his conceptions, the various methods now in vogue of drawing, carving, and building. It takes many centuries for such methods to develop into arts like music, poetry, painting, sculpture, and archi- tecture. But, after a while, these all appear. It is im- portant to notice, too, that the way in which they differ from ordinary and merely natural modes of expression is in the fact that they are not used, or, if so used at first, have ceased to be used for expression's sake alone. A man hums and talks, fulfilling an instinctive prompting of his nature, in order to give vent to certain inward moods. It is when something about the form in which he hums ' — the movement, the tune — attracts his atten- tion, and he begins to experiment or play with it for its 1 Compare with this what is said by Herbert Spencer in his "Principles of Psychology," ii., chapter ix. : " Play is . . . an artificial exercise of powers which, in default of their natural exercise, become so ready to discharge that they relieve themselves by simulated actions in place of real actions. For dogs and other predatory creatures show us unmistakably that their play consists of mimic chase and mimic fighting. It is the same with human beings. The plays of children — nursing dolls, giving tea parties, and so on, are dramatizings of adult activities. The sports of boys, chasing one another, wrestling, making prisoners, obviously gratify in a partial way the CLASSIFICATIONS' AS THE BASIS OF METHOD. 5 own sake, that he begins to develop the possibilities of the musician. In the same way, it is when something about the forms in which a man talks — the metaphors, similes, sounds of the words — attracts his attention and he begins to experiment with them, that he begins to develop the possibilities of the poet. So with drawing, carving, and building. A man does more or less of all of these, owing to an instinctive prompting within him ; but when some- thing about the outlines, colors, and materials that represent the conditions or relationships of nature attracts his attention, so that he begins to experiment with them —it is then that he begins to develop the possibilities of the painter, the sculptor, or the architect. While, therefore, the art-product is traceable to an expression of a man's mental experiences, the elements of which it is constructed are forms borrowed from nature, and the method of construction, or composition, as it is ordinarily called, is a process of elaboration. 1 It is this process which, in the present book, we are to con- sider ; in other words, the methods, in the different arts, ol elaborating natural forms of expression so as to make them, in a broad sense of the term, artistic. The natural forms of expression which are thus elabo- rated include all things that can be heard or seen ; for there are none ol these which, at certain times, the mind cannol use for the purpose of representing outwardly its itory instincts. . . The higher but less essential powers, as well as the lower bul more essential powers, thus come to have activities thai are carried on for th< of the immediate gratifications derived, without reference to ulterior benefits ; and to such higher powers, aesthetic products yield those substantia] activities, a> games yield them to various lower l>« >vi ers. " 'Sec the author's "Poetry as a Representative An," chapters :., ii., xv., xvi. 6 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. inward processes. Because it can seldom, if ever, use for the same purpose agencies that appeal to the lower and more physical senses of touch, taste, and smell ; from them no arts of the highest class are ever developed. With what we have, however — the sounds and sights of nature, — the range from which the elements of expression can be selected is practically infinite. What a chaos do they suggest in their natural condition, and what a mastery of chaos in the condition in which art, when it has done its work, leaves them ! In the realm of sound, nature fur- nishes effects like the rustling of trees, the rushing of waters, the chirping of birds, the growling of beasts, and the whistling, humming, crying, groaning, scolding, laugh- ing, and talking of human beings. From these, in some way, after centuries of experiments, art produces a Beethoven's " Seventh Symphony " and a Shakespeare's " Hamlet." In the realm of sight, nature furnishes shapes like those of clouds, mountains, valleys, streams, trees, flowers, animals, and men. And from these, by and by, in some way, art produces a "Madonna" of Raphael, a " Moses " of Angelo, a " Cathedral of Cologne." By what method does art accomplish these results ? This is the question before us. In answer, it is important to notice, first, that the appearances of nature with which the artist has to do are the same as those with which every man has to do. They confront the child the moment that ear or eye is fairly opened to apprehend the world about him. As soon as he begins to observe and think and act, these furnish him with his materials — with facts to know, with subjects to understand, with implements to use. It is important to notice again that men generally — and possibly we may find the same true of artists — before they CLASSIFICATION AS THE BASIS OF METHOD. 7 can master the materials about them, must do what is ex- pressed in the old saying, " Classify and conquer." When the child first observes the world, everything is a maze; but, anon, out of this maze, objects emerge which he con- trasts with other objects and distinguishes from them. After a little, he sees that two or three of these objects, thus distinguished, are alike ; and pursuing a process of compari- son he is able, by himself or with the help of others, to unite and to classify them, and to give to each class a name. As soon as, in this way, he has learned to separate certain animals, — horses, saw from sheep, — and to unite and classify and name them, he begins to know something of zoology; and all his future knowledge of that branch wall be acquired by further employment of the same method. So all his knowledge, and not only this, but his understand- ing and application of the laws of botany, mineralogy, psychology, or theology will depend on the degree in which he learns to separate from others, and thus to unite and classify and name certain plants, rocks, mental activities, or religious dogmas. Without classification to begin with, there can be no knowledge, no understand- ing, no efficient use of the materials which nature fur- nishes. The physicist is able to recognize, relate, and reproduce effects in only the degree in which he is able to classify the appearances and laws, the facts and forces of material nature. The metaphysician is able to know, and prove, and guide to right action in only the degree in which he is able to classify feelings, conceptions, and volitions with their motives and tendencies as they arise in mental consciousness and manifest themselves in action. Why should not the same principle apply in the arts? It undoubtedly does. Just as tin: physicist classifies effects conditioned upon laws operating underneath phe- 8 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. nomena of a physical nature, and the psychologist classi- fies effects conditioned upon laws operating underneath phenomena of a psychical nature, so the artist classifies effects conditioned upon laws operating underneath phe- nomena of an artistic nature. This fact necessitates his considering appearances both as produced in the world without him, and as influencing the mind within him. But not even the double nature of these effects removes the artist from the essential conditions of the comparison just made. As most men use language, they mean by the term scientist not a mere physicist, but one who is also something of a psychologist ; and by a philosopher not a mere psychologist, but one who is also something of a physicist. The artist does not differ from others who form classifications, in being influenced from the direction of both mind and matter but, mainly, in the aim which he has in view. The factors classified and the results attained in science, philosophy and art are differ- ent; but in essential regards, the method is the same. It is so because it is the same human mind that applies it. This mind is an embodied mind, belonging to a realm not infinite, but finite ; and things that appear to be infinite in number or variety are beyond its grasp. A man must analyze, and group, and marshal into order, and define — in other words, " classify and conquer" the elements of the chaos about him, before they can afford him any satisfaction, before they can appeal with any force to his intelligence, or be used by him so as to appeal to the intelligence of others. It is true that what has been called classification does not in art result merely in mental conceptions of classes, as of horses or oaks in science, or as of materialists or idealists in philosophy. The first result is a mental con- CLASSIFICATION AS THE BASIS OF METHOD. 9 ception ; but afterwards, through a further application of precisely the same method, there comes to be an objec- tive external product. In other words, the artist begins by gaining a general conception of a class in the same way as the scientist and philosopher; but he ends by producing a special specimen of a class. Even the latter, however, results, as we shall find, from his grouping to- gether for this purpose, according to the methods of classification, like or allied factors. Before going on to confirm this statement, it seems im- portant to point out that the principle involved in it is not inconsistent with the statement made at the opening of this chapter, namely, that the product of art is due not only to the requirements of the mind, but also to the con- ditions that are furnished by nature. To render it char th.it what was said there, is in harmony with what has just n said here, it is necessary to show, first, that obtain- in- a general conception as a result of classification, and embodying this in art, is not inconsistent with the artist's representing himself or his own mind; and, second, that constructing a product as a result of a further application of the methods of classification, is not inconsistent with his representing the forms of nature. To show the first of these one need only direct atten- tion to the intimate connection that always exists between giving expression to general conceptions, and represent- ing the whole range ol tin- results of observation and thought that together constitute mental character. Imagine a gardener classifying his roses as he must do instinctively the moment th.it he has to deal with any large number of them and obtaining thus a general concep- tion of the flower. Then imagine him trying in some artificial way to produce a single rose embodying this IO THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. conception. This rose will very likely resemble some one rose particularly present to his mind while forming it ; yet, probably, because, before starting with his work, he has obtained a conception of roses in general, his product will manifest some rose-like qualities not possessed by the specimen before him, but suggested by others. That is to say, because of his general conception derived from classifying, he does more than imitate — he represents in that which is a copy of one rose ideas derived from many roses. The same principle applies to all works of art. Let a man write a story or paint a picture. In nine cases out of ten in the exact degree in which he has observed and classified many like events or scenes, he will add to his product the results of his own thinking or generalizing. In fact, it is a question whether the chief charm of such works is not imparted by the in- troduction into them, in legitimate ways, of these timely generalizations having their sources not in the partic- ular things described, but in the brains of the describ- es, who have already been made familiar with many other things somewhat similar. Shakespeare certainly did not get the most attractive features o^f his historical plays from history, nor Turner those of his pictures from nature. So, as a rule, even in the most imitative of works, the really great artist, consciously or uncon- sciously, gives form to conceptions that he has derived from an acquaintance with many other objects of the same class as those imitated. There is no need of saying more to show what is meant by affirming that the mind of the artist that would represent itself in art must start by classifying in order to conquer the forms of nature with which it has to deal. Now, for the second fact, needing to be shown, namely, CLASSIFICATION AS THE BASIS OF METHOD. II that a product can be constructed as a result of an ap- plication of the methods of classification, and yet repre- sent the forms of nature. At first thought, classification, and anything resembling imitation appear to necessitate different processes. But, possibly, they do not. Suppose that the forms of nature themselves were found to mani- fest effects like those of classification? In that case, to imitate them would involve imitating this; and to add to them, as is usually done in art, and to add to them in such a way as to make the added features seem analogous to the imitated ones, and thus to cause the forms as wholes to continue to seem natural, would involve continuing the process of classification. Now, if, with this thought in mind, we recall the appearances of nature, we shall recog- nize that the condition, which has been supposed to exist there, really does exist. A man, when classifying rocks, puts together mentally those that are alike. So does na- ture, grouping them in the same mountain ranges, or at the bottoms of the same streams. He puts together leaves, and feathers, and hairs that are alike. So does nature, making them grow on the same trees, or birds, or animals. He puts together human beings that are alike. So does nature, giving birth to them in the same families, races, climates, countries. In fact, a man's mind is a part <>f nature; and when it works naturally, it works as nature does. He combines elements as a result of classi- fication, in accordance with methods analogous to those in which nature, or, " the mind in nature," combines them. Indeed, he would never have thought of classification at .ill, unless in nature itself he had fust perceived the begin- ning of it. He would never have conceived of forming a group of animals and calling them horses, nor have been able to conceive <>f this unless nature had first made horses 12 THE GENESIS OF AKT-FORM. alike. To put together the factors of an art-product, there- fore, in accordance with the methods of classification, does not involve any process inconsistent with representing ac- curately the forms that appear in the world. These forms themselves are made up of factors apparently put together in the same way, though not to the same extent. Before closing this chapter, lest the reader should fail to recognize the relation between the particular subject to be treated in these pages and the general subject of which it forms a part, it may be well to recall that in the first volume of this series, " Art in Theory," this same principle of comparison, or of putting like with like, was shown to be at the basis of all imaginative develop- ments of art whatsoever, and that, in chapter XIV. of the same book, it was shown to be at the basis of all the ef- fects of beauty also, whether natural, such as the artist, as a rule, seeks to reproduce by way of imitation, or artis- tic, such as he seeks to originate by way of composition, beauty being in that book defined to be a " characteristic of any complex form of varied elements producing appre- hensible unity [i. e., harmony or likeness) of effects upon the motive organs of sensation in the ear or eye, or upon the emotive sources of imagination in the mind ; or upon both the one and the other." CHAPTER II. UNITY AND COMPARISON. VARIETY AND CONTRAST, COMPLEXITY AND COMPLEMENT 1\ CLASSIFICATION wo c< ohm >si rii >N. Introduction — Mental and Material Considerations Connected with each of the Methods — Yet Divisible in a (initial Way into those Manifesting Effectsof Mind, of Nature, and of both Combined — How Mental Con- siderations Lead to Unity -This Attained by Putting the Like with the Like by Way of Comparison — Exemplified in the Art-Forms : in try — In Music— In Paintings— In Statues — In Buildings of all Styles — In Natural Forms — This Method Necessary to Imaginative or any .Esthetic Expression — How the Consideration of Natural Forms o Variety — This Involves Putting the Like with the Unlike by Way of Contrast; its I fleets Illustrated in Classification — Variety in Poetry — In Music — In Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture — Direct Antithesis as Related to Comparison Its Effect in Literature — In try — In Music — In Outline — In Color — How Considerations of Mind and Nature, or Unity and Variety, Lead to Complexity — 1 low- Coin pari son and C, mt rast I .ead to ( 'oni piemen t. \AfE arc ik.w prepared t<> consider in a general way, which only is necessary for our purpose, certain facts with reference to the methods pursued by men when forming the groups brought together in classification. For the reasons given in the first chapter, we may expect, asa result, to obtain important suggestions with reference to the right methods of bringing together factors in art- forms. Let us start here, recognizing again the intimate con- nection always existing in art between expression and 14 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. form, by stating anew the fact already brought out in the first chapter, namely, that the artist in his work is influ- enced by both mental and material considerations. He begins with a conception which in his mind is associated with certain forms or series of forms, and to these he adds others, expressive of a similar conception. These latter, it is evident, are attributable, some of them to the char- acter of the conception that he wishes to express, and some of them to the character of the natural forms through which he must express it ; some of them, in other words, to mental, and some of them to material considerations. But while this is true in such a sense as to justify a general division of his methods upon the ground that they are traceable in part to the character of mind and in part to that of nature, there is also a sense in which every one of them is traceable to both. For this reason a discussion of any method whatever must in- clude, to be complete, some reference both to its mental and to its material bearings. With this explanation, which will show that it is not intended to make too exclusive a statement in any case, we may divide the methods of classification and also of art-composition into those that manifest chiefly the effects of mind, of nature, and of the combined influences oiboth. So far as classification results from the conditions of mind, its function is to simplify the work of forming con- cepts, and its end is attained in the degree in which it en- ables one to conceive of many different things — birds or beasts, larks or geese, dogs or sheep, as the case may be — as one. Classification is, therefore, an effort in the direc- tion of unity. It is hardly necessary to add that the same is true of art-composition. Its object is to unite many different features in a single form, an effect invariably pro- i T N1 TY AND ( 'OMl'A HI SON. 15 duccd, too, by all except the most elementary products 1 >f nature. Unit}- being the aim of classification, it is evident that the most natural way of attaining this aim, is that which was mentioned in the first chapter, namely, putting like with like ; and that doing this necessitates a process of compari- son. It is because all fish are seen in some way to com- FIQ. 1.— RESTORATION OF THE WEST END OF THE ACROPOLIS. See pages 16, 75, 69, 123, 207, 261. pare, that the mind classes them in our group, and is enabled ever after to conceive of this group as a unity. Turning now to the aesthetic arts, and considering how what we term form in them has been developed, we shall have no difficulty in recognizing it to be the result of an application of a similar method. To show this, were we to follow the order most naturally suggested by that of their historic and psychologic development, we should in with music; but as poetry is more susceptible of 1 6 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. exemplification in book form, it will be better for our pur- poses in the present discussion to begin all our illustra- tions with it. Looking first at poetry, then, we find the chief characteristic of its form to be lines of like lengths, divided into like numbers of feet, each uttered in like time, to which are sometimes added alliteration, assonance, and rhyme, produced by the recurrence of like sounds in either consonants, vowels, or both. So with music. The chief characteristic of its form is a series of phrases of like lengths, divided into like num- bers of measures, all sounded in like time, through the use of notes that move upward or downward in the scale at like intervals, with like recurrences of melody and har- mony. In painting, sculpture, and architecture, no matter of what "style," the same is true. The most superficial inspection of any product of these arts, if it be of established reputa- tion, will convince one that it is composed in the main by putting together forms that are alike in such things as color, shape, size, posture, and proportion. In confirma- tion of this, observe, of paintings, Rubens's " Descent from the Cross," Fig. 16, page 73 ; Gerome's " Pollice Verso," Fig. 26, page 81 ; Teniers's ".Village Dance," Fig. 43, page 143 ; Troyon's "Cattle," Fig. 50, page 173 ; Turner's " Decline of Carthage," Fig. 51, page 175 ; and Correggio's " Holy Night," Fig. 70, page 215. Read also pages 255-6. Of statues, observe a part of the " Group of the Niobe," Fig. 45, page 146; "The Soldier's Return," from the Neiderwald National Monument, Fig. 52, page 176; "The Dancer," Fig. 56, page 183; and the " Romans Besieging a German Fortress," Fig. 6, page 27. Finally, of buildings, observe, in the Greek style, the " Temples on the Acropolis," Fig. 1, page 15; in the jjfl FlG. 2. COLOGNE CATHEDRAL FACADE. Se< 90, tgo, 207, 291. 1 8 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. Greco-Roman style, " St. Peter's, Rome," Fig. 23, page 78 ; in the Gothic style, the " Cathedral of Cologne," Fig. 2, page 17, of " Salisbury," Fig. 68, page 207, and of "Canterbury," Fig. 32, page 89 ; in the Romanesque or Norman style, the " Cathedral of Sienna," Fig. 97, page 292, and the " Interior of the Church of the Sacred Heart, Paris," Fig. 12, page 49; and, in the Byzantine and Ori- ental styles, "St. Mark's, Venice," Fig. 31, page 88, the "Mosque of St. Sophia," Fig. 42, page 123, the Chinese Temple, Fig. 69, page 208, and that great memorial struc- ture of India, by many considered the most beautiful building in the world, the " Taj Mahal," Fig. 3, page 19. Notice now, as was intimated in the first chapter, that art, in pursuing this method, does no more than to carry farther a process that nature itself has already begun. The utterance of every bird or beast is made up of notes sufficiently similar to be termed, in a broad sense, alike. Every tree is covered with like limbs and leaves, every animal with like hair or scales or feathers, and every pair of feet or hands is ended with like claws or toes or fingers. Notice, again, that the method involves no more than is necessary in order to make the products of art what they arc. Every one knows that comparison is the very first result of any exercise of the imagination. And he knows also that imagination is the source of all art-pro- duction. When a man begins to find in one feature the image of another, and, because the two are alike, to put them together by way of comparison, then, and then only, does he begin to construct an art-product. And not only so, but only then does he continue his work in a way to make it continue to be a medium of expression. The forms which he elaborates are naturally representative of certain phases of thought or feeling, and the significance r- O o" < C/3 5 " 2 o" < - i- O I- u / 20 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. of the completed product depends upon its continuing to represent these phases. But it can continue to do this only when that which is added in the process of elaboration is essentially like that with which the process starts. It is a striking illustration of the rationality which character- izes the action of the mind when working naturally and instinctively though without knowledge of reasons, that the forms of all the arts, as developed in primitive ages, should fulfil this rational requirement. It is an equally striking illustration of the irrationality and departure from nature into which too much self-conscious ratiocination may plunge the same mind, that, in our own more en- lightened age, art-forms should not only be tolerated but praised — in poems and buildings for instance — in which the principle of putting like with like has been utterly disregarded. Observe the style of the following : Wlio learns my lesson complete? Boss, journeyman, apprentice — churchman and atheist, The stupid and the wise thinker — parent and offspring, merchant, clerk, porter and customer, Editor, author, artist and schoolboy — Draw nigh and commence ; It is no lesson — it lets down the liars to a good lesson, And then to another, and every one to another still. — Leaves of Grass : Whitman. OI believe there is nothing real but America and freedom ! O to sternly reject all except democracy ! < ) imperator ! O who dare confront you and me ! < > to promulgate our own ! O to build for that which builds for mankind. O feuillage ! O North ! < > the slope drained by the Mexican sea ! O all, all inseparable — ages, ages, ages \—IJcm. Observe also the utter absence of any attempt to fulfil this first requirement of art, in the buildings represented FIQ. 4.— THE EDISON BUILDING, NEW YORK CITY. I 22 THE GENESIS OE ART-FORM. in Fig. 4, page 21, Fig. 5, page 23 ; also in Fig. 60, page 191, and Fig. 67, page 205. But classification is traceable not only to the conditions of mind but also of nature. It is in the latter that the mind is confronted with that which classification is in- tended to overcome, with that which is the opposite of unity — namely, variety. If there were none of this in nature, all things would appear to be alike, and classifica- tion would be unnecessary. As a fact, however, no two things are alike in all regards ; and the mind must content itself with putting together those that are alike in some regards. This is the same as to say that classification involves, secondarily, the principle of putting the like with the un- like ; and necessitates contrast as well as comparison. The objects brought together in the same group, while similar in certain general and salient features, are dissimilar in particular and less prominent ones. From a distance, or upon first observation, all the voices of men and all the trees of a forest may seem like repetitions of one another. Were it not so, we should fail to understand what is meant by the terms " human voice " and " oak-tree." We use these terms as a result of unconscious classifi- cation obtained by regarding certain general features that first attract attention. But when we approach near the object or examine it carefully, we find that each voice and tree differs from its neighbors ; not only so, but each note of the same voice and each leaf of the same tree. A similar fact is observable in products of art. They, too, while developed from the tendency to group together forms that are alike, are composed of factors not alike in all regards. Take poetry. Who does not perceive the Ill o z m o > o a CL 5 s o c5 o C1 f= S3 < b/) ul — o < h z UJ O ID 6 24 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. additional charm imparted to verses in which more or less unlikeness is blended with that likeness, which, a moment ago, was said to constitute the chief element of their forms ? What is it that imparts freedom and naturalness to the sounds of the following lines, except the introduction, here and there, of changes which, nevertheless, do not in- terfere with the general similarity of effect characterizing the whole ? That orbed maiden with white fire laden Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer ; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these. — The Cloud : Shelley. They passed the hall that echoes still. Pass as lightly as you will. The brands were flat, the brands were dying, Amid their own white ashes lying ; But when the lady passed there came A tongue of light, a flit of flame, And Cristabel saw the lady's eye, And nothing else saw she thereby, Save the boss on the shield of Sir Leoline tall, Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall. " O softly tread," said Cristabel, " My father seldom sleepeth well." — Cristabel : Coleridge. VARIETY AND CONTRAST. 25 As contrasted with these, any one can recognize that the following, on account —among other things — of its lack of variety, is less satisfactory. Think, Daphnis, think, what tender things you said; Think what confusion all my soul betra 1 d. You called my graceful presence Cynthia's air, And when I sung, the syrens charmed your ear ; My flame, blown up by flattery, stronger grew, A gale df love in every whisper flew. Ah ! faithless youth, two well you saw my pain, For eves the language of the soul explain. — . Iraminta : Gay. Take music too. Compare tin- subtle modifications characterizing successive phrases in even a simple melody of Mozart, like the first of the following examples, with the monotonous cadences of an ordinary street song, such as is represented in the second. * N- • 3 :=*.: ST--^*- ^iE^-E Wer mi - tei ei - nes Madchens I land sich als ein Scla-ve tic 1 y-, - * * * mm.^ :--; = . v %■:-■>-:-] schmicgt, und von der Lie- Ik- fest ge-bannl in schnfiden Fes-seln - * ji'-; -* > liegt : well dem ! der isl ein ar - mer Wicht, 11 kennt die = i ^ % • i* \ 1 1^' 1 : •: 1 gold-ne Fiei-h.it nicht, er kennl die. gold-ne Frei-heit 5= I t" nicht, cr kennt die gold-ne Freit-heil nicht. — Lied der Freiheit : Mo 26 THE GENESIS OE ART-FORM. When we first came on this cam-pus, Freshmen we, as -£ »- —I l - z^=B~ I^EEE^ green as grass ; Now, as grave and rev - er - end Sen - iors, 1*1^3 *=^= — I* — ^N — — m- 1 m- Smile we o- ver the ver - dant past. Co - ca -che-lunk-che- lunk-che-la - ly, Co-ca-che-lunk-che-lunk-che-lay, Co- ca-che- lunk-che-lunk-che- la - ly, Hi ! O chick-a- che-lunk-che-lay. — Co-ca-che-lunk : College Song. A similar truth is illustrated in painting and sculpture. As will be shown by and by, the most important essential of excellence in the forms of these arts is caused by effects resulting from innumerable repetitions and corresponden- ces ; yet, perhaps, the most invariable characteristic of inartistic pictures and statues is a lack of sufficient diver- sity, colors too similar, outlines too uniform. See Fig. 6, page 27 ; and contrast it with the more artistic manage- ment of similar effects in " The Soldier's Return," Fig. 52, page 176. So, too, with architecture. Notice the con- ventional fronts of the buildings on many of the streets of our cities. Their accumulations of doors and windows and cornices, all of like sizes and shapes, are certainly not in the highest sense interesting. For this their outlines are too little varied. 1 When we have seen a few of them, we have seen all of them. But, in order to continue to 1 Yet often too greatly, as by ten stories next door to only two. 0) (/) UJ DC 1- X u. -^ n ^ tu th appear to be parts of the same unity, whether of a class or a form, they must involve what we term com- plement. Two things are complements when the} - contrast, and yet, as they appear together, complete the one thing to which they equally belong. The}- must be regarded, too, in classification, because every department of nature is full of them. Certain kinds of metals and ores, leaves and branches, males and females, alike in some regards, unlike in others, are always found together, and are both necessary to the realization of the type. So in the arts. In those of sound, high and low tones contrast ; and yet, if wc would have rhythm, melody, or harmony, both are necessary. In the arts of sight, light and shade contrast ; and yet, if we would represent the effects of forms as they appear in sunlight, both are necessary. In colors, again, certain hues, like red and blue-green, contrast ; and yet as both, when blended together, make white, both may be said to be necessary to complete the effects of light. In all these cases the contrasting factors are termed com- plements. The principle which underlies their uses is closely related, both in reality and in ordinary conception, to the developments of it in counteract ion and balance. For this reason there is no necessity of illustrating it until we come to treat of them. Enough has been done for our present purpose in merely indicating the fact of its existence, and its influence in producing effects of unity, notwithstanding tin: presence of contrast. CHAPTER III. ORDER, CONFUSION, COUNTERACTION, PRINCIPALITY, SUBORDINATION, AND BALANCE IN CLASSI- FICATION AND COMPOSITION. Order — Follows Variety and Complexity, Owing to a Reassertion of the Mind's Requirements — Confusion, in Poetry, in Music, in the Arts of Sight — Counteraction— Its Influence in Classification — In Art — In Poe- try — In Music — In the Arts of Sight — Principality — Connection be- tween the Mental Conception and the Object Forming the Nucleus of the Class — Balance — Its Relations to Complement, Counteraction, and Symmetry — To Twin Products in Nature. 'T^O attain unity of effect has been said to be the primary aim of all efforts at classification and art-composi- tion. When, owing to variety and complexity, this aim cannot be attained through a use of forms as they exist in nature, it must be attained through a method of using them ; in other words, through order. Order, in fact, can- not be denned better than by saying that it is an arrange- ment of factors in accordance with some apparent method. No matter what the particular method is, so long as any is visible, order is visible. A number of straight sticks thrown carelessly upon the ground, one upon another, and crossing at all conceivable angles, are usually in disorder, but if we make them parallel, either lying down or standing up ; or make them cross or radiate at like angles or from like points, — in any such cases, though differently obtained, we have effects of order ; and we could apply a similar 34 ORDER. 35 principle to the blending of colors or tones. The impor- tant fact is that order is a result of method. This being so, everything that is to follow in the present volume has to do with it as differently developed in different circum- stances ; and we need not stop to illustrate its general effects. Notice, however, its relationship to the line of thought that is now being followed. Order results from an asser- tion of the mind's requirements, notwithstanding oppos- ing conditions <>f nature. When, owing to these, the effect of unity cannot be obtained — because it does not exist — in a likeness manifested in all the members of a class, the course pursued is something like this. Thought contents itself with likeness manifested in a few forms, which are then grouped so as to emphasize their similarity. The moment that this grouping is begun, there begins to be some order. Hut only later does it come to have its per- fect work. Very soon slight differences are seen to sepa- rate even the members that at first seemed alike, while the differences that at first seemed to separate others are diminished. Finally, throughout all nature it is found that there are links enabling one to connect every class with others on both sides of it, and thus to connect all possible classes together. When an attempt is made to do this, the factors composing each class, and also the classes composing all those of nature, come to be grouped according to their degrees of difference in a regularly grad>d scries. We may c\jmvss this fact by saying that the classes and the system of classification as a whole come to have group-form. < >n ly when this result is reached is the work of order completed. < )f course the same prin- ciple applies to the bringing together of the factors com- posing any given art-form. 2,6 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. When the conditions of nature necessitate such an effect of variety that there is no order, we have that lack of ar- rangement preceding and necessitating classification which is termed confusion. But, because confusion exists in nature, it may sometimes be legitimately introduced into art. It is this fact that in poetry justifies an occasional, but only an occasional, use, when demanded by confusion of thought, of mixed metaphors. In these, terms rightly characterizing different objects or conditions which are compared, are used when referring to the same object or condition. Of course the effect conveyed is that the mind does not clearly distinguish the two but confuses them ; e.g. : Or take up arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing, end them. — Hamlet, iii., i : Shakespeare. So with ellipsis, in which a phrase or sentence, before being completed, is interrupted by another. This causes the meanings of both to be confused ; e. g. : O life, life-breath, Life-blood, — ere sleep come travail, life ere death. This life stream on my soul, direct, oblique, But always streaming. Hindrances ? They pique — Helps ? Such . . . but why repeat, my soul o'ertops Each height, than every depth profoundlier drops ? Enough that I can live and would live. Wait For some transcendent life reserved by Fate To follow this. O never. Fate I trust The same, my soul to ; for, as who flings dust, Perchance — so facile was the deed, she checked The void with these materials to affect My soul diversely— these consigned anew To naught by death, what marvel if she threw A second and superber spectacle Before it ? — Sordello, book vi. : Brozuning. CONFUSION. 37 Broken rhythm in the same way illustrates confusion of form ; e. g. : Let me behold thy face. Surely this man Was born of woman. Forgive my general and exceptless rashness You perpetual-sober gods. — Timon of Athens, iv., 3: Shakespeare. The same principle justifies in music the use of mere noise, as in the sounds of gongs, cymbals, drums, or of accompaniments or interruptions of any kind that intro- duce into the melody or harmony discrepancy or discord. It justifies, in the arts of sight also, whether painting, sculpture, or architecture, the representation of the ap- pearances on trees or vines of leaves and branches when they seem like mere daubs of color in the distance, also of wool on sheep, and of hair, if at all disordered, on the hu- man head, as well as of mixed and broken effects of differ- ent patterns, sizes, and o >lors, in the wood, stone, and glass of lattice-work, masonry, and windows. Notice the foliage covering the left wing of the "Chateau of Montigny," Fig 72, page 221, also some of the work in the "Ancient Koran Case," Fig. v way of variety, add greatly to the attractiveness of that with which it is associated, it nevertheless needs to he used in such a way as to suggest the dominance of unity and order. How can this be done? A little thought will reveal to us th.it. even in connection with confusion, order can manifest itself, and manifest itself clearly by way of counteraction. Nat tire, even to the- primitive man, could not have seemed wholly \ SITA 38 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. chaotic, from the moment that experience of night and day and seed-time and harvest had enabled him to recog- nize order behind them. So an animated tangle of wool -^tm^'^'^w^^^w^^^^M^ FIG. 9.— ANCIENT KORAN CASE (Escurial Library, Spain.) See pages 37, 224. or hair does not have the effect of mere confusion, from the moment that a glimpse of a method of contour with which we are familiar shows that it belongs to the order CO UN TERA C TION. 39 of the dog or the sheep. In such cases, recalling that both order and confusion are effects, we can say that what confusion or variety needs, before any effect of unity or order is produced, is counteraction. Carl Blanc, indeed, in the introduction to his "Art in Ornament and Dress," terms it "balanced confusion." By this he means that which keeps confusion within the compass of some rhythm, tune, form, or color ; and causes the whole, in spite of op- posing elements, to manifest method. If he applied his thought to music, he would mean that which causes gongs or drums to be struck so as to augment the rhythmic effect of the general movement. Applied to painting, at all events, he means that which causes tangled masses of wool, or foliage, to hang about animals, trees, or towers, in such ways as to introduce more or less variety into the order that in general characterizes them. lie means that which, through tin- use of a background of mathematical architectural forms, holds together and makes a unity of the otherwise confused groups of men in Raphael's " School of Athens." See Fig. 10, page 41. Hut tin- term balance, as we shall find hereafter, has a slightly different meaning from that which he assigns to it, while counteraction would answer all his purposes. Counteraction, it is true, underlies balance; but it is a principle of different and broader applicability. We have noticed some of its uses in connection with confu- sion. But tins,- uses are as wide in their range as the whole field of art-production. It is not too much to say that, without counteraction, it would be impossible to turn the formless confusion of nature into any art-forms whatever. To go back to classification in order to show this, suppose that we are dealing with tin- bats. They have hair, teeth, and other characteristics that make them 40 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. compare with the mice, or belong to that order; but besides this they have wings, and these cause them to contrast with the mice, and to be confused with the birds. It is evidently appropriate to say that the two conditions counteract each other. This fact, moreover, has other effects. It gives a class, as a whole, a mixed character, which causes certain of its members to be allied not only to it, but to other classes, between which and it, therefore, these members serve as connecting links ; as the bat does between the mammal and the bird, and as the seal between the mam- mal and the fish. It is counteraction, therefore, that enables us to perceive upon what other classes on differ- ent sides any given classes, metaphorically speaking, bor- der. It is this that enables us to assign limits or outlines to different groups, as well as to bring together those that are the most nearly related. In other words, counterac- tion furnishes us with the first condition of that which, as applied to individual or collective factors, we may term form. This will appear more evident as we go on to consider counteraction in art-composition. Here it is manifested whenever we have in the same product or part of a product opposing effects. We have to show that these exist almost universally, and that, whenever found, they are necessary to the constitution of the form. The fact that they exist is so patent that it is remarkable that more at- tention has not been directed to it. Corresponding to the double character — spiritual and material — of all the phenomena of life, we find necessarily present in almost every sound, whether produced in nature or in art, syllables or notes of long and short dura- tion, loud and soft force, upward and downward pitch, Ld < I Q- UJ « < °°. o v O 11) * 1 — O 11 o U- 42 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. and full and thin quality. We find in almost every object of sight, lines of opposing length and shortness, perpen- dicularity and horizontality, curvature and straightness; and colors of opposing light and shade, gayety and grave- ness, brilliancy and dulness. This is true not only of products considered in whole but in part. In a comic utterance of the expression " All I live by is the awl," the final single syllable contains opposing elements of sound of every possible variety — duration, force, pitch, and quality. And one can hardly paint a single plum hang- ing in the sunshine without something to suggest every possible opposing element of sight. But to mention a few particulars, the measures of poetry and music owe their origin to a combination of accented and unaccented parts. Without both of these they could not exist. As a rule, too, they must manifest every possible kind of counteraction ; contain, that is, both long and short, loud and soft, upward and downward, high and low, and full and thin tones. Very often, too, in poetry, and almost invariably in music, successive phrases as they follow one another, also oppose one an- other in certain characteristics of their movements. Notice that this is true in the following: Or, if on joyful wing, Cleaving the sky, Sun, moon, and stars forgot, Upward I fly. — Nearer my God to Thee : S. F. Adams. In music, most of us know what is meant by counter- point, a form of composition which, for our present pur- poses, might be said to be a combination of opposing effects about a single point. Most of us too are ac- quainted with the terms thesis and anti-thesis, strophe and CO UN TERA C TION. 43 anti-strophe. The very words suggest their relevance in this connection. The principle underlying them may be illustrated in the upward and downward movements that in the following arc set to the successive and con- trasting lines marked A and B or B-f-, and C, or C+- This arrangement illustrates effects of counteraction, such as in this art are almost universal. =T- Near-er, rav God, to Thee, Near-er to Thee ! E'en tho' it =3= 1 @3 Eg=a=* _-&. zzz— ^ :!■=&: :t i : J§=* -|- c + ' J_ r .J — I- 22--— « 1— ^ B + C -I- c be a cross That raisethme ! Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my — I — L e s e? 1 ' rH c + a si=d= - . A _ i_ B + c 5-^i ; F=n S-g^^gTf-S^ ^i-^^^ =*- i God, to Thee, Near-er, my God, to Thee, Near-er to Tine ! £ n=: £ ^■_ EZ4 ' -feu , 1 1 L i 1 r r - — Bethany : L. Mason. A corresponding fact is exemplified in products of the of sight. We can scarcely copy <>r originate a form iu any of these without having it exemplify all the oppos- ing possibilities of outline and hue. Think of the innumerable deviations from straight line to angles and curves in the contour of a single animal, and of the end- 44 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. less variety of the play of sunshine upon the colors of a single landscape. This counteraction, moreover, is not only actual, but necessary. It would be impossible for any visible object to have a definite shape unless there were at least two opposing tendencies of line giving it a contour and two of color giving it light and shade ; and the same, as in poetry and music, is true of every part of the whole. This is so much more apparent here, than in the arts of sound, that there is no necessity of illustrat- ing it. In making a practical application of the requirements of order and of the methods associated with it, some member of a class is always considered first, after which are arranged in order second, third, fourth, and other members. But of all these, the first is evidently the most important. It is the nucleus about which the others are grouped ; and, theoretically considered, we should judge that it would be typical of them all. Practically, too, it is so. Classification is invariably begun by observing a few details characterizing some one object — say a palm- tree or a wolf — to which is given what is sometimes termed principality. About this object are then grouped other similar objects which are said to belong — as the case may be — to the palm family or the wolf family. As preparatory to recognizing the exact analogy between this method and what is done in art-composition, it is important to recognize that, in connection with the observation of the object which forms the nucleus of the grouping, there inevitably arises in the mind a mental conception which becomes the ideal criterion to be applied to every member admitted to the class. At first, how- ever, this conception and the object are apprehended together in such a way that the mind cannot dissociate PK.XCIPAIITY AND SUBORDINATION. 45 the two. In the case just mentioned, for instance, the conception of the palm or wolf is merely that which is represented in the form of this particular tree or animal, and vice versa. So, as we shall find by and by, the con- ception of a theme in poetry, music, painting, sculpture, or architecture is virtually identical with a particular form apprehended by the mind. When this form or, if it be only such, this feature is given principality ', it follows, as an axiom, that all other forms or features associated with it must be given subordination. This is so evident, and so evidently necessitated as a condition accompany- ing principality of any kind, that the statement needs no illustration. Once more, wherever there is a principal factor and also a subordinate or main- subordinate factors, the en- deavor to arrange them together leads to a consideration of what is termed balance. Balance is an effect of equi- librium obtained by arranging like features on both sides of a real or ideal centre. It makes no difference whether they are alike in quantity, which is the first su^estion given by the word, or in quality, — in actuality or in mere appearance. All that is necessary is that in some waythey should be or seem alike. In this regard balance differs from either complement or counteraction ; for in both of these the essential consideration is unlikeness. At the same time, all three have much in common. One arm, for instance, thrust forward from a bending body and one lee thrust backward from it, may contrast strongly both in appearance and position; and in this regard may resemble complement. Undoubtedly too they counteract each other. Hut because they present an appearance of equilibrium in that like quantities seem to be "ii each side of the centre, our first thought is 46 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. not that they complement or counteract but that they bal- ance. Notice this too in the groupings in Fig. 49, page 161. The close connection between these three, complement, counteraction, and balance, accounts for the fact that in ordinary language and conception they are not clearly distinguished. Nor is it often important that they should be. In one regard, at least, they are all alike. They are all developments of the same principle. Complement produces unity in a natural way from things different. Counteraction applies the principle underlying complement to things that are not complementary by nature, and produces, as we have seen, effects that are essential to the very existence of form. Balance, going still farther, applies the same principle to things that are neither com- plementary nor counteractive, in such a way as to give a more satisfactory appearance to the form by adding to it the effect of equilibrium. A still later development of the same principle, preceding which, however, there need to be some intervening stages, results in symmetry. \\\ this regard these four, complement, counter action, bal- ance, and symmetry, are related, as we shall find hereafter, in much the same way as are comparison, congruity, repeti- tion, and consonance, as well as many other of the art- methods arranged in the same columns in the list on page 131. Complement and balance are especially related because they are practically inseparable. Between com- plements, as between red and blue-green, there is often great apparent difference, but at the same time, there must be a ground of resemblance. Between balancing factors, as between red on one side of a picture and red also on its other side, there is usually great apparent like- ness, but at the same time there is often a ground of differ- ence. These being the conditions, the factors to which COMPLEMENT AND BALANCE. 47 the one or the other term can apply, according as they are less or more alike, fluctuate all the way between two extremes, at one of which there is only complement, and at the other only balance. But where the two separate FIG. 11.— GATE OF SERRANO, VALENCIA, SPAIN. See pages 48, 79, 87, 96. it is impossible to determine. All that we can know definitely is that somewhere between the extremes, we are furnished with all the data necessary to explain any and all of the arrangements based upon the principle from which l»>tli spring. Forthis reason, in giving illustrations 48 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. from the different arts, no endeavor need be made here to separate clearly those that exemplify complement from those that exemplify balance. The two terms will be used almost interchangeably, in recognition of the fact that sometimes that which the one represents, and some- times that which the other represents, is more promi- nent ; and that both are really necessary in order to account for all the conditions. For instance, a desire to perceive effects of balance alone, as the word is ordinarily understood, does not fully explain why both in the exter- nal world and in the products of art, men derive satisfac- tion from twin trees, towers, houses, and figures of men and animals ; as in Fig. 1 1, page 47 ; as well as in the " Invest- ment of a Bishop by a King," Fig. 25, page 80. Read, too, what is said of a painting, by Turner when illustra- ting repetition in connection with Fig. 66, page 203. But the moment that we recall that nature is full of twin effects, some of them as unlike as a pair of chickens, some as like as a pair of sparrows, we see, sufficiently for our purpose, without making too nice distinctions, how, in the principle underlying both complement and balance, art got the warrant for its method. The effects in nature illus- trating this principle thus considered, too, may differ in almost all degrees possible. They may be as unlike as heads and feet, or as the top and the bottom of a tree; or as alike as two eyes, ears, arms, and wings. To the relations between some of them we should naturally apply the term balance ; but it is not even questionable whether, had art not rendered it allowable, we should apply it in all cases. In arranging principal, subordinate, and balancing fac- tors, the principal and one or more of the subordinate are sometimes balanced ; sometimes two or more of the sub- FIQ. 12— THE CHURCH OF THE SACRED HEART, MONTMARTRE. PARIS. ''I- 50 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. ordinate ; and sometimes both these conditions exist. This general fact can scarcely fail to reveal itself to the most superficial glance at any art-product. A few notes — only the suggestion, perhaps, of a melody — furnish a form and with it a principal theme expressive of some musical idea. Other subordinate series of notes, supposed for some reason to be more or less like the first, or, if not, at least complementing, counteracting, or balancing it or one another, are arranged in order about it, and through the use of them is developed a work like a symphony. A few phrases containing certain accented and unaccented sylla- bles, perhaps only one word like the '' Nevermore " of Poe's " Raven," furnish a form and with it a principal theme expressive of some poetic idea ; and by a similar process there is developed a whole epic or lyric. A few lines or colors constituting a face or feature, sometimes merely a flush, smile, or gesture full of grace and meaning, furnish a form and with it a principal theme suggestive of picto- rial treatment; a few angles or arches constituting part of a door, a window, a gable, a tower, furnish the same, sug- gestive of architectural treatment, and from them in a similar way are developed a painting, a statue, a palace, a cathedral. Notice how all the forms used in the interior of the " Church of the Sacred Heart," of Paris (Fig. 12, page 49), are built upon the primitive conception in the Norman arch. As with the other art-methods, these methods, too, are suggested by conditions found in nature. In hearing the song of a bird or a man, we may observe chiefly the time filled by the different tones or their movements up and down the scale ; in looking at a tree we may observe chiefly the outlines formed by its leaves, branches, or general contour, or by its color ; but whatever we may COMPLEMENT AND BALANCE. 5 I observe, it seems to be a Law of the mind that usually only one of the many features perceived attracts special attention. The fact that this is so, has much to do with causing the song or tree notwithstanding the different effects of its component parts — to appear to be one tiling and not many. That which attracts special atten- tion in these cases — whatever it may be — is that which seems to the observer to have principality. Everything else, of course, appears subordinate, while the degree in which all the factors together — whether principal or sub- ordinate — blend so as to suggest the completeness or equilibrium of the whole gives the measure of the complement or balance. CHAPTER IV. PRINCIPALITY, SUBORDINATION, AND COMPLEMENT OR BALANCE IN POETRY AND MUSIC. Principality in the Arts of Sound Involves Something Kept Constantly before the Mind — Principality of Theme in an Epic — In a Drama — Of Form in the Blank Verse of Long Poems — Of Short Poems as in the Chorus — In the French Forms, Rondel, Triolet, Kyrielle — In the General Movement as Representing the General Thought — Illustrations — Principality as Illustrated by Musical Variations — And in Other Longer and Shorter Compositions — Subordination and Complement or Balance in Poetic Themes — In Poetic Form — In Pairs of Lines in Verse — Correspondence between Poetry and Music in this Regard — Balance in Poetic Feet and Pairs of Words — The Same Method in Musical Themes and Phrases — Illustrations of its Application — Of its Non-application — Complement between the Different Phrases and Chords and Measures. A HE facts indicated in Chapter III. can be brought out more clearly as we go on to apply what was said there to the separate arts. Poetry and music are made up of sounds moving along, one after another. These sounds may be varied almost infinitely in their details, yet a composition, to be in the highest sense artistic, convey- ing to us that impression of unity which is essential to the manifestation of form, must never be equally plain- tive and gay, hostile and sympathetic, funereal and festive. One of these tendencies must have principality. At the same time it is evident that, amid sounds constantly mov- ing, any effect of such a nature as to cause the whole to 52 PRINCIPALITY IN POETRY A. YD .VUSIC. 53 produce a single dominant impression must be connected with something kept constantly before the mind. In other words, the principal feature, so far as it pertains to the thought, must be suggested by constant references to the thought ; so far as to the form, by constant recurrences of it. In an epic the principal thought may be some grand event of historic or religious importance, to which all the other events that are mentioned are subordinate, mainly serving, by way of comparison or contrast, to give it greater prominence. Notice how the keynote of the whole of Homer's " Odyssey " is struck and foreshadowed in its opening sentence : Tell me, muse, of that sagacious man Who, having overthrown the sacred town Of Ilium, wandered far and visited The capitals of many nations, learned The customs of their duellers, and endured Great suffering on the deep ; his life was oft In peril, as he labored to bring back His comrades to their homes. — Bryanfs Trans. The same method, as exemplified in tli< beginnings of both Homer's " Iliad " and Virgil's " .l-'.mad." will recur to most of us. Here too is Milton's first sentence in the " Paradise Lost " : Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world and all our Witli loss of Ed< n, nil one greater man Ri -tore us and regain the blissful seat, Sing, I Leavenly M u Equally effective, for a similar reason, is th< opening of the " Sigurd the Volsung " of William Morris . 54 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. There was a dwelling of kings ere the world was waxen old ; Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched with gold ; Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its doors ; Earls' wives were the weaving women, queens' daughters strewed its floors, And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men that cast The souls of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast. In a drama, principality may be given to some character like Hamlet or Lear, to whom all the other characters and all their actions are in some way subordinated. Let it be borne in mind, however, that in all such cases the effect is enhanced by the degree in which whatever has principality in thought is embodied in a principal form. In poetry this latter may be a certain number of words constituting a line of verse ; and in music a certain number of notes constituting a phrase. Long poems, in which the thought can be brought out only by describing a series of very different events or quoting words of very different characters, necessitate a form capable of being varied to the greatest possible extent without losing its distinguishing characteristics. Such a form we have in blank verse, either regular or broken ; and, as much because it fulfils the requirements of principality as for any other reason, it is generally recognized, in the poems in which it is used, as something which imparts to them, however long or complicated they may be, an effect of unity. For this reason, as well as for others, those who imagine that a " Paradise Lost " or " Idyls of the King " would be as valuable a contribu- tion to art as it is, were it composed without metre or verse, like some of the works of Whitman, are either des- titute by nature of aesthetic sensibility or have not had their natural endowment sufficiently cultivated. Before they can become entitled to leadership in the fields of criticism, they need either to be born again or bred again. PRINCIPALITY IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 55 It is mainly, however, from shorter poems in which all effects are less complex that we may get the clearest illus- trations of the method under consideration. The ordinary chorus or refrain at the end of successive stanzas, as a rule, illustrates principality. It epitomizes in a form con- stantly recurring all that the whole poem to which it is attached is intended to express ; e. g. : Home, home ' sweet, sweet home ! Be it ever so humble, there 's no place like home ! — Horn ' f Ionic : Payne. The Star-Spangled Banner, oh ! long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. — The Star- Spat 'anner ; Key. A similar effect is still more emphasized in some of the different French forms of verse, which of Lite years many of our younger poets with a somewhat overweening inter- est in mere mechanism have been imitating. As will be shown by and by, and as will be recognized by a single glance at the following poems, especially at their rhymes repetition is their main characteristic. Hut they also illus- trate very clearly the influence of principality. 1 [1 iw 1- ii you ami I Vre always meeting so ? I you passing liy Whichever way I l;". I cannot say I know 'I he spell thai draws us nigh. I I ■. i^ il \ - 'ii and I \ n B meet in;.' Still thoughts to thoughts reply, And whispers ebb and flow ; 1 iy it with But half coi I low, 56 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. How is it you and I Are always meeting so ? — Rondel : Jo/in C 'ameron Grant. T.ci, my heart, so sound asleep, Lady, will you wake it ? For lust love I used to weep, Now my heart is sound asleep, If it once were yours to keep, I fear you 'd break it. Lo, my heart, so sound asleep, Lady, will you wake it ? — Triolet : Justin Huntly McCarthy. In spring, Love came, a welcome guest, And tarried long at my behest ; Now autumn wanes, the skies are gray, But loyal Love flees not away. I charmed him with melodious lays, Through long, rose-scented summer days ; My songs no more are clear and gay, But loyal Love flees not away. We plucked and twined the myrtle flowers, Made joyance in the sylvan bowers ; The blooms have died, wild winds hold sway, But loyal Love flees not away. Gone are the fifing crickets, gone The feathered harbingers of dawn. And gone the woodland's bright display, But loyal Love flees not away. With intermingled light and shade The shifting seasons come and fade : Our fond hopes fail, false friends betray, But loyal Love flees not away. — Kyriclle : Clinton Scollard. Notice illustrations of the same method in the French forms quoted on pages 63, 107, and 196. PRINCIPALITY IN POETRY AND Ml' SIC. $? But many poems have no chorus nor refrain. In these the effect of principality is dependent mainly, sometimes exclusively, upon the method of movement, i. e., upon the metre. In the following a ride on horseback is the principal conception. Observe how it is embodied in the move- ment of the opening sentence : I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; I galloped, I>irck galloped, we galloped all three. — How They Brought < ' rom Ghent: Browning. And how the gait of the horses is echoed in the rhythm of the whole : So we were left galloping, Joris and I, Pasl Loos and past Tangres, no cloud in the sky ; The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh ; 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff ; Till ovei by 1 >alhem a dome spire sprang while, And " i lallop," gasped Joris, " for Ai\ is in sight." — I arm. Here the principal conception has reference to death. Notice how the slow and solemn movement of the rhythm everywhere represents this : The storm that wrecks the winter sky No in. ire disturbs their deep repose Than summer evening's latest sigh That shut^ the i I long to lay this painful head And aching hear! beneath the soil, To slumber in that dreamless bed From all my toil. — 7 Mot And what could bi tt< r give principality to a hall doubt- ing, half confiding mood than the arrangement of rhythm and rhymes in this? 58 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. With weary steps I loiter on, Tho' always under altered skies. The purple from the distance dies, My prospect and horizon gone. No joy the blowing season gives The herald melodies of spring, But in the songs I loved to sing A doubtful gleam of solace lives. If any care for what is here Survive in spirits rendered free, Then are these songs I sing of thee Not all ungrateful to thine ear. — In Memoriam, xxxviii. : Tennyson. Here the idea of rocking a babe to sleep is upper most : Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon ; Rest, rest on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in the nest, ■ Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon : Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. — lullaby from The Princess : Tennyson. Here is a movement to accompany a triumphant march : Hail to the chief who in triumph advances. Honored and blest be the evergreen pine. Long may the tree in his banner that glances Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line. — Song of Clan Alpine : Scott. Here is an exhortation to strike successive blows at tyrants : PRINCIPALITY IN POETRY AND MUSIC. $9 Lay the proud usurpers low. Tyrants fall in every foe, Liberty 's in every blow. Forward, let us do or die. — Bannockburn : Burns. And this represents riding on a railway : Singing through the for* Rattling over rid Shooting under arches, Rumbling over bridges ; Whizzing through the mountains, Buzzing o'er the vale, — Bless me, this is pleasant, Riding on the rail. — Railroad Rhyme : Saxe. Most of us will probably obtain the best conception of principality and subordination in music, by recalling the difference between a melody, as it is either sung or played upon an instrument, and that which is called its accompaniment. In this case, the former, of course, is the principal thing, and the latter, the subordinate. A more complete illustration of the same difference, because necessitating more elaboration in the subordinate features, is furnished by one of those compositions which are popularly called variations. In these, .is we hear the repeated strains of a familiar melody, we have no difficulty in detecting the principal theme, notwithstanding great differences in the effects of duration, force, pitch, or quality. The following from the " Paraphrase de Con- cert," by Charles Gimbel, of Foster's popular " < >ld black Joe," will illustrate this fact to the eye almosl as clearly as to the ear. The lower, bass notes contain the melody, which is the principal thing; and the upper notes the accompanying variations, which, like features in the back- ground of a painting, are subordinate to the melody. 6o THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. &F m >bm & t2«-tt* P vwW rri — rr gj**=rf"C=CzE[±gJtglg:|gg_-^gi=|— r|— FEE nzzt=:c= -^—- . ti — ! — n — i — i — n — i — i — i — i-i — f- _ ___ Ped. §& ^ .e ^fe, PRI.VCIPALITY IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 6 1 The same general method is pursued in almost every composition. In many of the more important of them, however, as in Beethoven's Symphony No. 5, in C minor, jfo* i J ^" TPt — M — F ^^ — =*- the theme is more simple, consisting of only a few notes ; and, at the same time, the developments are more complex, involving a greater departure from it. Both tacts cause it to be more difficult to keep in mind and to recognize when it reappears. But unless one conversant with the methods of music can do this, the result is more or less inartistic. In shorter compositions, like ballads and hymns, the effect may be perceived by all. Notice, in the music printed on page 43, how the same movements, varied but slightly, are constantly recurring in successive lines, or pairs, or series of lines, like those marked by the same letters namely A B, or A B-f-. Now, let us consider complement and balance in these arts. As has been said, the complementary or balancing factors are sometimes the principal and a subordinate one, and sometimes are both subordinate. In the play ol "Hamlet," the cool-headed, well-poised, consistent char- acter of the intellectual I [oratio complements that ol the hot-headed, ill-poised, irresolute, but intellectual hero. At the time time, certain of the other characters, a- Laertes and Ophelia, and the King and Queen, com- plement each other. In a sense, too, as if to show the connection of the parts with the whole as well as with other parts, they also complement certain characteristics of I [amlet. Applying the same methods to form, we could say that in the following poem the principal metre consists of a 62 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. line of four feet, or eight syllables; and if printed thus — as it might be — all the lines would contain exactly the same rhythmic quantities, and therefore would exactly balance. From gold to gray our mild sweet day Of Indian summer fades too soon. But printed as it ordinarily is, the first two lines, while together balancing the third, still more effectually balance each other. From gold to gray Our mild sweet day Of Indian summer fades too soon ; But tenderly Above the sea Hangs, white and calm, the hunter's moon. — Indian Summer : Whitlier. The very common arrangement represented in this stanza, in accordance with which couplets, or two lines and not three, rhyme, while the rhyming lines, however widely separated, are of equal lengths, is clearly traceable to the prevalence in this art of this quantitative kind of balance. Here again, too, the French forms of verse will prove serviceable by way of illustration. Any one who will compare the following poetry with the music on page 64 will have no difficulty in detecting in both the same method of securing complementary or balancing effects as are there explained. Just as in this, the phrase used in the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines, while the first two lines are the same as the last two ; so in the music the phrase set to the words in the first line is repeated in that set to the third and seventh lines, while the first two lines are very nearly the same as BALANCE IN POETRY AND ML' SIC. 63 the last two, Forms so evidently alike in principle may have arisen in poetry through attempts to imitate methods with which music first made the poets familiar. But it is more likely that these forms in both music and poetry sprang from a common source, the source to which are attributable all the methods of art-composition. This supposition is all the more likely inasmuch as the same characteristics, as will presently be shown, appear in the arts of sight, but so differently manifested that by no stretch of imagination is it conceivable that their appear- ance in the latter should have resulted from conscious imitation. Here is the poetry : Oh, Love 's but a dance. Where Time plays the fiddle : See the couples advance, — Oh, Love 's but a dance : A whisper, a glance, — " Shall we twirl down the middle?" Oh, Love 's but a dance, Where Time plays the riddle. — Triolet; Austin Dobson, Once more, it is evident that the forms of verse as manifested in the arrangement, not only of its lines, but of its feet, constructed as these are out of regularly counteracting and alternating accented and unaccented syllables, owe their origin in part to the principle of balance. And what but a recognition of the artistic possibilities of a fulfilment of the same principle leads poets, and prose-writers too, to use s,, many pairs ol words having the same sense or sound ? With Swinburne this arrangement is so common as to have become a mannerism : Naked, shamed, cast oul of consecration, I irpse ami . offin, yea the very grav< 64 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. Scoffed at, scattered, shaken from their station, Spurned and scourged of wind and sea like slaves, Desolate beyond man's desolation, Shrink and sink into the waste of waves. — By the North Sea : Swinburne. The same methods are equally manifest in musical effects. To go back to the compositions termed Vari- ations that were mentioned a moment ago, if the melody in them that furnishes the theme be the principal thing, it is evident that all the different forms of variation, while subordinate, are also complementary to the melody. It is equally evident that they are all complementary to one an- other. Indeed, the frequency with which a high or fast movement is placed in immediate juxtaposition to a low or slow movement cannot be explained except by supposing an intention to produce this effect. In the following typically arranged melody, the prin- cipal theme may be said to be contained in the first five bars. Notice how this is at once repeated so as to emphasize its principality ; but with one complementary change in the ninth and tenth bars. Then follow five more bars wholly complementary of the theme ; then five more in which the theme is repeated again with a slight change in the last two measures. A precisely similar arrangement, too, except that the principal theme occu- pies four instead of five bars, will be found in the music on page 43. Principal. Subordinate and Complementary. _J__J J_ r _-J j_ __ r _ -I 1— r — t^— r r- From Greenland's i - cy mountains, From In-dia's co - ral strand, -»- -»- -d m -m- -m- -m- -&- » — r — f« — m >a ■ r -+ -m 1 1 1 w m- i WPLEMENT IN POETRY AND MUSIC. °5 Principal. Subordinate and Complementary. , _J 1 J- ,-- I I ill " - J f= ^ Where Af - ri s sun- ny fountains Roll down their gold-en sand; Complementary I J Complementary. -J_ 4 I : :-»H 4^=i From many an an-cient riv - er.Frommanya palm-y plain, ^I3i J m m -m » o t Z3 /'; iueipal. 311113^ -I 1- rdinate and Complementary I q : ^ Tiny call us to de - liv - cr Their land from er - ror's chain * -m- ' S , »' ' * -*- s *-,=£ 5 S— S= - Z ± r EEE II — Missionary Hymn Not only arc the movements set to the fifth and sixth lines of this stanza complementary of the principal theme, but, as will be noticed, those set to the second and fourth, as well as to the sixth and eighth lines, are mutually complementary. So important is complement of this sort to the effect "I" music, that it is hardly possible for a phrase to be introduced into .1 composition withoul an accompanying complement and not produce an effect of incompleteness that will be felt, even though, as is very likely, it cannol 1"- explained. However we may admire the following, who can ever hear its nth line without wishing thai it had been omitted, or that another line had been added omewhere? The 66 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. reason for this is that there is nothing to balance or complement it. t 4 . ESzzmz E*E*EI£ r*=St q • M- I I Our God stands firm, a rock and tow'r, A shield when danger <2> I if-?— » — * B a—, L_ t T X j= "I f :*=» 3 — l-r ^=^ L s=g= * » -p~i-- 4 — 4- i=r= press - es ; A read-y help in ev - 'ry hour When r =*=a: 1 I- 5 -*=?- doubt or pain dir. - tress - es ; For our ma-lig- nant foe I M- -J- W^E£^£=*^S-z "I r z*=Cz mm 6 J J J - * 1 7 — \-, pt=^= — i 1 1 ~~ S 3 ^ =i — Un- M S 3— i — m » ^ — swerv-ing aims J his -f- blow ; His — j — -J *— fear - ful -r— «g- 3 rr arms the while — M— ^ — e — -1 — L -r — i -t= 1 -»*- ^=^= -£=*= -jff-^W -J—, l i i 1— . n — U, — I 1 1 ! i tc - 1 — r~r r Dark pow'rand darkerguile ; His hid-den craft is match-less. -t — r- ^=^» ii= *=SF 1 h — £■/»' .Fwte />«■!» .• Luther. COMPLEMENT IN POETRY AND MUSIC. r >; In addition to what lias been said, notice also how uni- formly in almost all compositions of this kind every two 01 three measures in which the notes move upward are fol- lowed by two or three in which they move downward. fe!i^=" • ; : ;\- ■ -_-- Komra,lie-ber Mai, und ma- che die BSu-me wie-der griln, %=2 * • * :p=6ar \ :•— \ - m ♦ , "I und lass inir an dem Ba - che die klei-nen Veil-chen bliih'n! Wiemocht'ichdoch so ger - ne ein Veil-chen wie-der seh'n, if^& ach! lie-ber Mai, wie ger - ne ein - mal spa-zie-ren geh'n! — Seh di m Fr Very often, too, our part is complemented or balanced by another. In the following, when the soprano ascends the scale, the bass usually descends it, and vice versa: 92 3^ M -» 1 - S 5 d$ J \ 2 c 5=H =ra J J £39 :.5 My sou!, be uvre, as she speeds to the chase, Fig. 19, gives principality t o the mental purpose subord- inating to itself every tendency t o mental weariness. The " Mer- cury," found at Hercu- laneum, Fig. 20, page 76, with head bending tow- ard the trunk and limbs, shows the mind subor- dinated, but, owing to his evident reluctance, only temporarily subor- fig. 19. diana, from the louvre. dinated to the bodily See pages 75, 85, 120, 186. condition. In a different way, because devoid of any suggestions of mental opposition, the positions of "The *&i=> v Wrestlers," Fig. 21, page jy, make everything subord- inate to lower physical strength. In architecture, principality is attained by making prominent a porch or door, Fig. [,page [ 5, indicating per- 7 6 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. haps the numbers, great or small, expected to enter it ; or a window, Fig. 22, page 78, or dome, Fig. 42, page 123, indicating the amplitude or height of the interior halls ; or a spire, Fig. 68, page 207, indicating an intent to attract FI3. 20.— MERCURY.— Bronze from Herculaneum. • See pages 75, 85, 120. attention from a distance. Sometimes all these features together are emphasized by being all made to constitute parts of one principal tower, Fig. 71, page 218. The impression of completeness that many people derive from PRINCIPALITY IN ARCHITECTURE. 77 buildings like the Oriental mosques, Fig. 3, page 19, Fig. 30, page 86, Fig. 42. page 123, or " St. Peter's" at Rome, Fig. 23, page 78, is owing undoubtedly to the fact that the dome used in them as a principal feature is especially effective in subordinating to itself all the otherforms, and giving to the buildings as wholes an appearance of unity. In many structures extending into wings that equal or FIG. 21.— THE WRESTLERS. Sec pages 7-". surpass in size their central connecting parts, Fig. 24, page ; ~ o~ - io ci cr i- u - > o ~ o ' o. cr. AMMr^KV 82 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. arrangement augments the effect of balancing, by that which, as we shall presently find, is the main characteristic of symmetry ; for, so placed, the odd feature acts like an intersecting line, clearly showing — as the body does between the wings of a bird, or the head between the shoulders, or the nose between the eyes — just how the pairs are separated and related. The same is true of groups, too, formed of five and seven, or of any other odd, rather than even numbers. Only when there are sufficient factors to make it difficult to count them in a single glance, is it as easy to secure effects of balance with the latter as with the former (see Turner's "'Decline of Carthage," Fig. 51, page 175). When there are many figures, as in the one hundred and sixty of the size of life in Paul Veronese's " Marriage at Cana," or in the two hundred and ten, thirty of which are of full length, in Tintoretto's " Paradise," there is usually a principal group containing a principal figure, and many subordinate and complementary groups, each, at times, containing its own principal figure. Of course, the groups thus formed are usually arranged as if they were only individual factors. Notice the grouping in Raphael's "Transfiguration," Fig. 46, page 147, and in Teniers's "Village Dance," Fig. 43, page 143, and Fig. 10, page 41. The varieties of ways in which effects of balance may be secured in these visible arts, especially in painting, seem practically infinite. As a method, too, it is almost uni- versal. In Gerome's " Pollice Verso," Fig. 26, page 81, a gladiator's limbs stretched upon the ground on one side of his triumphant antagonist is exactly balanced by the armor that has been stripped from them, which lies on the other side of the victor; while the arm of the latter, lifted that his sword may strike, is balanced by his victim's arm BALANCE IN PAINTING. 8' lifted to appeal for mercy. In the first case, we have an instance of balance produced in spite of decided contrast between the balancing members. A similar effect is pro- duced by color in one of Paul Veronese's pictures of the FIG. 27. THE DISCOBOLUS, OR QUOIT THROWER. page 85. " Marriage .11 Cana," where .1 small black head of a dog on one side- is said to balance a large mass of black on the otlur side. So, too, in Jules Breton's " Brittany Washer- women," formerly in the New York Metropolitan Museum, 8 4 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. a little blue in the women's skirts balances a much larger amount of blue in the sea opposite to them. As exemplified in the human figure, and so in sculpture, balance can never be fully understood, except as it is treated in connection with both symmetry and proportion. Here it is sufficient to point out that, as a rule, in order to secure variety, the limbs of the two sides of the body should be in somewhat different positions. If this arrange- ment be adopted, nature requires that a man should keep his equilibrium, and art that he should seem to keep it by plf ^"ii;|J5 fe® <■ , /iff: -flfel 3|§ , v. M-.- ,< FIQ. 28.- A SMALL HOUSE. Sec pages 85, 96, 124, 187. making an exertion in one direction sufficient to counter- act that made in the other. For this reason, when one is gesturing, or appearing to gesture, his hands and head, if the latter be not kept still, should make counteracting movements. The head should move toward the hands when they are lifted, and away from them when they fall. Or if he be posing, and his arm be thrust out on one side of him, his other arm, or his trunk or foot should be thrust out on his other side, sufficiently at least to secure an effect of equilibrium. The necessity in art of seeming BALANCE IN SCULPTURE. 85 to carry out such requirements, especially where postures are unusual, as in the case of the " Discobolus," (Fig. 27, page 83) present^ one of the greatest difficulties which the sculptor has to encounter. See statues on pages 74 to y;. FIG. 29.— PALACE OF JUSTICE, AT LYONS, FRANCE. S& 1. 1 11 architecture, it is possible lor one subordinate feature ♦ to complement the principal, as a wing, or porch, or door at one side of a house balances the whole facade of the building to which it is attached 1 Fig. 28, page 84) ; or as 3 a CO O O ON > r^ < r^ > in / ti) 5 (S > t—* LU _l <» D t/5 CO 1 o CO o BALANCE IN ARCHITECTURE. 87 a tower at one side or corner offsets the body of a church (Fig. 97, page 292) ; or as a dome completes that which sup- ports it (Fig. 23, page 78). With exception of the dome, however, such arrangements are in place mainly in smaller buildings in which graceful and picturesque effects are desirable. In all such cases, too, it is important that the subordinate feature be sufficiently large to be a true com pU inent or balance. A wing, or tower, or dome of any kind, too small for that which goes beside or beneath it, is invariably unsatisfactory. Notice the absence of effec- tiveness for both these reasons in the cupola surmounting the unnecessary mixture of styles in the " Palace of Jus- tice," at Lyons, France, Fig. 29, page 85. In the degree in which a building, like a church, a court-house, or a school, is to be devoted to a serious purpose, it should convey an impression of dignity. In art, as in life, this effect results from an appearance of perfect equilibrium. In architecture it is secured in the degree in which the principal entrance is exactly in the middle of the facade, with an equal number of subordinate features, towers, pillars or openings, as the case may be, on either side of it. Notice, as exemplifying this arrangement, "Cologne Cathedral," Fig. 2, page 17, the "Taj Mahal," Fig* 3> P a g e '')• "•^ t - Mark's, Venice," Fig. 31, page 88, and "The Gate of Serrano." Fig. II, page 47. In the Greek temples, the front peristyle to which, as a whole, was given principality always contained an even number of columns, in order that, before the central door, there might be a central space betwe< n them. This space, too, might exceed that between the other columns; and the spaces between the columns farthest to right and left were narrower than those between any others. Thus, in the principal feature considered in itself, the Greeks FIG. 31. -CHURCH OF ST. MARK, VENICE, WITH CAMPANILE. See pages iS, 77, 87, 90, 96, 124, 1S0, 1S6, 190, 207, 261, 262. BALANCE IN ARCHITECTURE. 8 9 secured the effect of symmetry through that of principal- ity with balance. See " Temples of the Acropolis," Fig. I, page 15. Our own architects have wisely ceased to imitate the Greeks in cases where to do so would be out of place ; but the principle of imitation has had, and continues to FIG. 32. CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL, FROM SOUTHWEST. See pages 1 8, 90, 124, 207, 261. haw, such an influence, that, as applied to the Gothic, we still cling to methods that represent not its best, hut its worst phases. The tower at one corner, or at the side, which is so common with us, is an inartistic adaptation ol what had a very different effeel when separated from the church in the structure called .1 campanile (See an Ori- 90 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. ental example of this in Fig. 30, page 86, and a more familiar one in Fig. 31, page 88). Nor can a huge tower or towers placed at the front (see Fig. 2, page 17) fulfil at all the same office as those much smaller in propor- tion which are kept subordinate to a tower or dome at the centre (see Fig. I?., page 89). There is no doubt that the ideal building is represented not in Fig. 2, page 17, but by the way in which principality, subordinateness, FIG. 33.-IFFLEY CHURCH. See pages 92, 124. and complement are all given their due proportionment, as in Fig. 68, page 207. Besides imitation, the desire to have a building present an impressive appearance on the street is accountable for this accumulation of the chief features on one side or corner. But many of these buildings are on two streets; and the demands of the ordinary American church are so different from those of the European that it is strange that owl' architects, in the arrangements both of exteriors and o o cj I o a. Zi X o or ul I- >■ CO (/J u cc CL LJ 9 >- O < I CO U 92 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. interiors, have not been forced into more originality. There are undoubtedly good reasons why that which. artistically considered, is the most satisfactory form of the cathedral and parish church, Fig. 33, page 90, should not be adopted by us. Such a building is difficult to con- struct ; and, when constructed, the huge foundations of the tower interfere with both hearing and seeing. Yet an adaptation of the form to modern purposes, as well as an artistic building in all regards, seems to be furnished, so far as one can judge from a photograph, in the " Shadyside Presbyterian Church," Fig. 34, page 91. As a rule, however, an American church has two sepa- rate parts — -one devoted to worship, and the other, mainly, to the Sunday schools. In some cases, with admirable effect, a tower has been placed between these parts. But the idea thus given form could be further developed, and the building as a whole made more distinctly a unity. The tower could be back from the street, and in the centre of the structure ; and under it could be not only the central entrance, but an entrance-hall as long as the building's width, broad, lofty, and imposing, and filled, as time passed on, with memorials. The main audience- hall, too, if architects and those who employ them would only subordinate their traditional notions to the dictates of taste and reason, could be made much more original and artistic, as well as convenient and practical. See Fig- 35' P a S e 93. an d Fig. 36, page 94, the work of Mr. G. H. Edbrooke, of New York. The same statements apply, of course, to schools and all kinds of public edifices. It is remarkable, by the way, that those who have planned modern cathedrals have not recognized the propriety of placing the central tower O X LLl I O CC r< _> O I o hn 2 t 0- I in O FIG. 36.— GROUND PLAN FOR SAME CHURCH. See page 92. ARCH I TECTl 'RA L A RA'A X GEM EN TS. 95 entirely over the nave, instead of at the juncture of the nave and transepts. In the former place, the tower could be narrow enough to prevent any structural weakness owing to a reach of arches under it, and, if it were there, it would be possible to have in front of the chancel, in con- nection with all the traditional effects of nave and aisles and chancel, a large au- dience-hall, flanked, if necessary, by wide- transept galleries, in which the crowds in attendance could not only hear but see the services. As such a hall is acknowledged to be almost essential to a modern church of any kind, one would suppose that the first effort of architects would be in the direction of a design in which it could be introduced without difficulty. Notice Fig. ^J. before leaving this subject, it may be well to add that what has been said of the method of emphasizing both principality and complement through the use of uneven FIG. 37. -GROUND PLAN FOR A CATHEDRAL. g6 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. rather than of even numbers, may apply to perpendicular as well as to horizontal arrangements. To one looking upward at a building, for instance, the basement often seems to complement the roof, or a first story to comple- ment a third ; while the principal part, or, at least, the pivot-line of balance, seems to be between them. It is worth noticing in this connection, too, that the Greeks, according to all testimony, almost invariably grouped different architectural features, whether placed perpen- dicularly or horizontally, according to proportions deter- mined by odd numbers, I, 3, 5, 7, etc. ; and also the fact, which our own experience has probably confirmed, that the majority of men feel that a house or tower having an equal number of openings or divisions of spaces either horizontally or perpendicularly — say exactly two or four windows on a story, or two or four stories with no apparent basement or roof — is less pleasing than a house having three or five windows on a story, or having one and one half, two and one half, or three or five stories, or four stories with an apparent roof. See Figs. 3, page 19; 11, page 4; ; 23, page 78; 28, page 84; 29, page 85 ; 31, page 88 ; 34, page 91 ; 42, page 123, etc. CHAPTER VI. GROUPING AND ORGANIC FORM I\ POETRY AND MUSIC. The Principle <>f Grouping, Resulting from the Requirements of the Product — The Method, Conditioned by this Principle, Organizes the- Group — Organism in Nature ami in Classification — In Art-Composition — < >rgan- ism in the Art-Product : the Feet, Trunk, and Mead of Plato ; the Be- ginning, Middle, and End of Aristotle — Applied to Poetic Form — To the Sentence — To the Poem — Effects of Form 1 Hie to the Organic Order in which the Beginning, Middle, and End of Movement are Presented: Stedman — Winn- Thought is Didactic: Longfellow — Pope — Montgomery — In a Simile: Howitt — Waller — Hugo — Same I isProducedbj Form Irrespective of the Thought — Sherman— Waddington — Miller — Gosse — Scollard — A Like Principle illustrated in Plots of Long Poems — In Music— A Periodic Form — Explanations <>( the Effect in Sh^rt and Long Comftositions— In Reiterated Chords at their Beginning and Close — Same Principle in • >ratory. FT has been shown that in classification and art-com- position, the conditions of mind and nature involve a regard for the principles of unity, variety, complexity, order, confusion) and counteraction; also, that there needs to be that combined application of all of these, as conditioned by the requirements of the product, which is termed group- ing. Certain methods, respectively owing their origin to the Inst six of these principles, have been said to be com- parison, contrast, complement , principality, subordination, and balance. The method connected in a like manner with grouping needs now to be considered. Factors ought to 1" grouped in such a way .is to cause 7 97 gS THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. them to show more than the mere existence of prin- cipality, subordination, ot balance. They ought to show their relationships to one another and to the class as a whole of which they are members. It is in fulfilment of such a purpose that classes are divided as in species and families, with their factors arranged according to their degrees of likeness or unlikeness to the typical form, those unlike it and like others of another class being placed, as it were, at the extremities of their own class, serving thus to define its limits. In this way among the mammals, for instance, the bat may be placed nearest the birds, and the seal nearest the fishes. A like process applied not to one class, but to all the classes that can be included in a given consideration of a subject, leads to what we call a system of classification ; and the way in which we ordi- narily express the fact that all the factors possible to a class and all the classes possible to a system have been com- prehended in the result, is to say that each and every thing has been thoroughly organized. We might also express the same by saying that to the whole has been given organism or organic form. In nature an organic as distinguished from an inorganic form is one of greater or lesser degrees of complexity, per- vaded everywhere by channels or organs through which flow effects that influence every part of the object, but of it only, beyond the reach of which effects it ceases to exist. Trees and animals, for instance, with their various circulatory systems, are organic. Sand and ciay are not. The method which we are now considering causes the result to show, just as organism does in natural forms, exactly the effect that every part has in enhancing the effect of every other part, and of the whole, as well as in rendering the whole complete. GROUPING IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 99 If organic form, as thus cxplaincd.be necessary in classi- fication, it is still more necessary in art-composition. Pre- dominating comparison may reveal the fact that the features arc all parts of a unity ; and principality, subordi- nation, and balance may enhance the appearance of this by their influence in the direction of order ; but only when the parts have been organically connected can there be no doubt that each of them belongs with each and all of the others, and just what are the limits of the whole. From the use of the term organic as applied to forms of nature, it follows that to say that those of art should have organism is the same as to say that they should be characterized by effects analogous to those produced by the living forms that are about us. When we have said this, can there be a more simple yet efficient way of showing h<>\v r an art-form can come to have these effects, than by showing how the living f< >rms of nature come to have them ? Certainly not. It is only natural, therefore, though the reason for it has never been thus explained, that almost all critics of all ages have felt it to be appropriate to take an animal or a man, the highest type of an organized being, as an ideal natural form from which to derive suggestions with reference to the essential characteristics of an ideal art-form. Plato, for instance, named head, trunk, and feet as the three essential features in every work of art ; and Aristotle, recalling the fact that all products do not appeal to the eye, ami cannot seem to have visible bodies, tried to state a principle more genera] in its reach by declaring that they must all have beginning, middle, and end. Hut both statements are virtually the same, ami together are inclusive of all possible artistic applications of the subject. The first applies literally to forms that appear in space, the second to those that appear in time. Both mean that IOO THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. there should be such an order in the arrangement of the parts constituting the form as to cause all the parts to seem to be organically connected with one whole, and this whole to seem to possess all the parts necessary to render it complete. Let us see, first, how this principle applies to poetry. Some have difficulty in understanding what is meant even by the term form, to say nothing of organism of form, when used with reference to arts that do not occupy space, and therefore can have no visibly definite shape. To remove this difficulty, a short explanation seems to be needed here, even at the expense of repeating what was expressed more fully in Chapter xxvii. of " Poetry as a Representative Art." We say that a visible object has form in the degree in which it appears to be one object, by which we mean, in the degree in which, owing to effects of outlines, colors, or some other features, every part of the object seems to be connected with every other part of it throughout the entire extent of space which it occu- pies. A poem is not visible in space, but fs apprehended in time, being composed of words that follow one another. Its form is a phase of movement ; and, if we apply to the poem the same criterions usually applied to visible ob- jects, changing only the terms that are necessary in order to refer to it as an object whose form is a phase of move- ment, we may say that the form appears to be one in the degree in which it appears to be one movement ; by which we mean in the degree in which every part of the move- ment seems to be connected with every other part of it, and this throughout the whole extent of time which it occupies. In a perfect sentence, which, by way of illustration, we might conceive to be long enough to constitute an GROUP I XG IN POETRY AND MUSIC. IOI entire poem, every word or clause is related in some way to every other; and is related also in some way to a subject which represents the beginning of a movement ; to a predicate which represents the continuation and some- times the end of the movement ; and also, when needed, to an object which represents the end of the movement. It is for these reasons that a perfect sentence seems to have form. If this be true of a sentence, which is a series of words representing thought, why should it not be true of a poem, which is also a series of words representing thought? In a poem which, as a whole, has form, and form that can be readily recognized, the different sentences, or representa- tions of special and sometimes deviating movements, all manifest their relationships to one another, and also to the general forward movement. To express the same somewhat differently, a poem is a development of language, and language is a representation of thought, and thought always invokes motion. A poem, therefore, is a representation of thought and also of motion, or, rather, of thought in motion. But more than this, it is a single art-product ; therefore it must represent a single thought in a single motion. This im- plies, first, one thought to which all the other thoughts of the work must be related by way of complement, or sub- ordinated by way of principality ; and second, one motion of thought i. e., one thought moving in one direction, having one beginning from which all the movements of all tin- related and subordinated thoughts of the entire poem start ; a middle through which they all How ; and an end toward which they all tend. This is the same as to say that the principal, subordinate^ and complementary, or balancing thoughts must all be grouped and presented in anic order. A poem in which these requirements are 102 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. fulfilled and — let it be carefully noted — apparently ful- filled, necessarily produces upon us the impression of organism. Notice a fine illustration of it in the following, and how much it has to do with the general effect. All the actions in the poem from beginning to end are clearly connected with the whole, and are invariably related in the order in which, in the supposed circumstances, they would have occurred. Our good steeds snuff the evening air, Our pulses with their purpose tingle ; The foeman's fires are twinkling there ; He leaps when our sabres jingle ! Halt ! Each carbine sends its whizzing ball ; Now cling ! clang ! Forward all Into the fight ! Dash on beneath the smoking dome ; Through level lightnings gallop nearer ! One look to Heaven ! No thought of home ; The guidons that we bear are dearer. Charge ! Cling ! clang ! Forward all ! Heaven help those whose horses fall ; Cut left and right ! They flee before our fierce attack ! They fall ! They spread in broken surges. Now, comrades, bear our wounded back, And leave the foeman to his dirges. Wheel ! The bugles sound the swift recall ; Cling ! clang ! Backward all ! Home and good-night ! — Cavalry Song from Alice of Monmouth : E. C. Stedman. Here is another poem, the thought of which, if not embodied in a form suggesting the beginning, middle, and GROUPING IX POETRY AND MUSIC. 103 end of movement, would be didactic in the worst sense ; and yet through the use, in the successive stanzas, of the words death, grave, and eternity, indicative as they are of the order of sequence of the different events connected with the departure of the soul from the world, the poet, by giving organic form to the whole, has made it dis- tinctly artistic : Take them, < » I »eath, and bear away Whatever thou can'st call thine own ! Thine image stamped upon this clay, Doth give thee that, but that alone ! Take them, O Grave ! and let them lie Folded upon thy narrow shelves, As garments by the soul laid by, And precious only to ourselves ! Take them, O great Eternity ! Our little life is but a gust That bends the branches of thy tree, And trails its blossoms in the dust ! — Take Them, Death ; Longfellow. In the following, the representation is not of actions, but of thoughts ; yet these also are grouped with strict fidelity to the order in which they would reveal them- selves to the one supposed to experience them. Notice here, too, how the apparent organism of the form enhances the effect. Would the poem have any effect at all, in fact, if it were not for this? Vital spark of heavenly dame, Quit, < ) quit this mortal frame ! Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, the pain, the bliss, of dying ! 1 ■ ase, 1' 1 Nature, 1 • ase thy sti And let me languish into life. 104 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. Hark they whisper ; angels say Sister spirit, come away. What is this absorbs me quite, Steals my senses, shuts my sight, I )rowns my spirit, draws my breath ? Tell me, my soul, can this be death ? The world recedes ; it disappears ; Heaven opens on my eyes ; my ears With sounds seraphic ring. Lend, lend your wings, I mount, I fly. O Grave, where is thy victory ? O Death where is thy sting ? — Address of the Dying Christian to his Soul : Pope. A similar result appears in these two successive stanzas : Night is the time for rest ; How sweet, when labors close, To gather round an aching breast The curtain of repose, Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head Upon our own delightful bed ! Night is the time for dreams ; The gay romance of life, Where truth that is and truth that seems Mix in fantastic strife ; Ah, visions less beguiling far Than waking dreams by daylight are. — Night : James Montgomery. If a simile be introduced, the same principle applies both to the figure and to the thought illustrated by it, e. g. : And is the swallow gone ? Who beheld it ? Which way sailed it ? Farewell bade it none? GROUPING IN POETRY AND MUSIC. I05 No mortal saw it go ; — But w ho cloth hear Its summer cheer As it flitteth to and fro ? So the proud spirit flies ! From its surrounding clay It steals away Like the swallow from the skies. Whither? Wherefore does it go? 'T is all unknown ; We feel alone That a void is left below. — Departure of the Swallow : Wm. Howitt. Here arc other poems with the same characteristics: Go, lovely rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, I low sweet and fair she seems to Tell her that 's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth. Suffer herself to be desired, \ ml not Mush so to be admired. 'I hen die ! that she Tin- common fate of all things rare Ma) n ad in thee : I tow shall a part of time they share- That are so wondrous swcvl and fair. — Go, LoVi V Rose; /•'. Waller. 106 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. Oh, when I sleep come near my resting-place, As Laura came to bless her poet's heart, And let thy breath in passing touch my face — At once a space My lips will part. And on my brow where too long weighed supreme A vision — haply sped now — black as night, Let thy look as a star arise and beam — At once my dream Will seem of light. Then press my lips, where plays a flame of bliss — A pure and holy love -light — and forsake The angel for the woman in a kiss — At once I wiss, My soul will wake. —Come When I Sleep : Victor Hugo ; tr. by IV. W. Tomlinson. Sitting in a porchway cool, Fades the ruddy sunlight fast, Twilight hastens on to rule — Working hours are wellnigh past. Shadows shoot across the lands ; But one sower lingers still, Old in rags, he patient stands, — Looking on I feel a thrill. Black and high his silhouette Dominates the furrows deep. Now to sow the task is set, Soon shall come the time to reap. Marches he along the plain, To and fro, and scatters wide From his hands the precious grain. Moody, I, to see him stride. Darkness deepens. Gone the light. Now his gestures to mine eyes Are august ; and strange — his height Seems to touch the starry skies. — The Sower: I Jem.; tr. by Torn Dull GROUPING IX POETRY AA r /i MUSIC. 107 Notice also, as criticised in Chapter xxvii. of " Poetry as a Representative Art," Tennyson's " Farewell," " Home They Brought the Warrior Dead," " As through the Land at Eve We Went," and " The Deserted I louse " ; Shanly's " Kitty of Coleraine " ; Kingsley's " Fishermen," and "• .Mary, Go and Call the Cattle Home " ; Barateau's "Twenty Years"; Horace Smith's "To Fanny"; Al- drich's " Nocturne " ; and Bryant's " Wind and Stream," " Tides," and " Presentiment." So far we have been considering organic form as something to be determined by the thought to be expressed. It is possible, even in poetry, to produce the same effect through the form alone, irrespective of the thought. Observe in the sonnets quoted on page 165, as also in the following imitations of French forms, the distinct impression conveyed of beginning, middle, and end. This results entirely too from the form, i. e., from the way in which the stanzas and the repeated lines and phrases emphasizing the successive parts of the poems, are arranged. Awake, awake, O gracious heart, There 's some one knocking at the door ; The chilling breezes make him smart ; I lis little feet arc tired and sore. Arise, and welcome him befon Adown his checks the big tears start : Awake, awake, <> gracious hi There 's some one knocking at the door. 'T is Cupid come with loving art To honor, worship, and implore ; And lest, unwelcomed, he depart \\ iih all his wise, mysterious lore, Awake, av ake, < > gracious heart , I here 's some one knot king al the door. — Valentine: Rondel by Frank Dempster Sherman. IOS THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. We know not yet what life shall be, What shore beyond earth's shore be set ; What grief awaits us, or what glee, We know not yet. Still, somewhere in sweet converse met, Old friends, we say, beyond death's sea Shall meet and greet us, nor forget Those days of yore, those years when we Were loved and true, — but will death let Our eyes the longed-for vision see ? We know not yet. — Mors et Vita: Rondel by Samuel Waddington. " llylas, O Hylas ! " crying to the breeze Through field and forest wandered Hercules, Forgetting those who manned the Argo tall, Greece and the glorious labors of his thrall, Yea, e'en that golden prize beyond the seas. Wild were his words, and wildly echoing these Back from the looming gloom of cliffs and trees Resounded mockingly his eager call, "Hylas, O Hylas !" When Nestor's wisdom, Orpheus' melodies, And all rewards of earth no more can please, How oft we turn and let the tear-drop fall For one whose gift of loving was his all, And cry in anguish, and on bended knees, " Hylas, O Hylas ! " —Rondeau : M. M. Miller. Even the following, though all contained in a single stanza, has the same characteristics : I saw a snowflake in the air When smiling May had decked the year, And then 't was gone, I knew not where, — I saw a snowflake in the air. GROUPING IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 109 And thought perchance an angel's prayer Had fallen from some starry sphere ; I saw a snowflake in the air When smiling May had decked the year. — A Snowflake in May : Triolet by Clinton Scollard. To what has been said it needs only to be added now — what will readily suggest itself —that this requirement of organic form, as manifested by the arrangement of the chief features of an artistic product, differs not whether a poem be short or long. The degree of excellence in its conception is measured by the degree in which it presents an image of the phase of life with which it deals in a distinct form, by which is meant a form in which are preserved the organic relationships of all the parts to one another and to the whole. When, in speaking of a long poem, such as the "Iliad" or "Paradise Lost," " Hamlet," or " Faust," we commend its unity and prog- ress, or the consistency, continuity, and completeness with which certain ideas of which it treats are developed, we mean merely that tin- poem as a whole presents in distinct organic form a whole image of that which it is designed to present. The difference, therefore, between the ability to produce a long poem and a short one, or what i^ sometimes the same thing, .1 great poem and a small one, is simply of the same nature as that which exists between a high and a small order of intellect in other departments, -a difference in the ability to hold the tin nights persistently to a single subject until all its parts have been marshalled into order. Turning now to music, who has not noticed that a composition in this ait appears to have form in the degree alone in which one theme, /. < .. one musical move ment, is perceived to !)«■ begun, developed, and drawn to HO THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. a close ? The songs which to most of us appear most nearly perfect assume such forms as are found in the " Sehnsucht nach clem Friihlings," page 67, or " Battle Hymn of the Republic," page 199, in both of which the beginning and end are similar, and the middle very often merely a variation, by way of complement, of the same general combination of notes. Here are the various elements and developments of a periodic form, as given by Marx in his " Theory and Practice of Musical Composition " : Beginning Middle End Repose Motion Repose Tonic Scale Tonic Repose Motion Repose Motion Repose Tonic Tonic Scale Tonic Sva Tonic Scale Tonic Ionic Mass Motion Half Cadence Motion Full Cadence Repose Motion Repose First Part Second Part Third Part 3 Measures S or 16 Meas. 8 Measures Repose Motion Repose According to these arrangements, as will be noticed, the movement seems to start and stop at the same point —to pass around the whole circumference, as it were, of the phase of feeling to be expressed, furnishing in this regard an exact analogy in time to that arrangement of groups in space which causes certain pictures and statues to seem to have contours like circles or oblongs. When the phase of feeling to be expressed in music is slight and simple in character, the mind has no difficulty in grasping or representing the whole in its completeness. A longer and more complex subject, as treated in an over- ture or a symphony, presents, of course, more obstacles to both comprehension and composition. Nevertheless, GROUPING IN POETRY AND MUSIC. Ill it too ought to be characterized and manifestly charac- terized by that order which causes all to seem organic. The same principle probably furnishes an explanation of the reiterated chords with which overtures and symphonies frequently begin, and almost uniformly end. These chords represent the opening and the closing of movement ; and the suggestion is, that no impetus, such as the works containing them profess to express, could be started or stopped without some such successive efforts. At the same time, perhaps a more natural and exact representation of what is intended, is produced where — as, for instance, in Wagner's overture to " Lohengrin"— the crescendo is used in the introduction and the diminuendo in the finale. In a composition thus arranged, where the intensity of the movement, as regards both time and force, is increased and diminished gradually, do we not have presented a more complete idea of the starting and stop- ping of movement -at all events, of voluntary movement — than is possible in connection with those methods that seem only to arouse and check it violently? Of course, if the composition be intended to leave a strong impres- sion at its close, forcible chords here are justifiable. But much more often than is common, it might be wise for the composer to bear in mind that in nature the billow begins with the brook, and the shore does not stop the surge of the sea until successive waves, one by one, have bi i u levelled to a ripple. The musician, and the poet, too, for that matter, might learn a lesson in this regard, as well as with reference to this whole subject, from the orator. I lis art is not exclu- sively aesthetic, but it is so nearly so that, in this case at t, it may exemplify like principles. It is a fact with which mo^t of us must In- familiar that an experienced 112 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. public speaker, unless in a time of unusual excitement, begins his address with his body at rest, with his tones uttered deliberately, with the pitch of his voice one that is natural to conversation, and with the range of his thoughts not raised much above the level of those of his hearers. In other words, he starts where the audience are, with no more of vehemence, rapidity, or brilliancy than is justified by the condition of thought in their minds at the time. He begins in the plane of ordinary, dignified inter- course, making no statement with which he has not reason to suppose that most of them will agree. But as he advances, his gestures, tones, language, and ideas gradually wax more and more energetic, striking, and original, till he reaches his climax. In the oration, perfect in form, in- tended to produce a single distinct and definite impression, this final climax, though often preceded by many another of less importance, stands out pre-eminently in advance of them. In it all the man's powers of action and of lan- gauge, and the influence of all his separate arguments that now for the last time are summed up into a unity, seem to be concentrated like rays of light in a focus, and flashed forth for the enlightenment or bewilderment of those before him. But the most artistic oration does not end with the climax. At least, a few sentences and sen- timents follow this, through which the action, voice, and ideas of the speaker gradually, gracefully, and sympathet- ically descend to bear the thoughts of his audience back again to the plane from which they started. That is to say, the artistic oration has an end as well as a beginning and a middle. It is a representation in complete organic form of the whole range of experience natural to dis- cussion, from the time when a subject is first broached in ordinar\- conversation to the time when, having been GROUPING IN A' A TORY. 113 argued fully and in such ways as to produce a single effect, the mind in exhaustion sinks back, mice more, to the level of the conversation that suggested it. Whoever had an opportunity of listeningto the public addresses of Everett, Beecher, or Gough, possessing, as they did, all these charac- teristics, will not fail to recognize without further com- ment how much the effects of oratory owe to the fact of their being grouped in strict accordance with the require- ments that are fulfilled in what we have termed organic form. 7 CHAPTER VII. GROUPING AND ORGANIC FORM IN PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ARCHITECTURE. Places Corresponding to Head, Trunk, and Feet in a Picture— Necessity for Considering them— Different Kinds of Contour— Arches— Semicircles- Pyramids— Circles— Ovals— Wedge-Shapes— Same Effects Produced by Light and Shade and Color, Differing on Different Sides, Above and Below, at the Centre and at the Circumference— Same Effects in Sculpture— The Pedestal or Foot, the Canopy or Head, on Out-Door Statuary— Architecture— The Foot in the Foundation— The Trunk in the Wall— The Head in the Roof— Architectural Grouping as a Whole. HTHE most uncultured mind recognizes the superior at- *■ tractiveness of paintings, statues, or buildings that seem to have " some head and tail,"— an expression through which plain people indicate how well they appre- ciate, in the arts appealing to sight, the characteristics that Plato designated by the terms head, trunk, and feet. A distinction needs to be drawn, however, between these terms as applied to a picture or statue, and to a figure of a man or animal that is represented in either. If a man, for instance, be represented as standing upright, his head will be at the top of the canvas, his feet at the bottom, and his trunk midway between them ; and thus the organic form of the picture and of the man will correspond. But if he be represented in a foreshortened figure, plunging toward the spectator, his head may be at the bottom or in the centre of the canvas, and his feet TT | GROUPING IN PAINTING. 1 1 5 at its sides or top ; and the organic forms of the picture and of the man will not correspond. Accordingly, we must not confound the art-characteristics which have been indicated by the words head, trunk, and feet, with the same when applied literally to living objects. Pictures are made to have the effect of organic form, as a result, of course, of order in the grouping; and for this almost everybody recognizes the necessity. Even in tak- ing a common photograph an experienced operator will be careful to arrange a number of persons so as not to have them all sit in a row like the members of a negro minstrel troup. He will almost invariably place the larger or more prominent person or persons in the centre or at the top, thus giving the group a head ; and the others on cither side or below, thus giving it a trunk and feet ; while he will also dispose of the whole party in such away that the contour of the group, as outlined by all their forms to- gether, shall seem to have some shape — that suggesting a circle, an arch, or a pyramid, as the case may be. The idea of producing these effects by the order in which dif- ferent factors are grouped, is undoubtedly suggested by the appearances of things in nature, where organic form is a characteristic not only of individual fruits and leaves, but of whole clusters of them ; and not only of whole trees, but even of the forests in which they grow. (See the trees in Fig. 47, page 157.) In paintings perhaps the most common arrangement is one fulfilling the requirements of symmetry also, in which tin contour caused by different forms at the top and sides of a picture suggest an arched line described from some cen- tre of radiation below, while the bottom suggests a straight line. Usually, of course, what might be termed the head of the picture is near the apex of the arch, and the trunk u6 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. is between that and the straight line which forms the feet. In this case the feet, which represent the foundation on which the whole rests, are made to appear, like the ground that underlies all objects in nature, particularly substan- tial. Effects of form produced through this method may be seen in the " Ezekiel " of Raphael, the " St. John " of Domenichino, the r-.,^ "St. Michael" of Guido, the " Poetry " of Kaulbach, and the " Transfiguration " of Raphael (Fig. 46, page 147) ; as well as in numerous land- scapes, in which the highest mountains are not at the sides, but usually near the centre of the picture, while the weightiest or darkest objects are at the bottom. This arrangement, however, by which the chief outlines at the top of the picture suggest a semicircu- lar arch, and those at the bottom a broad and often a horizontal base, though common, is by no means uni- versal. Sometimes, as in Raphael's " Sistine Madonna," "La Belle Jardiniere" (Fig. 38, above), and "Del Passegio," and in innumerable landscapes with mountains in the middle distance-, the chief outlines at the tops and FIG. 38.-LA BELLE JARDINIERE.- -RAPHAEL. ORGANIC FORM IX FAIXTING. II 7 sides suggets the form of a pyramid rather than of an arch. Sometimes, as in Raphael's " Madonna della Sedia " (Fig. 39, below) and " Casa d'Alba," the chief outlines at the bottom as well as at the top suggest a semicircle, causing the contour of the picture as a whole to seem circular; and sometimes, as in tin: " Madonna del Impan- nata " and the famous " Sistine," the pitch of the arch both above and below is sharpened and a distinctly oval effect is produced, which, in the latter, lias been described as a dia- mond. These arches and pyramid- are seldom perfect, the lines of the former being not always exactly round- ed, nor of the latter exactly straight ; but the}- are sufficiently regular to suggest the idea of organic form, and not only so, but oi this produced as a result of design. As the same effect is imparted by almost any approximately symmetrical dis- position of parts, artists resort to methods that, at first, would seem to suggest separation rather than unit}-. Thus a wedge-shape is produced by the outlines ol build- ings or mountains on one side of ,1 picture which descend and near its middle meet the outlines of other buildings Of mountains or forests, with or without buildings, which FIG. 39. — MADONNA DELLA SEDIA. RAPHAEL. US THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. descend in a similar way on its other side (see Fig. 51. page 175) ; or the whole painting is divided into two parts, one containing forests or hills and the other plains, water, or sky (see Fig. 40, page 1 19). As has been intimated already, the impression of form in nature, as in a cluster of berries or leaves, is conveyed not only by contour, but also — more or less closely con- nected with this — by color, especially as subjected to the influence of light and shade. In this way the " Organ Recital " by Henry Lerolle, in the Metropolitan Museum in New York, is diagonally divided into two parts, all the dark tones being at the left lower side of the picture and all the light tones at its right upper side. A somewhat similar arrangement characterizes also both of Corot's paintings that are in this book, namely Fig. 47, page 157 and Fig. 73, page 223. Almost all great paintings indicate similarly artistic ad- justments of color, which necessarily accompany, and often greatly enhance, the effects of form as produced by the contour. Usually, as in external nature, the lighter tints are above, in connection with what has been termed the head of the picture, and the dark and heavier shades below, in connection with what has been termed the foot (see Fig. 46, page 147). But sometimes colors in the body or at the centre of the picture are used almost independently of lines. Just as the play of light and shade upon a sur- face in nature reveals to us whether it be concave or convex, so the delineation of them upon canvas may cause features to seem to project or retire from the main ground, and thus influence what we may call the shape or form of the whole. This subject of the disposition of light and shade in the body of the canvas touches closely upon what was illustrated in connection with principality, and UJ Q < o z z > id o o 4> M 0) 120 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. will be further illustrated when we come to central-point and massing. It suffices to say here that, although the effects produced thus are sometimes, as by Rembrandt, carried so far as to appear unnatural, even then they are worth study. Indeed, if we wish to recognize how much more pleasing, as produced by this method, is an appear- ance of form in a composition than of formlessness, we can all do this to our entire satisfaction by comparing- Correggio's " Holy Night " (Fig. 70, page 215), or Muril- lo's " Holy Family " with the same subjects as treated by others failing to recognize the value of that which, now and then, these great artists were led to exaggerate. The effect of organic form is produced in sculpture in the same general way, of course, as in painting. Whether the product contain a single feature or many features, the outlines of what Plato would term its head, like the out- lines of a cluster of fruit around its stem, if not actually curved like an arch or tapered like a pyramid, at all events are not without good reason either square or even irreg- ularly acute, and the base or foot is broad and substantial. Examples of this fact are furnished in almost all the classic statues. Notice, for instance, " Mithras Stabbing the Bull" (Fig. 54, page 179), the " Tauro Farnese," "The Laocoon " (Fig. 75, page 226), Canova's "Cupid and Psyche," and, of single features, the "Ganymede" of the Vatican, and the " Fortuna " and " Reposing Faun " of the Capitol ; also the Figures on pages 74 to JJ. These single statues, as a rule, have a pillar, or post, or drapery, or something at one side of them to enhance the width of the trunk. All of them, too, whether they be busts or of full length, rest upon a pedestal of dimensions ample enough to present the appearance of sufficient sup- port (see fig. 41, page 12 1). This pedestal, of course, is the ORGAXIC FORM IN SCULPTURE. 121 foot of the statue, considered as a whole. When the work thus supported is intended to stand within doors, the pedestal need not seem heavy. But when intended to stand in the open air, it should seem strong enough at least to resist the storms. FIG. 41.— MARKET OF ATHENS, RESTORED. I, I2D, 122, 2S9. It is a question, indeed, whether, in the latter case, some- thing should not be erected different in sonic regards from that which is to adorn tin- salon; it is .1 question whether, in our own climate especially, the finer products of tin's 122 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. art, representing the human figure, should be left wholly exposed to the adverse influence of the weather. A canopy erected over them, of the same material as themselves, would certainly be appropriate and beauti- ful. (See the statue in the foreground of Fig. 41, page 121.) Very likely, too, a thoroughly cultivated taste would detect in this arrangement the only possible method of finishing the monument as a whole, in such a way as to give it not only the completeness of form manifested in a foot and trunk, but also in a head. The necessity of organism is probably recognized more generally in architecture than in any of the other arts. If, for instance, we perceive columns, buttresses, or even dead walls, as they are termed, resting on the ground with no base, or foundation of any kind supporting them ; or if, with this underneath, we perceive no cornice, freize, entablature, or roof above them, in either case there will be suggested the idea of incompleteness. Our minds re- quire here, as in all the arts, the appearance of a foot, trunk, and head, which in architecture are represented by the foundation, wall, and roof. " The foundation," says Air. Ruskin in his " Stones of Venice," " is to the wall what the paw is to the animal. It is a long foot, wider than the wall, on which the wall is to stand, and which keeps it from settling into the ground. It is most necessary that this great element of security should be visible to the eye, and therefore made a part of the structure above ground. The eye, taught by the reason, requires some additional preparation or foot for the wall, and the building is felt to be imperfect without it. The body of the wall" — cor- responding to what in this essay has been called the trunk — " is of course the principal mass of it, formed of mud ORGANIC FORM IX ARCHITECTURE. \2X or clay, of brick or stones, of logs or hewn timber." (See Figs. I, 24, 61, pages 15, 79, 193.) In addition to foot and trunk, corresponding to founda- tion and wall, the building must have a head, which, of course, can be represented only by the roof and its accom- paniments. As Mr. Ruskin has been quoted with refer- ence to the foundation and wall, he may as well be quoted with reference to the roof. " Has it never occurred to 1 1 1..1 1 FIG. 42. OLD PICTURE OF ST. SOPHIA, CONSTANTINOPLE. See pages l8, 76, 77, 96, 124, 180, [87, 190, 207, 261, 262. you," he asks in the first of his " Lectures on Architecture," " what effect the cottage would have upon your feelings if it had no roof? no visible roof, I mean. The very soul of the cottage, the essence and meaning of it are in its roof; it is that mainly wherein consists its shelter, that wherein it differs most completely from a cleft in rocks, or bower in woods. It is in its thick, impenetrable, cover- lid, its close thatch, that its whole heart and hospitality are concentrated. Consider the difference in sound of 124 THE GENESIS OE ART-FORM. the expressions ' Beneath my Roof ' and ' In my Walls,' and you will quickly see how important a part of the cot- tage the roof always must be to the mind as well as to the eye, and how, from seeing it, the greater part of our pleasure must continually arise. Now do you suppose that that which is so all important in a cottage can be of small importance in your own dwelling-house? Do you think that by any splendor of architecture — any height of stones — you can atone to the mind for the loss of this aspect of the roof ? " (See Figs. 24, page 79 ; 28, page S4; 32, page 89; 33, page 90; 72, page 221 ; 85, page 258 ; and 69, page 208, as well as Fig. 42, page 123.) Once more the general contour of a building may pre- sent effects of grouping similar to those already noticed in painting and sculpture. The various projections, gables, pediments, chimneys, domes, spires, whatever they may be, that make up the wings and roofs, may be arranged so that, taken together, they can be inscribed in a low or a high arch, rounded or sharpened like a pyramid. As a rule, the greater the appearance of the exercise of design in the organic arrangement of these features, the more satisfactory are they to the eye that looks to find in them the results of art. (See the " Taj Mahal," Fig. 3, page 19 ; "St. Peter's, Rome," Fig. 23, page /S ; " Shadyside Church," Fig. 34, page gi ; "St. Mark's, Venice," Fig. 31, page 88; " Poutou Temple," Fig. 69, page 208; "St. llilaire's, Rouen," Fig. 80, page 237; "Tower of Boris, Moscow," Fig. 83, page 239, and "St. Sophia's, Constan- tinople," Fig. 42, page 123.) CHAPTER VI T I. oil IKK METHODS < >F CLASSIFICA ["ION AND COMPOSITE >N, AS DEDUCED FROM THOSE ALREADY C< INSIDERED. Recapitulation of the Principles and Methods Conditioned upon the Re- quirements of the Mind — And upon those of Matter — Other Methods Conditioned by the Product are now to be Considered — The Product a Combination of Effects — Produced mainly upon the Mind — Or upon the Senses ; or partly upon the Mind and partly upon the Senses — Lead- ing, respectively, to Likeness l>y Waj of Congruity — Of Repetition — And of Consonance — Illustrations of the Three — All the Methods of ition Result from Combining these Three with the Seven Gen- eral Methods Mentioned above — Chart of the Art-Methods — Additional Stateme rrespondence between these Methods and their Arrange- ments and those given by others. \\T E have now noticed the more fundamental principles, together with the corresponding methods developed from them, of classification and art-composition. Of the methods mainly conditioned upon the requirements of the mind, three, respectively determined by the more distinc- tive demands of mind, of matter, and of a combination of the two, are particularly applicable in their relations to mental conceptions^ namely, unity, variety, complexity. Three more, analogously determined, are particularly applicable in their relations to material construction, namely, order, confusion, and counteraction. One more is particularly applicable to the result produced by the blending of tin- requirements of conception and construc- tion. This i-. termed grouping. Besides these methods, [25 126 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. we have found seven others, mainly based upon the re- quirements of matter, which respectively correspond to the above in all regards: viz., comparison, contrast, comple- ment, principality, subordination, balance, and organism. These principles and methods are largely theoretical and general in character. From them, to complete our sub- ject, we now need to develop methods more practical and definite. This can be done only as we consider certain conditions determined mainly by the product. This product is a combination of effects resulting from an application to material conditions of the mental principles involved, if in science, in classification ; and if in art, in composition. These effects, whether they be of words or tones, as in arts of sound, or of hues or shapes, as in arts of sight, may all be said to be produced in strict analogy with the three tendencies already shown to be operative everywhere in connection with this subject i.e., either mentally, materially, or in both ways combined ; in other words, either upon thought, upon the senses, or partly upon one and partly upon the other. If the meaning of this statement be shown by applying it to the method based upon the fundamental principle in classification of putting like with like — in other words, to comparison — the reader will find no difficulty in applying it to the other methods. Let us see, therefore, how each of these ten- dencies influences comparison. The effect of likeness underlying this method may be produced either, first, upon the mind, i.e., upon thought, by way of awaken- ing like associations or suggestions ; or, second, upon the senses, i.e.. upon the ear or eye, by way of the actual ap- pearances of the forms ; or, third, upon the mind and senses together, i.e., partly upon the one and partly upon the other. CLASSIFICATION ANp COMPOSITION. l2y When the effect of likeness is produced upon the mind, objects seem alike, because they are seen in the same or a like sphere of place, time, or activity. Men have come to associate them in their ideas ; and, by a law of thought, they naturally associate them in reality. In this way, a child or savage always connects the bat with the birds, the seal with the fishes, the sponge with the sea-weeds ; and there are no limits to the applications of the method, ex- cept those that bound the human imagination. When, because things are seen to go together, it is supposed that they do so in fulfilment of some like, though unapparent, principle, in accordance with which they ought to go together, there is a possibility of finding a reason for associating the most dissimilar objects conceivable. Not so, however, with those brought together because of having like effects upon the senses, or like forms. Ex- amined by this test, it is found that the bat has hair, and the bird feathers ; the seal has fur, and the fish scales ; and the sponge and sea-weed do not absorb their nutriment in the same way. Therefore they are separated. But this principle, applied exclusively, leads to very small classes, all the members of which must be as like as two terrier dogs or Shetland ponies. To accomplish any practical purpose, classification needs to be more general than this. It needs to be recognized, for instance, that not only is the terrier a dog, but also the hound; ami not only so, but that there is a sense in which the wolf also belongs to the ■ unc family. This recognition results from an application, in addition to tin- test of the senses, of the test also of the mind so far as this is based upon rational rather than merely imaginative grounds. This latter test, applied in conjunction with the former, gives us, as has been said, the third reason for classifying objects. It is partly 128 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. because their forms are alike, but partly also because their spheres of time, place, or activity are alike. Animals, for instance, are put into the same class, partly because of similarity in appearance, but partly also because of simi- larity in such things as their haunts and habits, their ways of breeding and rearing their young, and of feeding and obtaining their food ; in fact, of manifesting in connection with their surroundings that which is the law of their existence. Such are the three reasons why objects seem to have like or unlike effects, and all Avill recognize that there are no possible phases of resemblance to which one of the three may not apply. In art, the grouping of factors which corresponds to the classification, which results from connecting objects be- cause of like effects produced upon the mind by way of association or suggestion, may be termed congruity (from con, together, and gruo, to grow). It means that two things are conceived of as naturally growing or going together; and it may cause them to be connected when in reality they are as unlike as the sounds of a church bell and of an organ, or as the crape of a widow's garb and a white face. The art-grouping which corresponds to the classification which results from connecting objects because of like effects produced upon the senses, in that they are alike in actual appearance, is termed repetition. This needs no illustration. The art-grouping which corresponds to the classifica- tion which results from connecting objects because alike to a partial extent in both the regards just mentioned, is termed consonance. This word is borrowed from music, and it applies to the conditions which we now wish to represent by it far more exactly than those who first used CLASSIFICATION AND COMPOSITION. 120. it supposed. A consonant tone goes with another in art, not only because men have found the two going together in that which, when heard in nature, is termed harmony ; but also, as modern science has discovered, because the one tone is in part actually repetitious of the other, both being compounded in part of like tones. This, as well as analogous facts with reference to the appropriateness of the term, as applied to the groupings of lines and colors, will be explained hereafter. It may be well to add here, in illustration of these differ- ent methods of likening factors, that congruity might cause the artist to associate in a product tilings as different essentially as rouge on a cheek and blondined hair, or a hunting song and the sound of a horn ; that repetition, on the contrary, would demand as much likeness as in the allied factors of a piece of fringe, or of a picket-fence, while consonance^ half-way between the two, would be satisfied were he to unite sounds as different in some regards as those of the flute, the trumpet, the violin, and the drum, or shapes as different in some regards as a chimney and a tower, or a window and a porch. In architec- ture, a porch or a bay-window on one side of a building, and a wing or hot-house 011 the other side of it, might be- alike by way of congruity. Windows ami doors of the same sizes and shapes would be alike by way of repetition ; but merely a similar pitch of angles 1 >ver windows anil doors and in the gables of a roof above them, would be enough to make all alike by way of consonance. There are other analogies, which will be brought out farther on, between the methods of classification and of art-construction ; but there is no necessity for considering them here. Let us now leave this phase "I our subject and the suggestions to be derived from it, and take the a 130 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. seven methods, all of which, as has been said, are mani fested in the production of a class or of an art-product, — namely, comparison, contrast, complement , principality, sub- ordination, balance, and organic form, and combine each of them with each of the methods of causing likeness that has just been mentioned, — namely, congruity, repetition, and consonance. The result, in terms which will be explained more fully hereafter, is given on page 131. It must be borne in mind, however, that, according to the conditions already stated, the methods thus arranged on this page are not supposed to be necessarily exclusive of one another. Those first mentioned are developed into those men- tioned later, and therefore include them. Comparison, for instance, ma}' be manifested by way either of con- gruity, repetition, or consonance. But congruity also may be manifested by way of repetition or consonance ; and repetition by way of consonance. The same is true of others of the methods, particularly of those occupying corresponding positions in the different columns. Duration, extension, accent, quality, pitch, rhythm, propor- tion, and harmony are placed in the last two columns merely in order to complete the analysis, and show its connection with every phase of form. They will not be considered in this volume, mainly because, built up as the}- are in the effort to carry into execution the other more elementary methods, they require an entirely differ- ent mode of treatment. The terms used in order to define the methods have been chosen from those applying to characteristics gener- ally recognized to be essential to artistic excellence. Ruskin, for instance, in various ways and works, especially in the " Elements of Drawing, Letter III," speaks of princi- pality, repetition, continuity, curvature (considered under 33 C »— < H OS — z. O OS o < -A_ < D Q hi M S3 t/3 2 H W x o c 2 o _A_ a < a h «* X. 2 r. o u « < o o s o 1 t— • -v. S3 5 •< -, < - t3 <« H 5 PS HI h Z 5 o (J P* • - u 5 2 £ 7. D :-. CJ ^ § x . <% OoS osc Oh H a - PL! 'J (fi H c H W VI _ x w > w _ OS P< u >' H £ PS - o o X. os o O u o 2 a en H g H X X o H «S OS W H ►J ; 132 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. gradation), radiation (central-point), contrast, interchange, consistency or breadth (the same as massing), harmony, help (a form of consonance), and grouping. Charles Blanc again, in the introduction to his " Art in Ornament and Dress," mentions repetition, to which — as he says — ■ belongs consonance, alternation to which belongs con- trast, symmetry to which belongs radiation, progression to which belongs gradation, and balanced confusion to which belongs deliberate complication. Of these he adds: " Just as the twenty-six letters of the alphabet have been and will be sufficient to form the words necessary for the expression of all human thought, so certain elements susceptible to combination amongst themselves have sufficed and will suffice to create ornaments whose variety may be multiplied indefinitely." The peculiarity in the list of the methods as here presented, then, aside from the fact that their number is somewhat increased by the addition of features acknowledged to be artistic but not usually mentioned in this connection, is their arrangement and completeness, and their derivation from the methods necessarily employed by the mind in the work of classifi- cation. CHAPTER TX. CONGRUITY, [NCONGRUITY, AND COMPREHENSIVENESS. The Order of the Arrangement of the Methods in the last Chapter Corre- sponds to that of the Use of them by the Artist — Who in each Art must Start with a Mental Conception, and the Condition of Mind Underlying Comparison Based upon Congruity — General Effed of this — Incongruity in Nature and Art — Comprehensiveness — Congruity in Poetry — At the Basis of the I av of the Unities — Why the Latter is not Applicable to the Drama — Congruity, Incongruity, and Comprehensiveness in "Hamlet" — In " I. car" — In " Patience "—The same in the Develop- ment of Musical Themes — As in the Overture and Opera of " Tann- hauser" — Congruity Uniting by Association Different Appearances in the Arts of Sight — Mainly this that Keeps Anists from Using together I ■ ms of < iothic and Greek Architecture — Incongruity and Comprehen- siveness in the Arts of Sight — Raphael's "Transfiguration" — Same Methods in Architecture. '"P 1 1 E methods of art-composition not already treated will now be considered in the order in which they are arranged to one reading line by line the list of them given on page 131. It is well to notice, too, that this order is the one in which, as a rule, they are used by the artist. As has hern said, he is influenced first by mental and then by material considerations. He begins with a conception which, in his mind, is associated with certain forms or series of forms. To represent this con- ception is his primary object. But he cannot attain it, unless the forms, or series of forms, added by him in the proi e - of elaboration, continue to have the same general 133 134 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. effect as those with which he starts. About the latter therefore, as a nucleus, he arranges other like forms accord- ing to the general method of comparison. Controlled at first chiefly by a desire to have them manifest this, in order to express a like thought, or to be alike by way of congruity, afterwards, descending to details, he is careful to make them alike by way of repetition and consonance. While thus securing unity of effect, however, he is con- fronted by the variety and complexity of the natural forms from which he is obliged to construct his art-work. But he soon finds that these can be adapted to his purposes through the methods of contrast and complement ; and, when it comes to grouping, he is able still to suggest unity by fulfilling the requirements oi order, in spite of confusion, through counteraction and the arrangement of factors in accordance with methods of principality, subordination, balance, and organic form. Corresponding conditions in the cases also of congruity, repetition, and consonance lead to the use of the methods associated with them. For these reasons, it is evident that the order in which these methods are to be consid- ered here is the order in which, as a rule, they are used by the artist in his practical work of composition. He begins this work, as has been said, with conceptions which are associated in his mind with certain forms or scries of forms ; and he develops it artistically by group- ing around these forms others that are like them. So long, however, as the thought appears more important than the mode of its expression, all forms to him seem to be symbols ; and any forms seem sufficiently alike for the purpose of art if they be alike in what they symbolize. The conditions of nature, moreover, are such that this kind of likeness may be affirmed of many objects CONGRUITY. 135 that in other regards differ greatly. There are things like bats and owls, seals and whales, wind and rain, cloud and darkness, that are found so often growing or going to- gether as to be recognized as naturally congruous. Be- cause of this, when seen in nature, they give rise to like suggestions; and, of course, they do the same in art. Nothing further is needed to explain why forms in the latter should be compared and grouped because they have like effects upon the mind, or have what we have termed congruity. As thus interpreted, congruity differs little, if at all, from the familiar rhetorical requirement of propriety ; and all that is essential for it is a concurrence, sufficient to suggest unity, in tin: impressions legitimately conveyed by different parts of a composition as compared either with one another or with the whole. Effects of congruity thus produced are necessarily accompanied largely by those of incongruity. This is partly because so many things that are congruous in what they suggest to thought, are incongruous in what they are in form, and partly because so many things that sug- gest tin- congruous to one mind suggest to another, dif- ferently disposed or informed, the incongruous. For instance, the sounds of a fife and of a drum compare by way of congruity. Both are elements of the same kind of martial music, the conception of which, therefore, both arc alike in suggesting. Again, on the western plains of our country, prairie-dogs and rattlesnakes live in the same sand-holes; and congruity in a picture of the- latter would represent the two side' by side. But it is evident that there is no reason in their forms why a fife and a drum, a prairie-dog and a rattlesnake, should go together; nor would they suggest a reason to any one not conversant !^6 THE GEXESIS OF ART-FORM. with the conventionalities of music, or the facts of fron- tier observation. He would be obliged to consider both combinations incongruous. A similar judgment is certain to be passed by some upon any group of factors, no matter what, whenever they depend for the unity of their effect upon the way in which, as in the case of congruity, they commend themselves to individual taste and experience. When an art-product contains results both of comparison in the congruous and of contrast in the incongruous, yet brought together in such a way that both, though counterac- tive, are clearly perceived to be complementary parts of one and the same composition, the impression produced upon thought is that of comprehensiveness. This term has been chosen because it involves a conception of diversity both in quantity and quality, and also of grasp which makes of all a unity. Breadth might express the same idea, but it already has a technical meaning indicating an effect of composition which is entirely different. (See Chapter XIII.) Further facts with reference to these methods can be best considered as we notice how they operate as applied in each art. Congruity in poetry is that which causes one, when writing an elegy, a love-song, or an epic, to select in each case not only an entirely different phase of thought and illustration, but a different form of verse. The following lines, for instance, not only enjoin but exemplify this method : But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar. — Essay on Criticis/n : Pope. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows. — Idem. CONGRUITY. 137 When scenes or events represent a certain country or period, congruity requires that all the delineations con- form strictly to the conditions of each. In connection with the allied method of consonance, it underlies, too, the old law of criticism ascribed to the Greeks, enjoining that a drama should contain only as much as might be supposed to take place in the time given to the representation, or, at most, in one day, and in one place, and with one kind of action, by which latter was meant with either tragic or comic situations, but not with both. This " law of the unities *' of time, place, and action, as it is called, was based at least upon a true principle. Brevity, local color, and directness are always elements of artistic excellence. It is largely the degree in which these are manifested that imparts the peculiar flavor, the pervasive atmosphere, that seems to be the distinctive characteristic of poems like Goethe's " Hermann und Dorothea," Keats's " St. Agnes' Eve," Goldsmith's " Deserted Village," Campbell's " Ger- trude of Wyoming," and Tennyson's "Gardener's Daugh- ter " and " Enoch Ardcn," not to speak of longer poems like the " Fairy Queen " and the " Idyls of the King." But, however acceptable this "law of the unities" may have been to the ancient Greeks, who were less interested than people of our day in the analysis of motives and the development of character, it docs not allow sufficient comprehensiveness for the purposes of modern literary art, least of all of the dramatic. Any- thing in art is right which enhances an effect legitimate to the product in which it is used. In order to show the results of the influences at work in motives and character, length of time is almost indispensable. So, too, is change of place; while the incongruous association of tragedy and o medy in the action, not only prevents monotony, 138 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. but, as universally in the case of contrast, increases the distinctive impression of both. Imaginative people never have so strong an inclination to laugh as at a funeral, and tears never flow so freely as immediately after a burst of merriment. In the drama of " Hamlet," for instance, the grave-scene at the opening of the fifth act, filled as it is with its grim humor, is to some extent incongruous ; yet in view of the play that Hamlet has made of all the serious matters of life, love, and death, in his dealings with his father's mur- derers as well as with Ophelia and Laertes, it is evident that the comedy introduced here, while counteracting, dis- tinctly complements the main action of the drama, and thus serves to make more compreJiensive the general con- ception that organizes it. What, too, could be more effective than the suggestions of congruity in one sense and of incongruity in another, and thus of a comprehensiveness of every possible situa- tion that are given in the storm scene in " King Lear," representing the feigned fooling and madness of Edgar, the real fooling of the fool, and the real madness of the King. Edgar (almost unclothed). Tom 's a-cold.— O, do de do de do de. — Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking. Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now — and there and there — and there again — and there — Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to this pass? Couldst thou save nothing ? Didst thou give them all ? Fool. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed. Lear. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daughters ! Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. Lear. Death, traitor ! nothing could have subdued nature To such lowness but his unkind daughters. Is it the fashion that discarded fathers Should have thus little mercy on their flesh ? INCONGRUITY. 1 39 Judicious punishment ! 'T was this flesh begot Those pelican daughters. Edg. Pillicock sat on pillicock-hill : — Hallo, hallo, loo, loo. Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. Edg. Take heed o' the foul fiend. — King Lear, iii., 4 : Shakespearr. And to descend from the sublime to the ridiculous, who that has ever seen and heard the lackadaisical maidens in Gilbert and Sullivan's " Patience," side by side with their robust soldier suitors, can doubt the artistic value of incongruity ? In fact, as is everywhere acknowledged, it is always one, if not the chief, source of the ludicrous. It is not invariably recogni/xd, however, how large a part of the effect of the latter is owing to the implied compre- hensiveness of view in which have been included both the incongruous and the congruous ; or, in other words, how large a part of wit is the wisdom of it. In the following, for instance, it would be difficult to determine which of the two effects is greatest — that of con- gruity caused by the judgments based upon dress, character- izing the estimates of each, or that of incongruity caused by the philosophic seriousness with which they are expressed, as well as by the different views indicated in the forms of expression. No better illustration than this, by the way, could be given of antithesis, which, as will be recalled, was defined in Chapter 1 1 ., as an effect produced when tw< 1 objects differ diametrically in :il least one particular, and yet agree in others. Patient . Bui t have some news f.>r you. The Thirty-fifth Dragoon > in (liu village, and an- even now on their way to this very spi An dirty-fifth Dragoon Guards ! Saph. They are fleshly men, "f full habit. I40 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. Ella. We care nothing for Dragoon Guards. Patience. But, bless me, you were all in love with them a year ago ! Saph. A year ago ! Ang. My poor child, you don't understand these things. A year ago they were very well in our eyes. But since then our tastes have been ethere- alized, our perceptions exalted. {To others.) Come! it is time to lift up our voices in morning carol to our Reginald. Let us to his door. ( The ladies go off, tivo and two, singing refrain of) Twenty lovesick maidens we, And we die for love of thee ! Twenty lovesick maidens we. Lovesick all against our will, Twenty years hence we shall be Twenty lovesick maidens still ! {Enter officers of Dragoon Guards from behind rock, led by Major. They march round stage.) Chorus of Dragoons. The soldiers of our Queen Are linked in friendly tether ; Upon the battle-scene They fight the foe together. There every mother's son Prepared to fight and fall is; The enemy of one The enemy of all is : • ••••.»• Chorus of Ladles. In a doleful train Two and two we walk all day : For we love in vain ; None so sorrowful as they Who can only sigh and say, Woe is me, alackaday ! ... ..... Col. This is all very well, but you seem to forget that you are engaged to us ! Saph. It can never be. You are not Empyrean. You are not Delia Cruscan. You are not even Early English. Oh, be Early English ere it is too late ! {Officers look at each other in astonishment.) INCONGRUITY. I41 fane {Looking at unifomi). Red and yellow! Primary colors! Oh, South Kensington ! Duke. We did n't design our uniforms, hut we don't sue how they could be improved. yane. No, you would n't. Still, there is a cobwebby gray velvet, with a tender bloom like cold gravy, which, made Florentine fourteenth century, trimmed with Venetian leather and Spanish altar-lace, and surmounted with something Japanese — it matters not what — would at least be Early English ! — Come, maidens ! (Exeunt ladies, singing refrain of "In a melancholy train.") Duke. Gentlemen, this is an insult to the British uniform Col. A uniform that has been as successful in the courts of Venus as on the held of Mars ! Song — Colonel. When T first put this uniform on, I said as I looked in the glass ; " It 's one to a million That an}- civilian My figure and form will surpass. Gold lace has a charm for the fair, And I \e plenty of that and to spare, While a lover's professions, When uttered in Hessians, Are eloquent everywhere." A fact that I counted upon When I first put this uniform on ! Chorus of Dra By a simple coincidence few Could ever have reckoned upon, The same tiling occurred to me too When 1 first put this uniform on ! — Patience, i. : Gilbert. The necessity of the methods which we are considering is equally apparent in music too. Everyone feels that there are essential differences, which should be manifest throughout all the parts of a composition, separating the effects produced upon thought by a wedding-march, a 142 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. funeral dirge, a waltz, and a sonata. But if this fact show the influence of the congruous, a very frequent employ- ment of contrasting themes shows, as well, the influence of the incongruous. Who that has heard the earlier composed overture of Wagner's " Tannhauser " — and the same question would apply to the whole opera which this overture repre- sented and epitomized — can fail to recognize either how themes thus contrasted may add to the interest, or how, by the way in which they complement each other, they may augment the comprehensiveness of the result ? In this overture, a slow choral, representative of the religious element, is at first entirely interrupted by wild contrasting movements, representing the surgings of the passions ; then, after a little, it reappears again, gains strength, and finally by main force seems to crush the others down, and in the final strain entirely to dominate them. Here, in the blending of the most intensely spiritual and material of motives, is incongruity, and with it a comprehensiveness including the widest extremes. Yet how artistically the like features are grouped with like, and each phase of expression made to complement the other ; and when the two clash, how principality gets the better of what would else be insubordinate, and reduces all to order/ Incongru- ity in such cases really adds to the general effect of con- gruity, because it suggests, as nothing else could, the overwhelming power of that tendency to produce a single effect upon thought, which finally blends the whole into a unity} Turning now to effects produced in the arts that are seen, it is probable that few of us have not noticed in our- 1 Compare what i-- said here with the arrangement of the methods on page 131. CO K HI 7, o til o h "* ui -t o *" z » •a w Q CO UJ O o ft 5 V _i fcn > C8 i ~-* 1) X CD 144 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. selves a tendency to expect to find in them certain forms invariably associated — forms, too, with outlines and colors not at all similar, which in fact may belong to objects as dissimilar as human beings, buildings, trees, plains, hills, and clouds. A little thought will reveal that we expect to find these forms associated because we have become accustomed to think of them as associated in nature. We know that in the world they go together, therefore in art they seem congruous. Thus Oriental scenery and Moorish architecture, Italian scenery and Renaissance, Northern French and Gothic, are congruous. So are the costumes or attitudes of certain figures and certain places or periods. (See Gerome's " Pollice Verso," Fig. 26, page 81.) So are certain outlines or colors, and delineations of war, of peace, of fright (" Death of Ananias," Fig. 94, page 288), of sor- row (Rubens's " Descent from the Cross," Fig. 16, page 73), and of merriment (Teniers's " Village Dance," Fig. 43, page 143). Sometimes the requirements of congruity, while evi- dently uppermost in the mind of the artist, are very closely allied to those of repetition and consonance, objects though different in themselves being made alike by being given like outlines or colors. See the fragment of the marble relief from the theatre of Dionysius, called " The Dancer," Fig. 56, page 183; also "The Storm" by Millet, Fig. 44, page 145. In many compositions like this latter, as in some of Ruysdael's landscapes, or in the sculptured group of Niobe and her children in the Museum degl' Uffizi at Florence, Fig. 45, page 146, every cloud, wave, leaf, limb, or shred of clothing on human forms may indicate the influence of the pervading fury of a tempest. In other compositions, as in some of Claude Lorraine's, the light reflected from every tree, rock, stream, and countenance, as well as the character or attitude of the forms which • -r O t/3 t- cS CO P, < u s. % o 146 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. it illumines, may augment the general effect of the sun- shine that pours from the sky. Notice the " Evening " of Claude, (Fig. 40, page 119) with the man and maid and attendant Cupid in the foreground. The results of congruity are evident in architecture too. It is this mainly that causes most builders to associate Doric or Ionic pillars or pilasters with entablatures and FIG. 45.— FROM Q.-iOUP OF NIOBE AT FLORENCE. See pages 16, 144, 204,. 257, 298. horizontal openings, or, at times, with the round Roman arch ; while the slender shafts and buttresses, gargoyles and other ornaments of the Gothic style are used with sharp or pointed arches. But so far as the appearance of forms alone is concerned, there is no reason why certain features of the Greek style should not accompany certain of the Gothic. To use them together would not violate in the least the fundamental principle of art, that like forms FIO. 46. TRANSFIGURATION. - RAPHAEL. S <-^ I , 116, II-. I p, 257. 148 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. should be put with like. At the same time, to do so would cause art to associate features that have come to be clearly dissociated in the mind. For this reason, it is possible that, as long as the world lasts, no artist can mix them extensively without suggesting to some an amount of incongruity wholly inconsistent with those effects of unity invariably present in arts of the highest character. The reference just made to Wagner's overture to " Tann- hauser " suggests mentioning a painting in which the effects of incongruity and comprehensiveness noticed as char- acterizing the overture, are almost exactly paralleled. It is Raphael's " Transfiguration," Fig. 46, page 147. At the top of this picture, supposed to represent the summit of the mount, are the glorified forms of Christ, Moses, and Elias, prostrate beneath whom are the apostles present at the scene, evidently greatly affected by it. As suits the thought, in accordance with a principle that need not be now explained, almost everything in this half of the com- position is delineated through a use of curves. At the bottom of the picture are others of the apostles, supposed to be at the foot of the mount, endeavoring in vain, amid the distress and consternation of the spectators, to cast out an evil spirit from a boy whom he is tormenting ; and here, as suits the thought too, there is a very extensive use of straight lines and angles. The composition as a whole has been justly criticised because the distance between these two groups is too slight, the mount not being represented as sufficiently high. But this fault is not essential to the effect that we are now considering, of which it furnishes an excellent example. Few can fail to recognize the antithetic incongruity both of thought and form between the two parts of the picture, and, together with this, the grouping of like with like, so as to cause the INCONGRUITY. 1 49 one to complement the other. Besides this, and because of it, the picture is comprehensive, as would not otherwise be possible, of the entire range of spiritual power on earth, all the way from the rapture of the Christ transfigured by the power of the Deity to the terror of the boy transfixed by that of the Devil. In architecture also it is possible to have a departure from the requirements of congruity that shall enhance the general effect by increasing that of comprehensiveness. This is true, too, as applied not only to that kind of con- gruity just mentioned, which consists in an adherence throughout a building to the traditional forms of one his- toric style- but also to that kind which is founded on first principles. Especially is this so with reference to incon- gruity introduced in the ways that will be explained in Chapter XVI I. in connection with gradation. As there in- dicated, a building may be made to be comprehensive of almost every possible style, say Greek in the first story, Norman in the second, and Byzantine in the third ; and yet the effect can be thoroughly artistic, manifesting almost everything demanded l>y the requirements ol order and for this reason of unity. CHAPTER X. CENTRAL-POINT, SETTING, PARALLELISM, AND SYMMETRY. Especial Importance of Arrangement in the Composition of Features alike by Way of Congruity — Connection between this Fact and the Methods now to be Considered — Difficulty of Determining the Term Central- Point, and Objections to other Terms — Appropriateness of this — Same Difficulties and Objections to Terms for the Second Method — Appro- priateness of the Term Setting — Connections between Central-Point and Principality, and Setting and Subordination — Parallelism — Symmetry and its Connection with the Methods Preceding it — Recapitulation — How Nature Suggests these Methods : the Vanishing Point and Radia- tion or Central-Point — Laws of Linear Perspective — Radiation Allied to Principality and Unity — Setting in Nature — Parallelism in Lines of Horizon, Rivers, Hills, Trees, etc. — Manifestation in Individual Forms of Nature, of Central-Point, Setting, Parallelism, and Symmetry. \\T E have found that the object of congruity is to produce like effects upon thought, which effects are attained, largely, by means of objects in themselves unlike. It is in these circumstances, particularly, that they need to be made to seem alike by methods of composition. If, for instance, there is no relationship in appearance between a man, a horse, a dog, a sheep, a tree, and a bush, all of which, nevertheless have to be brought together, it is more important than when they are alike by way of repeti- tion or consonance that a relationship should be created between them by the way in which they are arranged. In accordance with this conception, the methods of composition, to be next considered here, because the most 150 CEN TRA [.-POINT. I 5 I nearly connected with congruity, are such as have to do with dividing up the time and space occupied by congru- ous or incongruous features in ways intended to produce effects of likeness, in spite of opposing suggestions in the forms. It will be found, for instance, that by distributing objects of sound or sight on lines, real or ideal, meeting at a central-point, or, in some regular way, upon lines which furnish a setting for this, all the features of a composition can be made to become, in almost equal degrees, factors of the same general effect. So, by adjustments of a com- position, a relationship by means of parallelism may be created, say, between the sound of a trumpet or a flute and the rattle of a drum, or between the body of a horse and the road over which he moves ; or between the forms of bushes and of the robes of men, although, at the same time, none of these things, when compared, are sufficiently alike in themselves to be grouped distinctively by way of repetition or consonance. The same thing is true, too, of the representation of the balancing of the outlines or accents of many different features, some of them radi- cally different in essence, which we find in symmetry. Artistic arrangements of a composition, therefore, in- tended to secure effects according to the methods thai we are now to consider, are especially important when like is put with like by way of congruity. Before we go on, an explanation is needed of the terms to be employed here. It has been difficult to decide up< »n the first two of these. Radiation, ordinarily used for a part, at least, of what is here meant by central-point is, for the purpose, in one sense, too narrow, and in another too broad. It signifies the concentration of lines .it one cen- tre, or of light at one focus ; but it fails to apply, except very metaphorically, to the concentration of words or 152 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. tones. Besides this, it signifies rather dispersion, or move- ment from a centre, than concentration, or movement to it. We might, therefore, use the term concentration ; but this is already in use, and often, too, in order to designate some- thing entirely different — that which is meant by massing. Convergence, again, is a term that might be used. But this — and the same might be said of all the other terms suggested — emphasizes less than seems desirable the pro- duction in a composition of not many effects of this kind, but of a single effect. For such reasons a term less likely to be misunderstood, and at the same time inclusive of all that is intended, seems to be afforded in central-point. Point is a word that is used when referring both to sights and sounds ; and central-point includes all that can be signified by either radiation, concentration, or convergence, with much more besides. Moreover, the method to which it is to be applied, as may be seen by glancing at the scheme on page 131, is that which gives principality to effects of congmity ; in other words, to effects produced upon thought. What term could better indicate these? When we speak of the point of a story or picture, to what do we refer but to the effect upon our thoughts produced by the way in which the ideas that are illustrated in each are brought to a centre or focus? Let us use this term, then, for the method through which this end is attained. With all due acknowledgment, too, of the subordinate import- ance in general of mere terminology, here seems to be an exception to the rule. It would be not a slight but a great gain for art, were it universally recognized, as it should be, that an essential condition of successful arrangement in a composition, is to bring not only all its factors, but also, through them, all the thought behind its factors to zpoint, and this, too, a central-point. CENTRA L-POINT. I 5 3 The second method is, in itself, easy enough to under- stand. We are all familiar with its effects. The difficulty is to find a term, appropriate for it, which has not already so many other uses as to deprive it of definite applicability here. As central-point implies bringing things to a centre, \vc might suppose that the antithetic condition could be expressed by circumference, contour, or outline. Hut these words are too limited in meaning ; and although terms like relief, surrounding, environment, digressiveness, excur- siveness, embellishment, circumstances might answer the purpose, they already have meanings which make them suggest something a little different from that for which we are now in search. On the whole, the word setting seems to meet the re- quirements better than any other. Meaning that which encases or surrounds an object of chief interest, like a gem, it suggests an appropriate antithesis to central-point ; and while it may refer to outlines constituting a contour, it may refer also to many other ami very different things bet \\ 1 the contour and the centre. It has, therefore, the breadth of meaning that is desirable in a word to be used in this connection. Besides this, like point, it is already employed in the arts both of sound and of sight, and in both is ap- plied to relations of thought as well .is of form. We speak of the setting of a story or of a melody, meaning its ac- companiment, almost as frequently as of th.it of a play or a picture; and this setting of the story and the same analogy holds good in the other cases may mean either the thoughts and feelings that it is made to suggest, the spiritual atmosphere, as we sometimes call it, surrounding the whole ; or the form in which it is presented, — if this be of verse, the form of verse employed. Setting, moreover, is allied to subordination, just as 154 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. central-point is to principality. 1 As a rule, it is a principal consideration that appearances should have a centre ; and at this, too, is usually their principal feature. The setting is a subordinate consideration. Many objects in nature, like smoke, clouds, and distant hills and mountains, melt into surrounding objects by such imperceptible degrees that, at a little distance from what, as related to our point of view, is their centre, they become indistinguishable ; but we should not recognize that they existed at all, could we not perceive the latter. A line, as long as it continues equidistant from another line having the same direction as itself, is parallel to it. We apply the term chiefly to straight lines ; but it need not be restricted to these. Series of circles, too, described about a common centre are parallel. Nor need the term be confined even to lines. As will be shown presently, it has been used for centuries to signify any effects, whether of sight or sound, that are analogous to those of lines thus related. The same relation that central-point sustains to princi- pality and setting to subordination, parallelism evidently sustains to complement, and, in case the parallelism be be- tween features on either side of a common middle or centre, to balance} The latter, as thus produced, needs only to be developed, and it becomes symmetry} This results when either curved or straight outlines describing a figure are so disposed that if, by a straight line passing perpendic- ularly through its middle, it be divided into two parts,these parts, when one is folded over the other, will everywhere coincide. Symmetry, therefore, is an effect produced by a figure when all its parts on one side of a line drawn per- 1 Compare what is said here with the arrangement of methods on page 131. SYMMETRY. 155 pcndicularly through its central-point balance those on the other side of this line. In other words, as stated in Chapter III., the method involves the principle of complement or bal- ance made applicable not to a few but to all the factors of a composition. For this reason, it involves also the con- templation of figures as wholes ; and, in connection with this, as follows naturally, it is universally acknowledged to be realized in perfection in the degree in which objects in nature or art possess, like living creatures, perfectly organized forms. Like central-point, setting, and parallel* ism, the term symmetry, too, is applied metaphorically to effects of thought as well as of form. A conception viewed only as such, in which the ideas presented are perfectly organized and balanced aX. every point, for this reason alone is said to have symmetry. Notice, however, that, when considered as an effect either of form or of thought, this kind of balance of all the factors cannot be completely manifested except in connection, by way of suggestion, if no more, with central-point, setting, and parallelism, from a combination of all of which, therefore, it is developed. In fact, as the necessity for these arises in a comprehensive combination of the congruous and incongruous, symmetry, as a method of organizing form, may be said to be con- nected logically with them also, and therefore with all the six methods preceding it in the list on page 131. To recapitulate, central-point, setting, parallelism, and symmetry may, all of them, as primarily used with refer- ence to lines, be said to have to i\n with direction. 1 .ines extending through space may converge at a common point or centre, and thus radiate; or they may be de- scribed in such ways .1- to form a setting for the centre: or, whether doing this or not, they may coincide in their directions and be parallel ; or several lines may do all 156 THE GENESIS OE ART-FORM. these things in a similar way as related to the same centre or central line, and so cause a figure to have symmetry. Now let us consider, for a little, certain correspondences between these methods, as used in art, and the methods in which different objects are seen to be arranged in na- ture, which, in this as in every regard, is the teacher of art. Central-point, setting, parallelism, and symmetry are all illustrated, almost without exception, in every view of the world about us that the eye can see. It is scarcely just, then, to term them "tricks" of composition, as is some- times done by those who have never come to recognize the connection between them and the conditions of nature. Even Corot, who, on account of selecting for representation certain effects of color not unnatural but not previously studied, is supposed to have been especially free from slavery to established methods of composition, did not disregard those that we are now considering. No effects of radiation and parallelism as produced by Claude (see Fig. 40, page 119), or Turner (see Fig. 51, page 175), could be more marked than the same as produced by Corot in Fig. 47, page 157, or even in Fig. 73, page 223. But to be more specific, central-point, as used in art, is merely a development — sometimes, as is the case with many effects in art, an excessive development — of the nat- ural fact that an object in the extreme distance is always related to an object nearer us in such a way that, if there were parallel lines drawn between the two, and extended far enough into space, such lines would meet in the dis- tance and form a point. For instance, to one looking down a long street, or the tracks of a railway, the lines formed by the sidewalks and foundations and roofs of the houses, if they be of equal height, or of the two or more tracks of the railway, all converge in the distance, and, CO co CI ci l^ 1- ~ cc ^ in U M oo _l in < M z ■1 £ u in NH 1:1 r on H — •* — D rt 158 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. though not actually meeting, suggest that they would meet, could a man see far enough. The point where, if extended, they would meet, is what the painter calls the vanishing point, and if he wishes to be mathemat- ically exact in determining the sizes of his figures as rep- resented at a certain distance, he will do so by drawing converging lines from the top, bottom, and sides of a like figure in the foreground, and making these, where they cross the place in which the figure is to be represented, measure the height and breadth. (See the trees in Fig. 47, page 157.) This principle, as applied to art, is the basis of the laws of linear perspective. When carried out in a painting it makes all the objects represented appear to sustain the same relations to one another as in nature. Besides this, moreover — and here is the connection of the principle with our present subject — it can make all these objects sus- tain subordinate relations to one object of interest which, being in front of the vanishing point from which all the lines ideally radiate, necessarily suggests that everything is pointing toward it ; and that it therefore was the principal object of consideration in the mind of him who produced the picture — the object at which, when painting, he was directly looking (see Fig. 50, page 173.) Thus we see how central-point, as indicated by radiation, augments the effect of principality. But besides having a point which is a centre of radia- tion, and therefore of principal importance, all views in nature have that which augments the effect of subordi- nation. It is found in the outlines which form the setting of this centre, outlines often dim and vague be- cause of their distance in the background, but by which it is made clear, at least, that the range of vision, as well RADIATION AND OUTLINE IV NATURE. I 59 as the lines of radiation, arc brought to an end. It is in- teresting to notice, too, that the extreme limits of these outlines, as in those of the horizon and zenith not only, but also in the contour of any field of vision that can be comprehended in a single glance of the eye, are necessa- rily circular. This furnishes an additional reason for the use of the arched, or semi-arched, or oval contour, no. ticed on page 115, as so frequently suggested by the arrangements of figures in groups. Once more, in addition to having a vanishing point which is a centre of radiation, and outlines that give this a setting, every view of nature has a horizon line, and with this usually a large number of lines^zra//