GIFT OF 
 MICHAEL REESE 
 
THE 
 
 GENESIS OF ART-FORM 
 
 AN ESSAY IN 
 
 COMPARATIVE ESTHETICS 
 
 SHOWING THE IDENTITY OF 
 
 E SOURCES, METHODS, AND EFFECTS OF COMPOSITION 
 IN MUSIC, POETRY, PAINTING, SCULPTURE 
 AND ARCHITECTURE 
 
 GEORGE LANSING RAYMOND, L.H.D. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF ORATORY AND AESTHETIC CRITICISM IN THE COLLEGE OF NEW 
 
 JERSEY AT PRINCETON ; AUTHOR OF '* POETRY AS A 
 
 REPRESENTATIVE ART," ETC. 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON 
 
 27 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND 
 
 m ftfie fimcherbockcr |)ress 
 
 1893 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1893 
 
 BY 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 Electrotyped, Printed, and Bound by 
 
 Ube Tknicftcrbocftcr press, IRew 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THIS 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 that which it is important 
 to understand in full, all must recognize to be 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 
 
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 origin ; and in the degree in which the conclusions 
 reached in it are accurate, and appeal as such to the 
 reader's judgment, 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 wider in its scope than those 
 imagine who confound the methods of the master-artists 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 with their manner, has too its limits ; and it will reveal 
 beyond 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 of those that are now the 
 classics of the past have charms that never can be lost. 
 
 PRINCETON, N. J., November, 1892. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CLASSIFICATION AS THE BASIS OF METHOD IN SCIENCE 
 
 AND ART ....... 1-12 
 
 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 In- 
 audible and Invisible Mental 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 
 Use 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 Laws Operating underneath 
 ./Esthetic Appearances or Forms An Embodied Finite Mind 
 Requires Body and Definiteness 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 Art both the Human Mind and Nature How 
 the Artist, by Classifying the Forms of Nature, Represents his 
 own Mind And how, the Forms of Nature. 
 
 vii 
 
viii 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 them 
 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 97-1 13 
 
 The Principle of Grouping, Resulting from the Requirements of 
 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 of Aristotle 
 Applied to Poetic Form To the Sentence To the Poem 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 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 . . 114-124 
 
 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 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. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CONGRUITY, INCONGRUITY, AND COMPREHENSIVENESS 
 
 J 33-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 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. 
 
Xii CONTENTS. 
 
 XL 
 
 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^ 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. xiii 
 
 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. m 
 
 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 not Harmony Nor is Dissonance Contrast The Same 
 
xiv CONTENTS. 
 
 PACK 
 
 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. 
 
 1. 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 F AC. A DE 17 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages iS, 87, 90, 190, 
 207, 291. 
 
 3. TAJ-MAHAL FAC.ADE AGRA, INDIA 19 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 18, 75. 77, 87, 96, 
 
 124, 1 80, 1 86, 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, 182. 
 
 7. EROS, STATUE OF, IN BRITISH MUSEUM 30 
 
 From Muller's " Denkmaler der Alien Kunst." Mentioned 
 on pages 31, iS6, 289. 
 
 8. TOWER WITH RING 31 
 
 From Raskin's " Elements of Drawing." Mentioned on 
 page 31. 
 
 9. ANCIENT KORAN CASE 38 
 
 From Lane-Poole's " Moors in Spain." Mentioned on pages 
 37. 224. 
 10. SCHOOL OF ATHENS, BY RAPHAEL 41 
 
 From photograph of an engraving. Mentioned on pages 39, 
 82, 242. 
 
 xv 
 
xvi PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 11. GATE OF SERRANO, VALENCIA, SPAIN 47 
 
 From Lane-Poole's " Moors in Spain." Mentioned on pages 
 48, 79. 8 7, 9 6 - 
 
 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 Muller's " Denkmaler der Alien Kunst." Mentioned 
 on pages 74, 85, 179, 289. 
 
 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 FAQADE. 78 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 18, 77, 87, 96, 124, 
 186, 207, 265. 
 
PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. xvii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 24. TWIN VILLA 79 
 
 From Palliser, Palliser, & Co., Architects, New York. Men- 
 tioned on pages 77-79, 123, 124, 187. 
 
 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, 80, 82, 
 144, 172, 179, 182, 186, 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, & Go., Architects, New York. Men- 
 tioned on pages 85, 96, 124, 187. 
 
 29. PALACE OF JUSTICE, .LYONS 85 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 87, 96, 261. 
 
 30. SULEYMANIYA MOSQUE 86 
 
 From Lane-Poole's " Turkey." Mentioned on page 90. 
 
 31. ST. MARK'S, VENICE WITH CAMPANILE 88 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 18, 77, 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, 1 86, 190. 
 
 35. PLAN FOR A CHURCH, EXTERIOR 93 
 
 From G. H. 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. 
 
XVlii 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, 123, 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 Miiller'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, 
 159, 172, 238. 
 
 48. RADIATION IN NATURAL FORMS 160 
 
 From Ruskin's " Elements of Drawing." Mentioned on 
 page I 60. 
 
 49. JAPANESE COMPOSITIONS 161 
 
 From Kotsugaro Yenouye's " Fine Art Pictures." Mentioned 
 on pages 46, 156, 161. 
 
 50. CATTLE, BY TROYON 173 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 16, 158, 172. 
 
PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. XI X 
 
 PAGE 
 
 51. DECLINE OF CARTHAGE, BY J. W. M. TURNER 175 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 16, 31, 82, 118, 
 156, 159, 172, 238. 
 
 52. THE SOLDIER'S RETURN, RELIEF ON NATIONAL MONUMENT NEAR 
 
 BlNGEN ON THE RHINE . 176 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 16, 26, 174, 182, 
 257- 
 
 53. GERMAN CAPTIVE, STATUE OF, VATICAN. 177 
 
 From Baring-Gould's " Germany." Mentioned on pages 176, 
 182, 257. 
 
 54. MITHRAS STABBING THE BULL SCULPTURED RELIEF FROM THE 
 
 LOUVRE 179 
 
 From M tiller's " Denkmaler der Alten Kunst." Mentioned 
 on pages 74, 120, 180, 2 1 8. 
 
 55. OTHELLO-, BY CARL BECKER 181 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 72, 174, 181, 239. 
 
 56. THE DANCER, FRAGMENTARY SCULPTURE OF 183 
 
 From Abbott's "Pericles." Mentioned on pages 16, 144, 
 182, 257. 
 
 57. NEBO, BUST INSCRIBED WITH NAME OF, BRITISH MUSEUM 184 
 
 From Ragozin's " Chaldea." Mentioned on page 183. 
 
 58. LUCCA MADONNA, BY FRA BARTOLOMMEO 185 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 72, 185. 
 
 59. THE OLD LOUVRE 187 
 
 From Masson's "Mediaeval France." Mentioned on page 
 186. 
 
 60. THEATRE AND TON-HALLE, PART OF DESIGN FOR 191 
 
 From the Architectural Record. Mentioned on pages 22, 190, 
 208, 261. 
 
 61. PUBLIC LIBRARY, NEW LONDON, CONN 193 
 
 From the Architectural Record. Mentioned on pages 123, 190. 
 
 62. THE VITRUVIAN SCROLL 200 
 
 From photograph of an engraving. Mentioned on page 200. 
 
 63. THE GREEK FRET 200 
 
 From photograph of an engraving. Mentioned on page 200. 
 
 64. SECTION OF ORNAMENTAL DOORWAY, KHORSBAD, CHALDEA. ... 201 
 
 From Ragozin's " Chaldea." 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, 186, 190, 
 206, 261. 
 
 69. POUTOU TEMPLE, NEAR NINGPO, CHINA 208 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 18, 124, 207, 240. 
 
 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, 251. 
 
 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 238, 241, 264. 
 
 79. EXETER CATHEDRAL, INTERIOR OF 236 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 238, 241, 264. 
 
PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. xxi 
 
 PACK 
 
 80. ST. HILAIRE, CHURCH OF, ROUEN 237 
 
 From a drawing. Mentioned on pages 124, 241, 251. 
 
 81. FRONT ELEVATION 238 
 
 From G. H. Edbrooke, Architect, New York. Mentioned 
 on pages 241, 251. 
 
 82. SIDE ELEVATION 238 
 
 From G. H. Edbrooke, Architect, New York. Mentioned 
 on pages 241, 251. 
 
 83. TOWER OF BORIS, KREMLIN, Moscow 239 
 
 From a drawing. Mentioned on pages 124, 241. 
 
 84. DOME OF CHIAVAVALLE, ITALY 240 
 
 From a drawing. Mentioned on page 241. 
 
 85. CHATEAU BE RANDAU, VICHY, FRANCE 258 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages, 124, 1 80, 262. 
 
 86. CHAPEL IN CATACOMBS OF ST. AGNES, ROME 259 
 
 From Turner's " Short History of Art." Mentioned on page 
 262. 
 
 87. ST. BOTOLPH'S CHURCH, BOSTON, 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 CATHEDRAL, ENGLAND, INTERIOR OF 262 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 262. 
 
 90. FARNESE PALACE, ROME FACADE 263 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 265. 
 
 91. CURVE EXEMPLIFYING GRADATION 282 
 
 From Ruskin's " Modern Painters." Mentioned on pages 
 282-284. 
 
 92. CURVE EXEMPLIFYING GRADATION 283 
 
 From Ruskin's " Modern Painters." Mentioned on pages 
 282-284. 
 
 93. THESEUS, SCULPTURE OF 285 
 
 From Abbott's " Pericles." Mentioned on page 284. 
 
 94. THE DEATH OF ANANIAS, BY RAPHAEL 288 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on pages 72, 144, 257, 287, 
 297. 
 
xxii PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 95. DOORWAY OF CHURCH IN JAK, HUNGARY 289 
 
 From Liibke's " History of Art." Mentioned on pages 180, 
 291. 
 
 96. ARCH IN THE ALJAFERIA OF ZARAGOZA 290 
 
 From Lane-Poole's " Moors in Spain." Mentioned on pages 
 37, 180, 291. 
 
 97. SIENNA CATHEDRAL, ITALY FAC.ADE 292 
 
 From Turner's " Short History of Art." Mentioned on 
 pages 18, 87, 207, 261, 291. 
 
 98. RATH-HOUSE, BRUNSWICK, GERMANY 294 
 
 From Zimmern's " Hansa-Towns." Mentioned on page 295. 
 
 99. SAN PEDRO DE CARDENA, INTERIOR OF 296 
 
 From Lane-Poole's " Moors in Spain." Mentioned on page 
 295 
 
 100. ST. MACLOU, ROUEN, FRANCE 298 
 
 From a photograph. Mentioned on page 295. 
 
 The author wishes to express his sense of obligation to the various artists, 
 publishers, and authors to whom he is indebted for kind permission to insert 
 in this book such illustrations and poems as are owned by them, or protected 
 by their copyrights. 
 
ise 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM, 
 
 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 Arts" when 
 they Begin to be Developed for the Sake of the Form The Arts Repre- 
 sent 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 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 Artist Groups Phenomena Mentally to 
 Gain a General Conception, then, in a Way Analogous to Classifica- 
 tion, Groups them Materially to Impart it Connection between these 
 Processes, and Representing 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 of Nature. 
 
 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, 
 
5 
 
 THE GENESIS OF AR T-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 thoughts 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 only 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. He hears 
 sounds coming 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 
 of association or comparison, he compounds them, form- 
 ing terms like ex-press, up-right-ness, 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 language. 
 
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 ; and he 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 1 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 
 
CLASSIFICATION 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 mental thoughts or feelings, 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, 
 of 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 of these which, at certain times, the mind 
 cannot use for the purpose of representing outwardly its 
 
 predatory instincts. . . The higher but less essential powers, as well as 
 the lower but more essential powers, thus come to have activities tha-t are 
 carried on for the sake of the immediate gratifications derived, without 
 reference to ulterior benefits ; and to such higher powers, aesthetic products 
 yield those substantial activities, as games yield them to various lower 
 powers. " 
 
 1 See the author's "Poetry as a Representative Art," chapters i., 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 
 his ears and eyes are 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. / 
 
 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, say, 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 will 
 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 only in 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 only in 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 the 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 both of 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 intp 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 clear 
 that what was said there, is in harmony with what has just 
 been said here, it is necessary to show, first, that obtain- 
 ing 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 of the results of observation and 
 thought that together constitute mental character. 
 Imagine a gardener classifying his roses as he must do 
 instinctively the moment that 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 kinds 
 of generalizations having their sources not in the par- 
 ticular things described, but in the brains of the describ- 
 ers, who have already been made familiar with many 
 other things somewhat similar. Shakespeare certainly 
 did not get the most attractive features of 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 of 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 
 all, unless in nature itself he had first 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 of this unless nature had first made horses 
 
12 THE GENESIS OF ART-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. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 UNITY AND COMPARISON, VARIETY AND CONTRAST, 
 
 COMPLEXITY AND COMPLEMENT IN CLASSIFICATION 
 
 AND COMPOSITION. 
 
 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 Con- 
 siderations Lead to Unity This Attained by Putting the Like with the 
 Like by Way of Comparison Exemplified 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 Lead to Complement. 
 
 E are now prepared to 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 last chapter, we may expect, 
 as a 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 
 
 13 
 
14 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 form, by stating anew the fact already brought out in the 
 last 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 of both. 
 
 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- 
 
UNITY AND COMPARISON. 15 
 
 duced, too, by all except the most elementary products 
 of nature. 
 
 Unity 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, 89, 123, 207, 261. 
 
 pare, that the mind classes them in one 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 
 begin 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' " Descent from 
 the Cross," Fig. 16, page 73 ; Gerome's " Pollice Verso," 
 Fig. 26, page 81 ; Tenier'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. i, page 15; in the 
 
FIG. 2. COLOGNE CATHEDRAL FACADE. 
 See pages 18, 87, 90, 190, 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 last 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 are. 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 
 
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 : 
 
 Who 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 bars to a good lesson, 
 And then to another, and every one to another still. 
 
 Leaves of Grass : Whitman. 
 
 O I believe there is nothing real but America and freedom ! 
 
 O to sternly reject all except democracy ! 
 
 O imperator ! O who dare confront you and me ! 
 
 O to promulgate our own ! O to build for that which builds for mankind. 
 
 O feuillage ! O North ! O the slope drained by the Mexican sea I 
 
 O all, all inseparable ages, ages, ages ! Idem. 
 
 Observe also the utter absence of any attempt to fulfil 
 this first requirement of art, in the buildings represented 
 
FIG. 4. THE EDISON BUILDING, NEW YORK CITY. 
 See pages 22, 1.89, 208. 
 
22 THE GENESIS OF 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 Q{ 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 each other. 
 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 
 
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, 
 While I widen the rent of my wind-built tent, 
 
 Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, 
 Like strips of the sky fallen through 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 are flat, the brands are 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, 
 
 34 My father seldom sleepeth well." 
 
 Cristabel : Coleridge. 
 
VARIETY AND CONTRAST. 2$ 
 
 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 betrayed. 
 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 of love in every whisper flew. 
 Ah ! faithless youth, two well you saw my pain, 
 For eyes the language of the soul explain. 
 
 Araminta : Gay. 
 
 Take music too. Compare the 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. 
 
 Wer un - ter ei - nes Madchens Hand sich als ein Scla-ve 
 schmiegt, und von der Lie-be fest ge-bannt in schnoden Fes-seln 
 
 liegt : well dem ! der ist ein ar - mer Wicht, er kennt die 
 
 gold-ne Frei-heit nicht, er kennt die gold-ne Frei-heit 
 
 nicht, er kennt die gold- ne Freit - heit nicht. 
 
 Lied der Fret he it ; Mozart, 
 
26 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 When we first came on this cam-pus, Freshmen we, as 
 green as grass ; Now, as grave and rev - er - end Sen - iors, 
 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- 
 
 N- 
 
 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. 
 
5^ 
 
 | I M 
 
 1* ,f 
 
 Ul - ?. 
 
 O M 
 
 i* : 
 
 m ^> 
 
 II 
 
 CO = ^ 
 
 5 O 4) 
 
 < o <u 
 S-cfl 
 
 oc 
 to 
 
28 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 interest the mind, forms must continue to present to it 
 something that has not been seen before. All these facts 
 show that even though an art-product is constructed, in 
 the main, upon the principle of putting like with like, a 
 lack of likeness is sometimes desirable in order to intro- 
 duce into the form that element of change 1 which in 
 poetry and music is necessary to the effect of movement, 
 and in painting, sculpture, and architecture, to the effect 
 of life, which is closely allied to that of movement. 
 
 It is important now to notice further that if occasional 
 unlikeness is to be introduced into a form, the more 
 apparent the unlikeness is, the more satisfactory often is 
 its effect. In this case the dissimilarity attracts more 
 attention both to itself and to the general method of 
 comparison which it opposes. No form appears to be so 
 individual in character as when it is thrown into relief by 
 the proximity of other forms between which and itself the 
 difference is radical ; as the figure of a man, for instance, 
 when surrounded by natural scenery ; or as a smooth 
 young face when surmounted by the gray hair of a wig. 
 In addition to this, it is worth remarking that in the de- 
 gree in which unlike features are the most distinctly 
 antithetic they show the clearest possible consciousness on 
 the part of the artist that comparison is the main process 
 employed, and that variety is exceptional. No one can 
 originate or recognize an antithesis by which is meant 
 an effect produced when two objects differ diametrically in 
 at least one particular, and yet agree in others except as a 
 result of comparison. For all these reasons contrast, when 
 used within proper limits, is a legitimate artistic method. 
 
 In literature, for instance, every well-written page is full 
 of contrasts expressed either directly, as in " Open rebuke 
 is better than secret love/' " Gold cannot make a man 
 
 1 Compare with this what is said on pages 139, 189, and 258. 
 
VARIETY AND CONTRAST. 2$ 
 
 happy any more than rags can render him miserable "; or 
 else indirectly, as in Lord Chatham's question, when 
 opposing the war against the American colonies : " Who is 
 the man that has dared to call into civilized alliance the 
 wild and inhuman inhabitant of the woods, to delegate 
 to the merciless Indian the defence of disputed rights, 
 and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our 
 brethren ? " 
 
 Of course, the same principle is exemplified in literature 
 put into the form of poetry. 
 
 In peace there 's nothing so becomes a man 
 As modest stillness and humility ; 
 But when the blast of war blows in our ears. 
 Then imitate the action of the tiger. 
 
 Henry V., iii., I : Shakespeare. 
 
 A light wife doth make a heavy husband. 
 
 Merck, of Venice, v., I : Idem. 
 
 To apply the same principle to poems considered as 
 wholes, what could make characters as disingenuous as 
 Shakespeare's Desdemona and Ophelia, or even as his 
 Othello, Hamlet, and Lear, manifest their distinctive traits 
 so well as the surging mass of plotting and passion by 
 which we find them surrounded ? See also the quotations, 
 beginning on pages 138 and 139. 
 
 In music, too, what can cause the individuality of a 
 melody to stand out in clearer relief than the contrast 
 afforded when it is alternated with what are termed varia- 
 tions, or is projected from a background of harmonic 
 modulations that move up while it moves down, or that 
 pass from one key into another, while it, considered in it- 
 self, does not necessitate such transitions ? Notice the 
 music on pages 60 and 67. Sudden and sharp antitheses are 
 produced in this art in ways, too, less distinctively musical. 
 
THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 FIG. 7. STATUE OF EROS IN BRIT- 
 ISH MUSEUM. 
 
 See pages 31, 186, 289. 
 
 Once, when it was my good 
 fortune to hear Allegri's 
 " Miserere " sung in the Sis- 
 tine Chapel at Rome, on a 
 Good-Friday, the perform- 
 ance was introduced by an 
 extremely monotonous chant, 
 which seemed to last for 
 hours, though possibly for 
 less than one hour. But 
 when, at last, the chant glid- 
 ed into the grand chords of 
 the " Miserere," the effect of 
 the contrast between the two 
 was so thrilling that one could 
 imagine that of itself it could 
 be enough to make an ordi- 
 nary composition sound like 
 a strain from a chorus of 
 angels. 
 
 The same principle is not 
 less operative in the arts that 
 are seen. It explains why 
 folds of drapery, or the 
 straight lines of a girdle 
 band, niche, porch, or pedes- 
 tal increase, as we must often 
 have remarked, the effective- 
 ness of a human figure in 
 connection with which they 
 are depicted. Observe, in 
 the principal form in Ge- 
 rome's " Pollice Verso," Fig. 
 
VARIETY AND CONTRAST. 31 
 
 26, page 8 1, the contrast between the bare flesh and 
 the helmet and other mailing ; also how much, even as 
 represented here in outline, the slight band over the 
 shoulder of the " Eros " of the British Museum, Fig. 7, page 
 30 adds to the general charm of the whole. Notice, too, 
 how much would be lacking to the effect of Claude's " Even- 
 ing," Fig. 40, page 119, as well as of Turner's " Decline of 
 Carthage," Fig. 51, page 175, did either not contain the 
 comparatively few figures of people in the foreground. 
 For the same reason, shrubbery, trees, and mountain 
 
 FIQ. 8. See page 31. 
 
 scenery augment the attractiveness of houses or towers 
 by which we find them surrounded. See the " Montigny 
 Chateau in the Valley," Fig. 72, page 221. As applied to 
 the forms of architecture considered in themselves, too, 
 the same is true. Notice the round face of the clock in 
 the chateau just mentioned. Ruskin, in his " Elements of 
 Drawing," Letter II., illustrates a similar effect by drawing 
 a small iron ring, not corresponding to anything about it, 
 against one wall of a square and angular set of battle- 
 ments (Fig. 8) and says with reference to the sketch : " All 
 
32 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 would have been unsatisfactory if there had not happened 
 to be that iron ring on the inner wall, which by its vigor- 
 ous black circular line precisely opposes all the square and 
 regular characters of the battlements and roof " ; and 
 draws the inference that " It is quite singular how very 
 little contrast will sometimes serve to make an entire 
 group of forms interesting, which would otherwise have 
 been valueless." 
 
 In a similar way, a single ray of light, bursting through 
 the clouds of a storm-piece, often both heightens the effect 
 of gloom and introduces into the whole an element of 
 cheerfulness. So, too, with a bright-hued flower, amid 
 the green of a forest, and a bit of gilding on a cloud against 
 the blue of the sky. They answer the same purpose as 
 the round ring amid the angular forms of the sketch 
 drawn by Ruskin. The whole of Jules Breton's picture, 
 at one time in the New York Metropolitan Museum, 
 entitled " Brittany Washerwoman," is enlivened by a very 
 little red introduced for this purpose on the bodice of a 
 single woman. Of course, it needs to be borne in mind 
 that in all the arts, as indeed in nature, the number of 
 features introduced for the sake of contrast should be 
 comparatively small. Only in this case can they be kept 
 subordinate, as they always should be, to effects that 
 fulfil the predominating requirement of comparison. 
 
 We pass on to consider the methods of classification 
 that are traceable to the influences of mind and nature com- 
 bined, or, as we may say now, of unity and variety. Here 
 we need not dwell long. Any class composed of both 
 like and unlike factors necessarily has complexity. So has 
 any single form of art or of nature. These statements 
 need no proof. 
 
 Again, if so far as factors are alike they involve com- 
 
COMPLEXITY AND COMPLEMENT. 33 
 
 parison, and so far as they are unlike they involve contrast, 
 it follows that, so far as they are both like and unlike, and 
 yet must both 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 they contrast, 
 and yet, as they appear together, complete the one thing 
 to which they equally belong. They 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 
 we are to have rhythm, melody, or harmony, both are 
 necessary. In the arts of sight, light and shade contrast ; 
 and yet, if we are to 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 the completeness of light. In 
 all these cases the contrasting factors are termed com- 
 plements. The principle which underlies their use is 
 closely related, both in reality and in ordinary conception, 
 to the developments of it in counteraction 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 the 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. 
 
 nPO 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 defined 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 of 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. But 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 
 graded series. We may express this fact by saying that 
 the classes and the system of classification as a whole come 
 to have group-form. Only when this result is reached is 
 the work of order completed. Of course the same prin- 
 ciple applies to the bringing together of the factors com- 
 posing any given art-form. 
 
36 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 1 
 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. : Browning. 
 
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 kinds, 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 colors, 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. 9, page 38, in the " Window of the 
 Alhambra," Fig. 74, page 225, and in the "Arch in the 
 Aljaferia," Fig. 96, page 290. 
 
 It is evident, however, that although a little confusion, 
 like a little contrast, may sometimes, by way of variety, 
 add greatly to the attractiveness of that with which it is 
 associated, it nevertheless needs to be 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 that, 
 even in connection with confusion, order can manifest itself, 
 and manifest itself clearly by way of counteraction. Nature, 
 even to the primitive man, could not have seemed wholly 
 
3 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 
 
 FIQ. 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 
 
COUNTERACTION. 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. He means that 
 which, through the 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. But the 
 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 these 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 the bats. They 
 have hair, teeth, and other characteristics that make them 
 
4O 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, 
 
O 
 
 r x 
 
 o 
 
 C5 
 
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 
 latter 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 each other, also oppose each other 
 in certain characteristics of their movements. 
 
 Notice how 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 relevancy in 
 this connection. The principle underlying them may 
 be illustrated in the upward and downward movements 
 that in the following are set to the successive and con- 
 trasting lines marked A and B or B+, and C, or C+. 
 This arrangement illustrates effects of counteraction, such 
 as in this art are almost universal. 
 
 Near-er, my God, to Thee, Near-er to Thee ! E'en tho' it 
 
 B + 
 
 be acrossThatraisethme ! Still all my song shall be, Nearer,my 
 I 
 
 i __.-cr . i L*-> ^n L ^J 
 
 =^z^=rpz^q=iq=::=3-{:q= 
 
 -e) -+ - -9- >S ' -&-J 
 God, to Thee, Near-er, my God, to Thee, Near 
 
 
 Bethany : L. Mason. 
 
 A corresponding fact is exemplified in products of the 
 arts of sight. We can scarcely copy or originate a form 
 in any of these without having it exemplify all the oppos- 
 ing possibilities of outline and hue. Think of the 
 innumerable deviations from straight lines 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 form say a palm-tree 
 or a wolf to which is given what is sometimes termed 
 principality. About this form are then grouped other 
 forms, all of 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 
 
PRINCIPALITY 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 many 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 suggestion 
 given by the word, or* in quality, in actuality or in 
 mere appearance. All that is necessary is that in some 
 way they 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 leg 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. But because they present an 
 appearance of equilibrium in that like quantities seem 
 to be on 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. 
 
 In this regard these four, complement, counteraction, 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 
 
 FIQ. 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 both spring. For this reason, in giving illustrations 
 
.- / .".v_-/.V /.- .,-.- - 
 
 ." " . "1 .. "'- -"/... ."7 > ; _. ~> :~~. .". Jl L .". i7:f t.~ 
 
 dearly those that * nmfKy complement from 
 those that exemplify balance. The two terms wffl be used 
 
 rccogaitiom of Ac foci that 
 which the one represents,, and some- 
 tint which the other represents,, is most p*"** 11 - 
 
 uBflft DOCB, 9BPC rC3LLl\~ HQQCSSSLf \* Bl Or^uT ijO 
 
 for all the conditioits. For instance, a desire to 
 percciye effects of faharr afcme, as the word is ordinarily 
 does not fofly explain why both in the exter- 
 d as represented in art, man derives satisfac- 
 : : : . . - : . ' - . - . - . - ~ ^ . . "-, - : :v. .;;."-: 
 
 aaimals; asm Fig. II, page 47; as well as m the ** Invest- 
 me^ of a Bishop by a Ria^* F^. 25, page &x Read, 
 too, what is said of a paxBting by Tomer when fllustra- 
 tmg ^|M ! in ooonection with Fig. 66. page 203. But 
 
 almost ail degrees possible- They maybe as miKlM* as 
 heads and feet, or as the top and the bottom of a tree; 
 as two eyes, ears* arms, and wings, 
 of them we should 
 
5O THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 ordinate ; and sometimes both those 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 each 
 other, 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. 51 
 
 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 
 thing 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. 
 
 T^HE facts stated in the last chapter 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 if a 
 composition is to be in the highest sense artistic, convey- 
 ing to us that impression of unity which is essential to 
 the manifestation of form, it must not 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 AND MUSIC. 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, O 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 dwellers, and endured 
 Great sufferings on the deep ; his life was oft 
 In peril, as he labored to bring back 
 His comrades to their homes. 
 
 Bryant's Trans. 
 
 The same method, as exemplified in the beginnings of 
 both Homer's " Iliad " and Virgil's " ^Enead," 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 woe, 
 With loss of Eden, till one greater man 
 1 Restore us and regain the blissful seat, 
 Sing, Heavenly Muse. 
 
 Equally effective, for a similar reason, is the opening of 
 the " Sigurd the Volsung " of William Morris : 
 
5-1 THE GEXESIS 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 raaca. queen- 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 fre as valuable contributions 
 to art as they are, were they 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 IX POETRY AXD MUSIC. :: 
 
 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 gr^nra^ 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. : 
 
 Farm*. 
 
 The Scar-Spoked 
 O'er the land of tl* free 
 
 : ftj. 
 
 A similar effect is still more emphasized in some of the 
 different French forms of verse, which of late 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. But they also illus- 
 trate very clearly the influence of principality. 
 
 so hnble, there 's mo place fike 
 
 The spell that draws *s wgh. 
 How is it yo and I 
 Are always ulinj^ so ? 
 
 Stffl thoughts to thoughts TCplT. 
 
 And whispers ebb 
 I say it with a sigh. 
 
5 6 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 How is it you and I 
 Are always meeting so ? 
 
 Rondel : John Cameron Grant. 
 
 Lo, my heart, so sound asleep, 
 
 Lady, will you wake it ? 
 For lost 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 firing 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. 
 
 Kyrielle : Clinton Scollard. 
 
 Notice illustrations of the same method in the French 
 forms quoted on pages 63, 107, and 196. 
 
PRINCIPALITY IN POETRY AND MUSIC. tf 
 
 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, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three. 
 How They Brought the Good News from 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, 
 
 Past 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 over by Dalhem a dome spire sprang white, 
 
 And " Gallop," gasped Joris, " for Aix is in sight." 
 
 Idem. 
 
 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 more disturbs their deep repose 
 Than summer evening's latest sigh 
 
 That shuts the rose. 
 
 I long to lay this painful head 
 
 And aching heart beneath the soil, 
 
 To slumber in that dreamless bed 
 From all my toil. 
 
 The Grave : Montgomery. 
 
 And what could better give principality to a half 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. 59 
 
 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 forests, 
 
 Rattling over ridges ; 
 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, as 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 " Old Black 
 Joe," will illustrate this fact to the eye almost 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. 
 
 Pad. v 
 
 l.h. 
 
PRINCIPALITY 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, 
 
 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 facts 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-{-. 
 
 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 of 
 " Hamlet," the cool-headed, well-poised, consistent char- 
 acter of the intellectual Horatio complements that of the 
 hot-headed, ill-poised, irresolute, but intellectual hero. 
 At the time time, certain of the other characters, as 
 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 Hamlet. 
 
 Applying the same methods to form, we could say that 
 in the following poem the principal metre consisted 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 : Whittier. 
 
 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 MUSIC. 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 fiddle. 
 
 Triolet : A us fin 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 so many pairs of 
 words having the same sense or sound ? With Swinburne 
 this arrangement is so common as *to have become a 
 mannerism : 
 
 Naked, shamed, cast out of consecration, 
 Corpse and coffin, yea the very graves, 
 
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 to this, are also complementary. It is 
 equally evident that they are all complementary of each 
 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 
 
 From Greenland's i - cy mountains, From In-dia's co- ral strand, 
 
 E3 
 
 ^^^=^=^ : =^=^ tT=F <-=*=+= J ' t^ff 2 -^ H 
 
COMPLEMENT JN POETRY AND MUSIC. 
 
 Principal. 
 
 Subordinate and Complementary. 
 
 1-, J- 
 
 Where Af - ric's sun- ny fountains Roll down their gold-en sand ; 
 
 Complementary. 
 
 t U_J |_ 
 
 Complementary. 
 
 From many an an-cient riv - er,Frommanya palm- y plain, 
 
 /*; incipal. 
 
 Subordinate and Complementary. 
 
 They call us to de - liv - er Their land from er - ror's chain. 
 
 Missionary Hymn : Lowell Mason. 
 
 Not only are 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 of music, that it is hardly 
 possible for a phrase to be introduced into a composition 
 without an accompanying complement and not produce 
 an effect of incompleteness that will be felt, even though, 
 as is very likely, it cannot be explained. However 
 we may admire the following, who can ever hear its 
 eighth line without wishing that it had been omitted, 
 or that another line had been added somewhere? The 
 
66 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 reason for this is that there is nothing to balance or 
 complement it. 
 
 n 
 
 - r tr* - - * 
 
 Our God stands firm, a rock and tow'r, A shield when danger 
 
 press -. es ; A read-y help in ev - 'ry hour When 
 
 ^ 5 
 
 ^3= 
 
 . JfT T 
 
 doubt or pain dis - tress - es ; For our ma-lig- nant foe 
 
 
 Un-swerv-ing aims his blow ; His fear - ful arms the while 
 
 I * 
 
 i f * * ._ * i & u r i r *r ~r~ tt< rP 
 
 Dark pow'r and darker guile ; His hid-den craft is match -less. 
 
 E 
 
 Bin 1 Feste Burg .- Luther. 
 
COMPLEMENT IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 
 
 6 7 
 
 In addition to what has been said, notice also how uni- 
 formly in almost all compositions of this kind every two or 
 three measures in which the notes move upward are fol- 
 lowed by two or three in which they move downward. 
 
 Komm,lie-ber Mai, und ma - che die Bau-me wie-der griin, 
 
 und lass mir an dem Ba - che die klei-nen Veil-chen bliih'n! 
 
 
 Wie mocht'ichdoch so ger - ne ein Veil-chen wie-der seh'n, 
 
 =g=3!SEf*=^ 
 
 .-* *-r- 
 
 ach! lie-ber Mai, wie ger - ne ein - mal spa- zie- ren geh'n! 
 
 Sehnsucht nach dem Friihlinge : Mozart. 
 
 Very often, too, one part is complemented or balanced 
 by another. In the following, when the soprano ascends 
 the scale, the bass usually descends it, and vice versa : 
 
 
 My soul.be on thy guard, Ten thousand foes a- rise ; The 
 
 hosts of sin are press -ing hard To draw thee from the skies. 
 
 r* \ 
 *- M. \M. .,&.. -m- -*- 
 
 i I 
 
 Laban : Lowell Mason, 
 
68 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 As for the individual measures, all that was said of 
 those of poetry applies also to these. In fact, throughout 
 all their manifestations, the arts possessing forms that 
 move-, show scarcely less tendency to balance regularly 
 from one extreme to another than does a man when he 
 moves in walking. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 PRINCIPALITY, SUBORDINATION, AND COMPLEMENT OR 
 
 BALANCE IN PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND 
 
 ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 General Illustrations of the Effects of the Three Methods Principality 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 them Groupings of Odd and of Even Num- 
 bers Complement and Balance in Painting In Sculpture In Archi- 
 tecture Approaching 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. 
 
 j^HE importance and relationship of principality, sub- 
 ordination, and balance or complement are much 
 more apparent in the arts of sight than in those of sound. 
 Ruskin, in his " Elements of Drawing," Letter III., il- 
 lustrates these effects, although he applies what he says 
 only to principality, by drawing certain groups of leaves. 
 
 b c d 
 
 FIG. 13. 
 
 "#," he says, " is unsatisfactory, because it has no lead- 
 ing leaf ; b is prettier, because it has a head- or master- 
 
 69 
 
7<D THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 leaf ; and c more satisfactory still, because the subordina- 
 tion of the other members to this head-leaf is made more 
 manifest by their gradual loss of size as they fall back 
 from it." To this may be added a fourth figure, d, with 
 the declaration that it is unsatisfactory because it contains 
 nothing to complement or balance the lower leaf. 
 
 Sometimes, in art, the principal object is brought into 
 prominence by being made larger than the subordinate 
 objects. This was the old Egyptian method. According 
 to Miss Edwards, in her " Thousand Miles up the Nile," in 
 the pictures still remaining in the tomb of Ti, near the 
 site of ancient Memphis, the figures of the principal char- 
 acter are, in all cases, about eight times as large as those 
 of the servants represented as at work around him. Of 
 the same nature is the representation in this Fig. 14, 
 
 FIG. 14. PIANKLI RECEIVING THE SUBMISSION OF NAMRUT AND OTHERS. 
 See pages 70, 189. 
 
 of " Piankli, Monarch of Napata, Receiving the Sub- 
 mission of Namrut, the Hermopolitan King." This king 
 is depicted in the small figure in the upper line at the 
 right as leading a horse with one hand, and holding in 
 the other a sistrum, which it was customary to carry when 
 approaching a god. In the line below, those who have 
 
FIQ. 15. HENRY II. RECEIVES FROM GOD THE CROWN, HOLY LANCE, AND 
 
 IMPERIAL SWORD. (FROM "HENRY'S MISSAL.") 
 
 See pages 72, 189. 
 
72 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 been conquered are depicted in a more slavish attitude. 
 An effect of a similar kind is produced at the expense of 
 making the divine being himself subordinate, in Fig. 15, 
 page 71, taken from the German " Henry's Missal." Some- 
 times, as in some of the " Madonnas " of the old mas- 
 ters, the principal figure, though no larger in itself, is made 
 to have a larger effect by being elevated on a throne or 
 in clouds. See the " Madonna " by Fra Bartolommeo, Fig. 
 58, page 185, also Raphael's "Transfiguration," Fig. 46, 
 page 147. Sometimes this figure is in the foreground, as the 
 gladiator in Ge"rome's " Pollice Verso," Fig. 26, page 81, or 
 as the central character in Raphael's " Ananias," Fig. 94, 
 page 288. Sometimes, in connection with these other meth- 
 ods, the leading outlines of pictures are made to radiate from 
 the chief figure, as from the Christ in the air, in Raphael's 
 tapestry of the "Conversion of St. Paul"; or from the 
 gladiator in Gerome's " Pollice Verso," Fig. 26, page 81; 
 or from the Desdemona in Becker's "Othello," Fig. 55, 
 page 181. Sometimes a figure is made most prominent 
 by a use of color, as by red drapery given to the Christ 
 in Titian's " Scourging of Christ " ; and sometimes by a 
 use of light and shade, the former being concentrated 
 where it will necessarily attract attention. 
 
 In Rubens'" Descent from the Cross," Fig. 16, page 73, 
 a white sheet, the whitest object in the picture, is placed 
 behind the form of the Christ. In Correggio's " Holy 
 Night," Fig. 70, page 215, all the brightness in the picture 
 is reflected from that which illumines the face of the in- 
 fant Jesus. It is needless to say at what the spectator 
 looks first when viewing these works. He at once recog- 
 nizes the principality of the form about which all the 
 light is massed. They are admirable instances, therefore, 
 of how the most successful results of \x*& principality 
 
FIQ. 16. DESCENT FROM THE CROSS. PETER PAUL RUBENS. 
 See pages 16, 72, 80, 144, 190, 214, 235, 257. 
 
74 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 and massing, to be considered pre- 
 sently, can be secured when the two 
 operate conjointly. 
 
 In sculpture the methods under 
 consideration are equally prevalent 
 and effective. When there are many 
 figures, the same principles apply as 
 in painting, excepting, of course, cases 
 where there is color. See the relief, 
 now in the Louvre, entitled " Mithras 
 Stabbing the Bull," Fig. 54, page 179. 
 
 FIG. 17. STATUE OF LEDA, 
 AT FLORENCE. 
 
 See pages 74, 85, 179, 28 9- 
 
 When, either i n 
 painting or sculpt- 
 ure, the whole work 
 contains but a sin- 
 gle figure, the rela- 
 tive prominence of 
 merely different 
 parts of this, must 
 show the influence 
 of these methods. 
 
 "The Led a," 
 from the statue at 
 
 FIQ. 18. STATUE OF TITUS, IN THE LOUVRE. 
 See pages 75, 85, 120, 180, 289. 
 
PRINCIPALITY IN SCULPTURE. 
 
 75 
 
 Florence, Fig. 17, page 74, with the hand before the breast, 
 about which also all the outlines of the unresisting form 
 seem to centre, gives principality to the heart, the seat of 
 the affections. The erect head on the thick neck and 
 broad shoulders of the " Titus" in the Louvre, Fig. 18, 
 page 74, in connection with the commanding gesture, 
 gives principality to these, the seat of the directing power, 
 or of authority. The 
 equally erect but more 
 buoyant figure of the 
 " Diana " of the Louvre, 
 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- 
 dinated to the bodily 
 condition. In a different way, because devoid of any 
 suggestions of mental opposition, the positions of " The 
 Wrestlers," Fig. 21, page 77, make everything subord- 
 inate to lower physical strength. 
 
 In architecture, principality is attained by making 
 prominent a porch or door, Fig. i, page 15, indicating per- 
 
 FIQ. 19. DIANA, FROM THE LOUVRE. 
 See pages 75, 85, 120, 186. 
 
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 
 
 ---TV 
 
 FIG. 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. 
 31, page 88, 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 other forms, and 
 giving to the buildings as wholes an appearance of unity. 
 In many structures extending into wings that equal or 
 
 FIG. 21. THE WRESTLERS. 
 See pages 75, 85. 
 
 surpass in size their central connecting parts, Fig. 24, page 
 79 ; or containing large numbers of openings, gables, tur- 
 rets, domes, or spires equivalent in effect, Fig. 72, page 
 221, no such impression is produced. Nor, for reasons 
 to be given farther on in this chapter, can one claim that 
 in villas, such as are represented in these figures, this 
 impression always should be produced. In neither build- 
 ing is any special dignity of treatment demanded. Be- 
 
THE GENESIS OF ART- FORM. 
 
 FIG. 22. HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT, 
 
 FROM OLD PALACE YARD. 
 
 See page 76. 
 
 may not be able to 
 explain why its ap- 
 pearance is unsatis- 
 factory. 
 
 Passing now to 
 complement and bal- 
 ance in the arts of 
 sight, we had better 
 start with their 
 most elementary 
 manifestations. 
 There are two ways 
 of placing two ob- 
 jects together in 
 space. The one 
 may be partly or F | Q 
 
 wholly under the See pages 
 
 sides this, we have in 
 Fig. 24, page 79, a twin 
 effect allowable in a 
 building of such a char- 
 acter, and in both it and 
 Fig. 72, page 221, an 
 effect of interspersion, to 
 be considered in Chapter 
 ' XIV. But, while these 
 statements are true, it 
 remains . a fact that any 
 lack of principality in 
 any building appears to 
 some to be a defect, 
 although, as is often the 
 case in such matters, they 
 
 . 23. ST. PETER'S, ROME. 
 
 18, 77, 87, 96, 124, 186, 207, 265. 
 
BALANCE IN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 79 
 
 other, or the two may be side by side. In the former 
 case, they seem to fulfil the requirements of balance, 
 or to have equilibrium, whenever the lower object 
 appears, larger and therefore stronger than the upper, 
 a condition which we have all seen carried out in the 
 increased size given to the base of a monument. See 
 statues in Fig. 41, page 121. But in the latter case, when 
 the two are side by side, balance seems to be preserved, 
 notwithstanding a reasonable degree of difference in their 
 relative sizes, whenever they appear to be exactly upon 
 
 FIG. 24. A TWIN VILLA. 
 See pages 77, 78, 79, 123, 124, 187. 
 
 the same level horizontally, as they would be if floating 
 in the water, lodged on the ground, or suspended, when 
 of equal weight, in scales. 
 
 Sometimes two factors thus balanced include all that 
 an art-form contains ; and this, of itself, is often satisfac- 
 tory without any principality. In fact, in such cases, 
 we may say, perhaps, that the twin effect itself has princi- 
 pality. Notice the " Investiture of a Bishop by a King," 
 from the codex in St. Omer, Fig. 25, page 80; "The 
 Twin Villa," above, and the " Gate of Serrano, Valencia," 
 
80 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Fig. ii, page 47. There are ways, however, in which, 
 even where there are but two factors, one of these can 
 be made principal, and the other subordinate as well 
 as complementary. If they be the figures of two persons, 
 one can be tall, or elevated, or standing, while the other 
 is short, or sitting, or lying down (see the gladiator and 
 
 FIG. 25. INVESTITURE OF A BISHOP BY A KING. 
 
 (FROM A CODEX IN ST. OMER.) 
 
 See pages 48, 79. 
 
 his antagonist in Gerome's " Pollice Verso," Fig. 26, 
 page 8 1,) or one can be in the light, and the other in the 
 shade. See, again, Fig. 16, page 73, and Fig. 70, page 215. 
 If, in addition to the two, the form contain an odd 
 feature, the two can continue to seem to balance, in 
 case the odd be placed between them. In fact, this 
 
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' 
 " Village Dance," Fig. 43, page 143. 
 
 The numbers 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 Ge"rome'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. 83 
 
 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. 
 See page 85. 
 
 " Marriage at Cana," where a small black head of a dog on 
 one side is said to balance a large mass of black on the 
 other side. So, too, in Jules Breton's " Brittany Washer- 
 women," formerly in the New York Metropolitan Museum, 
 
84 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 
 
 FIQ. 28.-A SMALL HOUSE. 
 See 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) presents one of the greatest difficulties which the 
 sculptor has to encounter. See statues on page 74 to 77. 
 
 FIG. 29. PALACE OF JUSTICE, AT LYONS, FRANCE. 
 See pages 87, 96, 261. 
 
 In architecture, it is possible for one subordinate feature 
 to complement the principal, as a wing, or porch, or door 
 at one side of a house balances the whole fagade of the 
 building to which it is attached (Fig. 28, page 84) ; or as 
 
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 
 complement 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, page 19, " St. Mark's, Venice," Fig. 31, page 88, and 
 "The Gate of Serrano," Fig. u, 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 between them. This space, too, 
 was wider than 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 18, 77, 87, 90, 96, 124, 180, 186, 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 18, 77, 90, 124, 207, 261. 
 
 
 
 have, such an influence, that, as applied to the Gothic, we 
 still cling to methods that represent not its best, but its 
 worst phases. The tower at one corner, or at the side, 
 which is so common with us, is an inartistic adaptation of 
 what had a very different effect when separated from the 
 church in the structure called a 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. 32, 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, 
 
 FIQ. 33.-IFFLEY CHURCH. 
 See pages 92, 124. 
 
 and complement are all given their due proportionment, 
 as in Fig. 32, page 89. 
 
 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 
 our architects, in the arrangements both of exteriors and 
 
It 
 
 T 2 
 
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, page 93, and 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 
 
oc <u 
 
 20) 
 c/5 
 
FIQ. 36. GROUND PLAN FOR SAME CHURCH. 
 See page 92. 
 
ARCHITECTURAL ARRANGEMENTS. 
 
 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 w r ould 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 embodied 
 without difficulty. 
 Notice Fig. 37. 
 
 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 
 
 FIQ. 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 47; 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 IN POETRY AND 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 The Principle of Grouping, Resulting from the Requirements of the Product 
 The Method, Conditioned by this Principle, Organizes the Group 
 Organism in Nature and in Classification In Art-Composition Organ- 
 ism in the Art-Product : the Feet, Trunk, and Head of Plato ; the Be- 
 ginning, Middle, and End of Aristotle Applied to Poetic Form To 
 the Sentence To the Poem Effects of Form Due to the Organic 
 Order in which the Beginning, Middle, and End of Movement are 
 Presented : Stedman Where Thought is Didactic : Longfellow 
 Pope Montgomery In a Simile : Howitt Waller Hugo Same 
 Effects as Produced by 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 of 
 the Effect in Short and Long Compositions In Reiterated Chords at 
 their Beginning and Close Same Principle in Oratory. 
 
 T T 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 first 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 be grouped in such a way as to cause 
 
 7 
 
 97 
 
98 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 them to show more than the mere existence of prin- 
 cipality, subordination, or balance. They ought to show 
 their relationships to each other 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, and 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 explained, is necessary in classi- 
 fication, it is still more necessary in art-composition. Pre- 
 dominating comparison may reveal the fact that the 
 features are all parts of a unity ; zn& 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 of life about us. When we have said this, 
 can there be a more simple yet efficient way of showing 
 how an art-form can come to have these effects, than by 
 showing how the living forms 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, and cannot seem to have visible bodies, tried 
 to state a principle more general in its reach by declaring 
 that they must all have beginning, middle, and end. But 
 both statements are virtually the same, and 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 is apprehended 
 in time, being composed of words that follow one another. 
 Its form is a phase of movement ; and, if we apply to it 
 the same criterions as those 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 it appears to be one form in the 
 degree in which it appears to be one movement ; by which 
 we mean in the degree in which every part of its 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 
 
GROUPING IN POETRY , ND ^MUSfC* ,, ,, , 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 ? If 
 a poem as a whole is to have form, and one that can be 
 readily recognized, its different sentences, or representa- 
 tions of special and sometimes deviating movements, 
 must all manifest their relationships to each other, 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 involves 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 
 the related and subordinated thoughts of the entire poem 
 start ; a middle through which they all flow ; 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 
 organic order. A poem in which these requirements are 
 
io2 ,j ; " t c t ..Tffjs 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 Monmoutk : E. C. Stedman. 
 
 Here is another poem, the thought of which, if not 
 embodied in a form suggesting the beginning, middle, and 
 
GROUPING IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 1 03 
 
 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, O Death, 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 two 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 flame, 
 Quit, O quit this mortal frame ! 
 Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, 
 O the pain, the bliss, of dying ! 
 Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, 
 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, 
 Drowns 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 
 
 Blend 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. 105 
 
 No mortal saw it go ; 
 
 But who doth 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 : IVm. Howitt. 
 
 Here are other poems with the same characteristics: 
 
 Go, lovely rose ! 
 Tell her that wastes her time and me, 
 
 That now she knows, 
 W T hen I resemble her to thee, 
 How sweet and fair she seems to be. 
 
 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, 
 And not blush so to be admired. 
 
 Then die ! that she 
 The common fate of all things rare 
 
 May read in thee : 
 How shall a part of time they share 
 That are so wondrous sweet and fair. 
 
 Go, Lovely Rose : E. 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 W. W. Tomlinson. 
 
 Sitting in a porch way 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 : Idem.; tr. by Toru Dutt. 
 
GROUPING IN POETRY AND MUSIC. IO/ 
 
 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 House " ; 
 Shanly's " Kitty of Coleraine " ; Kingsley's " Fishermen," 
 and " O 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 ; 
 His little feet are tired and sore. 
 
 Arise, and welcome him before 
 
 Adown his cheeks the big tears start : 
 
 Awake, awake, O gracious heart, 
 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 
 
 With all his wise, mysterious lore, 
 Awake, awake, O gracious heart, 
 
 There 's some one knocking at the door. 
 
 Valentine : Rondel by Frank Dempster Sherman. 
 
IO8 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. 
 
 " Hylas, 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 Snoivflake 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 
 each other 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 the 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 is sometimes the same thing, a 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 thoughts 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 art appears to have form in the 
 degree alone in which one theme, i. e., one musical move- 
 ment, is perceived to be begun, developed, and drawn to 
 
IIO 
 
 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 dem Fruhlingsfcl* 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 
 Repose 
 Tonic 
 
 Middle 
 Motion 
 Scale 
 
 End 
 Repose 
 Tonic 
 
 
 Repose 
 Tonic 
 
 Motion 
 Tonic Scale 
 
 Repose 
 Tonic 8va 
 
 Motion 
 Tonic Scale 
 
 Repose 
 Tonic 
 
 Tonic Mass 
 
 Motion 
 
 Half Cadence 
 
 Motion 
 
 Full Cadence 
 
 
 Repose 
 First Part 
 
 Motion 
 Second Part 
 
 Repose 
 Third Part 
 
 
 
 8 Measures 
 
 8 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 
 both to 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 
 been 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. His art is not exclu- 
 sively aesthetic, but it is so nearly so that, in this case at 
 least, it may exemplify like principles. It is a fact with 
 which most of us must be 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 Ian- 
 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 
 ordinary conversation to the time when, having been 
 
GRO UP ING IN OR A TOR Y. 113 
 
 argued fully and in such ways as to produce a single effect, 
 the mind in exhaustion sinks back, once more, to the level 
 of the conversation that suggested it. Whoever had an 
 opportunity of listening to 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. 
 
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. 
 
 HP HE 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 
 
 114 
 
GROUPING IN PAINTING. 1 15 
 
 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 for m, as 
 a result, of course, of order in fat grouping; and for this 
 almost everybody recognizes the necessity. Even in tak- 
 ing a common photograph an inexperienced 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 
 either 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 
 the 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 
 
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 
 
 
 : 
 
 " 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 
 
 FIQ. 38. LA BELLE JARDINIERE. RAPHAEL. 
 
ORGANIC FORM IN PAINTING. 
 
 117 
 
 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 the " 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, has been 
 described as a dia- 
 mond. 
 
 These arches and 
 pyramids are seldom 
 perfect, the lines of 
 the former being not 
 always exactly round- 
 ed, nor of the latter 
 exactly straight ; but 
 they are sufficiently 
 regular to suggest the 
 
 idea of organic form, and not only so, but of 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 unity. 
 Thus a wedge-shape is produced by the outlines of build- 
 ings or mountains on one side of a picture which descend 
 and near its middle meet the outlines of other buildings 
 or mountains or forests, with or without buildings, which 
 
 FIQ. 39. MADONNA DELLA SEDIA. RAPHAEL. 
 
Il8 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 colors being at the left lower side of the picture and 
 all the light colors 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 
 

 
 < 
 
 I 
 
I2O 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 77. 
 
 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 1 21). This pedestal, of course, is the 
 
ORGANIC FORM IN SCUPTURE. 
 
 121 
 
 foot of the statue, considered as a whole When the work 
 that it supports 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. 
 
 FIQ. 41. MARKET OF ATHENS, RESTORED. 
 See pages 79, 120, 122, 123, 289. 
 
 It is a question, indeed, whether, in the latter case, some- 
 thing should not be erected different in some regards from 
 that which is to adorn the salon; it is a question whether, 
 in our own climate especially, the finer products of this 
 
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 
 Mr. 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 IN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 123 
 
 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 
 
 FIG. 42. OLD PICTURE OF ST. SOPHIA, CONSTANTINOPLE. 
 
 See pages 18, 76, 77, 96, 124, 180, 187, 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 OF 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 
 84; 32, page 89; 33, page 90; 72, page 221 ; 85, page 
 258 ; and 69, page 2o8 f 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 78; " Shadyside 
 Church," Fig. 34, page 91 ; "St. Mark's, Venice," Fig. 
 31, page 88; " Poutou Temple," Fig. 69, page 208; "St. 
 Hilaire's, Rouen," Fig. 80, page 237; "Tower of Boris, 
 Moscow," Fig. 83, page 2^9, and " St. Sophia's, Constan- 
 tinople," Fig. 42, page 123.)' 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OTHER METHODS OF CLASSIFICATION AND COMPOSITION, 
 AS DEDUCED FROM THOSE ALREADY CONSIDERED. 
 
 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 by Way of Congruity Of Repetition 
 And of Consonance Illustrations of the Three All the Methods of 
 Composition Result from Combining these Three with the Seven Gen- 
 eral Methods Mentioned above Chart of the Art-Methods Additional 
 Statements Correspondence between these Methods and their Arrange- 
 ments and those given by others. 
 
 A X rE 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 the requirements of conception and construc- 
 tion. This is termed grouping. Besides these methods, 
 
 125 
 
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 must be estimated, 
 of course, by the mind, and must, therefore, be produced 
 upon it. But they may 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 AND COMPOSITION. I2/ 
 
 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 ; and not only so, but 
 that there is a sense in which the wolf also belongs to the 
 same family. This recognition results from an application, 
 in addition to the 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 will 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. 129 
 
 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 maybe 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 things 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 on the other side of it, might be 
 alike by way of congruity. Windows and doors of the 
 same sizes and shapes would be alike byway of repetition ; 
 but merely a similar pitch of angles over windows and 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 of our subject 
 and the suggestions to be derived from it, and take the 
 
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 each other. 
 Those first mentioned are developed into those men- 
 tioned later, and therefore include them. Comparison, 
 for instance, may be manifested by way either of con- 
 gruity, repetition, or consonance. But congruity also may 
 be manifested by way of repetition or consonance ; and 
 consonance by way of repetition. 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 
 they 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 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
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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 IX. 
 
 CONGRUITY, INCONGRUITY, 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 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 " 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 Artists from Using together 
 Forms of Gothic and Greek Architecture Incongruity and Comprehen- 
 siveness in the Arts of Sight Raphael's "Transfiguration" Same 
 Methods in Architecture. 
 
 *T^HE 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 been 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 
 process 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 of 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 
 series of forms ; and he develops it artistically by group- 
 ing around these other forms 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 of them seem sufficiently 
 alike for the purpose of art if they are 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 the impressions legitimately conveyed 
 by different parts of a composition as compared either 
 with each other 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 the 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 
 are 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 
 
136 THE GENESIS 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 entirely different from this. (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 Criticism : 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' " St. Agnes' 
 Eve," Goldsmith's " Deserted Village," Campbell's " Ger- 
 trude of Wyoming," and Tennyson's " Gardener's Daugh- 
 ter " and " Enoch Arden," 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 does 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 comedy in the action, not only prevents monotony, 
 
138 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 4 
 
 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 comprehensive 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 foiling and madness of Edgar, the 
 real foiling 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 ? 
 
INCONGR UIT Y. 139 
 
 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 : Shakespeare. 
 
 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 recognized, 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 II., as an effect produced when two 
 objects differ diametrically in at least one particular, and 
 yet agree in others. 
 
 Patience. But I have some news for you. The Thirty-fifth Dragoon 
 Guards have halted in the village, and are even now on their way to this 
 very spot. 
 
 Ang. (contemptuously]. The Thirty-fifth Dragoon Guards ! 
 
 Saph. They are fleshly men, of full habit. 
 
140 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. (Toothers.} Come ! it is time to lift up 
 our voices in morning carol to our Reginald. Let us to his door. 
 ( The ladies go off> two 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. 7^hey 
 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 Ladies. 
 
 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. 141 
 
 Jane {Looking at unifornt). Red and yellow \ Primary colors ! Oh, 
 South Kensington ! 
 
 Duke. We did n't design our uniforms, but we don't see how they could 
 be improved. 
 
 Jane. 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 field of Mars ! 
 
 Song Colonel. 
 
 When I first put this uniform on, 
 I said as I looked in the glass : 
 " It 's one to a million 
 
 That any civilian 
 My figure and form will surpass. 
 Gold lace has a charm for the fair, 
 And I 've 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 Dragoons. 
 
 By a simple coincidence few 
 
 Could ever have reckoned upon, 
 The same thing occurred to me too 
 
 When I first put this uniform on ! 
 
 P alienee ) \. : Gilbert. 
 
 The necessity of the methods which we are considering 
 is equally apparent in music too. Every one feels that 
 there is an essential difference, which should be manifest 
 throughout all the parts of a composition, between the 
 effects produced upon thought by a wedding-march, a 
 
THE GEXES1S 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 immmgtmams. 
 
 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 comprekensirfness 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 dash, \uyv 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 
 it is probable that few of us have not noticed in our- 
 

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' " Descent from the Cross," Fig. 16, page 73), 
 and of merriment (Tenier'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 in- 
 fluence of the pervading fury of a tempest. In another, 
 as in some of Claude Lorraine's landscapes, the light 
 reflected from every tree, rock, stream, and countenance, 
 as well as the character or attitude of the forms which 
 
146 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 it illumines, may augment the suggested glow 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 GROUP 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 js 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 
 
FIQ. 46. TRANSFIGURATION. -RAPHAEL. 
 See pages 72, 82, 116, 118, 148, 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, on both sides of whom are the apostles present at 
 the scene, bowing reverently before them. 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 more 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. 149 
 
 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 XVII. 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 by the requirements of 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. 
 
 \\ rE have found that the object of congruity is to 
 produce like effects upon thought ; and that it is 
 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 
 securing order, to be next considered here, as those most 
 
 150 
 
CEN TRA L-POINT. 1 5 1 
 
 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 essen- 
 tially different in essence, which we find in symmetry. 
 Artistic arrangements of a composition, therefore, in- 
 tended to secure effects according to the methods that 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 upon 
 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 at 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 congruity ; 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 ^.point, 
 and this, too, a central-point. 
 
CRN TRA L-POINT. 1 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, 
 we might suppose that the antithetic condition could be 
 expressed by circumference, contour, or outline. But 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 and very different things between 
 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 as of form. We speak 
 of the setting of a story or of a melody, meaning its ac- 
 companiment, almost as frequently as of that 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? 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 
 
 pendicularly 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 2^^. balanced-^ 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 do with direction. Lines 
 extending through space may converge at a common 
 point or centre, and thus radiate ; or they may be de- 
 scribed in such ways as 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 OF 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, 
 
1 58 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 each other 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 IN NATURE. 159 
 
 as the lines of radiation, are 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 \mzsparallelto it, described, 
 if in a sea view, by the caps of the waves ; if in a land 
 view, by the bank-lines of rivers, by the tops of forests, by 
 the ridges of hills, or by the snow-lines of mountains. 
 Besides this, moreover, the view necessarily includes par- 
 allel upright directions taken by the trunks of trees and 
 plants, not to speak of the necessary parallelism wherever 
 stand human beings, or their buildings. See Figs. 47, 
 page 157, 51, page 175, and 66, page 203. 
 
 Besides being exemplified in the arrangements, as 
 related to each other, of all the forms made visible in a 
 whole field of vision, the same methods, augmented 
 usually, in this case, by those of symmetry, are exempli- 
 fied in the arrangements by which the features of every 
 single form are related. Whether we study the veinings 
 of a leaf, or the branches of a tree, the adjustment of the 
 nerves, veins, or muscles of any living creature, or of the 
 hands, feet, and limbs of a man, we find in all a tendency 
 toward radiation. Sometimes the limbs on each side of 
 a tree diverge from a point in its trunk ; sometimes, 
 apparently, from a point on the opposite side of the tree 
 
i6o 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 from that on which they are situated. As Ruskin says 
 in his " Elements of Drawing," Letter III., from which 
 this Fig. 48 is taken, there are any number of places 
 where ideally the centres of radiation may be ; but that 
 they are somewhere, the slightest examination will usually 
 reveal. To such an extent at least is this true, that no 
 one can question the statement that the limbs of almost 
 all plants and animals, each in a way peculiar to itself, 
 have a tendency to radiate from the body to which they 
 belong. This is a fact of nature to which we have become 
 accustomed. Notice now that, as a result of this fact, 
 
 FIQ. 48. RADIATION IN NATURAL FORMS. 
 
 the mind, whenever it perceives any features, and not 
 only so, but any objects whatever, arranged on lines 
 radiating thus, is prompted to infer, in fulfilment of the 
 law of association, that they are organically connected 
 both with each other and with that in which the lines of 
 radiation converge. Accordingly the use of these lines 
 enhances the effect not only of principality, as already 
 indicated, but also of organic form and unity. 
 
 The same general principle applies to setting, parallel- 
 ism, and symmetry. We use them to secure unity in an 
 art-product, because we have become familiar with them 
 in connection with the same effect in a product of nature. 
 
RADIATION AND OUTLINE IN NATURE. 
 
 161 
 
 In a leaf or limb, for instance, whatever lines radiating 
 from a centre it contains are usually ended by a setting 
 of other lines described about this, and necessarily so by 
 the lines of contour, which alone, as a rule, enable us to 
 recognize that the object described by them is a single 
 object. Scarcely less common than either of these 
 methods, and often very closely related to both, is par- 
 allelism. In some trees, 
 branches that begin by 
 radiating become parallel 
 soon, and continue so to 
 their ends. In others, as 
 in pines, parallelism seems 
 to take the place of radi- 
 ation altogether ; and al- 
 though radiation has been 
 said to be exemplified in 
 the arrangements of the 
 nerves and muscles in the 
 bodies of men and animals, 
 nevertheless the arms, legs, 
 fingers, toes, claws, as well 
 as the two limiting sides 
 of these separate members, 
 and of the body as a whole, 
 furnish examples of parallelism. As a rule, too, the way 
 in which all the features on either side of a common 
 middle, whether in the trunk of an animate or inanimate 
 object, balance each other, illustrates symmetry. 
 
 No people, perhaps, apply the methods treated in this 
 chapter more artistically than the Japanese, though often 
 represented as ignoring them. Notice proofs of this in 
 all four compositions in Fig. 49, reduced from " Fine Art 
 Pictures," a Tokyo publication, by Katsugaro Yenouge. 
 
 FIG. 49. JAPANESE COMPOSITIONS. 
 See pages 46, 161, 186. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF CENTRAL-POINT, SETTING, PARAL- 
 LELISM, AND SYMMETRY. 
 
 Introduction Poetic Central-Point in the Climax Setting in the Digres- 
 sion 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 Mani- 
 fested Central-Point and Setting in Music Parallelism and Mu- 
 sical Harmony : Illustrations Symmetry Connection between Lines 
 Radiating from a Central Point and the Appearance of Unity 
 and Principality in Visible Objects Illustrations 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 Associated by Way of Congruity Sym- 
 metry : 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. 
 
 '"PHE methods considered in the last chapter cannot 
 be fully understood except as we perceive how 
 composition in each art is influenced by them. Thus far 
 they have been treated as if they had to do only, or, at 
 least, mainly, with effects that are visible. This was 
 unavoidable. Primarily, such is the case ; and in a gen- 
 eral explanation of the methods it was necessary to begin 
 where they begin. But just as consonance and dissonance, 
 
 which have a primary applicability to the relations of 
 ii 
 
 162 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS OF CENTRAL-POINT, 163 
 
 sound, are used for those of sight, so these, in which the 
 conditions are reversed, are used for those of sound. 
 
 Turning first to poetry, the reader will recall how 
 almost every great drama or epic contains passages in 
 which the different incidents illustrating the general plot 
 are made to converge and form what is called the climax ; 
 as, for instance, in the fifth acts of " Othello " or " Ham- 
 let " ; or in " Macbeth," where, just after the announce- 
 ment of the death of Lady Macbeth, the revelation comes 
 to her husband that the prophecies in which he has 
 trusted, such as 
 
 All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Glamis. 
 
 Macbeth , iii. : Shakespeare. 
 
 All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor. 
 
 Idem. 
 
 All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter. 
 
 Idem. 
 
 Be bloody, bold, and resolute ; laugh to scorn 
 The power of man. 
 
 Idem, iv., I. 
 
 and 
 
 Macbeth shall never vanquished be until 
 Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill 
 Shall come against him. 
 
 Idem, iv., I. 
 
 can all be fulfilled, and yet he can die by the hand of 
 him concerning who'm he has also heard the warning, 
 
 Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth, beware Macduff. 
 
 Idem. 
 
 It is impossible for him to draw any other inference 
 after hearing the words of the frightened messenger who 
 
1 64 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 has seen Macduff's army approaching Dunsinane Castle, 
 hidden behind boughs which they carry, taken from the 
 woods of Birnam : 
 
 Messenger. Gracious, my lord, 
 
 I should report that which I saw, 
 
 But know not how to do it. 
 
 Macbeth. Well, say, sir. 
 
 Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, 
 
 I looked toward Birnam, and, anon, methought 
 
 The woods began to move. 
 Macb. Liar and slave. 
 
 Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if 't be not so ; 
 
 Within this three mile you may see it coming ; 
 
 I say a moving grove. 
 
 Idem^ v., 5. 
 
 In nothing is the skill of a great literary artist made so 
 manifest as through the effects he produces by causing 
 all the materials at his disposal to converge thus at a 
 central point. Notice, too, that, in every such case, long 
 before the separate threads of the story are finally brought 
 together, all through the composition, these effects are 
 presented in such a way as to prepare the mind for that 
 to which, for this reason, they may be said to point. It 
 is hardly necessary to add now that these details together 
 constitute what every one recognizes to be a part of the 
 setting, another word for what is familiarly known as 
 elaboration, forming, if it be extended to a connected 
 series of events, a digression. In a well arranged compo- 
 sition, passages containing material of this kind are always 
 kept subordinate to the principal conception, being made, 
 as it were, to circle around this in such a way as to reveal 
 clearly the relationship between them and it. The open- 
 ing lines of each of the following sonnets, for instance, 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS OF SETTING. 165 
 
 have to do with the setting ; and yet they all have a 
 direct bearing in unfolding that which, in the closing line 
 of each, or, at most, two lines, gives point to the whole : 
 
 A rose as fair as ever saw the North, 
 
 Grew in a little garden all alone : 
 A sweeter flower did nature ne'er put forth, 
 
 Nor fairer garden yet was ever known. 
 The maidens danced about it morn and noon, 
 
 And learned bards of it their ditties made ; 
 The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon 
 
 Watered the root and kissed her pretty shade. 
 But, well-a-day ! the gardener careless grew, 
 
 The maids and fairies both were kept away, 
 And in a drought the caterpillars threw 
 
 Themselves upon the bud and every spray. 
 God shield the stock ! If heaven send no supplies, 
 
 The fairest blossom in the garden dies. 
 
 Sonnet : William Browne. 
 
 Could I but grasp the vision, make it mine 
 
 In one full masterly embrace possess 
 The splendor of my dream, its joy enshrine, 
 
 And hold it as some trophy-crown, to bless 
 With perfect calm and peace the conquest won ; 
 
 Or could I clear the mist, and fairly face 
 The high beatitudes of radiant morn, 
 
 That reach through infinite degrees of space ; 
 What then ah, what ? The heart would sigh for more ; 
 
 The longings of a great unrest would send 
 Swift-winged messengers far on before ; 
 
 Such glory undefined could only lend 
 A depth to height, a sadness to desire, 
 
 A voice forever calling : " Come up higher." 
 
 Infinite : Stephen H. Thayer. 
 
 When I consider how my light is spent 
 Ere half my day in this dark world and wide, 
 And that one talent which is death to hide, 
 Lodged with me useless though my soul more bent 
 
1 66 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 To serve therewith my Maker, and present 
 
 My true account, lest he, returning, chide ; 
 
 " Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?" 
 
 I fondly ask. But Patience to prevent 
 
 That murmur soon replies : " God doth not need 
 
 Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best 
 
 Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state 
 
 Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding, speed 
 
 And post o'er land and ocean without rest ; 
 
 They also serve who only stand and wait. 
 
 Sonnet on his Blindness : Milton. 
 
 Parallelism means the arrangement of objects on lines 
 equally distant from each other throughout their whole 
 extent, or what is the same thing moving in the same 
 direction or on the same plane. What is this in principle 
 but the expressing of the same tendency of thought in 
 different forms, such as we always find in the poetic 
 metaphor or simile? When we compare human life to a 
 river, or the growth of a man to that of a tree, what 
 do we do but illustrate one set of ideas by referring 
 to a second set that move along on a plane parallel to 
 the first? 
 
 But the correspondence in poetry to visible parallelism 
 does not pertain entirely to the thought. Certain forms 
 of verse, and these the earliest in existence, those of the 
 Hebrews, have long been designated by this very term. 
 The reason of this is that the verse to which it is applied is 
 made up of a series of statements, two of which, at least, 
 and sometimes more, are parallel, and this both in thought 
 and in style. Here is what is usually considered the most 
 ancient extant verse illustrating this kind of parallelism. 
 
 I have slain a man to my wounding, 
 And a young man to my hurt. 
 
 Genesis iv., 23. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS OF SYMMETRY. 167 
 
 And the whole book of the Psalms is characterized 
 by it. 
 
 Thy fierce wrath goeth over me ; 
 
 Thy terrors have cut me off. 
 
 They came round about me daily like water ; 
 
 They compassed me about together. 
 
 Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, 
 
 And mine acquaintance into darkness. 
 
 Psalm Ixxxviii., 16, 17, 18. 
 
 It was this method of expressing the same thought in 
 two or three different forms, all of similar length, that 
 eventually led to versification, the sounds of the lines of 
 which, as we hear them read, one after the other, produce 
 an effect of parallelism upon the ear no less marked than 
 the arrangement of them in printed lines does upon the eye. 
 
 Symmetry in poetry is an effect of organism in the form 
 almost inseparable from a combination of central-point, 
 setting, and parallelism; and always attendant upon 
 them where all the factors to which they are applied are 
 arranged with due regard for balance. The following two 
 short poems will sufficiently illustrate this effect, and at 
 the same time show, in concrete form, the influence of 
 the other methods. In both poems, as in the sonnets just 
 quoted, the thought centres in the last line, all the setting 
 pointing to that, and attaining full significance only in 
 connection with it ; the lines of similar length, often, too, 
 containing expressions of similar import, give us parallel- 
 ism ; and the balanced combination, manifested through- 
 out the whole, results in symmetry. 
 
 Here is one leaf reserved for me 
 From all thy sweet memorials free ; 
 And here my single song might tell 
 The feelings thou must guess so well. 
 But could I thus within thy mind 
 
1 08 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 One little vacant corner find 
 Where no impression yet is seen, 
 Where no memorial yet has been, 
 Oh, it should be my sweetest care 
 To write my name for ever there ! 
 
 Verses Written in an Album : 77i. Moore. 
 
 Because I breathe not love to every one, 
 
 Nor do not use set colors for to wear, 
 Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair, 
 
 Nor give each speech a full point of a groan, 
 
 The courtly nymphs, acquainted with the moan 
 
 Of those who on their lips Love's standard bear, < 
 
 " What ! he?" say they of me ; " now I dare swear 
 
 He cannot love No, no ! let him alone." 
 
 And think so still if Stella know my mind. 
 
 Profess, indeed, I do not Cupid's art ; 
 
 JUit you, fair maids, at length this true shall find 
 
 That his right badge is but worn in the heart. 
 
 Dumb swains, not clattering pies, do lovers prove, 
 They love indeed who quake to say they love. 
 
 Loves Silence : Sir Ph. Sydney. 
 
 Hitherto, central-point, setting, parallelism, and symmetry, 
 as illustrated in poetry, have been very closely assimilated 
 to methods of thought. There is a sense in which, in every 
 art, this treatment of them is inevitable. As indicated a 
 moment ago, to secure unity in connection with an effect 
 upon thought, or congruity, is always their most important 
 function. Moreover, there is a peculiar sense in which 
 this treatment is necessitated in poetry. The factors of 
 its forms are words, and words and thoughts are virtually 
 inseparable. At the same time, they are not entirely so. 
 Words are also forms of sound ; and before we pass on, it 
 ought to be shown how the arrangements of them, consid- 
 ered as expressions of thought, are represented, and their 
 effects enhanced, by means of corresponding arrangements 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS OF SYMMETRY. 169 
 
 of them considered as sounds. To do this, moreover, will 
 merely carry out the analogy of what has been done 
 already when treating of these methods as applied to vis- 
 ible appearances. It was then shown that central-point, 
 setting, parallelism, and symmetry are illustrated not 
 only in the arrangements of a general view of nature, but 
 of the features of each specific object constituting a part 
 of this view. We have so far considered the application 
 of the methods to a composition considered as a whole. 
 We have now to consider them as applied to separate 
 objects in this whole. 
 
 In what sense, then, can it be said that each of the 
 methods under discussion can be fulfilled in forms of 
 sound as they are heard constituting the separate parts of 
 a composition? Let us answer this question, first, as 
 regards central-point. Is there anything in a series of 
 sounds that may be said to point ? Certainly the accents. 
 These have the same influence upon an order of effects 
 heard in succession, as do concentrating lines upon an 
 order of effects seen simultaneously. The accents are like 
 so many radiating lines that, one after another, keep 
 directing attention to the movement in other words, 
 pointing to it. The unaccented sounds, again, that connect 
 the accented, determining as they do, and as the accents 
 do not, the particular rhythm or metre, whether double or 
 triple, may be said to furnish \\\z form-setting ; while the 
 series of lines of verse, called by the same name in this 
 case, correspond exactly, as was said a moment ago, to 
 the series of lines that produce parallelism in the arts of 
 sight. The resulting organic-form of the movement, as 
 secured in the general balance throughout of foot and line, 
 measures the degree of symmetry. These analogies are so 
 evident that they need only to be stated. 
 
170 THE GENESIS OF ART- FORM. 
 
 Let us pass on now to music. As all will recognize, 
 there is a sense in which every musical composition has its 
 central-point of interest or climax ; and there is a sense, too, 
 in which this is accompanied by a setting, consisting of 
 movements elaborated, as it were, independently. In 
 longer compositions (see the theme of Beethoven's " Sym- 
 phony No. 5, in C Minor," printed on page 61), everything 
 is centred in the fundamental melody, from which the whole 
 is developed. Shorter works often have their centre in the 
 key-note or the tonic chord of the principal key. At every 
 critical change of the composition, and almost invariably 
 at its close, the ear requires a suggestion of this theme or 
 key, and, in the return to it, in connection with the vari- 
 ous digressions, or, as we may term them, excursions from 
 it, we have conditions analogous, as nearly as anything 
 that is heard can be, to effects produced by central-point 
 and setting as used in the arts that are seen. Often, 
 indeed, in music, both results are attained as in these 
 latter arts, at one and the same time, and thus too, like 
 them, are capable of being represented visibly. Notice 
 once more upon page 60, the music taken from the varia- 
 tions upon " Old Black Joe." 
 
 Parallelism in music is shown not only in successions of 
 phrases of similar movement, corresponding to succes- 
 sions in poetry of lines of similar metre and length, but 
 also and mainly in the whole constitution of harmony. 
 As every one acquainted with the history of music knows, 
 harmony began with an endeavor to sing, at the same 
 time, two or more different melodies, the tunes of which 
 were found, or made, to be parallel. In modern harmo- 
 nies, as a rule, there is a distinct melody in only one of the 
 parts, but there is still a sense in which the other tones 
 making up the chords accompanying this, move along on 
 
THESE METHODS IN MUSIC. I /I 
 
 planes parallel to the melody. The following, in a small 
 way, illustrates all these statements ; and, like the music 
 on page 60, it also does this to the eye almost as effec- 
 tively as to the ear. 
 
 The section marked A illustrates unison, characterized 
 by an absence of harmony ; that marked B illustrates 
 parallelism ; at C counteracting phrases give a setting to 
 the movements ; and at D they are drawn together and 
 made to centre in the chord of the keynote. 
 
 A B 
 
 JL^ L J I_ '_ ^_ _ ft ft ^_ 
 
 C 
 
 
 
 
 
 Joy to the slave; the slave is free ; It is the year of 
 
 J. (J (J ^*-r* * ^- I -- N 
 
 Egjr^F r^ 1 =[H- i I 
 
 Symmetry in music, as in poetry, is a result of the gen- 
 eral effect of all these other methods when arranged with 
 due regard for balance. This is true, whether applied to a 
 composition as a whole, or to parts of it. Accent, lack of 
 accent, complement, and balance of phrase and period, 
 these respectively give unity of character to each specific 
 movement, however long or short, in a way exactly 
 analogous to that which is exemplified in the general 
 movement. 
 
 The explanation of these methods as applied in the arts 
 of sight was necessarily involved in what was said of them 
 
172 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 in Chapter X. We noticed there their origin in nature. It 
 needs to be said now that the artist uses them not slav- 
 ishly, merely imitating arrangements which he actually 
 sees in the world about him but intelligently, applying 
 the principles illustrated in one place to the arrangement 
 of factors which, as observed in another place, do not 
 manifest them. Such a course is frequently the only one 
 enabling him to form an organized whole out of material 
 which, as found in nature, is disorganized. He has noticed 
 the effects of radiation, for instance ; so, instead of grouping 
 objects at hap-hazard, or just as he sees them, he rearranges 
 them in such ways that their outlines point toward a prin- 
 cipal feature and also to a common centre, thus securing 
 at the same time the effects of principality and of unity. 
 
 To illustrate this, the adaptation of the methods of radi- 
 ation in strict accordance with appearances in the external 
 world, may be noticed in the way in which in Troyon's 
 " Cattle" (Fig. 50, page 173), the ruts, faintly indicating 
 a road in the foreground, are made to carry the eye back- 
 ward and concentrate attention upon the centre of the pic- 
 ture occupied by the approaching herd. More artistically, 
 but in just as strict accordance with natural appearances, 
 in Turner's "Decline of Carthage" (Fig. 51, page 175), 
 Corot's " Canal " (Fig. 47, page 157), and " Landscape with 
 Water" (Fig. 73, page 223), and in Claude's " Evening" 
 (Fig. 40, page 1 19), the chief lines, both of contour and of 
 light, are made to converge in the extreme background, 
 and cross and continue themselves in the radiating lines 
 of each picture's opposite side. A different adaptation 
 of the same method, may be seen in Gerome's " Pollice 
 Verso " (Fig. 26, page 81). In the centre of this, a glad- 
 iator stands with his heel on the neck of a prostrate an- 
 tagonist, and looks up for a signal to save the life which 
 
THESE METHODS IN PAINTING. 173 
 
 is at his mercy. With scarcely an exception, the crowd 
 of spectators, who fill an amphitheatre above, answer this 
 appeal by stretching a hand towards the gladiator, 
 with the thumb downward, indicating thus their desire 
 to have him show no mercy to his fallen antagonist. Of 
 course, all the extended arms, by pointing as they do, 
 direct attention to the gladiator as the principal object of 
 
 FIG. 50. CATTLE. C. TROYON. 
 See pages 16, 158, 172. 
 
 interest, and also make of the whole picture a unity both 
 in thought and form. But, in addition to this, the hori- 
 zontal outlines in the front walls of the amphitheatre, 
 which concentrate according to the laws of the perspective, 
 also the outlines of a pillar of the amphitheatre and of 
 one prominent division between its benches, as well, too, 
 as the outlines of a form and the shadow of a gladiator 
 
174 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 already slain and lying on the ground, all these are 
 given such directions that they too point toward the 
 principal figure. The same method is exemplified again 
 in Becker's ''Othello" (Fig. 55, page 181), where the 
 lines formed by a rug on the floor, by the railing of a porch, 
 by a wall, and by the general directions indicated in the 
 tops of buildings seen at a distance, all point toward the 
 object of Othello's love, Desdemona. 
 
 A peculiar phase of this effect is mentioned by Ruskin 
 in his " Winkleman's Ancient Art." He draws, amid the 
 outlines of Turner's painting of the " Old Bridge over 
 the Rhine at Coblentz " (see Fig. 66, page 203) five lines 
 not straight but curved. These he continues on from 
 the curved outlines of three boats and of one raft in the 
 river, and of the back of a woman sitting on a ledge, and 
 he shows how all the curves lead the eye toward a large 
 tower from which they radiate, and which is the principal 
 figure of the picture. The use of curves for this purpose 
 is illustrated almost equally well in the " Landscape with 
 Water " by Cfrot, Fig. 73, page 223. Notice in this, 
 how the principal lines bend toward the distant bridge 
 at the right. 
 
 When works of sculpture, as in the bas-relief, are com- 
 posed of many figures, there is no reason why, so far as 
 concerns outline, these effects should not be produced in 
 the same way as in painting. In the " Romans Besieging 
 a German Fortress " (Fig. 6, page 27), but especially in 
 " The Soldier's Return," a relief on one side of the famous 
 National Monument on the Rhinenear Bingen, familiarly 
 called " The Watch on the Rhine " (Fig. 52, page 176), 
 notice how the lines described by the limbs of the figures 
 on each side of the centre, are made to point, not exactly 
 to the chief figures, but with equal effectiveness toward 
 
176 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 them, and as if to an ideal central-point that is above 
 them. A similar effect, but having a more direct bearing 
 upon symmetry in that it directs attention to a central-line 
 rather than point, yet evidently suggested by the way in 
 which limbs radiate from a tree-trunk, may be observed 
 in the Vatican statue of a German Captive (Fig. 53, 
 page 177). 
 
 In architecture, this method is not used as extensively, 
 perhaps, as it should be. At the same time, there is 
 
 FIG. 52. THE SOLDIER'S RETURN. 
 (FROM THE NATIONAL MONUMENT NEAR BINGEN, GERMANY.) 
 
 See pages 16, 26, 174, 182, 257. 
 
 more of it than, at first, might be supposed. Even the 
 laws of the perspective on which it is based were applied 
 by the Greeks to produce effects in buildings in much 
 the same way as we now use them to produce effects in 
 pictures. This fact explains the slight upward curves 
 which have been found toward the middles of the pave- 
 ments of the porches on which the columns rested, also 
 the corresponding curves in the entablatures, as well as 
 
FIG. 53. GERMAN CAPTIVE ROMAN PERIOD. 
 (FROM STATUE IN THE VATICAN MUSEUM.) 
 
 See pages 176, 182, 257. 
 
1/8 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 the narrower spaces left between the columns at the ex- 
 treme sides, as contrasted with the middles, of the porches, 
 and other variations from exact measurements in other 
 distant, as contrasted with near, features. Every thing in 
 these buildings was planned so as to produce a desired effect 
 from some supposable view-point. This subject can be 
 treated properly only in connection with proportion. At 
 present, it is sufficient to notice the evidences in archi- 
 tecture of the same sort of artistic developments from 
 the laws of the perspective that have been noticed in the 
 other arts of sight. Every one must have observed oc- 
 casionally in connection with mouldings and buttresses, 
 with divisions and cappings of windows and porches, with 
 external and internal arches and ridge-poles of roofs, 
 gables, and ceilings, but especially in connection with the 
 sides of towers and spires, and with innumerable orna- 
 mental details, outlines that seem to suggest, at least, a 
 desire to point the thought away to another feature of 
 principal interest with which they are organically con- 
 nected. Illustrations of these effects, sufficient for the 
 purpose, may be found in the figures given in treating of 
 continuity in Chapter XIV., which see. Undoubtedly it 
 would add to the effects of buildings if more were made 
 of this possibility, as might easily be done by bestowing 
 a little more care upon the arrangements of the necessary 
 lines and arches. Certain it is that, in any art, the mind, 
 in glancing along in the direction to which an outline 
 thus related points, takes pleasure in finding other lines 
 continuing it or converging somewhere with it, and, even 
 without consciousness of the reason, derives from this 
 arrangement impressions both of principality and unity 
 in connection with the whole, which nothing else could 
 give. 
 
SETTING IN PAINTING AND SCULPTURE. 179 
 
 The nature of that which in these arts may be called 
 setting will suggest itself almost without illustration. As 
 a rule, the principal features occupy the centre and fore- 
 ground of a painting, and the subordinate features 
 are delegated to its sides and back-ground. This 
 is true, whether applied to groups of figures described 
 about others, or to fringe, robes, trappings, or other 
 ornaments described about single figures. It is the object 
 
 FIQ. 54. MITHRAS STABBING THE BULL. 
 
 (RELIEF IN THE LOUVRE.) 
 See pages 74, 120, 180, 218. 
 
 of chief interest that occupies the centre; the other ob- 
 jects surround it. Notice Ge"rome's " Pollice Verso," Fig. 
 26, page 8 1. Just as the central-point, too, usually has 
 reference to both thought and form, so has the setting. 
 The fringe, robes, trappings, and other ornaments about a 
 king, for instance, are given to him for the purpose both of 
 interpreting and of ornamenting him. Observe the Swan 
 with the " Leda," Fig. 17, page 74, the armor on the 
 
l8o THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM, 
 
 "Titus," Fig. 1 8, page 74, as well as that which fills the 
 background in the " Mithras and the Bull," Fig. 54, page 
 179. Setting, when thus properly subordinated, introduces 
 variety and contrast not for its own sake, but for the 
 purpose of adding by way of explanation and offset to that 
 which is of central interest. In painting, either outline 
 or color may be employed in the setting ; in sculpture, 
 usually only the former ; but the possibilities con- 
 nected with the adjustments of bands, girdles, drapery, 
 canopies, niches, and, especially in bas-reliefs, of other 
 figures surrounding the principal ones, obviate all prac- 
 tical difficulties in attaining any results that are desirable. 
 In architecture, the method is manifested by the way in 
 which doors, windows, and other individual features are 
 ornamented, usually in connection with their surround- 
 ings ; and whole buildings also in connection with their 
 foundations, gables, roofs, and towers. A moment's 
 thought will convince us that there is a true sense in 
 which these are all parts of the setting. Notice the 
 doorways in Figs. 95 and 96, pages 289 and 290 ; also the 
 "Taj Mahal," Fig. 3, page 19, " St. Mark's," Fig. 31, 
 page 88, " St. Sophia," Fig. 42, page 123, and the " Cha- 
 teau de Rondeau," Fig. 85, page 258. 
 
 Parallelism is a development of methods of setting, 
 in conformity with the requirements of order, especially 
 of these as manifested in the direction of complement and 
 balance. We all must have observed that while a single 
 line, described by being drawn or worked along the edge 
 of any material, forms a border for it, two or more lines, 
 made parallel to the first, cause the border to appear more 
 satisfactory. A similar effect results from the parallelisms 
 that are seen in the flutings of columns, in the mouldings 
 of picture frames, in the string-courses and cornices of 
 
PARALLELISM IN PAINTING. l8l 
 
 buildings, as also in the caps and sills of their windows 
 and doors. 
 
 In the forms of pictures and statues, necessitating, too, 
 in the main a use of widely differing curves, we frequently 
 find the arms and lower limbs, indeed the whole figures and 
 
 FIQ. 55.-OTHELLO.- CARL BECKER. 
 Seepages 72, 174, 181, 239. 
 
 the folds of the drapery about them, as well as the surround- 
 ing architectural arrangements of pillars, pilasters, arches, 
 and furniture, all grouped in such a way that their prom- 
 inent outlines are parallel, or very nearly so. In the origi- 
 nal of Becker's " Othello," Fig. 55, above, one can count 
 
1 82 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 at the top of the picture forty-two distinctly parallel per- 
 pendicular lines, used in the delineations of two distant 
 churches and their domes, the mast of a ship, three pillars 
 of a porch, a swinging lamp, the figure of the Moor, etc. At 
 the right, there are also twenty-two horizontal lines of 
 this kind, found in a rug, a platform, a bench, a mantel- 
 piece, a niche, etc. At the left, are fifteen on the floor 
 extending diagonally, and twenty others formed by a 
 rug and the railing of a porch ; while, in at least three cases, 
 three sets of these lines can be detected amid the direc- 
 tions suggested by the limbs and drapery in the group 
 composed of Desdemona and her father. In Gerome's 
 " Pollice Verso," Fig. 26, page 81, one can count fifteen 
 parallel horizontal lines, nine of them formed by the archi- 
 tectural work with rugs hung over it, which is in front of 
 the spectators, and six by the bodies of three dead gladi- 
 ators lying in the arena, apparently without any regard 
 to the requirements of order, just where they have been 
 slain. Besides this, in the same picture, we can count, 
 including all that can be seen in pilasters, pillars, doors, 
 etc., almost sixty of these lines that are perpendicular. 
 Among the figures of the spectators, at least six extended 
 arms are exactly parallel ; so is the dirk, the shield, and 
 one leg of the principal figure ; and his arm that holds 
 the dirk is exactly parallel to the extended arm of his 
 antagonist who is at his feet. Parallelism is just as evident 
 a characteristic, too, as is central-point, of the sculpture 
 represented in Figs. 52 and 53, pages 176 and 177, and in 
 Fig. 6 of page 27. Notice the same characteristic in the 
 "Dancer" also, Fig. 56, page 183, as well as in the 
 " Laocoon," Fig. 75, page 226. It may be of interest also 
 to recognize the antiquity of this method, as may be 
 done by a glance at the Chaldean bust now in the British 
 
PARALLELISM. 
 
 183 
 
 Museum, inscribed with the name of " Nebo," Fig. 57, 
 page 184. 
 
 The effect of all this parallelism, as was indicated on 
 page 151, is to make objects that frequently are only as- 
 sociated by way of congruity, and therefore only ideally 
 alike, seem, nevertheless, 
 to have like directions or 
 tendencies. Moreover, in 
 connection with the other 
 effects of outline; it di- 
 vides the spaces covered 
 by a composition so that 
 all things put into them 
 appear to be grouped in 
 an orderly way. It may 
 be well to notice, too, 
 that in this it corresponds 
 exactly to the effects of 
 verse and phrase, which 
 in poetry and music, in a 
 similar way, divide up 
 the time. 
 
 Symmetry, as has been 
 said, is a general balance 
 of all the parts of a com- 
 position. There can be 
 
 See pages 16, 144, 182, 257. 
 
 no such balance when 
 
 the effects just considered are entirely absent ; and when 
 they are present they almost necessarily involve it. But 
 besides this, as applied to visible forms, symmetry seems 
 to suggest especially the idea of an effect produced by 
 balancing pairs of many numbers in an organized body, 
 like that of a man or a horse. This idea is probably 
 
 FIG. 56. DANCER. 
 
 (FROM THE MARBLE RELIEF DISCOVERED IN THE 
 THEATRE OF DIONYSUS.) 
 
1 84 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 derived by way of association from the former significance 
 of the term, which now it has lost. By symmetry, from 
 GVV and jjsrpor, the Greeks meant what we now call pro- 
 portion, or, as they defined this, a form, all the members of 
 which have a common measure among themselves. Their 
 
 FIQ. 57.-A BUST INSCRIBED WITH THE NAME OF NEBO. BRITISH MUSEUM.) 
 See page 183. 
 
 conception of proportion they derived, primarily, from the 
 measurements of the human figure. But, according to our 
 use of the terms, while a well proportioned form would al- 
 ways be symmetrical, a form like that of a very slim man 
 
SYMMETRY. 
 
 i8 5 
 
 might be symmetrical, as far as it went, and yet would not 
 be well proportioned. 
 
 Of proportion we cannot speak further here. The term 
 symmetry, as has been said, necessarily involves that of 
 many pairs of balancing features. In this sense, the word 
 symmetrical is ap- 
 plied by way of 
 designation to cer- 
 tain paintings, es- 
 pecially those of 
 the early Italians, 
 in which there are 
 precisely as many 
 figures on one side 
 of the principal 
 figure as on the 
 other side. Seethe 
 " Lucca Madon- 
 na," by Fra Barto- 
 lommeo, Fig. 58, 
 on this page. 
 
 Symmetry is a 
 term that may be 
 applied, of course, 
 to any develop- 
 ments of comple- 
 ment or balance as FIQ - 58. LUCCA MADONNA. FRA BARTOLOMMEO. 
 
 already considered See P a s es 72 ' l85 ' 
 
 on pages 46 and 84, in the degree in which the principle 
 underlying their effects, whether in the arrangements of 
 equal numbers or like outlines, is applicable to all the 
 features on one side of the middle perpendicular line of 
 a product as compared with all those upon its other side. 
 
1 86 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 The intimate connection, too, already indicated by the 
 arrangement of the methods on page 131, will be ob- 
 served here between symmetry and organic form. In fact, 
 all the various methods of grouping the factors of paint- 
 ings or statues, so as to have the contours of the wholes 
 suggest a circle, an oval, an arch, a pyramid, or a wedge, 
 such as were mentioned on pages 115-118 are almost as 
 much necessitated by the requirements of symmetry as of 
 the method Avhich they are there used to illustrate. 
 
 The principle of variety, however, which we find every- 
 where illustrated in nature and in art, must not be sup- 
 posed to be entirely inoperative in connection with sym- 
 metry. The two sides of even a very symmetrical tree 
 do not exactly correspond, and a tree depicted in art is 
 most apt to have the appearance of life, if the same be 
 true of it. 1 The two sides of a man's body are -more near- 
 ly alike than those of a tree ; but in the degree in which 
 he possesses life and consequent grace, they will, while 
 suggesting likeness, be made unlike by the positions which 
 he assumes. Notice Fig. 7, page 30 ; Fig. 19, page 75 ; 
 and the " Gladiator " in Fig. 26, page 81. The same 
 must be true to some extent of a building. The slight 
 deviation from exact regularity, owing to the position of 
 the central tower in the " Old Louvre," Fig. 59, opposite, 
 does not interfere with the artistic impressiveness of the 
 castle as a whole. The same is true of the slight lack of 
 exact balance in " Salisbury Cathedral,*' Fig. 68, page 
 207, as well as in " Shadyside Church/' Fig. 34, page 91. 
 As was said on page 87, the dignity of effect demanded 
 in public edifices may sometimes necessitate absolute 
 ^imilarity on both sides of the centre, as in the "Taj 
 Mahal," Fig. 3, page 19, " St. Peter's, Rome," Fig. 23, page 
 78, "St. Marks, Venice," Fig. 31, page 88, and u St. 
 
 1 Notice floral arrangements in Fig. 49, page 161. 
 
SYMMETRY. 
 
 I8 7 
 
 Sophia," Constantinople, Fig. 42, page 123. Graceful 
 effects, on the contrary, such as are desirable in household 
 architecture, may sometimes be best secured by differ- 
 ence, as in the villas in Figs. 24, page 79, and 28, page 
 
 FIG. 59.- THE OLD LOUVRE. 
 See page 186. 
 
 84. Hut how about a combination of dignity and 
 grace? This is as difficult to attain in art as in life. 
 Hut when it is attained in either, is there any denying 
 that we have the ideal ? 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 REPETITION, ALTERATION, AND ALTERNATION. 
 
 Importance and Order of Development of Repetition as Contrasted with 
 Congruity Repetition, a Necessary and Elementary Factor in all 
 Forms Alteration How Differing from Variety Alternation and 
 other Allied Methods The Influence of Repetition, Alteration, and 
 Alternation upon Thought How they are Exemplified in Nature In 
 Art ; Poetic Repetition with Alteration in Lines, Feet, Alliteration, 
 Assonance, Rhymes In Recurring Refrains, 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. 
 
 the three methods of bringing together forms that 
 compare by congruity, by repetition, and by conso- 
 nance, repetition has been assigned the second place, not 
 because historically it was the second to be manifested in 
 the development of art, nor because it is to-day the second 
 in importance. On the contrary, reasons might be adduced 
 to show that it was the first to be developed and is to-day 
 the first in importance. One might claim, in fact, that 
 both congruity and consonance are modifications of it, and 
 allowable merely as any variety is allowable. But while 
 conceding all that could be proved in this direction, it 
 seems to be true, nevertheless, that, in the composition of 
 
 1 88 
 
REPETITION, ALTERATION, AND ALTERNATION. 189 
 
 the higher arts, the artist starts with a form that embodies 
 a general conception, a thought, and strives first to con- 
 nect this with other forms embodying the same thought, 
 or like it by way of congrnity ; and only later comes to 
 repetition, which has to do with arranging such details 
 as foot and rhyme, and line and limb, so that all the 
 minutiae of form as form shall manifest the ever prevail- 
 ing domination of comparison. 
 
 However, if thought can never become art until it be 
 given a form, and if a form be, as has been said, an 
 appearance; and if an artistic form be an appearance 
 in which like is put with like, it is evident that the 
 effect produced by the repetition of the same appear- 
 ance is something which no artist, whatever the qual- 
 ity of his thought, can afford to neglect. Indeed, 
 when we inquire into the causes of rhythm, proportion, 
 and harmony of tone and color, as well as of all the 
 subtler qualities that make the arts exactly what they 
 are, we are forced to acknowledge that there is no one of 
 them, as we now know them, the form of which is not 
 based on repetition as an elementary method. 
 
 The contrasting form of repetition is alteration a 
 better term than change, because indicating a difference 
 not so radical, and yet sufficient for that which is in- 
 tended. It is comparatively easy to produce effects of 
 variety by introducing forms that involve entire change, 
 as in the different rhythms and movements in the quota- 
 tions in Chapter II., page 20, and in the different sizes, 
 positions, and attitudes given to the forms in Figs. 
 14, page 70, and 15, page 71, as well as to the 
 different shapes given to the coverings of openings 
 and to roofs and domes in Fig. 4, page 21 ; Fig. 5, page 
 23 ; Fig. 67, page 205, and to those of the " Design for a 
 
190 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Theatre and Ton-Halle," more than one half of which 
 is presented in Fig. 60, page 191, the other side being 
 a counterpart of this. But it is not so easy to produce 
 such effects by introducing alteration into forms that, 
 throughout a composition, remain the same in principle ; 
 as in the different and yet similar metres in the quota- 
 tions in Chapter II., on page 24 ; in the different and yet 
 similar positions given to the forms in Fig. 16, page 73 ; 
 Fig. 43, page 143 ; and Fig. 70, page 215; and in the differ- 
 ent and yet similar shapes given to the coverings of 
 openings and to roofs and domes in Figs. 2, page i /; 3, page 
 19 ; 12, page 49 ; 31, page 88 ; 42, page 123 ; and Fig. 68, 
 page 207. 
 
 The latter course alone perfectly fulfils the require- 
 ment of art that variety should be kept subordinate to 
 unity and comparison. At the same time, alteration thus 
 interpreted evidently requires and manifests brain-work ; 
 and it is by the brain-work involved as much as 
 by conformity to aesthetic laws, that the world in gen- 
 eral measures artistic achievement. For instance in 
 the "Public Library," Fig. 61, page 193, can any one 
 fail to recognize how much more thought it would 
 have required to produce an equally effective entrance 
 by having the same general shapes there as in the window- 
 caps at its side, yet altered ; or to produce an equally 
 successful side for the practical needs of a library, by 
 having the same general shapes there as over the open- 
 ings at the entrance ? It is proper to say, therefore, that 
 the Shadyside Presbyterian Church, by the same archi- 
 tects, Fig. 34, page 91, is superior, artistically, to this 
 Library, for one reason, because it manifests more brain- 
 work. 
 
 Alteration and repetition used conjointly in such ways 
 
FIQ. 60. PART OF DESIGN FOR THEATRE AND TON-HALLE, ZURICH, SWITZERLAND. 
 See pages 22, 190, 208, 261. 
 
I9 2 THE GENESIS OF ART- FORM. 
 
 as to fulfil the principles underlying complement, counter- 
 action, and balance? lead to what we all know as alternation. 
 The bringing together of repeated effects so that those 
 that are alike in one regard are in one place, and those 
 that are alike in another regard are in another place ; as, 
 for instance, when all the light in a painting is near the 
 central-point, and all the shade at the sides, described 
 about the light, is called massing or breadth. When like 
 features are not massed but scattered and mixed, indis- 
 criminately, with unlike ones, we have that development 
 of confusion which may be termed interspersion? Repeti- 
 tion and massing, introduced notwithstanding apparent 
 interspersion, give us an outgrowth of complement or bal- 
 ance, called complication. 1 Finally, when, under such con- 
 ditions, order has had its perfect work, the outlining of 
 the group that results manifests continuity? 
 
 When we pass from congruity to the methods now to 
 be considered, we leave the region where thought and 
 effects upon thought are uppermost in the mind of the 
 artist. Repetition and everything associated with it, have 
 their origin in the exigencies of form. At the same time, 
 we cannot be reminded too frequently that all forms, as 
 used in art, are methods of representing thoughts or feel- 
 ings by rendering them more concrete and emphatic. 
 Recalling this, we have but to apply the principle to the 
 methods before us, and we shall recognize that there are 
 no ways of embodying thought in forms that are more 
 certain than these to influence both sense and soul to- 
 gether. The slightest perceptible rubbing or scratching 
 against any part of our body, if repeated a sufficient 
 number of times, will cause inflammation. The slightest 
 perceptible vibration that can affect the organs of hearing 
 
 1 Compare what is said here with the arrangement of methods on page 131. 
 13 
 
REPETITION, ALTERATION, AND ALTERNATION. 1 93 
 
 or sight, if repeated with sufficient rapidity and persist- 
 ency, will produce a sound or a color, and nothing except 
 repetition will do this. The same is true of its use when 
 appealing more directly to the mind. " What a wonder- 
 fully complete system of police signalling these Germans 
 have ! " said an English gentleman to me in Stuttgart. 
 
 FIG. 61. PUBLIC LIBRARY, NEW LONDON, CONN. 
 See pages 123, 190. 
 
 " They are at it now, as they have been for nights past." 
 We stepped out upon a balcony which stood high on 
 a hillside, and looked down upon the moon-lit city. 
 " Listen," he said ; " first you hear a whistle off there at 
 the railway station ; then one at the palace ; then one 
 farther up here on the hill." I listened ; and what I heard, 
 
194 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 and what he had heard, came from tree-toads in the gar- 
 den under us. A single note would not have attracted 
 his attention. It was the repetition of the notes that had 
 filled his imagination with visions of socialists, and the ef- 
 ficiency of police supervision under a military government. 
 So with objects in the field of sight. An ordinary, fence 
 made of continuous boards has little to cause us to notice it. 
 Make it a picket fence, and the repetitions of the pales 
 with the alternating spaces between them will at once 
 give it interest. Introduce still more both of repetition 
 and alternation, by placing here and there a post of a differ- 
 ent pattern and capping, and the fence will become an 
 important feature in the landscape, which no one can pass 
 without observing. 
 
 As in the cases of the other methods that we have con- 
 sidered, repetition, alteration, and alternation are abun- 
 dantly exemplified in nature : repetition with alteration, 
 in the cry, chirp, hair, feathers, teeth, claws of every 
 beast or bird ; in the limbs, leaves, flowers, fruit of every 
 tree or shrub ; in the cliffs, stones, shells of every lake or 
 river ; and alternation in the rise and fall of the sounds 
 of the wind, of the notes of the bird, of the accented 
 and unaccented syllables of speech ; in the limbs of trees 
 outlined against the intervening sky behind them ; in the 
 veinings and plain surfaces of leaves ; in the stripes of 
 different colors upon shells or coats of animals ; in the 
 very fingers and the spaces between them on which the 
 eyes must gaze when doing anything artistic. No wonder 
 that art, in representing natural forms, should reproduce 
 these effects, and, in elaborating its reproductions, develop 
 them still further. 
 
 Let us notice now how this is done ; and, first, in 
 poetry. What is it that causes form in this art ? The most 
 
REPETITION, ALTERATION, AND ALTERNATION, 1 95 
 
 superficial thought reveals what more thorough study 
 confirms that poetic form is made up almost entirely of 
 a series of repetitions, of lines of like numbers of feet, of 
 feet of like numbers of accented and unaccented syllables, 
 and of alliterations, assonances, and rhymes of like 
 sounds, all following one another in close succession. 
 Yet few of these repeated elements are exactly the same. 
 The rhymes and lines and feet and rhyming words in 
 almost all poems that we admire, include sufficient altera- 
 tions to relieve the repetitions of even a suggestion of same- 
 ness. Notice again the quotations in Chapter II., page 24. 
 The principle of repetition explains the use, too, of 
 choruses and refrains with which we are all familiar. 
 Notice the French forms of verse illustrating what is said 
 on pages 55 and 107. Any one who will examine those se- 
 lections, or the following, cannot fail to remark the amount 
 of repetition in them, either in whole lines, phrases, or 
 rhymes. Elaborate essays have been written in attempts 
 to give the reasons that have led to the construction of 
 these forms. It is one proof of the importance, if a man 
 would understand a single art, of making a comparative 
 study of all the arts, that, as this book shows, there are no 
 reasons whatever underlying these French forms other 
 than those underlying all art-forms. In fact, the roundel, 
 rondeau, ballade, villanelle, triolet, and their like, are pre- 
 cisely what one ought to expect that a people, possessing 
 so keen a sense of form as the French, would naturally 
 and almost necessarily develop. Observe the repetitions 
 in the following : 
 
 My day and night are in my lady's hand ; 
 I have no other sunrise than her sight ; 
 
 For me her favor glorifies the land ; 
 Her anger darkens all the cheerful light, 
 
196 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Her face is fairer than the hawthorne white, 
 When all a-flower in May the hedge-rows stand ; 
 
 While she is kind, I know of no affright ; 
 My day and night are in my lady's hand. 
 
 All heaven in her glorious eyes is spanned ; 
 Her smile is softer than the summer's night, 
 
 Gladder than daybreak on the Faery strand ; 
 I have no other sunrise than her sight. 
 
 Her silver speech is like the singing flight 
 Of runnels rippling o'er the jewelled sand ; 
 
 Her kiss a dream of delicate delight ; 
 For me her favor glorifies the land. 
 
 What if the Winter chase the Summer bland ; 
 The gold sun in her hair burns ever bright. 
 
 If she be sad, straightway all joy is banned ; 
 Her anger darkens all the cheerful light. 
 
 Come weal or woe, I am my lady's knight, 
 And in her service every ill withstand ; 
 
 Love is my lord in all the world's despite, 
 And holdeth in the hollow of his hand 
 
 My day and night. 
 Rondeau Redouble : John Payne 
 
 Where are the creatures of the deep, 
 
 That made the sea- world wondrous fair ? 
 
 The dolphins that with royal sweep 
 Sped Venus of the golden hair 
 Through leagues of summer sea and air? 
 
 Are they all gone where past things be ? 
 The merman in his weedy lair ? 
 
 O sweet wild creatures of the sea ! 
 
 O singing syrens, do ye weep 
 That now ye hear not anywhere 
 
 The swift oars of the seamen leap, 
 See their wild, eager eyes astare ? 
 O syrens, that no more ensnare 
 
 The souls of men that once were free, 
 
REPETITION, ALTERATION, AND ALTERNATION, 1 97 
 
 Are ye not filled with cold despair 
 O sweet wild creatures of the sea ! 
 
 O Triton, on some coral steep, 
 
 In green-gloom depths, dost thou forbear 
 With wreathed horn to call thy sheep, 
 
 The wandering sea-waves to thy care ? 
 
 O mermaids, once so debonnair, 
 Sport ye no more with mirthful glee ? 
 
 The ways of lover-folk forswear ? 
 O sweet wild creatures of the sea ! 
 
 Envoy. 
 
 Deep down 'mid coral waves, beware ! 
 
 They wait a day that yet must be, 
 When ocean shall be earth's sole heir 
 
 O sweet wild creatures of the sea ! 
 
 Ballade of the Sea-Folk : William Sharp. 
 
 A similar principle explains also the recurring epithets 
 and phrases used in longer poems, in which the absence 
 of rhyme and its allied elements renders the employment 
 of the more common methods of repetition impracticable. 
 There is a subtle effect of unity imparted by repetitions, 
 such as we find in Homer, of phrases like swift-footed, 
 large-eyed, and winged words. The same is true of the 
 repetitions of longer phrases and whole lines, as in the 
 effects, also Homeric in origin, which are so admirably 
 imitated by Tennyson in his " Passing of Arthur." 
 
 Take Excalibur 
 
 And fling him far into the middle mere ; 
 Watch what thou seest and lightly bring me word. 
 
 Yet I thy hest will all perform at full, 
 Watch what I see and lightly bring thee word. 
 
 As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing 
 I bade thee, watch and lightly bring me word. 
 
198 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 And again : 
 
 And caught him by the hilt and brandished him 
 Three times, and drew him under in the mere ; 
 But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm, 
 Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 
 And caught him by the hilt and brandished him 
 Three times, and drew him under in the mere. 
 And lightly went the other to the king. 
 
 Of which the knight Sir Bedivere tells as follows : 
 
 Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him. 
 But when I looked again, behold an arm 
 Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 
 That caught him by the hilt and brandished him 
 Three times, and drew him under in the mere. 
 
 Alternation is almost equally characteristic of poetic 
 form. Rhythm, with the feet and measures that enter as 
 an essential factor into it, is dependent on the regularly 
 alternating recurrence of accented and unaccented sylla- 
 bles. The effect of many of our rhyming verses, too, is 
 dependent on the same method, the metre, length, and 
 rhyme of one line corresponding to those of the second 
 line following, and not to those of the first, e.g. : 
 
 The merry brown hares came leaping 
 
 Over the crest of the hill, 
 Where the clover and corn lay sleeping 
 Under the moon-light still. 
 A Rough Rhyme on a Rough Matter : Kingsley. 
 
 Repetition, alteration, and alternation are equally char- 
 acteristic of the forms of music. In every shortest melody, 
 like notes, phrases, refrains and cadences recur and alter- 
 nate over and over again ; yet always, in a composition 
 that is successful, with sufficient alteration to prevent 
 monotony. Notice illustrations of this in the music on 
 
REPETITION, ALTERATION, AND ALTERNATION. 199 
 
 pages 25, 43 and 67, also in the following typical melody. 
 Like strains in it are indicated by like capital letters, A, 
 B, or C. 
 
 Mine eyes have seen the glo - ry of the corn-ing - of the 
 
 V rt?- 
 
 Lord; He is tramp-ing out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are 
 
 stored; He hath loosed the fate - ful light - ning of His 
 
 J I- 
 
 
 ter-ri- ble quick sword: His truth is march-ing on. 
 
 j_ r - 
 
 A 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 > P> S_JS_ 
 
 Glo- ry, glo-ry, hal- le - lu - jah! Glo- ry, glo-ry, hal-le - lu - jah! 
 
 ,_ 1_- (__ L__ , L_ C| , _L.l_. "- 1^ 1^ .." 1C Ll 1 1 
 
 -t? t? ? t?- 1 r 
 
20O 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 c 
 
 Glo - ry, glo-ry, hal-le - lu - jah! His truth is marching on. 
 1 6? k tP t? t?- b =i=i=f Bz: 
 
 Battle Hymn of the Republic : Words by J. W. Howe. 
 
 The same methods are exemplified also in forms of art 
 appealing to sight. The earliest kinds of ornamentation, 
 as we can see it to-day in the rude lines scratched on 
 ancient pottery, are merely series of repetitions ; and in our 
 own times the recurrence of similar outlines, however 
 insignificant, when they are marked or worked near the 
 edge of a piece of wood or cloth, gives it a border, and 
 we admire it the more on account of the border. Or, if 
 we ornament with more elaborate figures, it is mainly the 
 repetition of them that causes them to be attractive. Take 
 the Vitruvian scroll, as it is called, so frequently found in 
 
 FIG. 62 VITRUVIAN SCROLL. 
 
 pottery, goldsmith's work, and architecture, Fig. 62, 
 or the Greek fret, Fig. 63. 
 
 FIQ. 63. GREEK FRET. 
 
 The charm of these lies in the repetition. In connec- 
 tion with such ornamentation we often find alternation 
 
REPETITION, ALTERATION, AND ALTERNATION. 2OI 
 
 too. See this section of an ornamented doorway from 
 Khorsbad, Chaldea, Fig. 64. In the older Greek 
 temples, the Doric frieze was made up of a series of 
 
 FIG. 64. SECTION OF ORNAMENTED DOORWAY, FROM KHORSBAD, CHALDEA. 
 
 triglyphs alternating with metopes, either containing 
 plane surfaces or else chaplets, or paterae, as in Fig. 65. 
 So in the pavements, walls, and ceilings, both of ancient 
 
 FIQ. 65. TRIGLYPHS AND METOPES. 
 
 and modern architecture, we often come upon repetitions 
 and alternations of color, usually of white and red, or blue 
 and red. The different ways, in fact, in which these 
 
202 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 methods of ornamentation may be used in decorative art, 
 are almost infinite. 
 
 In order to apply the same methods to painting, it is 
 not necessary for the artist to discover and imitate things 
 . actually repeated in the external world, any more than it 
 is necessary for the poet to hear rhythmical language in 
 order to arrange in rhythm his representations of what he 
 hears. We might indeed, derive some pleasure from a 
 picture, as we should from a view in nature, of a row of 
 trees lining an avenue, or of a company of soldiers march- 
 ing in procession. But a scene like this, unless it in- 
 cluded other things, introducing variety into it, would 
 seem artificial ; inasmuch as it would be a copy less of 
 anything natural than of something already put into 
 artificial conditions by man. A more successful kind of 
 repetition to be copied in a picture, would be like that 
 found where images of trees and shrubs are reflected 
 from the surfaces of rivers, showing the same things 
 repeated indeed, but with some alteration and alternation. 
 Or, instead of being mirrored, the trees might be re- 
 peated with effects equally satisfactory if, in their shapes, 
 sizes, and positions, there were just sufficient alteration 
 to give them the individuality that is found in nature. 
 But the effects of repetition, for reasons already men- 
 tioned on page 150, are often secured merely by artis- 
 tic composition ; i. e., by arranging objects, not alike in 
 every regard, in such ways that certain of their features 
 are seen to be alike in some regards, or at least to suggest 
 this likeness. The repetition thus introduced differs little, 
 if at all, as will be noticed, from parallelism. But, as 
 has been said before, all these art-methods are very closely 
 connected, being all developed from similar principles. 
 
 It is easy enough to perceive how, in an ideal work, com- 
 
REPETITION, ALTERATION, AND ALTERNATION. 2O$ 
 
 posed like Gerome's " Pollice Verso," repetitions could be 
 introduced at will. But it is difficult to understand how 
 the same can be done in painting a landscape, especially 
 if copied from some definite scene. The problem, 
 according to Ruskin (" Elements of Drawing," Letter 
 III.), was solved by Turner in a painting of the "Old Bridge 
 on the Rhine at Coblentz," in this way. Three boats and 
 one raft were placed in the river, each holding two persons. 
 Besides this, the distant single spires of the city were so 
 
 FIQ. 66.-OLD BRIDGE AT COBLENTZ. TURNER. 
 See pages 48, 159, 174, 203. 
 
 grouped that, in three cases, two of these spires taken 
 together (in each instance a large one and a small one, 
 introducing thus, as will be noticed, the principle of alter- 
 nation] looked like repetitions of each other and of two 
 others on the bridge, the larger of which latter was the 
 principal object in the foreground. Although there is 
 really no one place from which the spires of the city can 
 be seen in positions to produce these effects, Ruskin 
 praises the painter for having the ingenuity to arrange 
 his picture as if he had seen them thus. See Fig. 66. 
 
204 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Color, too, may be applied so as to exemplify these 
 methods. The effects of tone so much admired in a paint- 
 ing, effects produced where the whole of a scene pre- 
 sented seems to be dominated or pervaded by a similar 
 hue, are largely due to constant repetitions, and, in some 
 cases, under the influence of light and shade, of altera- 
 tions and even alternations of the tints and shades. 
 
 In sculpture these methods are necessarily included in 
 almost every faithful copy of that which is seen in 
 nature ; yet, in this art, too, there are opportunities for a 
 purely original use of them, especially in the arrange- 
 ments of folds of drapery and of different figures in 
 groups. How impossible it would be to give attractive- 
 ness to the ideas embodied in the groups of the " Laocoon," 
 Fig- 75> P a g e 22 6, and of " Niobe and her Children," Fig. 
 45, page 146, were it not for innumerable repetitions in the 
 expressions of the countenances and in the adjustments of 
 limbs and drapery ! " When we survey the ancient monu- 
 ments of Egypt," says Chas. Blanc in the introduction to 
 his " Art in Ornament and Dress," " abounding as they do 
 in colored reliefs or surface paintings, we are often arrested 
 by a group of figures in simultaneous and rhythmic action, 
 all executing the same movement, the same gesture, and 
 the same sign. When this action is not purely material, 
 such as leading animals, thrashing out corn, or carrying 
 bricks ; when this action, I say, is in harmony with the 
 sentiment ; when it expresses, for example, worship or 
 prayer, or the humility of a band of weeping captives pros- 
 trating themselves at the feet of the conqueror, their heads 
 raised to him in supplication, this rhythmic movement 
 partakes of a religious character, and the repetition of the 
 gesture seems to bring it within the pale of sacred rites. 
 The spectacle becomes solemn, nay, almost sublime." 
 
REPETITION, ALTERATION, AND ALTERNATION. 2O$ 
 
 Architecture, too, in all its most successful products, is 
 full of illustrations of these methods. When applied to 
 forms, they constitute the main element determining 
 
 FIQ. 67.-CHURCH OF ST. NIZIER, LYONS. 
 Seepages 22, 189, 206, 208, 261. 
 
 what is called a style of architecture; when applied .to 
 spaces, the main element determining what is called pro- 
 
2C>6 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 portion. They manifest their presence, too, in a majority 
 of the appearances of buildings with which we are 
 most familiar ; e. g., in rows of like columns with like 
 flutings, in like mouldings and carvings of entablatures, 
 some of which have just been noticed ; in walls strength- 
 ened by like buttresses and pierced at like intervals by 
 windows of like shapes and sizes, as well as in cappings of 
 openings and in pediments of gables and roofs, wherever 
 any large numbers of these describe like angles. 
 
 The requirements of these methods, in fact, even more 
 than those of congruity mentioned on page 146, underlie 
 the principle that different styles should not be mixed ; 
 as they are, for instance, in this " Church of St. Nizier, 
 Lyons," Fig. 67, page 205. They base the principle, more- 
 over, upon rational grounds, which is not done when it is 
 said or implied that to observe it, is to do as the Greek or 
 Gothic builders did. We are under no obligations to do 
 as these did. The world may improve in art as in other 
 things. Yet, as every thinker knows, all improvements 
 are in the nature of developments that are made in strict 
 accordance with fixed laws. We have found that scientific 
 classification, as well as artistic construction, demands that 
 like be put with like. This demand is beyond the reach 
 of any human power that may seek to change it. It exists 
 in the constitution of the mind. No architect can dis- 
 regard it, and produce a building satisfactory to men in 
 general. No building has ever obtained and preserved a 
 reputation as a work of art, in which this requirement has 
 been neglected. As a proof of this statement, as well as 
 an evidence of the universality with which a principle can 
 be applied when giving expression to a truth that is really 
 fundamental, notice not only " Salisbury " (Fig. 68, page 
 207), which is usually considered the most nearly perfect 
 
REPETITION, ALTERATION, AND ALTERNATION. 2O/ 
 
 of the English cathedrals, but the classic buildings in all 
 styles represented in Figs. 69, page 208; I, page 15; 2, 
 page 17; 3, page 19; 23, page 78; 31, page 88; 32, page 
 89; 42, page 123, and 97, page 292. The true reason, 
 therefore, for not introducing the forms of Greek, Roman- 
 
 FIQ. 68.-SALISBURY CATHEDRAL, FROM THE NORTHWEST. 
 See pages 18, 76, 186, 190, 206, 261. 
 
 esque, and Gothic architecture into the same building, is 
 that, as a rule, such a course is fatal to unity of effect. 
 These principal styles and some of the subordinate styles 
 developed from them differ so essentially that to blend 
 them is to cause confusion in the form where the mind 
 
208 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 demands intelligibility, which, so far as our present line 
 of thought is applicable, means something in which many 
 repetitions of similar appearances reveal that all are parts 
 of the same whole. Buildings in which there are very 
 few, if any, forms alike, such as we find exemplified in 
 
 FIQ. 69. POUTOU TEMPLE, NINGPO, CHINA. 
 See pages 18, 124, 207, 264. 
 
 Fig. 67 in this chapter, Figs. 4, page 21, and 5, page 23, 
 and 60, page 191, as well as in too many of those so 
 popular in our own day, said to be erected in the style of 
 Queen Anne, are not, whatever else they may be, works 
 of art. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MASSING OR BREADTH. 
 
 Connection tetween the Methods next on our List and those already Con- 
 sidered Massing Its Object is to Produce Cumulative 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 Analogous The same Principles Applied to Colors and Out- 
 lines Massing in Sculpture In Architecture : By Outlines and by 
 Light and Shade. 
 
 A S was indicated in the list of the methods on page 131, 
 ^T massing is a further development in form of the 
 same tendency that leads to comparison, principality, con- 
 gruity, central-point, and repetition, and is usually con- 
 nected with them ; interspersion is similarly related to con- 
 trast, subordination, incongruity, setting, and alteration; 
 complication is related to counteraction, complement, com- 
 prehensiveness, parallelism, and alternation ; and continuity 
 is related to grouping, organic-form, and symmetry. 
 
 Inasmuch as massing is the most important of the 
 methods now to be considered, as well as because it must 
 be treated at some length, what is to be said in this chapter 
 will be confined to it. By the word itself, as also by consist- 
 ency, which is used synonymously with it, artists mean the 
 bringing together of repeated effects, so that in any given 
 4 209 
 
210 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 composition those that are alike in one regard are in one 
 place, and those that are alike in another regard are in 
 another place. Thus defined, it is evident that, while an 
 aid both to principality and central-point, massing is dis- 
 tinctly different from either. It may involve, and usually 
 necessitates, a number of exactly similar features, which 
 is not the case either when one of these has principality 
 or when many are grouped in such a way as to be brought 
 to a central-point. It is evident, too, that, as it has been 
 defined, massing is a method that may be applied in art 
 to the arrangements of other factors besides those of light 
 and shade, to which it is sometimes limited. Whenever, 
 for any reason, a large number of factors alike in one 
 regard if of sounds, in time, pitch, loudness, or quality ; 
 if of sights, in size, outline, color or light, are separated 
 from other factors, and crowded together by themselves, 
 there we have massing. 
 
 Of course, its object, as thus explained, whether applied 
 to a part or to a whole of the like factors of a composition, 
 is to produce a cumulative or general effect an effect 
 which could not be produced by any or all of the factors 
 if not used conjointly. All the methods, too, of which 
 we have been treating have more or less influence in 
 securing this result. But all of them together would fail 
 of efficiency without massing. In fact, we might define 
 this by saying that it is such a method of presenting 
 details as to cause others to judge of them en masse. In 
 the main, however, it emphasizes the features and the con- 
 cepts represented in them in the same way and for the 
 same reason as repetition, of which it is an intensified 
 phase. 
 
 Poetic massing involves characteristics with which we 
 are all familiar. Notice, in the following, how both sense 
 
MASSING OR BREADTH. 211 
 
 and sound contribute in a cumulative way to the general 
 impression. 
 
 A plague upon them ! wherefore should I curse them ? 
 
 Would curses kill as doth the mandrake's groan, 
 
 I would invent as bitter-searching terms, 
 
 As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, 
 
 Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth, 
 
 With full as many signs of deadly hate, 
 
 As lean faced envy in her loathsome cave ; 
 
 My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words ; 
 
 Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint ; 
 
 My hair be fixed on end, as one distract ; 
 
 Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban ; 
 
 And even now my burdened heart would break, 
 
 Should I not curse them. Poison be thy drink ! 
 
 Gall, worse than gall the daintiest that they taste ! 
 
 Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees ! 
 
 Their chiefest prospects, murdering basilisks ! 
 
 Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings ! 
 
 Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss ! 
 
 And boding screech-owls make the concert full ! 
 
 H. IV., Ft. II., iii., 2: Shakespeare. 
 
 In the following comical enumeration by Southey of the 
 troubles assailing Napoleon on his return from Moscow, 
 the same effect is produced almost exclusively by sounds. 
 
 The Russians they stuck close to him 
 
 All on the road from Moscow. 
 
 There was Tormazow and Jemalow, 
 
 And all the others that end in ow ; 
 
 Milarodovitch and Jaladovitch, 
 
 And Karatschkowitch, 
 And all the others that end in itch ; 
 Schamscheff, Souchosaneff, 
 
 And Schepaleff, 
 
 And all the others that end in eff ; 
 Wasiltschikoff, Kostomaroff, 
 
 And Tchoglokoff, 
 And all the others that end in off : 
 
212 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Rajeffsky, and Novereffsky, 
 
 And Rieffsky, 
 And all the others that end in effsky : 
 
 Oscharoffsky and Rostoffsky, 
 And all the others that end in offsky ; 
 And Platoff he played them off, 
 And Shouvaloff he shovelled them off, 
 And Markoff he marked them off, 
 And Krossnoff he crossed them off, 
 And Tuchkoff he touched them off, 
 And Boraskoff he bored them off, 
 And Kutousoff he cut them off, 
 And Parenzoff he pared them off, 
 And'Worronzoff he worried them off, 
 And Doctoroff he doctored them off 
 And Roclionoff he flogged them off ; 
 And last, of all, an admiral came, 
 A terrible man with a terrible name, 
 A name which you all know by sight very well, 
 But which no one can speak, and no one can spell. 
 They stuck close to Nap with all their might ; 
 
 They were on the left and on the right, 
 Behind and before, and by day and by night ; 
 He would rather parlez vous than fight ; 
 But he looked white, and he looked blue, 
 
 Morbleu ! Parbleu ! 
 When parlez vous no more would do, 
 For they remembered Moscow. 
 
 The March to Moscow : Southey. 
 
 Sometimes, in fact usually, where there is massing, 
 there is also a climax, in which as indicated on page 
 163, everything is brought to a central-point, e. g. : 
 
 What a piece of work is man ! How noble in reason ! How infinite in 
 faculties ! In form and moving how express and admirable ! In action how 
 like an angel ! In apprehension how like a god ! 
 
 Hamlet, ii., 2 : Shakespeare. 
 
 In such cases, the analogy is complete between the 
 effect of the central expression about which other expres- 
 
MASSING OR BREADTH. 213 
 
 sions are massed in poetry, and of the centre of interest 
 about which color or light is massed in painting. 
 
 In music, massing fulfils functions equally important. It 
 is this, as exemplified in the accumulations of the same 
 notes, chords, or instruments, that enables us to recognize 
 the peculiarities distinguishing passages that are loud or 
 soft, forcible or light, gay or pathetic ; while without it and 
 its reiterated repetitions, the musical cadence or climax, as 
 heard at the ends of compositions or of prominent move- 
 ments, would produce little impression. 
 
 The terms massing and also breadtli, which latter seems 
 to indicate that which is the result of the former, are 
 applied more commonly to effects in the arts that are 
 seen than in those that are heard. But, as we said a 
 moment ago, it sometimes seems to be supposed that both 
 terms should be used to refer only to those effects of 
 light and shade whereby bright features are put with 
 bright, and dark with dark. As a result of such arrange- 
 ments, a breadth of distance seems to separate the objects 
 in light from those in shade, and a corresponding breadth 
 of view seems to be afforded him who sees them ; hence 
 the term breadth sometimes applied to these effects. 
 Light and shade cannot be discussed fully except in con- 
 nection with color. But so far as their use illustrates 
 massing, something needs to be said of them here ; and 
 that they do illustrate this, and are, therefore, in analogy 
 with it as produced by other elements both of sight and 
 sound, no better proof needs to be furnished than the 
 statements that follow. 
 
 In securing the effects of breadth, the artist does not 
 arbitrarily make objects bright or dim in order to have 
 them correspond to the bright or dim parts of the pic- 
 ture in which he wishes to place them. He exercises in- 
 
214 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 genuity in arranging his materials so as to bring into the 
 right relations objects that in nature are bright or dim, or 
 that can be made so in nature by the presence. or absence 
 of an illuminating agent. Besides this, too, he arranges 
 the light so as to fall where it will prove most effective. 
 In Titian's " Entombment," it is made to illumine a figure 
 in the foreground, notwithstanding the fact that the sun 
 is represented as setting in the background. The painter 
 produces the effect by supposing the sun's rays .to be re- 
 flected from a cloud in advance of the field of vision. 
 Notice also what was said on page 72 of the way in 
 which the light is massed by Rubens and Correggio, the 
 one in the " Descent from the Cross " (Fig. 16, page 73, 
 and the other in the " Holy Night," Fig. 70, page 215. 
 
 It is not to be supposed, however, that in any given 
 picture, there may not be more than one place where there 
 is light and one place where there are shadows, although 
 in the paintings of Correggio and Rembrandt, who develop- 
 ed most fully the possibilities of light and shade, or of chi- 
 aroscuro^ as it is called, this plan was usually followed. 
 According to Reynolds (Note xxxix on " The Art of Paint- 
 ing"), there may be three masses of light, one of which, 
 however, he would make more prominent than the other 
 two, thus causing all three together to fulfil the methods 
 both of principality and balance. 'Titian, in order to im- 
 press the fact that every picture representing the effects 
 of the atmosphere must indicate not only the general 
 influence of the light and shade on all the objects depicted 
 considered together, but on each specific object consid- 
 ered by itself, is said to have pointed to a bunch of grapes ; 
 and shown how the bunch considered as a whole has a light 
 and a dark side, and also how each grape considered by 
 itself has a light and a dark side. The effects resulting from 
 
FIQ. 70. THE HOLY NIGHT.-CORREGGIO. 
 See pages 16, 72, 80, 120, 190, 214, 257. 
 
2l6 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 each of these conditions render the representation of both 
 difficult. Nor can they be represented at all except in the 
 degree in which the general effect, which is the one con- 
 nected with massing, is treated as the more important of 
 the two. 
 
 From what has been said, it is evident that the effect of 
 breadth, as thus produced, is identical with that of the ac- 
 cumulation of repeated characteristics which results from 
 massing in poetry and music. The artistic end in view, 
 too, is the same. By it, the unity, comparison, principality, 
 congruity, central-point, as well as repetitions of the product 
 are all brought out more clearly. " Pictures," says S. P. 
 Long in his " Art, Its Laws, and the Reasons for Them," 
 Essay VI., " Pictures possessing breadth of the general 
 light and dark or shade are not only very effective, but 
 they likewise give great repose to the eye ; whereas, where 
 the lights and darks are in small portions, and much 
 divided, the eye is disturbed and the mind rendered un- 
 easy, especially if one is anxious to understand every 
 object in a composition, as it is painful to the ear, if we 
 are anxious to hear what is said in company, where many 
 are talking at the same time. Hence . . . the reason why 
 portraits make a more pleasing picture when but few ob- 
 jects are introduced into the composition than when the 
 person is covered with frills and ruffles, and the back- 
 ground stuffed like a * curiosity shop.' Such an arrange- 
 ment cuts up the lights and darks and destroys the 
 breadth " a statement applicable, as will be noticed, not 
 only to massing but also to interspersion, its opposite, 
 which is to be considered in the next chapter. Concern- 
 ing the same subject Ruskin says in his " Elements of 
 Drawing," Letter III. : " Such compositions possess 
 higher sublimity than those which are more mingled in 
 
MASSING OR BREADTH. 
 
 their elements. They tell a special tale and summon a 
 definite state of feeling. We have not in each gray color 
 set against sombre, and sharp forms against sharp, and 
 low passages against low ; but we have the bright picture 
 with its single ray of relief ; the stern picture with only 
 one tender group of lines ; the soft and calm picture with 
 only one rock angle at its flank, and so on." 
 
 So much for the effects of massing as produced by ar- 
 rangements of light and shade. Now in what do we find 
 an analogy for this method as produced by colors or out- 
 lines ? As applied to colors, the question hardly needs 
 an answer. In any picture not delineated in white and 
 black, light and shade are themselves represented by 
 colors, and the light colors necessarily go with the one 
 and the dark with the other. But how is it with outlines ? 
 Suppose that a picture is composed of human figures. If 
 certain of these be grouped together, though only through 
 the use of outlines, so as to emphasize their sizes, attitudes, 
 and, because in the foreground, their relative influence as 
 compared with the rest of the composition, will they not, 
 irrespective of any effects of light or color, attract atten- 
 tion and, very likely, absorb it ? And in recalling the pic- 
 ture, shall we not necessarily think chiefly of these figures 
 and of the thoughts that they represent, rather than of 
 anything else connected with it ? But is not this effect 
 produced by the massing of outlines identical with that 
 produced by the massing of light in breadth ? See the 
 figures of the gladiator and his antagonist, in Gerome's 
 " Pollice Verso," Fig. 26, page 81. 
 
 With such a conception of massing, as produced by 
 means of outline, we can see how it may be used in 
 sculpture ; and how, when so used, it may concentrate 
 attention upon, say; the human figures or parts of them that 
 
218 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 are represented, rather than upon the drapery or pedestal, 
 or any architectural forms surrounding them. Certain 
 
 kinds of sculpture, 
 too, especially the 
 bas-relief, afford the 
 same possibilities 
 for effects of light 
 and shade, and 
 thereforeof breadth, 
 as produced by 
 these, that painting 
 does. See an illus- 
 tration of massing 
 produced in both 
 ways in the " Mith- 
 ras Stabbing the 
 Bull," Fig. 54, page 
 179. 
 
 I n architecture, 
 we have an exact 
 analogy to the ef- 
 fects of massing in 
 some of the older 
 castles and even 
 churches of Europe, 
 where all the decora- 
 tion connected with 
 the forms is con- 
 centrated about a 
 
 FIG. 71 .-GATE OF THE PALACE, NANCY. tOWCr, Of gateway, 
 
 See pages 76, 219. or door, or all of 
 
 these together, on each side of which is merely a wall 
 entirely blank or pierced with non-ornamental openings. 
 
MASSING OR BREADTH. 2 19 
 
 See the " Gateway of the Palace at Nancy," Fig. 71, 
 page 218. What could more closely resemble the im- 
 pression produced by some of Rembrandt's pictures with 
 their blaze of light in the centre and their gloom of 
 shadow surrounding it ? Besides this, in architecture as 
 in sculpture, there is an opportunity for massing as pro- 
 duced by light and shade. " I do not believe," says 
 Ruskin, in his " Seven Lamps of Architecture," chap, iii., 
 " that ever any building was truly great unless it had 
 mighty masses, vigorous and deep, of shadow mingled 
 with its surface. And among the first habits that a young 
 architect should learn is that of thinking in shadow, not 
 looking at a design in its miserable liney skeleton, but 
 conceiving it as it will be when dawn lights on it, and the 
 dusk leaves it. ... All that he has to do must be 
 done by spaces of light and darkness ; and his business is 
 to see that the one is broad and bold enough not to be 
 swallowed up by twilight, and the other deep enough not 
 to be dried like a shallow pool by a noon-day sun." 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 INTERSPERSION, COMPLICATION, AND CONTINUITY. 
 
 Interspersion in Nature and Art Complication in Nature and Art Its Re- 
 lation 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 In- 
 terspersion Complication in the Form Continuity and Drift Inter- 
 spersion, Complication, and Continuity in Music The Two Former in 
 Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture Continuity in these Latter Arts 
 Present in Connection with Interspersion and Complication. 
 
 what has been said, the close connection be- 
 tween massing and both principality and central- 
 point is at once apparent. It is apparent also that, if there 
 be no massing at all in an art-work ; in other words, if like 
 features be not grouped together but scattered, so that 
 the like are interspersed with the unlike in almost equal 
 quantities, then the main object of composition, which is to 
 reduce factors to unity and order, so as to render them 
 aesthetically intelligible, is not accomplished. At the 
 same time, inter spersion, like variety and confusion and 
 their kindred methods, is one of the characteristics of 
 nature ; and because of this, and because it clearly con- 
 trasts with such effects as are most distinctively artistic, 
 it always gives some suggestion of naturalness to a prod- 
 uct in which it appears. Loosely constructed sentences 
 and whole compositions, like Emerson's " Essays," say, as 
 contrasted with Everett's " Orations " ; or like Crabb's 
 
 220 
 
INTERSPERSION, COMPLICATION, CONTINUITY. 221 
 
 " Parish Register " as contrasted with Milton's " Paradise 
 Lost " ; or like Sullivan's " Patience " as contrasted with 
 Wagner's " Tannhauser " ; or like almost any Nocturne as 
 contrasted with a March, or Variation as contrasted with 
 a Symphony all the former of these, owing to the way in 
 which, in the absence of cumulative or massing methods, 
 unforetokened and unexpected effects are interspersed 
 
 FIG. 72. CHATEAU AT MONTIQNY. 
 See pages 31, 37, 77, 78, 124, 222, 235, 251. 
 
 throughout, have a peculiar charm of their own. So in 
 the arts of sight, the blending of all sorts of forms, natural 
 and human, in hill and valley, foliage and rock, land 
 and water, or shade and sunshine, robed, as in some 
 paintings, in all possible colors, and mixed, as in some 
 architecture, like that characterizing the street fronts of 
 certain American cities, or the diversified roofs and tur- 
 
222 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 rets of certain villas these too, presenting what we term 
 a picturesque effect, owe their main attractiveness to inter- 
 spersion. 
 
 Always in connection with this effect, however, there 
 needs to be, as in the " Landscape with Water/' by Corot, 
 Fig. 73, page 223, a liberal application of certain of the 
 other methods of composition ; elsewise the result is not 
 aesthetically satisfactory. For instance, in the " Chateau at 
 Montigny," Fig. 72, page 221, we have inter spersion, but it 
 is modified so little by other counteracting effects that, as 
 a whole, the building has no unity. It is picturesque, but 
 this is all that can be said in its favor. When a certain 
 degree of massing is joined with interspersion so as to 
 cause the interspersed quantities or qualities to reappear 
 at approximately regular intervals, in ways according 
 with complement, counteraction, balance, parallelism, and 
 alternation, we have what is understood by the term com- 
 plication. This word, like parallelism, continuity, and many 
 others used in art, is borrowed from one indicating 
 relationships of lines. It means a folding or blending to- 
 gether primarily of these, but, secondarily, of any forms. 
 Evidently, too, it involves, like massing, the presence in 
 large quantities of the features to which it is applied. In 
 fact, the greater the number of themes or phrases, say, in 
 a symphony, the more complicated, as a rule, are its move- 
 ments ; and the greater the number of trees or rocks in a 
 landscape, the more complicated, as a rule, are the factors 
 composing it. 
 
 But while this is true, these factors, if complicated in 
 an artistic manner, may always be presented in a certain 
 order. We shall recognize this by recalling many of the 
 patterns of our carpets and wall-papers, imitated or 
 modelled after those of the Orientals. (See Fig. 74, page 
 
224 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 225, also Fig. 9, page 38). " When," says Charles Blanc, 
 in his " Art in Ornament and Dress," " the surface orna- 
 mented according to Arabian taste has no dominant subject 
 indicated by its isolation or by its color, the spectator 
 has only before him an assemblage regularly confused of 
 triangles, lozenges, wheels, half-rnoons, trefoils, imperfect 
 pentagons, and unfinished meanders, which penetrate, in- 
 tersect, balance, and correspond to each other, approach 
 to retreat, and touch one moment to depart the next, 
 and dissolve themselves in a labyrinth without outlet and 
 without end. The Arabs have thus realized the strange 
 phenomenon which consists in producing an apparent dis- 
 order by means of the most rigid order." 
 
 If we allow any single feature entering into complication 
 one of its lines, say to be interrupted, as it must be 
 wherever an application of the method of interspersion 
 causes another line to cross it, or another feature to 
 take its place ; that which conveys to us an impression 
 of unity notwithstanding interspersion is the reappearance 
 of the line or feature that has disappeared. This necessi- 
 tates continuity, a term that, primarily, signifies a line, 
 whether straight or curved, which is continuous. But, 
 secondarily, it signifies any kind of sound, color, or figure 
 that is continuous. It means, therefore, any kind of con- 
 tinuous repetition or massing. Continuity is that which 
 makes a composition which begins in one way, either in 
 time or space, keep on in the same way to its end. Just 
 as symmetry tends to cause all parts of an outlined form 
 to be equally balanced about a common centre, continuity 
 tends to cause them all to be equally connected with a 
 common mass or materiality. 
 
 As both symmetry and continuity, however, must, like 
 all the other art-methods, exist in connection with some 
 
226 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 variety, neither should be absolutely perfect. Continuity 
 of repetition and massing would, indeed, give unity, and 
 this is the most important element of art-form ; but unity 
 follows more clearly the laws of nature, and therefore of 
 art, in cases where it is slightly opposed by the tendencies 
 underlying interspersion and complication. 
 
 For this reason, 
 without doubt, artists 
 have a rule that, in the 
 use of lines involving, 
 in the ways just in- 
 dicated, an applica- 
 tion of the method of 
 continuity, care should 
 be taken to have them 
 not absolutely con- 
 tinuous, but inter- 
 rupted at intervals, 
 and then, if necessary, 
 caught up and ex- 
 tended further on. If 
 absolutely continu- 
 ous, they suggest de- 
 grees of mathematical 
 FIG. 75. SCULPTURED GROUP OF THE LAOCOON. exactness and of mo- 
 See pages 120, 182 204, 235, 238. notony inconsistent 
 
 with a reproduction of 
 
 the effects of nature. A landscape in which paths or trees 
 or bridges are arranged in uninterrupted rows as geometri- 
 cally regular as the threads of a spider's web, seems to be 
 in the highest degree unnatural. Even though a literal 
 copy of some park in actual existence, we feel like blam- 
 ing the artist for not choosing to copy a scene giving 
 
INTERSPERSION-, COMPLICATION, COtfl^INUITY. 227 
 
 more evidences of nature as God left it. In this, we 
 should usually find places where lawns, bushes, forests, 
 rivers, hills, or other paths, trees, or hedges crossed or 
 stopped the straight lines, or made them bend away in 
 other directions. So with painters' lines in figures or in 
 buildings they are seldom unbroken. Even in places 
 
 FIQ. 76. SOUTH AISLE OF WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL, 
 
 ENGLAND. 
 See page 240. 
 
 where they are expected to be so, the interruption occa- 
 sioned by folds of drapery about the human body, or by 
 the trailing of a vine about the pillars of a porch or edges 
 of a tower, usually suggests a touch of nature that re- 
 deems the effect from artificiality. 
 
228 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Now let us notice the applications of these principles; 
 and, first, to poetry. All literary works that have occult 
 and intricately developed plots manifest, of course, more 
 or less of complication and a tendency to inter spersion. 
 The important matter, in such cases, is to have one aim 
 so running through and pervading the parts that all can 
 be recognised to have continuity. The following passage 
 will serve to illustrate how this can be done. Every 
 thought expressed in it, as well as every expression, 
 continues the general idea ; yet it does this, as will be 
 observed, in connection with many different thoughts 
 and expressions that are not massed, but interspersed 
 and complicated. Like this, too, in these regards is the 
 quotation from " King Lear" on page 138. 
 
 Lodovico. Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio ? 
 Desdemona. A most unhappy one : I would do much 
 
 T' atone them for the love I bear to Cassio. 
 Othello. Fire and brimstone ! 
 
 Desdemona. My lord ? 
 
 Othello. Are you wise ? 
 
 Desdemona. What, is he angry ? 
 Lodovico. May be the letter moved him, 
 
 For I think they do command him home, 
 
 Deputing Cassio in his government. 
 Desdemona. Trust me, I am glad of it. 
 Othello. Indeed? 
 
 Desdemona. My lord ? 
 
 Othello. I am glad to see you mad ! 
 
 Desdemona. How, sweet Othello ? 
 
 Othello. Devil ! (Striking her., 
 
 Desdemona. I have not deserved this. 
 
 Lodovico. My lord, this would not be believed in Venice, 
 
 Though I should swear I saw it. 'T is very much. 
 
 Make her amends ; she weeps. 
 Othello. O devil ! devil ! 
 
 If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, 
 
INTERSPERSION, COMPLICATION, CONTINUITY. 22Q 
 
 Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. 
 Out of my sight ! 
 
 Desdemona. I will not stay to offend you. 
 
 Lodo-vico. Truly an obedient lady. 
 
 I do beseech your lordship call her back. 
 
 Othello. Mistress ! 
 
 Desdemona. My lord ? 
 
 Othello. What would you have with her, sir ? 
 
 Lodovico. Who, I, my lord ? 
 
 Othello. Ay ; you did wish that I would make her turn. 
 
 Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, 
 And turn again ; and she can weep, sir, weep ; 
 And she 's obedient as you say obedient 
 Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears. 
 Concerning this, sir O well painted passion ! 
 
 Othello, iv., i : Shakespeare. 
 
 In this next example, we have interspersion and compli- 
 cation in the thought ; by which is meant a confused effect 
 owing to the blending, and in the same sentence too, of 
 plain and figurative language, as well as of different figures. 
 
 Then with a skip as it were from heel to head, 
 Leaving yourselves fill up the middle bulk 
 O' the trial, reconstruct its shape august, 
 From such exordium clap we to the close ; 
 Give you, if we dare wing to such a height, 
 The absolute glory in some full-grown speech 
 On the other side, some finished butterfly, 
 Some breathing diamond-flake with leaf-gold fans, 
 That takes the air, no trace of worm it was, 
 Or cabbage-bed it had production from. 
 
 Ring and Book : R. Browning. 
 
 And here we have interspersion in the form, because in 
 it the requirements of no one order of sequence of sylla- 
 bles or of rhythm are fulfilled : 
 
 But Italy, my Italy, 
 Can it last, this gleam ? 
 Can she live and be strong, 
 
230 THE GE NESTS Of ART-FORM. 
 
 Or is it another dream 
 
 Like the rest we have dreamed so long ? 
 
 And shall it be, must it be, 
 That after the battle cloud has broken 
 She will die off again 
 Like the rain, 
 Or like a poet's song 
 Sung of her sad at the end 
 Because her name is Italy 
 Die and count no friend ? 
 
 Napoleon III. , in Italy : E. B. Browning. 
 
 There is equal variety in the following, but no intersper- 
 sion. All is in the same rhythm. 
 
 All 's done, 
 
 All 's won, 
 
 Never under the sun 
 Was shirt so late finished, so early begun. 
 
 The work would defy 
 
 The most critical eye. 
 
 It was bleached it was washed it was hung out to dry 
 It was marked on the tail with a T and an I. 
 
 On the back of a chair it 
 
 Was placed just to air it, 
 
 In front of the fire. Tom to-morrow shall wear it. 
 Occcca mens hominum. Fanny, good soul, 
 Left her charge for one moment but one ; a vile coal 
 Bounced out from the grate and set fire to the whole. 
 
 A Legend of a Shirt : R. H. Barham. 
 
 It would not be altogether unjustifiable to take this 
 last quotation for an example of complication in poetic 
 form ; but the following will serve our purpose better. 
 Would it be possible to represent more effectively in a 
 form appealing to the ear that blending and twisting of 
 lines which is the first suggestion given by the word com- 
 plication ? Notice how in these one line disappears, while 
 other lines cross it, and then reappears : 
 
2NTERSPERSION, COMPLICATION, CONTINUITY. 23! 
 
 Here we are riding the rail, 
 
 Gliding from out of the station ; 
 Man though I am, I am pale, 
 
 Certain of heat and vexation. 
 
 Gliding from out of the station, 
 
 Out from the city we thrust ; 
 Certain of heat and vexation, . 
 
 Sure to be covered with dust. 
 
 Out from the city we thrust : 
 
 Rattling we run o'er the bridges ; 
 Sure to be covered with dust, 
 
 Stung by a thousand of midges. 
 
 Rattling we dash o'er the bridges, 
 
 Rushing we dash o'er the plain ; 
 Stung by a thousand of midges, 
 
 Certain precursors of rain. 
 
 Rushing we dash o'er the plain, 
 
 Watching the clouds darkly lowering, 
 
 Certain precursors of rain, 
 
 Fields about here need a showering. 
 From En Route, A Pantoum : Brander Matthews. 
 
 Beautiful, distracting Hetty, 
 
 This was how it came to be 
 As we strolled upon the jetty. 
 
 I had danced three times with Netty, 
 
 She had flirted with Dobree, 
 Beautiful, distracting Hetty. 
 
 I was humming Donizetti, 
 
 Hurt was I and angry she, 
 As we strolled upon the jetty. 
 
 As she levelled her Negretti 
 
 With provoking nicety, 
 Beautiful, distracting Hetty, 
 
232 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Suddenly she flashed a pretty, 
 
 Half-defiant glance at me, 
 As we strolled upon the jetty. 
 
 And our quarrel seemed so petty 
 
 By the grandeur of the sea : 
 Beautiful, distracting Hetty, 
 As we strolled upon the jetty. 
 
 Villanelle : Cosmo Monkhouse. 
 
 Considered in itself, continuity, as used in any of the 
 arts of sound, is the same as that which in oratory is 
 termed drift. This is a result produced partly by the 
 consecutive character of the thought, and partly by the 
 gliding regularity of an even, unhesitating flow of words 
 in a rhythm constantly exciting and satisfying expecta- 
 tion, and suggesting no possible interruption of the 
 process. For examples of this kind of poetic continuity, 
 as well as for the distinction that needs to be made 
 between it and progress, see page 276. 
 
 In music the gradual as well as the sudden interruption 
 of movements by contrasting strains, testifies that inter- 
 spersion is a legitimate effect. Of the comic opera, in fact, 
 it is one of the chief effects. Nor can any one who has 
 ever listened for the methods underlying the changes in 
 the melody and harmony of a symphony, or of any com- 
 position of a high order, fail to recognize in it the almost 
 constant presence of complication. As a historic fact, the 
 whole system of harmony now in vogue in Europe sprang 
 from an effort to sing at one and the same time several 
 different melodies, as in the following " Round " or " Can- 
 non." As most of us know, this is so composed that when 
 one voice, which has sung through the first line, begins the 
 second line, a second voice begins the first ; and when the 
 first voice begins the third line, a third begins the first ; 
 
INTERSPERSION, COMPLICATION, CONTINUITY. 233 
 
 and all three voices continue for some time repeating the 
 three lines in succession. 
 
 1 
 
 Whith-er shall I fol - low, fol - low, fol - low, 
 
 E^ 
 
 To 
 
 the green-wood, to the greenwood, 
 
 -J 1 ,- 
 
 m=i 
 
 fcl - - low, 
 
 fol - low, fol - low me. 
 
 
 whither shall I fol - low, fol - low thee? 
 
 to.... the... green-wood, green- wood tree. 
 
 The Music Teacher : C. Everest. 
 
 A glance at this will reveal that the melodies move above, 
 below, and about each other with effects corresponding 
 exactly to those of lines twisting and intersecting in com- 
 
234 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 plication. At the same time, as the laws of harmony 
 are understood to-day, unless, in the greater number of 
 
 the parts of a compo- 
 sition, some theme is 
 developed with such 
 a consistent and con- 
 secutive flow of notes 
 and chords that they 
 fulfil the requirements 
 of what has here been 
 termed continuity, the 
 product is not an 
 artistic success. Like 
 an oration devoid of 
 drift, it fails to en- 
 chain the attention. 
 
 All these methods 
 have a place in the 
 arts appealing to the 
 eye. Reference has 
 been made already to 
 effects of interspersion, 
 popularly called the 
 picturesque, produced 
 in painting by a scat- 
 tering of hills and 
 vales, trees and plains, 
 rocks and flowers, land 
 and water, light and 
 shade, and colors of 
 a 1 1 possible hues. 
 
 Corot's " Landscape with Water," Fig. 73, page 223, 
 illustrates this effect as applied to the use of outlines. 
 
 FIQ. 77.- INTERIOR OF ST. LOO CATHEDRAL, 
 FRANCE. 
 
 See page 240. 
 
INTERSPERSION, COMPLICATION, CONTINUITY. 235 
 
 As applied to that of 
 color, it cannot well be 
 illustrated, of course, 
 in pages where there 
 is no color; but it can 
 be represented suffi- 
 ciently to imagination 
 by recalling the fa- 
 miliar effect termed 
 checkered, whether 
 produced by different 
 dyes in fabrics, or by 
 sunshine and shadow 
 in external nature. 
 Both interspersion 
 and complication, but 
 mainly the latter, are 
 apparent in the out- 
 lines of arms and limbs 
 in the " Descent from 
 the Cross," Fig. 16, 
 page 73, and in the 
 " Laocoon," Fig. 75, 
 page 226. As mani- 
 fested in a building 
 as a whole, inter- 
 spersion was suffici- 
 ently exemplified in 
 Fig. 72, page 221, 
 already noticed. But 
 in architecture, and FIQ. 78. INTERIOR OF BEVERLEY MINSTER, 
 in sculpture as a ENGLAND. 
 
 means of ornament- See pages 238, 241, 264. 
 
THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 ing architecture, a special form of it, usually connected 
 with complication, too, and to the phase of this to which we 
 apply the term most distinctively and technically, may 
 
 FIQ. 79.-INTERIOR OF EXETER CATHEDRAL, ENGLAND. 
 See pages 238, 241, 264. 
 
 be noticed in the " Window of the Alhambra," Fig. 74, 
 page 225. Complication, as thus illustrated, is a method 
 as old as the time when Daedalus planned his labyrinth, 
 
FIQ. 80. CHURCH OF ST. HILAIRE, ROUEN, FRANCE. 
 See pages 124, 241, 251. 
 
238 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Solomon his mysterious seal, and the Moors and builders 
 of Christian cathedrals their interlaced ornaments, mosaics, 
 and intersections of ribs and arches. See Figs. 69, page 
 208, 79, page 236, and 96, page 290. 
 
 The idea to be held in mind in connection with con- 
 tinuity is that it is an element of unity. So if in a fore- 
 ground, for instance, there be a row or group of trees 
 stretching backward interrupted by a plain, it is well if, 
 farther back, the same line of direction be carried on, if 
 
 FIG. 81. FRONT ELEVATION. 
 
 See pages 124, 241, 251. 
 
 FIG. 82. SIDE ELEVATION. 
 
 See page 241. 
 
 not by trees, then, say, by a river, and still farther in the 
 extreme distance, by the side of a hill or by a path upon 
 this hill. See the way in which such lines are continued 
 across the entire canvas in Turner's " Decline of Carthage," 
 Fig. 5i, page 175, and in Corot's "Canal," Fig. 47, page 
 157. Similar arrangements can characterize figures as 
 represented in either painting or sculpture. Notice this 
 in the directions taken by the different limbs of the figures 
 in the " Laocoon," Fig. 75, page 226. Also in the lines 
 
INTERSPERSION, COMPLICATION, CONTINUITY. 239 
 
 entering into both 
 human figures and 
 their surroundings in 
 Figs. 26, page 81, and 
 55, page 181. In this 
 way, also, as will be 
 observed by glancing 
 again at these illustra- 
 tions, continuity con- 
 tributes to the effects 
 of central-point and 
 parallelism considered 
 in Chapters X. and XL, 
 all the methods of art, 
 as has been said be- 
 fore, being necessarily 
 connected. 
 
 But to turn to archi- 
 tecture. Every one 
 must have observed 
 that, as a rule, we de- 
 rive more satisfaction 
 from a building in 
 which the window- 
 caps in the same story 
 and the window-sides 
 in all the stories, form 
 together one, often in- 
 terrupted, but yet con- 
 tinuous line. And so 
 too with the lines in 
 groined ceilings. Ob- 
 serve how inartistic 
 
 FIG. 83. TOWER OF BORIS, KREMLIN, 
 
 MOSCOW. 
 See page 241. 
 
240 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 is the effect of the ceiling of the south aisle of " Win- 
 chester Cathedral," Fig. 76, page 227. This is so because 
 the arches, having been constructed at different times and 
 
 FIG. 84. DOME OF CHIAVAVALLE, IN ITALY. 
 See page 241. 
 
 in different styles, meet in different ways and at different 
 places, with the result of suggesting an entire lack of 
 continuity. The ceiling of " St. Loo Cathedral," Fig. 77, 
 
INTERSPERSION, COMPLICATION, CONTINUITY. 24! 
 
 page 234, is better, in that, while it lacks continuity, it 
 does not render it an impossibility. But notice how much 
 more satisfactory is the ceiling of " Beverley Minster," 
 Fig. 78, page 235, in which, carrying the eye backward to 
 the altar, continuity is distinctly suggested ; and also that 
 in " Exeter Cathedral," Fig. 79, page 236, in which the 
 central line of the ceiling is itself continuous. A similar 
 truth may be observed in the lines forming the general 
 contours of gables, roofs, and towers. Observe how many 
 lines connected with how many different architectural 
 features lines horizontal, perpendicular, diagonal give 
 continuity to the front of the church in Rouen, Fig. 80, 
 page 237. So too with the diagonal side-lines on the roof 
 and the towers in the " Elevations," the work of G. H. 
 Edbrooke, Figs. 81 and 82, page 238. Notice also the 
 continuity of the lines forming the general contour of the 
 sides of Fig. 69, page 208, and Fig. 83, page 239, and 
 compare with the effects of these, the lack of continuity, 
 and consequently of grace and beauty, in the lines form- 
 ing the general contour of the sides of the " Dome of 
 Chiavavalle, Italy," Fig. 84, page 240. If it be asked why, 
 in such cases, we prefer to see one line, or series of lines, 
 point to another or others, and thus continue the first's 
 effects, the answer is because such arrangements, with 
 their suggestions of order and unity, convey an impression 
 of design, and design is the chief element of art, and, in a 
 presumably artistic product, that which conveys this im- 
 pression is necessarily the most aesthetically satisfactory. 
 
 It is not strange then, that, in whatever art either inter- 
 spersion or complication exists, it seems to be an established 
 principle that neither should be used, as a rule, except 
 in connection with something sufficiently suggestive of 
 continuity to convey the impression that like has been 
 
 16 
 
242 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 put with like. A consciousness of this fact undoubtedly 
 influenced Raphael and Kaulbach, the former in the 
 " School of Athens," Fig. 10, p. 41, and the latter in the 
 " Reformation," to frame the otherwise confused groups 
 of figures within the strongly symmetrical architectural 
 outlines in the one case of a porch, and in the other of a 
 church. Thus these artists by suggesting continuity, through 
 arrangements of walls and pillars and ceilings, counteracted 
 confusion and produced effects of unity and order. The 
 same is also done through the influence of the general 
 outlines indicated by the windows and entrances, but- 
 tresses and towers and arches and groinings used in con- 
 nection with the complicated forms not only of Gothic, 
 as has been mainly indicated here, but of all architecture. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 CONSONANCE, DISSONANCE, AND INTERCHANGE. 
 
 The Musical Meaning of the Term Shows it Allied to the Congruous 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 Con- 
 sonance Dissonance Harmonizing of the two Musical Consonance 
 Dissonance Consonance in Color in Connection with Difference in 
 Texture Value Tone Consonance not Harmony Nor is Disso- 
 nance Contrast The Same Methods in Outline In Painting and Archi- 
 tecture Neglect of them in Architecture Illustrations Results 
 Importance of Harmony thus Produced Which is not Inconsistent 
 with some Dissonance. 
 
 TT was said in Chapter VIII. that consonant effects seem 
 alike not merely because, as in congruity, they are 
 associated in thought, nor merely because, as in repetition, 
 they are alike in actual form. They seem alike, in part, 
 because of one of these reasons, and, in part, because of 
 the other. In music, from which the term consonance is 
 taken, those tones are said to manifest this, which, when 
 produced by unaided nature or by man experimenting 
 with the results of nature, appear to be what we term in 
 harmony. One reason, therefore, why men use the tones 
 together in art is because they go together in nature, 
 and so are recognized to be congruous. 
 
 243 
 
244 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 But this is not the only reason. When we study the 
 question more closely and ask why they are harmonious, 
 we find the answer to be because, in a sense, they are 
 also repetitious. This is not the place in which to detail 
 the various experiments through which this fact has been 
 ascertained. Among other methods, through the use of 
 resonators, so constructed as to enable one to detect the 
 presence in a tone of any particular pitch, it has been 
 fully proved that notes which are consonant are such as 
 contain the same elements of pitch, or what is the same 
 thing are notes in which sounds of the same pitch are 
 repeated. For instance, when a string like that of a 
 bass viol is struck, its note, if musical, is not single 
 or simple : it is compounded. Suppose that it pro- 
 duce the tone of the bass C representing a sound- 
 wave caused by the whole length of the string. 
 This C is the main, or, as it is termed, the prime tone 
 that we hear. But, at the same time, this same string 
 usually divides at the middle, producing what is called a 
 partial tone of the C above the bass, representing a sound- 
 wave caused by one half the string's length. It often 
 produces, too, partial tones of the G above this, of the C 
 above this, and of the E above the last C representing 
 sound-waves,caused, respectively, by one third, one fourth, 
 and one fifth of the string's length. All the possible 
 partial tones are not, in every instrument, invariably 
 compounded with every prime tone, but whatever partial 
 tones are present, the musical law is that the pitch of 
 these, as a rule, is the same as the pitch of notes that are 
 consonant with their prime tone. In other words, these 
 notes, as in the cases of the C, C, G, C, and E in the 
 music below, are consonant with each other, because they 
 repeat in part sounds that already enter into each other's 
 composition. 
 
CONSONANCE, DISSONANCE, AND INTERCHANGE. 245 
 
 If now, bearing in mind that it is with the relations of 
 form that art always has to deal, we apply the principle 
 involved in consonance to other arts than those of sound, 
 we shall have little difficulty in detecting what is meant 
 by it. It is an effect of likeness, in part, of that which forms 
 suggest to thought, and, in part, of that which they appear 
 to be ; or, as we might say, of likeness in the one because 
 of likeness in the other. The latter, the likeness in 
 appearance, however, is never complete. If it were, we 
 should call it, not consonance, but repetition. 
 
 Three principal ways will reveal themselves, when we 
 think of it, in which features that appear to be alike may 
 nevertheless differ : namely, in size, in combination and in 
 material. The lower do of a soprano voice may be said to 
 differ in size from the consonant lower do of a tenor, an 
 octave below it, in the same key. One unacquainted with 
 music might not suppose that the two differed at all ; yet 
 the sound-waves causing the one are proportionally 
 smaller, and move twice as rapidly as those causing the 
 other. In the same way, various tints or shades, if alike in 
 hue, may be consonant, though, as influenced by sunshine 
 or shadow, they may differ greatly in the degree or amount 
 which, in this case, corresponds to size of the coloring 
 which they manifest. So, too, the arches of a gable or 
 doorway and of a window may be consonant because 
 the same in form, though in size they may differ greatly. 
 
 Again, the do of a scale (C in the music above) may be 
 said to differ in combination from the consonant mi or sol 
 (E or G in the music above) of the same scale, that which 
 
246 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 is a partial tone in the one, being a prime tone in the other. 
 Precisely similar conditions characterize the consonance 
 of effects produced by color, where in two or more places 
 exactly the same hues are used, but in different propor- 
 tions and quantities. The same conditions are equally 
 manifested in the accumulations of narrow and wide 
 and long and round windows, all, nevertheless, partly 
 repetitious, that we find in a single consistent style of 
 architecture. 
 
 Once more, the consonant notes may be sounded on 
 various instruments flutes, violins, or trumpets, as the 
 case may be and here there may be said to be a differ- 
 ence in material. As manifested in color, this evidently 
 leads to that method of painting all objects in a picture or 
 a part of it, no matter of what material they may be 
 supposed to be composed rocks, lakes, skies, or human 
 clothing or flesh in the same general hue, producing the 
 effect of tone as it is called, illustrations of which will 
 be mentioned on pages 255 and 256. 
 
 As manifested in outlines, consonance, in connection 
 with difference in material, operates in the same way as 
 that which Ruskin in the fifth book of his " Modern Paint- 
 ers " terms " The Law of Help." This he illustrates by 
 referring to Turner's picture called " The Loire Side." 
 " The flatness of the stone," he says, " prepares the eye 
 to understand the flatness of the river. Further, hide 
 with your finger the little ring on that stone, and you will 
 find the river has stopped flowing. That ring is to repeat 
 the curved lines of the river-bank which express its line 
 of current, and to bring the feeling of them down to us. 
 On the other side of the road, the horizontal lines are 
 taken up again by the dark pieces of wood." Such effects 
 as these may evidently be included under the term conso- 
 
CONSONANCE, DISSONANCE, AND INTERCHANGE. 247 
 
 nance. What does this word mean but sounding together ? 
 telling the same story ? conveying the same impression ? 
 The artistic feature in this picture causing objects as dif- 
 ferent essentially as stone, water, roads, and woods to help 
 each other by way of suggestion, is the fact that while 
 not alike in material they are, nevertheless, made to have 
 like effects both upon thought and in the form. 
 
 Enough has been said to enable the reader to under- 
 stand in a general way what is meant by consonance, and 
 in what sense it can characterize products in all the arts. 
 In order to indicate the connections between- it and dis- 
 sonance and interchange, let us go back for a moment to 
 the use of the term in music. It has been said that cer- 
 tain notes are consonant because they are compounded 
 of the same tones. Therefore, we strike a low C and a 
 high C, G, and E, and call all, when sounded together, a 
 chord. But notes and chords, too, may be consonant 
 with others that also precede and follow them. A chord 
 composed of C, G, and E may thus be consonant with one 
 composed of G, D, and B, because G after the octave C, 
 is the nearest partial of C*; and it may be consonant, too, 
 with one composed of F, C, and A, because after the 
 octave F, C is the nearest partial of F. The two latter 
 chords, therefore, are the ones most nearly related to the 
 chord of C. But, besides this, notice that all these chords 
 together contain all the notes of that musical scale which 
 begins, or has its key-note in C natural, namely, C, D, E, 
 F, G, A, B, and C. Another fact, too, it is important to 
 
248 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 notice here. This is, that there are some musical instru- 
 ments in which when a C is sounded, not only another C or 
 G or E is heard, but also above them other partial tones. 
 The tones of this character which, in different instruments, 
 have been detected as entering into the composition of C, 
 F, and G, are as follows, those nearest the bass being 
 heard, of course, much the more prominently and com- 
 monly : 
 
 .// a" b" 
 
 C 
 
 Partial Tones of C. 
 
 A slight examination of these possible partial tones 
 will furnish us with another reason why all the notes 
 of a single scale and the chords that harmonize them are 
 consonant. These notes all enter into the composition 
 of the major chords most nearly related to the chord of 
 their key-note, and they also enter, either directly or in- 
 directly, into the composition of their key-note itself. 
 This being so, it is evident that if we pass from the scale 
 of one key-note, or, as is said, from one key to another ; 
 for instance, from that of C natural to that of D flat, which 
 is the half-note next above C natural (notice music on 
 page 275), all these conditions are changed. Not one of 
 the chords of the key of C natural is consonant with D 
 flat itself, and, accordingly, it is evident that before 
 we can proceed far in the new key all the relations of 
 note to note and chord to chord must be changed. This 
 change cannot take place without the ears detecting that 
 the strain which follows is not consonant with that which 
 
CONSONANCE, DISSONANCE, AND INTERCHANGE. 
 
 precedes ; in other words, without their detecting the 
 presence of dissonance. See the music on page 275. 
 
 Dissonance, however, is not a wholly disagreeable 
 feature. In fact, as everyone acquainted with music 
 knows, there is a distinct pleasure attaching to the occa- 
 sional use of it, as, for instance, in the chord of the sev- 
 enth, an illustration of which may be noticed in the chord 
 next to the last in the music on page 247. One reason 
 for the pleasure is that consonance has a tendency to 
 become monotonous. Dissonance counteracts it by in- 
 troducing into the composition an element of variety. 
 Another reason, closely connected with this, is that by 
 means of dissonance chords pass, as has been said, from 
 one key to another, thus rendering progress possible, 
 which of itself enhances the listener's interest. The same 
 principle is true as applied to outline and color. The 
 variety imparted by dissonance, as long as it is kept 
 subordinate, so as not to interfere with the general effect 
 of unity, always has artistic value. 
 
 In the external world, the blending of some dissonant 
 characteristics with a decided preponderance of conso- 
 nance, constitutes what is termed the harmony of nature. 
 The same is true of that of art. Tones, colors, and outlines 
 that are consonant do not need to be harmonized. They 
 harmonize naturally. The laws of harmony have to do 
 mainly, therefore, with the methods of bringing together 
 factors that are not consonant. The way in which this is 
 done involves gradation, abruptness, and transition, all to be 
 considered in the next chapter. At present we have to deal 
 with cases in which the effects of dissonance are not removed, 
 but are allowed to be present, and yet are overcome, as by 
 counteraction where there is existing confusion. That 
 which overcomes dissonance is an application in music of a 
 
250 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 method identical with what in the arts of sight is termed 
 interchange. The application is a very natural one to be 
 made. It is merely a modification of a common. musical 
 principle, in accordance with which, in passing from one 
 chord to another, one of the notes in both chords is made 
 to be the same. Notice how this method is exemplified 
 in all but one chord of the following, copied from Theo- 
 dore Baker's translation of Ludwig Bussler's " Elemen- 
 tary Harmony." Compare with these the chords also 
 used in succession on page 247. In consequence of this 
 
 ^_ ^ _. l- c I 
 
 
 arrangement, made in exact conformity to the principles 
 unfolded in this book, like is put with like in, at least, one 
 regard, and the ear, recognizing this fact, feels that, not- 
 withstanding their differences, and sometimes, as in the 
 following, a passage to an entirely new key, the chords 
 rightly go with each other. 
 
 Key of CtoG. C to F. 
 
 4 
 
 Now it is often the case that, by a special application of 
 this principle, the musician, without using all the chords 
 necessary to connect keys according to the methods of 
 complete harmonic gradation or transition, can establish 
 a connection sufficient for the purpose by interchange. 
 To do this, he introduces into a chord of the key in 
 which the music is moving a note that belongs only to a 
 chord in another key. In this way he prepares the ear 
 
CONSONANCE, DISSONANCE, AND INTERCHANGE. 2$ I 
 
 for this other key. Notice the E natural introduced thus 
 into the second chord of the following : 
 
 In a corresponding way, of course, a note that really 
 belongs only to a chord in a first key may be used in a 
 chord belonging only to a second, which is thus connected 
 with the one that precedes it. 
 
 This effect, which is very common in music, is exactly 
 paralleled by interchange of color and outline in the arts 
 that are seen. Thus in Titian's " Bacchus and Ariadne," 
 a red scarf is given to Ariadne whose form stands out 
 against the blue of the sky, while blue drapery clothes a 
 nymph depicted amid red-brown colors underneath ; and 
 the painter has been much praised for this method of pro- 
 ducing harmony. A similar effect is sometimes seen in 
 buildings, in which, notwithstanding variety in the pitch 
 of the window-caps of different stones, the feeling of unity 
 is preserved by an occasional suggestion, in the subordinate 
 features of the lower stories, of a sharper pitch in the upper, 
 or vice versa. See Figs. 72, 80, 81, pp. 221, 237, 238. 
 
 Now for illustrations of these methods in the products 
 of the different arts. In poetry it is difficult for some to 
 separate elements of form from those of thought. But, 
 as will be shown in another volume, there is a scientific 
 appropriateness in applying the terms just used to verse. 
 Here it will be sufficient to indicate their superficial 
 appropriateness. The following lines are harmonious 
 in a high degree, and this on account of the consonance 
 produced by the likeness between associated sounds, not 
 only in rhythms and rhymes but in the alliteration or 
 
252 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 assonance of consecutive consonants or vowels. It is 
 hardly necessary to point out that in the alliterative 
 repetition of the 1 in the first three accented words, 
 as well as in other analogous cases, we have what exactly 
 corresponds to interchange, as exemplified above in the 
 use of the same notes in consecutive musical chords. 
 
 Blessed of all men living that he found 
 
 Her weak limbs bared and bound, 
 And in his arms and in his bosom bore, 
 
 And as a garment wore 
 Her weight of want and as a royal dress 
 
 Put on her weariness, 
 As in faith's hoariest histories men read 
 
 The strong man bore at need, 
 Thro' roaring rapids, when all heaven was wild, 
 
 The likeness of a child. 
 
 A Song of Italy : Swinburne. 
 
 The following, as befits the thought expressed, is 
 highly inharmonious, containing too little of rhythm, 
 alliteration, or assonance to produce, so far as concerns 
 the form, any effect of unity. All is dissonance. 
 
 May you a better feat never behold 
 
 You knot of mouth-friends ! Smoke and lukewarm water 
 
 Is your perfection. This is Timon's, 
 
 Who struck and spangled you in your faces 
 
 Your reeking villainy. Live loathed and long, 
 
 Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites. 
 
 Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears. 
 
 You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's flies, 
 
 Cap-and-knee slaves, vapors and minute-jacks ! 
 
 Of man and heart the infinite malady 
 
 Crust you quite o'er. 
 
 Timon of Athens, ii., 6 : Shakespeare. 
 
CONSONANCE, DISSONANCE, AND INTERCHANGE. 2$$ 
 
 In the following we have some decided dissonance, as in 
 the second, sixth, fourteenth, and sixteenth lines, but, on 
 the whole, everything is welded together so as to pro- 
 duce a general effect of harmony. 
 
 Thither winged with speed 
 A numerous brigade hastened ; as when bands 
 Of pioneers, with spade and pickaxe armed 
 Forerun the royal camp to trench a field 
 Or cast a rampart. Mammon led them on, 
 Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell 
 From heaven ; for e'en in heaven his looks and thoughts 
 Were always downward bent, admiring more 
 The riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold, 
 Than aught divine or holy else enjoyed 
 In vision beatific. By him first 
 Men also and by his suggestion taught 
 Ransacked the centre, and with impious hands 
 Rifled the bowels of their mother earth 
 For treasures better hid. Soon had his crew 
 Opened into the hill a spacious wound 
 And digged out ribs of goldo 
 
 Paradise Lost, i. : Milton. 
 
 Consonance in music is most nearly perfect in the de- 
 gree in which all the notes that are sounded together in 
 a chord are most nearly what are termed perfect harmon- 
 ics, and also in the degree in which the successive notes 
 of melodies and chords are all based upon the harmony 
 of one key, or, if of many keys, in which all follow each 
 other according to the simplest principles of harmonic 
 progress. For examples of this, see the music on 
 page 250. 
 
 But there is no art in which subordinated dissonance 
 plays a more important part. Not to speak of that which 
 is necessarily involved in ever^t3j^jTge*to a new key, 
 
254 TffE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 mentioned a moment ago, even the chords of the domi- 
 nant, subdominant, and tonic, which are used in complet- 
 ing the simplest harmony, are suggestive of dissonance. 
 Especially is this the case with the dominant, which often 
 includes the only remotely harmonic seventh note. 
 
 Sub-dominant. Dominant. Tonic. 
 
 And when we pass to a composition at all intricate, 
 there is apparently no end to the number or variety of 
 these subordinate dissonances. They are not an injury 
 to music, but of the greatest benefit. By adding to the 
 perfectly harmonic notes of a chord an occasional partly 
 inharmonic note, as in the chord of the seventh or ninth, 
 the musician is enabled, through using one or a series of 
 such chords, to connect any possible combinations of notes 
 however different. Notice the illustrations of the methods 
 of making transitions from one key to another that are 
 given on pages 250 and 275* 
 
 In this place, however, we cannot discuss fully any of 
 these methods, but merely, in a general way, indicate what 
 they are, and their general importance. We pass on to 
 consonance in colors and outlines. Like that in sound, it 
 differs from repetition, although it partly involves it. As 
 was said on page 245, the difference is mainly in amount 
 or size, in combination, and in material. Difference in 
 amount, so far as it applies to color, involves no principle 
 not sufficiently treated in connection with balance, sym- 
 metry, and interchange. Differences in combination and 
 material, however, need more mention. As all recognize, 
 there may be, without any real repetition, a consonance of 
 
CONSONANCE, DISSONANCE, AND INTERCHANGE. 2$$ 
 
 color between a plaided woollen shawl of two hues, a 
 brocaded silk of two shades, and a satin of one shade. 
 Take the painting in the New York Metropolitan Museum, 
 by Carl Marr, entitled " Gossip." Almost every promi- 
 nent object in this the window-curtain, the table-cloth, 
 the apron of one of the principal figures, the bodice of 
 another, the floor, etc. is depicted in white. On the con- 
 trary, in Fortuny's " Spanish Lady," hanging near it, 
 almost every article of clothing is depicted in black. In 
 each picture, however, the prevailing tone is applied to 
 each different object, with a slightly different admixture. 
 Otherwise there would be no way furnished of distinguish- 
 ing one thing from another. As it is, each is represented 
 as having a texture peculiar to itself, a condition con- 
 sistent with consonance, but not with exact repetition. 
 
 Again, we often see instances of a combination of an 
 illuminating color and of a color natural to the objects 
 illumined. Sunlight, moonlight, twilight, candlelight, all 
 produce different atmospheric effects both of light and 
 of shade, and, according to the nearness and remoteness 
 of our viewpoint, these work changes in the foliage of the 
 same tree or the folds of the same fabric. Such changes 
 as these, too, and in all that is termed the value of colors, 
 are not consistent with exact repetition, but they are with 
 consonance. Once more, the same kind of light, as, for 
 instance, in a sunset or a storm, often produces a similar 
 color, as of a pervading gold or gray, in objects as different 
 in material and even in hue as rocks, water, trees, and 
 clouds. Notice in the New York Metropolitan Museum, 
 the "Ville d'Avray " by Corot, " Le Soir " by C. H. 
 Davis, " The Bashful Suitor " by Joseph Israels, " Spring " 
 by Bolton Jones, " Woodland and Cattle " by Auguste 
 Bonheur, and " Un Quatuor" by W. T. Dannat. 
 
256 THE GENESIS Of ART-FORM. 
 
 In other cases, the same effect, which is termed 
 tone, can be produced independently of the illumi- 
 nating light, merely by placing in juxtaposition objects 
 of different materials that nevertheless have, or may be 
 supposed to have, similar hues. In the painting in the 
 New York Metropolitan Museum, entitled " Monks in an 
 Oratory," by F. M. Garnet, the color of the monk's robes 
 is the same as that of all the woodwork of the chapel. 
 It is hardly necessary to point out that such effects, 
 while resembling repetition, are due not to it so much 
 as to that development of it, inspired by a desire to 
 have objects that are associated in thought associated 
 also in appearance, which we find in consonance. 
 
 Some confound consonance with harmony. Of course, 
 everything consonant is harmonious, but the latter includes 
 much more than the former. It includes dissonance, which 
 has been joined with consonance and subordinated to it so 
 as to form with it a unity. Dissonance in color corresponds 
 to noise in music, and for this reason must be clearly dis- 
 tinguished from what is termed contrast* in color. This is 
 produced by the complementary colors, and in dissonance 
 the colors are not complementary. They have no con- 
 nection whatever. It is owing to this that, when placed 
 side by side, they can be made to seem parts of the same 
 general whole only by the methods of interchange as illus- 
 trated on page 251, or of gradation and transition which 
 weld them into a closer unity. These latter will be con- 
 sidered in the next chapter. It will be understood that 
 
 1 As stated on page 28, contrast or antithesis is an effect produced when 
 two objects differ diametrically in, at least, one particular, and yet agree in 
 others. Where there is dissonance, there is not, necessarily, any agreement 
 whatever. The similar tones entering into the major chords of C natural 
 and F natural produce contrast ; the dissimilar ones entering into those of 
 C natural and C sharp produce dissonance. 
 
CONSONANCE, DISSONANCE, AND INTERCHANGE. 257 
 
 all the methods of which we are now speaking enter into 
 the constitution of harmony, but harmony itself involves 
 a great deal more, of which it is aside from the purpose of 
 the present volume to speak. 
 
 Let us pass on to some exemplifications of these 
 methods in outline. Two arms in the human figure may 
 be alike by way of repetition ; but an arm and a leg differ- 
 ing in size, a bare arm and a clothed one differing in com- 
 bination, or a limb just suggested as underneath drapery 
 and the drapery itself differing in material all these, 
 though often involving some parallelism and repetition 
 are often alike also by way of consonance. (See " Group 
 of the Niobe," Fig. 45, page 146, " The Dancer," Fig. 56, 
 page 183, " The Soldier's Return," Fig. 52, page 176, and 
 " The German Captive," Fig. 53, page 177.) 
 
 In the tapestry of Raphael's " Ascension," the posi- 
 tions of the disciples kneeling on either side of the 
 Christ, the very bend of their knees, hips, shoulders, 
 elbows, while sufficiently varied to prevent monotony, 
 are nevertheless so much alike that we at once recognize 
 them as consonant. Examples of this sufficient for our 
 purpose may be observed in Figs. 16, page 73 ; 26, page 
 8 1 ; 46, page 147; 70, page 215; and 94, page 288. In 
 the same way, many, perhaps the most, of the different 
 features connected with a building said to be erected in 
 some one style are alike. The use of color enters largely 
 into effects in painting, and much imitation of natural 
 forms characterizes both painting and sculpture. Neither 
 fact is true of architecture. Its effects are often confined 
 to those of forms alone. This makes them of supreme im- 
 portance. Its forms, moreover, are originated by the 
 artist. This makes it easy to have them such as inter- 
 fere with what may be called the natural requirements 
 
2 5 8 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 of art. For both reasons, the architect needs to be ex- 
 ceedingly careful in his work. A painter has but to 
 copy a tree as he sees it in nature, and every part of it 
 will be consonant. The leaves or branches will differ in 
 size and shape and, in the autumn, at least, differ suffi- 
 ciently in color to suggest differences in combination and 
 material. But, comparing leaf with leaf and branch with 
 branch, the same principle of formation will so manifest 
 
 FIG. 85. CHATEAU DE RANDAU, VICHY, FRANCE. 
 See pages 124, 180, 262. 
 
 itself in every part of the tree that no one who sees it can 
 doubt that each belongs to the same organism. A build- 
 ing should appear to be as much a unity in this sense as a 
 tree. Exact repetition of the same forms, as already 
 explained, would always make it seem thus. But, in 
 architecture, exact repetition is not always possible ; nor 
 even, if we wish to produce thoroughly natural effects, 
 
CONSONANCE, DISSONANCE, AND INTERCHANGE. 259 
 
 desirable. The method that is both possible and desir- 
 able is consonance. A moment's reflection will reveal, 
 too, that there are certain very simple devices of arrange- 
 ment which necessarily secure this effect. It ought to 
 reveal, also, that the effect is important enough to make 
 even a child notice the defects in cases in which it is 
 neglected. 
 
 FIQ. 86. CHAPEL IN CATACOMBS OF ST. AQNES, ROME. 
 
 See page 262. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, how many architects fail to recog- 
 nize the fact, architects too of the highest reputation ? 
 To such an extent is this the case, that one is tempted 
 by it toward the easy task of a destructive critic in 
 general, and to the easier task of destroying their repu- 
 tations in particular. But a man who becomes a destructive 
 
260 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 critic, except when intellectual slaughter is justified in 
 order to prevent the slaughter of the truth which he 
 
 represents, is one who 
 has turned from the 
 discussion of princi- 
 ples and is willing to 
 imperil the accept- 
 ance of them for the 
 empty, often merely 
 malicious satisfaction 
 of doing personal 
 harm to those whom 
 he should wish to 
 help. In the long 
 run, to live and to 
 let live is the wisest 
 way of serving the 
 truth, whether of 
 mind or heart. Ac- 
 cordingly, most of 
 these illustrations are 
 taken from foreign 
 and remote sources. 
 But each represents 
 some effect that is 
 staring every Ameri- 
 can in the face, 
 almost every day. 
 Of those connected 
 
 FIQ. 87. INTERIOR OF ST. BOTOLPH, BOSTON, ENQ. with CXteHorS, notice 
 
 See page 262. the discords mani- 
 
 fested in the radically different shapes given to the 
 windows and openings and gables in the Church of St. 
 
CONSONANCE, DISSONANCE, AND INTERCHANGE. 261 
 
 Nigier, Lyons, Fig. 67, page 205, in the Palace of Justice 
 of the same place, Fig. 29, page 85, and in the " Plan for 
 a Theatre and Ton-Halle," Fig. 60, page 191. Compare 
 with these, the consonance of corresponding forms in 
 really great buildings like the Greek Temples, Fig. I, 
 page 15, the Taj Mahal, Fig. 3, page 19, the Cathedrals 
 
 FIG. 88. INTERIOR OF ST. MARTYN'S CHURCH, 
 
 CANTERBURY, ENG. 
 
 See page 262. 
 
 of Salisbury, Fig. 68, page 207, St. Mark, Fig. 31, page 
 88, Canterbury, Fig. 32, page 89, St. Sophia, Fig. 42, 
 page 123, and Sienna, Fig. 97, page 292. Notice, too, 
 a violation of consonance closely allied, because the forms 
 are composed of lines, to that of parallelism, in the 
 differences in pitch given to the different parts of the 
 
262 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 roof in the " Plan for a Theatre and Ton-Halle," Fig. 60, 
 page 191, and also in the " Chateau de Randau, Vichy," 
 Fig. 85, page 258. Compare these with the consonant 
 effects in u St. Mark's, Venice," Fig. 31, page 88, and the 
 " Mosque of St. Sophia," Fig. 42, page 123. Look now at 
 some equally discordant interior effects, which also are 
 
 connected with a violation 
 of parallelism. Observe 
 first the discord and con- 
 fusion of lines in the end 
 view of a " Chapel in the 
 Catacombs," Fig. 86, page 
 259. Observe, too, the dis- 
 cord between the ceiling 
 of the church and of the 
 chancel, and also between 
 the chancel ceiling and its 
 window in " St. Botolph, 
 Boston, England," Fig. 87, 
 page 260. The same feat- 
 ures are discordant in the 
 old church of " St. Mar- 
 tyn's, Canterbury," Fig. 88, 
 page 261. So are the front 
 arch of the tower and that 
 of the chancel just beyond 
 it in the " Litchfield Ca- 
 thedral," Fig. 89. 
 How thoroughly at home an American ought to feel 
 in these churches? Do they not furnish specimens of 
 what we find exemplified almost everywhere in our coun- 
 try? Yet harmony of effect that results from consonance, 
 to which dissonance is kept subordinate, is almost as 
 
 FIQ. 89. INTERIOR OF LITCHFIELD 
 CATHEDRAL, ENQ. 
 
[3 . 
 
 1 8 
 < ^ 
 
264 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 important in architecture as in music. Only in the sense 
 in which Chinese music, mainly struck from gongs and 
 drums, is worthy of being classed as a product of the 
 latter art, are structures in which ^confusion is made so 
 prominent, worthy of being classed as products of the 
 former. Compare these effects now with the consonant 
 ones in Fig. 12, page 49, and Figs. 78 and 79, pages 235 
 and 236. 
 
 It is difficult to conceive how a man who has never 
 studied the subject at all can fail to detect the blunders 
 in some of the discords above. Certainly few children 
 playing with building blocks would make mistakes analo- 
 gous to them. The outlines of the toy houses that they 
 construct are usually consonant at least. Why is this not 
 the case with those planned by architects? For the same 
 reason, probably, that many in other arts musicians, 
 elocutionists, painters owing to false methods of study- 
 ing or of applying rules, seem to be unable to sing, speak, 
 or color in a natural way. Certain methods of studying 
 or applying the laws of architecture seem to have a cor- 
 responding effect. Those who should be conversant with 
 them neglect to exemplify requirements that are the most 
 instinctive of which we know. 
 
 It must be borne in mind, however, that one reason, 
 the chief one perhaps, why architectural discords such as 
 have been illustrated displease, is because it is felt that 
 they are meant to be, or at least should be meant to be, 
 concords. If dissonant forms are not so many and prom- 
 inent as to make them seem other than subordinate, they 
 may add greatly, as has been said before, to the attrac- 
 tiveness of that in which they appear. Thus, as we all 
 recognize, a few round or arched windows introduced 
 into walls, gables, or towers characterized by horizontal 
 
CONSONANCE, DISSONANCE, AND INTERCHANGE. 26$ 
 
 lines afford relief to what might otherwise appear monoto- 
 nous, a fact well illustrated by the alternation of straight 
 and round forms in the Doric frieze (see page 201). It 
 may be well, too, in order to prevent misapprehension, to 
 add that there is a sense, which cannot, however, be 
 explained here, in which curves, angles, and squares, 
 though differing in shape, may be perfectly harmonious, 
 inasmuch as they may be in proportion to each other. 
 In the fagade of the Farnese Palace (Fig. 90, page 263), 
 also in that of St. Peter's, Rome, we have (Fig. 23, page 
 78) illustrations of this, as well as of a way in which disso- 
 nance can be used, so as not to lessen, but very materially 
 to heighten, the general effect of consonance. Many of 
 the window-caps in these facades are alternately circular 
 and angular ; yet as the height and width of all the caps 
 are the same, all of them, though not repetitious, are 
 nevertheless sufficiently alike to be in every regard har- 
 monious. This is so because in them, whatever conso- 
 nance and dissonance they contain, blend. They fit into 
 the same general form in such a way that there is no sug- 
 gestion of anything but unity. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 GRADATION, ABRUPTNESS, TRANSITION, AND PROGRESS 
 IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 
 
 Gradation and its Relation to Principality, Central-Point, and Massing 
 Abruptness, Transition, and Progress Connection between these 
 Methods and those already Considered Gradation in the Sounds and 
 Colors of Nature In its Outlines Abruptness in Nature And Tran- 
 sition Difference between this and Progress Gradation in the Thought 
 and Form of Poetry Abruptness Transition Gradation in Music 
 Abruptness Transition Continuity in Poetry without Progress With 
 Progress Continuity and Progress in Music. 
 
 A REFERENCE to the list of methods on page 131 
 will show us that the next ones claiming our atten- 
 tion are gradation, abruptness, transition, and progress. 
 By the first of these is meant an arrangement causing 
 one form to differ from a second according to the same 
 method, and sometimes degree, in which this second differs 
 from a third, between which and the first the second is 
 situated. In consonance, as we have found, forms are never 
 exactly alike ; and if, in order to secure the effect of unity, 
 we try to arrange them so as to seem alike, we are neces- 
 sarily led into gradation, a method sustaining, for this 
 reason, the same relation to consonance as principality to 
 comparison, central-point to congruity, and massing to repe- 
 tition. Each of the latter of these pairs has its origin in 
 an attempt to bring together into one organic form many 
 factors characterized, respectively, by each of the former. 
 
 266 
 
GRADATION IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 26? 
 
 As will also be observed, gradation is necessary to the 
 completeness of the arrangements begun in principality, 
 central-point, and massing. The first two of these could 
 exist without gradation, but in the degree in which a form 
 is a distinct unity, subordinate features and radiating lights 
 and lines diminish gradually in prominence and intensity 
 as they move outward from the principal feature, or the 
 centre. The same is true of massing. Things that are 
 brought together by way of repetition are more alike and 
 less alike ; and the way in which they are graded, accord- 
 ing to the degrees in which they manifest differences, 
 measures the unity of the general results. In other words, 
 without gradation, the principal, central, and massed factors 
 might seem to belong to one product, and everything 
 else to another product. 
 
 As is the case with all the methods to which it corre- 
 sponds, gradation in art does not exist without its antithe- 
 sis, which may be termed abruptness. By this is meant 
 a sudden, unforetokened change from one theme, key, 
 shape, shade or color to another. Of course, a composi- 
 tion in which there are many of these changes can have 
 but little unity. Yet, even in connection with them, 
 through the method of gradation, a nexus can often 
 be formed between what precedes and what follows, of 
 such a nature that, in spite of the abruptness, everyone 
 can perceive a connection of the one part with the other. 
 This nexus is called a transition. Finally, consonance, dis- 
 sonance, interchange, gradation, abruptness, and transition, 
 all together and in different ways, when, on the whole, there 
 is a continued forward movement, result in artistic progress. 
 
 Corresponding to what has been said of gradation, it 
 may be as well to add, but without explanations where 
 none are needed that as methods of arrangement, abrupt- 
 
268 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 ness is related to the general conception of dissonance just 
 as is subordination to contrast, setting to incongruity, and 
 interspersion to alteration ; and that transition is related 
 to interchange as balance to complement, parallelism to 
 comprehensiveness, and complication to alternation. Prog- 
 ress, again, which may be said to influence primarily the 
 outlining of movements in time, is related to continuity 
 very much as symmetry, which has a corresponding effect 
 upon outlining in space, is related to that which has been 
 termed organic form. 
 
 Like the characteristics hitherto considered, all these to 
 be treated now are exemplified in nature. In listening 
 to a bird singing, to a wind whistling, or to a surf break- 
 ing, we usually notice a gradual increase and decrease in 
 the blended sounds. It is the same when observing color. 
 Any ordinary lawn reveals an almost infinite number of 
 shades of green, and the most of these coalesce, but show 
 scarcely a trace of when and where they do it. A clear 
 sky at dawn or sunset exhibits between the horizon and 
 the zenith every color of the spectrum from red to purple, 
 yet no boundary line between any two colors. Among 
 the maple trees in spring, when just beginning to show 
 their leaves, one can clearly see hues as different as red, 
 yellow, and green, yet it is wellnigh impossible to find in 
 any given cluster just where one color stops and another 
 starts. It is the same with a majority of the hues of 
 nature, whether seen in the flowers beneath us or in the 
 clouds above us. In fact, it is one of the most common 
 laws of sight, that when different colors or different shades 
 of the same color come together, the line of demarkation 
 between them is indistinct. 
 
 The same fact of gradation is observable also in out- 
 lines. The very laws of perspective often necessitate this. 
 
GRADATION IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 269 
 
 As we look at the successive arches of a bridge, or of an 
 aqueduct, we see them gradually becoming smaller and 
 smaller. If we look at a row of trees that is sufficiently 
 long, we see it pass gradually into a narrow stretch of 
 green. Two parallel outlines, if we continue to trace 
 them when carried up toward the zenith, or toward the 
 horizon, appear gradually to converge. Sometimes, if 
 they ascend a hill, though themselves perfectly straight, 
 they seem gradually to pass into curves. A similar fact 
 is still more evident in the outlines of forms not so 
 influenced by the laws of perspective. Think of the innu- 
 merable curves and angles and straight lines that make 
 up the contour of every mountain, tree, bush, fruit, flower, 
 bird, beast, and man ; yet often, not even with a micro- 
 scope, can one tell just where one form of line ceases and 
 another begins. 
 
 Abruptness also is a characteristic of nature. We are 
 familiar with it as illustrated in the sudden cry of fright, 
 call of command, crash of thunder, or flash of lightning ; 
 in the blue or gray of the sky against the green of the 
 trees or the brown of the cliffs ; in the dark of shadows 
 when they fall against an object made bright by the sun- 
 shine ; and in the angles that connect the limbs and bodies 
 of every plant and animal. 
 
 At the same time, there are more instances in nature of 
 transition than of abruptness. In the notes of the same 
 bird, the conversation of the same man, the colors of the 
 same flower, the outlines of the same hill, abruptness here 
 and there usually introduces merely more sudden steps in 
 transitions, which, on the whole, are in harmony with the 
 requirements of gradation. As a rule, even the green of 
 the sea turns chalky in the shallows, and is churned to 
 foam before it breaks upon the white cliffs, and the blue 
 
270 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 of the zenith clouds into gray before it reaches the gray 
 hills on the horizon. 
 
 The arrangement of the methods on page 1 3 1 shows that 
 progress is related to consonance and the methods asso- 
 cited with it just as continuity is to repetition. Consonance, 
 as we have found, is repetition with an increment. Just 
 so, progress is continuity with an increment. The former 
 necessitates change ; the latter does not. At the same 
 time, there can be no progress without some continuity. A 
 song or speech that did not appear to be the development 
 of some continuous melody or story, might have move- 
 ment, but it could have no progress. So with an object 
 of sight. When, after an interval of time, a tree or a man, 
 once seen, is seen again, we can know that either has pro- 
 gressed only so far as we can recognize that the one is the 
 same tree or the other the same man. That is to say, 
 progress is the movement of something, or, possibly, 
 merely some one form of a movement that is clearly 
 revealed to be a unity. Gradation is a help to this con- 
 ception, but occasional, especially intermittent, abruptness 
 is not inconsistent with it. The thunder and lightning of 
 an approaching storm, or the cries and footsteps of an ap- 
 proaching mob, are abrupt enough, yet they make prog- 
 ress. They do this, however, only when that which is 
 abrupt is clearly recognized to be a part of a transition 
 from one phase of the same movement to another. 
 
 Now to illustrate these characteristics : In poetry, 
 gradation, like the other methods considered, is exempli- 
 fied both in the sense and in the sound. Of the former, 
 we can all recall instances in the gradual unfolding of the 
 plot which characterizes even ordinary novels and dramas. 
 Of the latter, we have illustrations in all the elements that 
 enter into sound, namely : time, force, pitch, and quality. 
 
GRADATION IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 2*J I 
 
 We notice it wherever we find great regularity of time or 
 rhythm, with the gradual swelling and sinking and rising 
 and falling of the accent and pitch which necessarily ac- 
 company such a rhythm. Of the same nature is an effect 
 in quality, not hitherto recognized as an essential element 
 of poetic form, but to which the. ears of our foremost 
 poets in almost all of their most popular passages made 
 popular often solely because of it seem to have been 
 unconsciously guided. It may be termed phonetic grada- 
 tion, and is produced by an arrangement of vowels and 
 consonants such as to cause their sounds to follow one 
 another in the order in which articulation necessitates the 
 opening of the vocal passages of the mouth more and 
 more from the lips and tip of the tongue backward, or 
 else more and more from the back of the mouth and 
 tongue forward ; more and more, that is, as in the series 
 of vowels in the words meet, met, it, ate, at, care, but, 
 kite, are, got, aught, out, foot, lute, boot, bucher, ooze ; and as 
 in the series of consonants represented by b, (p), m, n, w, 
 v, (f), d, (t), th, z, 1, r, j, (ch), g, (k), h ; or else as in series 
 of vowels or consonants the reverse of these. In the fol- 
 lowing lines the gradation of vowels on the emphatic syl- 
 lables is from what we may term, as thus explained, the 
 front tones to the back tones: 
 
 Here where never came, alive, another. 
 
 By the North Sea : Swinburne. 
 
 'T is better to have loved and lost 
 Than never to have loved at all. 
 
 In Memoriam : Tennyson. 
 
 Kind hearts are more than coronets 
 And simple faith than Norman blood. 
 
 Clara Vere de Vere : Idem. 
 
-72 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 And in these, both in vowels and consonants, from the 
 back to the front tones. 
 
 Ghostless all its gulfs and creeks and reaches. 
 
 By the North Sea : Swinburne. 
 
 Tho' lost to sight, to memory dear. 
 
 Anon. 
 
 To shoot at crows is powder flung away. 
 
 Epistle to Hon. Paul Methuen : Gay. 
 
 The empathic sounds are graded from the back to the 
 front tones in the first of these lines, and from the front 
 to the back tones in the second : 
 
 Odors of orange flowers and spice 
 Reached them from time to time. 
 
 The Quadroon Girl : Longfellow. 
 
 As distinguished from gradation, the following may 
 illustrate abruptness with transition both in the sense and 
 sound : 
 
 I marched to the villa, and my men with me 
 That evening, and we reach the door and stand, 
 I say no it shoots through me lightning-like 
 While I pause, breathe, my hand upon the latch. 
 
 The Ring and the Book : Browning. 
 
 And the following shows abruptness in the sound, but 
 without transition : 
 
 Just writes to make his barrenness appear, 
 
 And strains from hard-bound brains eight lines a year. 
 
 Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot : Pope. 
 
 Poetic expression, when most in accord with gradation, 
 involves merely the use of those ordinary connecting 
 
ABRUPTNESS IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 2?$ 
 
 words and phrases with which we are all familiar. Here 
 is a transition, with some abruptness too, in the thought : 
 
 ' ' Such 
 
 Is wisdom to the children of this world ; 
 But we 've no mind, we children of the light, 
 To miss the advantage of the golden mean, 
 And push things to the steal-point." Thus the courts. 
 
 Is it settled so far ? Settled or disturbed, 
 Console yourselves : 't is like . . an instance, now. 
 You Ve seen the puppets, of Place Navona, play, 
 Punch and his mate, how threats pass, blows are dealt, 
 And a crisis comes. 
 
 The Ring and the Book ; Tertium Quid : Browning. 
 
 And here in the sound or rhythm : 
 
 The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep, 
 No more shall grief of mine the season wrong : 
 I hear the echoes through the mountains throng, 
 The winds come to me from the fields of sleep, 
 And all the earth is gay ; 
 
 Land and sea 
 Give themselves up to jollity, 
 
 And with the heart of May 
 Doth every beast keep holiday ; 
 
 Thou child of joy 
 
 Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd 
 boy. 
 
 Ode on Imitations of Immortality ; Wordsworth. 
 
 Gradation, as a musical term, is most commonly asso- 
 ciated with a regular increase or decrease of force. But 
 as in poetry, the essentials of the method may be exem- 
 plified either in theme or development, and, in the latter, 
 either in time, force, pitch, or quality. Besides this, they 
 may characterize either the melody or harmony. What 
 their effects are, however, seem to need to be illustrated, 
 
 18 
 
2/4 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 only so far as they relate to harmony, or to melody as 
 connected with this. It was said in connection with 
 interchange that, in passing from one cord to another, 
 especially if to a different key, it is customary to have 
 one of the notes in both chords the same, so that the ear, 
 recognizing it in both, can feel, notwithstanding other 
 differences between them, that like has been put with like. 
 Wherever we find series of cords, or a melody that can 
 be harmonized by series of chords, that follow each other 
 in this way, there we find illustrations of gradation. 
 Notice the successions of chords in the examples of tran- 
 sition given on page 275. 
 
 Abruptness results, of course, wherever there are sudden 
 interruptions and changes in either theme or form, and 
 these in either time, force, pitch, or quality, and in 
 either melody or harmony. Here is an example of 
 harmonic abruptness taken from Marx's " Musical Com- 
 position," chap. vi. 
 
 -i^- SP- ! ^ 
 
 In this, as will be noticed, the passage is immediate, i.e., 
 without any form of transition from the key of C natural 
 to that of E flat. In explanation, Marx says that " this 
 continuation is a phrase by itself, as it were ; a new 
 piece which takes up the thread of the previous phrase 
 at a different place, and perhaps in a different sense. And 
 it is exactly because the continuation in the third meas- 
 ure is considered as a new phrase that we consider the 
 new chord E^-g-bj^ at once as a tonic chord, though the 
 key of Ejj is only indicated by the dominant chord 
 which occurs three notes later." 
 
TRANSITION IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 2?$ 
 
 Transition is a passage from one key to another. It 
 sometimes necessitates using a series of chords in which 
 there are effects like those of interchange illustrated on 
 page 250; and it always necessitates some application of 
 the principle of gradation. But besides this it necessi- 
 tates using certain chords in the new key, and these too, 
 in a certain order, either that of the dominant seventh 
 (see music on page 254) followed by the tonic, or, if 
 the transition needs to be unmistakably emphasized, that 
 of the subdominant followed by the other two. The 
 reason of this is that the ear has become so accustomed 
 to the order of the notes in the musical scale and of the 
 chords that harmonize them, that it is only when one hears 
 these latter in succession that he can recognize in what key 
 the music is, or, if there has been a transition, to what 
 key this has been made. The following illustrate common 
 methods of making transitions from the major key of C 
 natural to all the other keys. It will be noticed that every 
 chord in the transition carries out the principle of putting 
 like with like by containing at least one note which is the 
 same as one in the preceding chord. In order to fulfil 
 this condition, it is necessary, as a rule, to strike some 
 chord between that of C major and the new key's domi- 
 nant seventh. But when this latter is reached, the tonic 
 of this key is suggested at once, and it would be a disap- 
 pointment to the ear did it not follow. 
 
 
 
THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 GO Ab C 
 
 -1- i |_ 
 
 n 1 1 1 n 1 1 
 
 Now let us glance at the influence, upon these arts, of 
 progress. As already intimated, this needs to be distin- 
 guished chiefly from continuity. The latter in poetry 
 may be manifested in the onward flow or sweep of any 
 details, however connected with the story or the style ; but 
 progress is manifested in the fact that these details are all 
 directly connected with the development of the main plot. 
 
 Here is continuity without /rqfrgs? .* 
 
 On his bold visage middle age 
 
 Had slightly pressed its signet sage, 
 
 Yet had not quenched the open truth 
 
 And fiery vehemence of youth ; 
 
 Froward and frolic glee was there, 
 
 The will to do, the soul to dare, 
 
 The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 
 
 Of hasty love or headlong ire. 
 
 His limbs were cast in manly mould 
 
 For hardy sport or contest bold ; 
 
 And tho' in peaceful garb arrayed 
 
 And weaponless except his blade, 
 
 His stately mean as well implied 
 
 A high-born heart, a martial pride. 
 
 The Lady of the Lake : Scott. 
 
 And here is continuity with progress : 
 
 " A stranger I," the huntsman said, 
 Advancing from the hazel shade. 
 The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar, 
 Pushed her light shallop from the shore, 
 
PROGRESS IN POETRY AND MUSIC. 
 
 And when a space was gained between, 
 Closer she drew her bosom's screen, 
 Then safe, tho' fluttered and amazed, 
 She paused and on the stranger gazed. 
 
 Idem . 
 
 Continuity in music is manifested wherever, with or 
 without variation, there is an apparent continuance of the 
 theme or themes from which a composition as a whole is 
 developed ; but progress, whenever in connection with 
 continuity, there is also an apparent advance in the un- 
 folding of the musical idea. In a symphony continuity is 
 manifested in the separate movements considered merely 
 by themselves rather than in all the movements taken 
 together considered as parts of one whole. Exactly the 
 opposite is true of progress. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 GRADATION, ABRUPTNESS, TRANSITION AND PROGRESS 
 IN PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Gradation in Light and Shade In Color Abruptness Transition Con- 
 nection 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 Composition Curvature as Applied to 
 the General Contour of Groups in Painting and Sculpture, especially to 
 the Limbs 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 Painting and 
 Sculpture Progress in Painting and Sculpture : False Methods of 
 Obtaining the Effect Right Methods In Architecture Conclusion. 
 
 TT still remains for us to examine the influence of grada- 
 tion, abruptness, transition, and progress upon the arts 
 of sight. Here, as in all cases, gradation is one of the 
 means of carrying out the requirements of principality, 
 central-point, and massing. In the treatment of light and 
 shade, it causes the brilliancy of the coloring, from the 
 point where there is the greatest degree of illumination, to 
 become less and less intense till it passes into shadow. 
 " Music," says Ruskin, " must rise to its utmost loudness 
 and fall from it ; color must be graduated to its extreme 
 
 278 
 
GRADATION IN PAINTING. 279 
 
 brightness, and descend from it ; and I believe that abso- 
 lutely perfect treatment would in either case permit the 
 intensest sound and purest color only for a point or for a 
 moment." 
 
 But gradation in color is not confined to the use of light 
 and shade. It is employed in connecting hues essentially 
 different, the outlines of which, except when greatly illu- 
 mined, are seldom perfectly distinct. At most places, 
 especially where the shade rests, the color of one object, 
 by imperceptible degrees, is merged into that of other 
 objects. Effects are thus made to accord with those per- 
 ceived in the external world, as already noticed on 
 page 268. But it is important to bear in mind, too, aside 
 from this, that, in looking at any collection of objects, our 
 eyes are generally attracted to the place where the chief 
 light falls, and while they are fixed upon this place, we see 
 very indistinctly objects that are not in it. The endeavor 
 of the artist to represent the appearance of things when 
 the eyes are fixed thus upon one of them, is that which 
 justifies his making this more bright and prominent as 
 contrasted with its surroundings than seems to be the 
 case in nature. But this seems so in nature, because, 
 when observing it, our eyes look not at one thing, but 
 glance restlessly from it to other things. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to add that the requirements of 
 gradation are not so universally applicable as to exclude 
 an occasional use of abruptness manifested by sharp con- 
 trasts of colors. As a rule, the brighter the light illumin- 
 ing an object, the more distinctly are its peculiar colors 
 revealed and the darker are the shadows cast by it upon 
 surrounding colors. In such conditions, the lines that 
 separate one shade from another are very clear, and the 
 representation of these necessitates placing one color 
 
280 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 directly against the other, with no suggestion of gradation. 
 As a rule, however, colors that are placed together even 
 in this abrupt way must be such as naturally harmonize. 
 
 But sometimes, of course, they cannot harmonize, nor 
 be made to do it, and then it is important to consider the 
 method of transition. When this cannot be effected, as 
 in gradation, by changing the colors themselves, and 
 causing them to approach each other by regular degrees, 
 either the course must be adopted which was described on 
 page 251, under the name of interchange, or else a color 
 harmonic with both, must be placed between them. Here 
 is the way in which this latter method is described by 
 Charles Blanc, in his " Grammar of Painting and Engrav- 
 ing," chapter xiii., as translated by K. N. Doggett. In 
 speaking of the use of color, he says : " In one of the pen- 
 dentives that so magnificently decorate the Library of the 
 Corps Legislatif, the executioner who has cut off the head 
 of John the Baptist is dressed in red and blue, two colors 
 whose juxtaposition is softened by a little white, which 
 unites them without sacrificing the energy suitable to the 
 figure of an executioner. Thus we realize a rare harmony^ 
 that of the tricolor flag. Zeigler has observed that this 
 flag, spread out horizontally, represents a discordant 
 whole, but through the effects of the folds the quantities 
 become unequal, and, one color dominating another, har- 
 mony is produced. The wind that agitates the stuff in 
 varied undulations makes the three colors pass through 
 all the attempts at proportion that an intelligent artist 
 can make." 
 
 As applied to the use of lines, gradation, abruptness, and 
 transition respectively are the principles, the developments 
 of which lead to curved, angular, and mixed effects. A 
 line in art indicates a certain direction. Gradation'^ that 
 
GRADATION IN PAINTING. 28 1 
 
 which produces a change by regular degrees. When the 
 character of a line is changed by regular degrees we have 
 a curve. If it be changed without regard to these de- 
 grees we have an angle ; and if it be changed both with 
 and without regard to them we have a mixed effect. 
 
 Gradation is so common in nature and art, that we 
 should expect the same to be true of the curve which 
 represents it in outline. Such is the case. All the con- 
 ditions of sight tend toward this result. The retina, on 
 which every image of the external world is impressed, has 
 a rounded surface. So has the outer eye. In con- 
 sequence of this, the field of vision, lying before any one 
 glance of sight, can be inscribed in curves. So, if suf- 
 ficiently remote, can all objects even though their out- 
 lines are not curved, objects like the hills that circle 
 the horizon, or the tail of the comet in the sky. If we 
 examine a small object near at hand, we see all its outlines 
 distinctly in the degree in which these conform to the 
 rounded shape of the organs of vision. If we look at the 
 centre of a wheel, every part of its tire is equally visible. If 
 we look at the centre of a square, its four angles, in the 
 degree in which it is large, are indistinct. Hence, for a 
 psychological reason, because, in such cases, the mind can 
 more readily perceive and understand what the contour is, 
 curved forms afford the most satisfaction. It is not 
 strange, therefore, that the same Power that formed the 
 eye has conformed to its requirements most of the out- 
 lines of the natural world. 
 
 When, in addition to this, we consider the unending 
 possibilities of variety afforded by the curve, and the 
 infinite suggestions of direction pointed out as by fingers 
 of light wherever it deviates from a straight line, we know 
 enough to account for the fact universally conceded that 
 
282 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 the curve is the line of beauty. This is true whether 
 applied to separate parts of objects or to their wholes, to 
 a single leaf or to a cluster of leaves, to a branch or to a 
 cluster of branches, to a tree or to a grove, to a particular 
 object that may be examined near at hand, or to general 
 outlines described by trees and rivers in the distance. 
 The same is true, too, of every member and limb, as well 
 as of the whole body, of every bird or animal. All these 
 natural objects are beautiful, largely because of the infinite 
 number and variety of their curves. 
 
 FIG. 91. CURVE EXEMPLIFYING GRADATION. 
 See pages 282 and 284. 
 
 It is well to notice, too, that, as a rule, the lines of 
 curvature in natural objects are not perfectly circular, any 
 more than the lines of radiation or parallelism are per- 
 fectly straight. On the contrary, the most common out- 
 line in nature is said, by Ruskin, " Modern Painters," vol. 
 iv., p. 5, chap. 17, to be a curve so described as to have a 
 constant tendency to become straight, although it may 
 never become so. Figs. 91, above, and 92, page opposite, 
 according to him, represent curves of this description. 
 
GRADA TION IN PAINTING. 
 
 283 
 
 In Figure 91, the angles at a, b, c, d, and e 
 are in each case the same, the line a b, be- 
 comes regularly shorter than b c, and so on. 
 In the direction of g, the curve # g evidently 
 inclines more and more to differ from the 
 requirements of a circle, and any small portion 
 of it, to conform more and more to the direction 
 of a straight line. In Fig. 92, the distance 
 between the lines A a and B b and Cc, 
 etc., is the same, but the curved line a b 
 becomes regularly shorter than b c, and 
 so on. It is evident that in this figure the 
 curve a g, while constantly approaching 
 the form of a straight line can never 
 become one. 
 
 Why curves of this kind are seen so 
 frequently in nature, and why, when they 
 are seen, they are considered especially 
 satisfactory, has been often asked. Can 
 the question not be answered in this 
 connection by saying that the " con- 
 stant tendency " to become straight 
 which they manifest causes them to 
 fulfil, perfectly, the requirements of 
 gradation. Notice, too, that in doing 
 this, they necessarily fulfil the 
 requirements of most of the 
 other methods developed from 
 comparison. In the first figure, 
 the angles at #, b, c, etc., are the 
 same, and in the second figure 
 the distances between the lines 
 A a, B b, C Cj etc., are the 
 
 FIG. 92. A CURVE EXEMPLIFYING 
 GRADATION. 
 
284 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 same. The principle of repetition, therefore, enters into 
 these curves, notwithstanding the constant tendency 
 that they show to move in the opposite direction. 
 Each of the curves, too, is so constructed that any given 
 part of it can be magnified so as to represent exactly 
 f g. There is therefore a sense in which these curves 
 are in accordance with the method also of consonance. It 
 is not necessary to show that if they involve repetition and 
 consonance, they involve, as well, almost all, if not all the 
 other methods that on page 131 are associated with these. 
 
 From what was said in Chapter X. in connection with 
 central-point as related to the laws of perspective, as 
 well as of symmetry in Chapter XL, we must infer that 
 the principle of curvature must be fulfilled in successful 
 art, not only in such a way as to cause the separate objects 
 represented to seem to have the same rounded appear- 
 ances as in nature, but in the arrangements of objects as 
 related to each other ; in other words, not only in imitat- 
 ing particular forms but also in composition, where many 
 different forms not actually curved in nature are put 
 together. It would not be pleasing, for instance, to see 
 a group of human figures so arranged that a straight line 
 drawn across the top or bottom of it would touch the 
 crown of every head or the toe of every foot. The eye 
 seems to require an arrangement whereby the more 
 central heads shall be a little higher than those on either 
 side of them ; in short, whereby the general contour of 
 the group as a whole shall be curved, and similar in this 
 regard to the contour of flowers, trees, groves, mountains, 
 living creatures, and, in fact, of almost all natural objects, 
 whether animate or inanimate. 
 
 In painting, as also in sculpture, as can be shown from 
 such works as the "Theseus," Fig. 93, page 285, most 
 
GRADATION IN PAINTING. 285 
 
 marvellous effects are owing to the way in which the 
 infinite curves that make up the contour of the human 
 form are rounded and blended, exemplifying thus not only 
 gradation in the curves, but transition in the mixed lines. 
 Besides this, the nose, elbow, knee, and heel all sufficiently 
 illustrate abruptness. There are those who, in view of 
 the apparent fulfilment of law in all such cases, think that 
 
 FI3. 93. STATUE OF THESEUS. 
 See page 284. 
 
 the whole form and its separate parts can be drawn accord- 
 ing to mathematical principles underlying the laws chiefly 
 of curvature. D. R. Hay, in his works on the " First 
 Principles of Symmetrical Beauty," and on " The Human 
 Figure and the Human Head," has given an ingenious 
 and exceedingly interesting series of drawings intended 
 to prove that this is so. He tries to show, too, that 
 
286 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Greek sculpture was developed from principles similar to 
 those that he unfolds. For reasons that it would be irrele- 
 vant to give here, he is probably mistaken in this latter 
 opinion. The proportions of Greek sculpture were by no 
 means the same in different products and periods ; show- 
 ing that although, like our own, the Greek artists may 
 have had their theories with reference to the subject, 
 these were not universally accepted. A large part of 
 their success in practice, too, must have been owing, 
 in strict analogy with what would be true in our own 
 time, to rare perceptive powers and to exceptional 
 opportunities for observing the unclothed human form 
 afforded by the baths, festivals, and sports of the period. 
 But there is much in what Mr. Hay says that is sugges- 
 tive and instructive. 
 
 In architecture, the methods of curvature are applied 
 to only a limited extent, and mainly to the decoration of 
 interiors, where the processes employed, as when laying 
 out parks and gardens, are more allied to drawing and 
 painting than to building. The Greeks, indeed, in order 
 to carry out the laws of perspective, made many of the 
 apparently horizontal lines of their buildings slightly 
 curved, but in doing this they can scarcely be said to 
 have applied the methods of curvature to exteriors, their 
 object being not to make any lines appear curved, but to 
 prevent them from appearing so. 1 Of course, there are 
 curves used in architecture, as in rounded arches and 
 domes ; but these are not so frequently, as in the other 
 arts, curves that have a constant tendency to become 
 straight. They are usually larger or smaller arches of 
 regularly constructed circles. The purely artistic reason 
 
 J See page 176. 
 
GRADA TION IN PAINTING. 28 / 
 
 for this absence of curves is that too much variety of this 
 kind is less desirable here than in the other arts. 
 
 Painting and sculpture imitate the forms of nature, and 
 if an artist find irregularity in these, this fact is an excuse 
 for his copying it. But the forms of architecture are not 
 imitated. They are originated by .man, as a result of that 
 faculty of the mind by which he reduces to systematic 
 unity and order appearances that do not manifest these 
 in nature. In such circumstances, if architectural forms 
 do not show unity and order, and show it in a marked 
 degree, they simply do not accomplish the end for which 
 they were designed ; and nothing that does not do this 
 can be called a success. 
 
 Gradation is manifested not only in the use of single 
 lines but of combined ones as, for instance, in series of 
 curves and angles, the different sides of which depart in 
 regular degrees from exact parallelism. In his cartoon 
 depicting " The Death of Ananias," Raphael, (Fig. 94 
 page 288) causes the terror of the principal figure 
 to be manifested in similar attitudes of the figures on 
 both sides of him, but as they gradually recede into 
 the background, their expressions and attitudes become 
 less and less indicative of the feeling at the centre of 
 interest. 
 
 In fulfilment of the same method, both in painting and 
 sculpture, the hundreds of curves that together constitute 
 the contour of the human body are made to pass into each 
 other, causing its members gradually to expand or taper. 
 Yet there are places, as at the heel, where the transitions 
 are very abrupt. The number of these is often increased 
 with great effect by the introduction, in connection with 
 both living figures and foliage, of scarfs, bands, girdles, 
 and folds in the drapery, or of rectangular lines of archi- 
 
GRADATION IN ARCHITECTURE. 289 
 
 tecture which in pillars, entablatures, niches, and pedestals 
 surround or support the figures. See those on pp. 30, 
 74, 121. 
 
 Both these methods have a place too in architecture. 
 All must have noticed that perpendicular lines when car- 
 
 FIQ. 95. DOORWAY OF A CHURCH IN JAK, HUNGARY. 
 See pages 180, 291. 
 
 ried into the air, as in the case of two sides of a square 
 tower, seem to approach each other ; also that when two 
 sides of a roof actually touch, they support each other. 
 Evidently artists are only carrying out hints from these 
 facts when they widen the sides of a tower's base and 
 
 '9 
 
FIG. 96. ARCH IN THE ALJAFERIA OF ZARAGOZA, SPAIN. 
 See pages, 37, 180, 291. 
 
GRADATION IN ARCHITECTURE. 2QI 
 
 make them narrower at 'the top, thus increasing its appa- 
 rent height ; or when they cause the sides actually to meet 
 in the spire or steep gable at its top, thus increasing also 
 the ease of construction. Many great buildings, like the 
 cathedrals and palaces of Europe, are designed according 
 to the first of these methods. The basements are made 
 visibly broader than the superstructures, and the lines of 
 enclosure, as they are carried up at both sides, are gradu- 
 ally brought nearer together. See Fig. 2, page 17. 
 
 The method of gradation is illustrated also, though 
 probably not often intentionally, in those cases so fre- 
 quent in Gothic architecture, in which, over the same 
 opening, a rounded arch is used immediately below a 
 pointed one. An admirable adaptation of this method, 
 revealing many successive stages of change, may be noticed 
 in the " Doorway of a Church in Jak, Hungary," Fig. 95, 
 page 289. Gradation of an opposite kind, in that the 
 sharper form is at the bottom, may be seen in " The 
 Arch from the Aljaferia of Zaragoza, in Spain/' Fig. 96, 
 page 290. 
 
 A recognition of the effectiveness of gradation as a 
 method, undoubtedly explains the regular increase in the 
 number of windows in each successively higher story that 
 is common in Italian towers. Evidently their builders 
 first recognized that the lower stories needed to be con- 
 structed more solidly in order to sustain a greater weight ; 
 afterwards, their artistic sense led them to the method of 
 form which they adopted, and which, as all will perceive, 
 gives to the whole, a peculiarly logical and therefore 
 orderly and unifying effect. Notice the tower of the 
 " Cathedral of Sienna," Fig. 97, page 292, also the front 
 facade of the same cathedral, in which an application of 
 this method is suggested in the difference between the 
 
FIG. 97.-CATHEDRAL OF SIENNA, ITALY. 
 
 See pages 18, 87, 207, 261, 291. 
 
GRADATION IN ARCHITECTURE. 293 
 
 angles over the doors and those in the roof, the latter 
 being the sharper. 
 
 Why is it, by the way, that this method of gradation 
 has not been applied to facades more extensively ? Why, 
 especially in our own times, when so many are busying 
 themselves in trying to discover a " new style " of archi- 
 tecture, has no one thought of developing the possibilities 
 of this ? Here is an opportunity for doing something that 
 has never been done before. It would differ too from 
 most things of the kind, in that it could be done in strict 
 fulfilment of every law of the sphere in which it would 
 be attempted. Experience has revealed that in buildings 
 constructed of stone and brick, the low, flat arch is capa- 
 ble of sustaining more weight than the high, pointed 
 one. For this reason, the former is appropriately used in 
 crypts, basements, and lower stories. It has been found 
 also that roofs with steep gables are the best adapted for 
 shedding the snow that accumulates upon them in the 
 winter of a cold climate. Besides this, it is known that 
 when height is an object, the pointed gable or spire, all 
 things considered, is the most beautiful as well as the most 
 easy to construct. Between the flat arches of the first 
 story and the pointed arches of the roof and spire there is 
 often great difference. In order to connect the two in a 
 manner satisfactory to artistic demands, it is strange that 
 the artistic propriety of increasing the pitch of the window- 
 caps in successive stories by regular gradations has not been 
 formally recognized. For instance, the arches over the 
 openings of the first story could be made nearly horizontal, 
 those of the second story more rounded, those of the third 
 more rounded still, and those of the upper story pointed. 
 
 No buildings exist, probably, that, as wholes, illustrate 
 this method ; but, if we exclude from consideration the 
 
GRADATION IN ARCHITECTURE. 2q$ 
 
 lower story of the " Rath House of Brunswick, Germany," 
 (Fig. 98, page 294), the upper stories will reveal some- 
 thing of the effect that is here suggested. The same 
 may be seen, too, as applied to interiors, in the successive 
 arches of the Church of San Pedro de Cardefta (Fig. 99, 
 page 296). 
 
 An effect, the reverse of these, in which the order of 
 gradation is from a sharper arch upward to a flatter one, 
 may be seen in the front of the Church of St. Maclou at 
 Rouen, where, of three angles, the one over the lower 
 front door is the most acute, one over a large window 
 above somewhat less acute, and one higher up over the 
 roof the least acute of the three (Fig. IOO, page 298). 
 
 It is to be said, however, that the effect of gradations 
 in this direction from a higher arch upward to a lower 
 arch is less artistic than of those in the opposite direction. 
 As has been said, the flat arch is the one that is fitted to 
 sustain the greater weight, and the sharp arch in the roof 
 is the one that affords the better watershed. Besides 
 this, too, as a rule, the outlines of hills, trees, and living 
 creatures taper toward their highest points. The effects 
 of works of arts, even where they involve no direct imita- 
 tion, should correspond as far as possible to both the 
 principles and appearances of nature. It seems desirable, 
 therefore, that the order of gradation from the lower 
 to the higher stories should be the one that was first 
 described. 
 
 What was said, a few pages back, of the use of curva- 
 ture in architecture, is equally applicable to abruptness in 
 the introduction of forms of different styles. Though 
 appropriate occasionally, as was shown when treating of 
 antithesis, page 31, it is much less appropriate than in 
 painting and' sculpture. In the latter arts, one is often 
 
tt: 1111; 
 
 FIQ. 99. INTERIOR OF SAN PEDRO DE CARDENA, SPAIN. 
 
 See page 295. 
 
PROGRESS IN PAINTING. 
 
 at liberty to imitate abruptness or any other condition, if 
 only it be found in nature ; but in an art in which men do 
 not take forms ready-made, and the object of which is to 
 reduce things to systematic and intelligible order, artists 
 must be especially careful to have it appear that this has 
 been done. 
 
 Turning now to progress, it is comparatively easy to 
 understand how this may be secured in poetry and music, 
 the forms of which consist of words and sounds necessi- 
 tating movement. But in painting, sculpture, and archi- 
 tecture, there is no literal movement. If they represent 
 with fidelity things as they appear in nature, they can 
 only reproduce that which takes place in a single moment 
 of time. There are, indeed, paintings in which more 
 than this is attempted. A fresco in the Sistine Chapel in 
 Rome, by Boticelli, entitled "The History of Moses," 
 represents the prophet in six or seven different situations 
 at different periods of his life ; and one in the Campo 
 Santo at Pisa, by Benozzo Gozzoli, entitled " Noah and 
 his Family," gives us at least three different events in the 
 life of that patriarch. But such paintings have never 
 ranked high in art. It seems to be recognized that they 
 are not faithful reproductions of nature, and are therefore 
 artificial. 
 
 In contrast to these, Raphael's " Death of Ananias," Fig. 
 94, page 288, will show us how there can be progress and 
 yet no literal movement. That which is represented in 
 the cartoon could take place at one moment of time. Yet 
 at this moment the idea, forcibly impressing those nearest 
 the principal figure, has not taken possession of those 
 remote from him. The picture represents, therefore, dif- 
 ferent stages of progress in the development of the idea, 
 or of the influence exerted by it ; and it is almost impos- 
 
THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 sible to conceive of any painting or statue, however small, 
 in which the progress of the idea in its advance to take 
 
 possession of the 
 whole body of the 
 subject or subjects, 
 might not be repre- 
 sented in an analo- 
 gous way. In a 
 human figure, the 
 expression o f the 
 face may be in ad- 
 vance of that of the 
 arms or hands, the 
 expressions of these 
 in advance of that of 
 the lower limbs, while 
 at the same time the 
 adjustments of the 
 clothing may give 
 scarcely any indica- 
 tions of that which 
 has begun to in- 
 fluence the body un- 
 derneath it. (Fig. 45.) 
 Nor is it less possi- 
 ble to represent the 
 effects of progress in 
 buildings. In many 
 of the English cathe- 
 
 FIQ. 100.-ST. MACLOU, ROUEN, FRANCE. drals the whole de- 
 
 See page 295 ' velopment of Gothic 
 
 architecture from the Norman, through the pointed, 
 decorated, and perpendicular, can be traced literally in 
 
PROGRESS IN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 the different forms used in different parts. But progress 
 in such a literal sense is not essential, nor is it always 
 consistent with unity. When, according to the method 
 of gradation described a moment ago, one form of arch 
 is used above the lower openings, and another sharper 
 development of the same over higher openings, and 
 another still sharper over the highest, we have a repre- 
 sentation of progress of a more desirable kind. So, 
 too, we have the same in the interior of a cathedral, 
 when the arches above seem to grow like limbs of 
 trees out of the shafts below them, and when the chancel 
 beyond the nave, to which so many lines of the walls 
 and ceiling point, seems, with its finer elaboration of 
 the resources of outline and its grander wealth of color 
 in window and altar, to burst upon the vision like a flower, 
 for which all the rest has furnished only a splendid prep- 
 aration for unfoldment. In these and other ways, there 
 are buildings so constructed, that they seem to be almost 
 as much the results of growth and, in this sense, of 
 progress as do products of nature with which we are 
 accustomed to associate the two. 
 
 At the opening of this volume, in Chapter II., it was 
 shown that the first efforts of the mind in the direction of 
 art-composition are made for the purpose of securing 
 effects of unity, in order to accommodate the result to 
 the requirements of human conception. It was shown 
 also that the occasion for these efforts arises from the 
 variety everywhere characterizing the natural forms of 
 which the artist is obliged to construct his products. 
 Everything that has been unfolded between that chapter 
 and this, has been a description of different methods of 
 arrangement through which factors of a form, while 
 exhibiting variety, can, nevertheless, be made to exhibit 
 
300 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 unity. But in none of these methods has there been 
 necessitated such an absolute blending of the appearances 
 of the two as in progress. In this the variety which in 
 most of the arrangements is accepted as a necessary and 
 accidental evil, becomes essential. As just stated on 
 page 270 there can be no progress except of something 
 that is clearly recognized to be a unity. But it is equally 
 true that there can be none except as that which is a unity 
 is perceived to be characterized by variety also. In pro- 
 gress therefore all the methods of art-composition that we 
 have been considering seem to culminate. We could con- 
 tinue our subject from this point only, as was intimated 
 in Chapter VIII., by taking up rhythm, proportion, and 
 harmony. But each of these differs in character from the 
 methods hitherto considered. It is a complex result in- 
 volving invariably an application of all of them in com- 
 bination, yet springing from them only so far as the mind 
 is necessarily and often unconsciously moved to its action 
 by the principles underlying them. For these reasons a 
 satisfactory discussion of any phase of our subject beyond 
 what has already been considered, seems to demand a 
 different mode of treatment. It is fitting, therefore, 
 that the course of thought pursued in the present volume 
 should here be brought to a close. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Abruptness, 131, 249, 266, 295, 297 ; 
 color, 279 ; lines, 280 ; nature, 269. 
 
 Accent, 42, 50, 130, 131, 169, 171, 
 194, 195, 198, 251, 271. 
 
 Adams, S. F., 43. 
 
 Address of Dying Christian to his 
 Soul, 104. 
 
 ^Enead, The, 53. 
 
 Aldrich, T. B., 107. 
 
 Alhambra, Window in, 37, 222, 225, 
 236. 
 
 Aljaferia, Zaragoza, Arch in, 37, 
 188, 290, 291. 
 
 Allegri, Gregorio, 30. 
 
 Alliteration, 16, 195, 251. 
 
 Alteration, 131, 189-206. 
 
 Alternation, 131, 192-206, 222, 268. 
 
 American, church, 90, 92 ; cathe- 
 dral, 92-95. 
 
 Ananias, Death of, 72, 144, 257, 287, 
 297. 
 
 Ancient Koran case, 37, 381, 224, 
 236. 
 
 Angelo, M., 6. 
 
 Angles, 281. See Arches and Cur- 
 vature. 
 
 Antithesis, 28, 31, 139. See Contrast. 
 
 Arabian complication, 224. 
 
 Araminta, 25. 
 
 Arbuthnot, Epistle to, 272. 
 
 Arches, 124, 245, 286 ; consonance, 
 258-265 ; contour, 115, 159 ; flat, 
 sharp, gradation, 291-295. See 
 Curvature. 
 
 Architecture, Art of : abruptness, 
 295, 297 ; alteration, 26, 189, 258 ; 
 alternation, 201, 205, 265 ; bal- 
 ance, complement, 48, 77, 78. 85- 
 90, 1 86 ; cathedral, 95 ; central- 
 point, 176, 1 86 ; church, 92, 95 ; 
 
 comparison, 16, 18, 26, 134, 148, 
 206, 258 ; complication, 222, 224, 
 2 35 2 36, 238 ; confusion, 37, 207, 
 
 264 ; congruity, 144, 146, 149 ; 
 consonance, 257-264 ; continuity, 
 178, 239-241 ; contour, 122-124; 
 contrast, 26, 28, 31, 189, 190, 264, 
 
 265 ; contrasted with painting, 
 258, 287 ; curvature, 176, 286, 
 291-295 ; design, 241, 257, 258, 
 287, 297 ; dignity, 87, 186, 187 ; 
 discord, 261, 262, 264 ; dome, 76, 
 77 ; Gothic, 17, 89, 144, 146, 206, 
 242, 291, 298 ; gradation, 291- 
 295 ; Greek, 16, 87, 89, 96, 176, 
 206, 261, 286 ; interspersion, 78, 
 221, 222, 224, 241 ; like with like, 
 9, 16, 18, 26, 134, 148, 206, 210, 
 
 257 ; massing, 218-219 ! Moorish, 
 144, 236 ; order, 241, 257, 287, 
 2 97 ! organic form, 44, 122-124 I 
 organism, 258 ; oriental, 18 ; ori- 
 gin of, 4, 5 ; parallelism, 180, 181, 
 261 ; perspective, 176, 178, 286 ; 
 principality, 45, 50, 75-78, 178, 
 
 258 ; progress, 298 ; repetition, 
 26, 201, 206, 258 ; setting, 180 ; 
 stories, 96, 291 ; style, 205, 257 ; 
 mixed styles, 146, 148, 149, 205- 
 208, 295 ; new styles, 206, 293 ; 
 symmetry, 87, 89, 96, 186, 187 ; 
 themes, development of, 4-6, 44, 
 45, 50, 76, 77, 122-124, 133, 146, 
 149, 176, 178, 185, 210, 218, 298- 
 300 ; towers, 76, 77, 87, 89-92 ; 
 uneven numbers in, 96 ; unity, 15, 
 16, 77, 148, 241, 265, 287 ; variety, 
 26, 1 86, 189. See Contrast. 
 
 Architecture, Lectures on, 123 ; 
 Seven Lamps of, 219. 
 
 301 
 
302 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART- FORM. 
 
 Arch, Roman, 146. 
 Arden, Enoch, 137. 
 Arrangement, 34, 48, 50, 115, 284. 
 
 See Grouping and Organic Form. 
 Art in Ornament and Dress, 39, 132, 
 
 204, 224. 
 
 Art of Poetry, 214. 
 Artist, representation of self, 9. 
 Ascension, The, 257. 
 Association, 3, 4, 37, 127, 144, 148, 
 
 183, 244. 
 
 Assonance, 16, 195. 
 As through the land at eve we went, 
 
 107. 
 Athens, Market of, 79, 120-122, 289. 
 
 Baker, T., 250. 
 
 Balance, 33, 39, 45, 46, 97, 99, 126, 
 130, 131, 134, 154, 155, 171, 180, 
 185, 192, 209, 214, 222, 268 ; ar- 
 chitecture, 77, 78, 85-90, 1 86 ; 
 music, 66, 68 ; painting, 48 ; 
 poetry, 61, 63, 79 ; sculpture, 84. 
 
 Balanced confusion, 132. 
 
 Ballade of Sea Folk, 195. 
 
 Bannockburn, 59. 
 
 Barateau, 107. 
 
 Barham, R. H., 230. 
 
 Bars, musical, 64. 
 
 Bartolommeo, Fra, 72, 185. 
 
 Bashful Suitor, The, 255. 
 
 Bas-relief, 218. 
 
 Battle Hymn of Republic, no, 199. 
 
 Becker, C., 72, 174, 181. 
 
 Beecher, H. W., 113. 
 
 Beethoven, 6, 61, 170. 
 
 Beginning, in form 99, 101 ; music, 
 in ; oratory, 112. 
 
 Bethany, 43. 
 
 Beverley Minster, 235, 238, 241, 
 264. 
 
 Blanc, Charles, 39, 132, 204, 224, 
 280. 
 
 Blindness, Sonnet on, 166. 
 
 Bonheur, A., 255. 
 
 Boris, Tower of, 124, 239, 241. 
 
 Boticelli, 297. 
 
 Breadth, 132, 136, 192, 213, 216 ; 
 architecture, 218 ; sculpture, 218. 
 
 Breton, Jules, 30, 83. 
 
 Brittany Washerwomen, 83. 
 
 Brown, W., 165. 
 
 Browning, R., 36, 55, 229, 272, 
 
 283 ; E. B., 230. 
 Brunswick, 294, 295. 
 Bryant, W. C., 53, 107. 
 Burns, 59 
 Bussler, L., 250. 
 By the North Sea, 64, 271, 272. 
 
 Cadences, 25, 198, 213. 
 
 Campanile, 89. 
 
 Campbell, 137. 
 
 Campo Santo, Pisa, 297. 
 
 Canal, 115, 118, 156, 157, 158, 159, 
 
 172, 238. 
 
 Cana, Marriage at, 83. 
 Cannon, 232. 
 Canopy over statue, 122. 
 Canova, 120. 
 Canterbury, 261, 262 ; Cathedral, 
 
 18, 77, 89, 90, 124, 207, 261. 
 j Capitol, 1 20. 
 Cardena, San Pedro de, 295, 
 
 296. 
 Carthage, Decline of, 16, 31, 82, 
 
 118, 156, 159, 172, 175, 238. 
 Casa d'Alba, 117. 
 Catacombs, Chapel in, 259, 262. 
 Cathedral, 238 ; English, 298 ; 
 
 American, 92-95 ; ground plan 
 
 of, 95. See St. and Church. 
 Cattle, 16, 138, 172, 173. 
 Cavalry song, 102. 
 Central Congregational Church, 22, 
 
 23, 189, 208. 
 Central-point, 131, 151-187, 192, 
 
 209, 212, 216, 220, 239, 266, 267, 
 
 278, 284. 
 Chaldea, 201. 
 
 Change. See Variety, Alteration. 
 Chapel, in catacombs, 259, 262 ; 
 
 Sistine, 30. 
 
 Chart of methods of art composi- 
 tion, 131. 
 Chateau, at Montigny, 31, 37, 77, 
 
 78, 121, 221, 222, 235, 251 ; de 
 
 Randau, 124, 180, 258, 262. 
 Chatham, Lord, 29. 
 Chiaroscuro, 214. See Light and 
 
 Shade. 
 
 Chiavavalle, Tower of, 240, 241. 
 Chinese, 264. 
 Chord, 30, in, 170, 234, 245, 247, 
 
INDEX. 
 
 303 
 
 248, 251, 253, 274, 275 ; like with 
 
 like, 250, 274. 
 Chorus, 55, 195. 
 Christ, Scourging of, 72. 
 Church, 90, 92 ; suggested plan of, 
 
 Q2-95- 
 Circle, or Circularity, 159. See 
 
 Curvature. 
 
 Clan Alpin, Song of, 58. 
 Classification, artistic, 8, 10, 15, 22, 
 
 125-131 ; basis of knowledge, 6, 
 
 7 ; scientific, 7, 15, 22, 39, 44, 98, 
 
 125-130. 
 Claude Lorraine, 31, 119, 146, 156, 
 
 172. 
 
 Climax, 112, 212, 213. 
 Cloud, The, 24. 
 Coblentz, Old Bridge at, 48, 159, 
 
 174, 203. 
 
 Co-ca-che-lunk, 25. 
 Coleridge, 24. 
 Cologne Cathedral, 6, 17, 18, 87, 90, 
 
 190, 207, 291. 
 Color, 5, 16, 26, 32, 43, 72, 83, 118, 
 
 120-144, 156, 189, 204, 213-217, 
 
 219, 221, 245, 246, 249, 251, 254- 
 
 256, 268, 278, 279 ; balance, 83 ; 
 
 form, 118 ; principality, 72. 
 Come when I sleep, 106. 
 Comparison, 3, 4, 15, 16, 18, 24, 26, 
 
 33. 46, 53, 99. I20 128-134, 136, 
 
 148, 166, 189, 190, 200-204, 206, 
 
 216, 242-245, 254-258, 266. 
 Complement, 33, 45, 46, 50, 61, 64, 
 
 65, 69, 79-84, 85, 90, 101, 127- 
 
 131, 134, 136, 142, 154, 155, 185- 
 
 209, 222, 256, 268. 
 
 Complexity, 30, 97, 125-131, 134,209. 
 
 Complication, 131, 132, 192, 209, 
 222-242, 268. 
 
 Composition, Table of methods of 
 art-, 131. 
 
 Comprehensiveness, 131, 136-149, 
 153-209, 268. 
 
 Conception, representation of, gen- 
 eral, 10, 14, 44, 45, 125, 133, 134, 
 164, 297 ; symmetry of, 155. See 
 Themes. 
 
 Concord. See Consonance. 
 
 Confusion, 36-39, 97, 125-132, 134, 
 192, 220, 242, 249, 264. 
 
 Congruity, 46, 128, 131, 134-149, 
 
 150, 152, 155, 168, 183, 188, 192, 
 
 206, 209, 216, 243, 266. 
 Consistency, 132. See Massing. 
 Consonance, 46, 128-131, 134, 137, 
 
 144, 150, 162, 188, 209, 243-265, 
 
 266, 284. 
 Continuity, 130, 172, 178, 192, 209, 
 
 222-242, 270, 276, 277. 
 Contour, 43, 44, 50, no, 115-118, 
 
 120-124, 153, 154, 159, 161, 172, 
 
 1 86, 269, 284, 285. 
 Contrast, 22-37, 138-142, 148, 180, 
 
 189, 190, 209, 256, 268. 
 Convergence, 152. 
 Conversion of St. Paul, The, 72, 
 Corps, Legislatif, Paris, 280. 
 Corot, 118, 156, 159, 172, 174, 222, 
 
 223, 234, 238, 255. 
 Correggio, 16, 72, 120, 214, 215. 
 Counteraction, 33, 37, 39, 40, 42,45, 
 
 46, 50, 97, 125-131, 134, 136, 192, 
 
 209, 222, 242, 249. 
 Crabb, 220. 
 Cristabel, 24. 
 Critic, Destructive, 259 
 Criticism, Essay in, 136. 
 Cross, Descent from, 16, 72, 73, 80, 
 
 144, 190, 214, 235, 257. 
 Cupid and Psyche, 120. 
 Curvature, curves, no, 115-118, 
 
 120, 124, 148, 154, 159, 174, 176, 
 
 186, 265, 280-287. 
 
 Daedalus, 236. 
 
 Dancer, The, 16, 144, 182, 183, 257. 
 
 Dannat, W. T., 255. 
 
 Davis, C. H., 255. 
 
 Death of Ananias, 72, 144, 257, 287, 
 
 297. 
 Decline of Carthage, 16, 31, 82, 118, 
 
 156, 159, 172, 175, 238. 
 Delia Sedia, Madonna, 117. 
 Del Passegio, Madonna, 116. 
 Departure of swallow, 103. 
 Descent from Cross, 16, 72, 73, 80, 
 
 144, 190, 214, 235, 257. 
 Desdemona, 29, 72, 174. 
 Deserted, House, The, 107 ; Village, 
 
 137- 
 
 Design, 241, 258, 287. See Themes. 
 Development of arts, 4, 5 ; of idea, 
 
 10, 18, 297. 
 
304 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Diana, 75, 85, 120. 
 
 Dignity in Architecture, 77, 87, 187. 
 
 Digression, 164. 
 
 Discobolus, 83, 85. 
 
 Discord. See Dissonance. 
 
 Dissonance, 131, 162, 209, 247-268. 
 
 Dobson, 62. 
 
 Doggett, K. N., 280. 
 
 Dome, 76, 77, 87, 90. 
 
 Dominant, 254, 275. 
 
 Domenichino, 116. 
 
 Door, 75. 
 
 Doorway of church in Jak, 180, 289, 
 
 291 ; in Khorsbad, 201. 
 Doric, 146. 
 Drama, 29, 54. 
 Drawing, Elements of, 69, 130, 160, 
 
 203, 216. 
 
 Drift, 232, 234, 267, 274. 
 Duration, 130, 131. 
 Dutt, T., 106. 
 
 Edbrooke, G. H., 92, 241. 
 
 Edgar, 138. 
 
 Edison Building, 21, 22, 189, 208. 
 
 Edwards, Miss, 70. 
 
 Effects, The, considered in science 
 
 and art, 7, 8. 
 
 Egypt, Egyptian, 18, 66, 70, 204. 
 Em Feste Burg, 66. 
 Elaboration, 5, 20, 164. 
 Elevation, front and side, 238, 241, 
 
 251. 
 
 Ellipsis, 36. 
 Emerson, R. W., 220. 
 End, Beginning, middle, and, 99, 
 
 IOI, III, 112. 
 
 Enoch Arden, 137. 
 En Route, 231. 
 Entombment, The, 214. 
 Epic, 50, 53. 
 Epistle, 272. 
 Eros, 30, 31, 186. 
 Essay on Criticism, 136. 
 Evening, 31, 118, 119, 146, 156, 172. 
 Everett, 113, 220. 
 Even numbers, 79. 96. 
 Exeter Cathedral, 236, 238, 241, 264. 
 Extension, 130, 131. 
 Expression of artist's thought, 9 ; for 
 expression's sake, 4. See Themes. 
 Ezekiel, 116. 
 
 Fairy Queen, 137. 
 
 Fanny, To, 107. 
 
 Farewell, 107. 
 
 Farnese Palace, 263, 265 ; Tauro, 
 
 120. 
 
 Faun, Reposing, 120. 
 
 Faust, 109. 
 
 Feeling, representation of, 2, 3, 5, 
 19. 
 
 Feet in metre, 16, 63, 189, 195. 
 
 First principles of symmetrical 
 beauty, 284. 
 
 Fishermen, The, 107. 
 
 Florence, 45, 74, 144. 
 
 Foot. See Feet. 
 
 Form in art, 40, 63 ; color, 44, 118 ; 
 developed from theme, 10, 50, 63, 
 134, 189 ; expression, 45, 134 ; 
 for form's sake, 4, 5 ; French, of 
 verse, 55-62, 107, 195 ; in music, 
 periodic, no; in nature, 5, n, 
 12, 45 ; in poetry, 100-109, J 95 
 230 ; through sound, 169. See 
 Organic. 
 
 Fortress, Romans Besieging a Ger- 
 man, 16, 26, 27, 174, 182. 
 
 Fortuna, 120. 
 
 Fortuny, 255. 
 
 Foster, 59. 
 
 Foundation in architecture, 122. 
 
 French, Forms of, verse, 55-62, 107, 
 195. 
 
 Fret, Greek, 200. 
 
 Ganymede, 120. 
 Gardener's Daughter, 137. 
 Garnet, F. M., 256. 
 Gate of Palace, Nancy, 76, 218, 
 219 ; Serrano, 47, 48, 79, 87, 92. 
 Gay, 25, 272. 
 German Captive, 176, 177, 182, 
 
 257. 
 Gerome, 16, 30, 72, 80-82, 144, 
 
 172, 179, 182, 217. 
 Gertrude of Wyoming, 137. 
 Gilbert, 139, 141, 221. 
 Gimbel, C., 59. 
 Go, lovely rose ! 105. 
 Gossip, 265. 
 Gothic, 17, 89, 144, 146, 206, 207, 
 
 242, 298. 
 Gozzoli, B., 297. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 305 
 
 Grace in architecture, 187. 
 
 Gradation, 131, 149, 235, 249, 250, 
 256, 266-289 ' i n nature, 266, 268 ; 
 phonetic, 271. 
 
 Graeco-Roman, 18. 
 
 Grammar of painting and engrav- 
 ing, 280. 
 
 Grant, J. C., 56. 
 
 Grave, The, 57. 
 
 Greek, Greeks, 137, 176 ; in archi- 
 tecture, 16, 87, 89, 96, 146, 176, 
 206, 207, 261, 286; in sculpture, 
 286. 
 
 Group-form, 35. 
 
 Grouping, u, 35, 44, 69-96, 98- 
 124, 131. See Organic Form and 
 Massing. 
 
 Goethe, 137. 
 
 Goldsmith, 137. 
 
 Gough, J. B., 113. 
 
 Guido, 116. 
 
 Hamlet, 6, 29, 36, 54, 109, 138, 
 
 163, 212. 
 Harmony, 29, 33, 129, 130, 131, 
 
 170, 189, 204, 232, 234, 243, 244, 
 
 249, 252, 253, 256, 257, 265, 268, 
 
 273-275, 300. 
 
 Harmony, Elements of, 250. 
 Hay, D. R., 285. 
 Help, Law of, 132, 246. 
 Henry II. Receiving Crown, 15, 72, 
 
 189 ; V., 29; IV., 211. 
 Henry's missal, 72. 
 Herculaneum, 75. 
 Hermann und Dorothea, 137. 
 History of Moses, The, 297. 
 Holy Family, The, 120. 
 Holy Night, The, 16, 72, 80, 120, 
 
 190, 214, 215, 257. 
 Homer, 53, 197. 
 Home, Sweet Home ! 55. 
 Home they brought, etc., 107. 
 House, Plan of small, 84, 85, 96, 
 
 124, 187. 
 How they brought the good news, 
 
 etc., 57. 
 
 Howe, J. W., 200. 
 Howitt, W., 105. 
 Hugo, V., 106. 
 Human figure, The, and human 
 
 head, 285. 
 
 Idea, progress of, represented in 
 
 space, 297, 298. See Themes. 
 Idyls of the King, 54, 137. 
 Iffly Church, 90, 92, 124. 
 Iliad, 53, 109. 
 
 Imagination the source of art, 18 
 Imitation, 3, 4, 10. 
 Impannata, Madonna del, 117. 
 Improvement possible in art, 206. 
 Incongruity, 135-149, 209, 268. See 
 
 Congruity. 
 Incongruous, 155. 
 Indian summer, The, 62. 
 Infinite, 165. 
 In Memoriam, 58, 271. 
 Interchange, 131, 243, 247, 250, 268, 
 
 274, 275, 280. 
 Interspersion, 131, 192, 209, 216, 
 
 220-242, 268. 
 Intonation, 3. 
 Investiture of a bishop by a king, 48, 
 
 79, 80. 
 Ionic, 146. 
 Israels, J., 235. 
 
 Italian Scenery, 144 ; towers, 291. 
 Italians, 185. 
 
 Jak, Doorway in church at, 180, 
 
 289, 291. 
 
 Japanese compositions, 46, 156, 161. 
 Jones, Bolton, 255. 
 
 Kaulbach, 116, 242. 
 
 Keats, 137. 
 
 Key, 29, 55, 170, 245, 250, 253, 
 
 254, 274, 275. 
 
 Keynote, 170, 171, 247, 248. 
 Khorsbad, Ornamental doorway at, 
 
 201. 
 
 Kingsley, C., 107, 198. 
 Kitty of Colraine, 107. 
 Koran case, Ancient, 37, 38, 224,236. 
 Kremlin, Tower in, 239. 
 Kynelle, 56. 
 
 Laban, 67. 
 
 La Belle Jardiniere, 116. 
 
 Lady Clara Vere de Vere, 271. 
 
 Laertes, 138. 
 
 Landscape, 221, 222, 226, 227 ; with 
 
 water, 118, 156, 172, 174, 222, 
 
 223, 234. 
 
THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Language, 3 ; plain and figurative, 
 
 239- 
 
 Laocoon, The, 120, 182, 204, 226, 
 235, 238. 
 
 La Soir, 255. 
 
 Lear, King, 29, 54, 139, 228. 
 
 Leaves illustrating principality, sub- 
 ordination, complement, 69. 
 
 Leaves of Grass, 21. 
 
 Leda, 74, 75, 85, 179, 235, 257. 
 
 Legend of a Shirt, 230. 
 
 Lerolle, H., 118. 
 
 Lied der Freiheit, 25. 
 
 Light and shade, 32, 33, 72, 118, 
 120, 144, 151, 156, 172, 210, 213, 
 
 214-217, 221, 255, 256, 268, 269, 
 ,278, 279. 
 
 Like with like, 7, 9, 10, n, 15, 16, 
 18, 20, 26, 28, 53, 59, 64, 126, 134, 
 137, 140, 144, 148, 151, 166, 170, 
 183, 189, 190, 195-200, 204, 206, 
 210, 242, 244, 245, 246, 250, 251, 
 254-256, 274, 275. 
 
 Like with unlike, 20, 22, 45, 127, 
 190, 208. See Like with Like. 
 
 Lines, in metre, 16, 24, 54, 61, 62, 
 65, 107, 167, 169, 170, 189, 195, 
 198, 230, 232, 233, 251, 253 ; in 
 shape, 32, 42-44, 50, 82, 115- 
 117, 151, 154-161, 169, 172, 180- 
 182, 185, 189, 194, 196, 224, 226, 
 227, 230, 233, 238, 239, 261, 262, 
 269, 279-285, 287, 289, 291, 
 299. 
 
 Lohengrin, Overture, in. 
 
 Longfellow, 103, 272. 
 
 Lorraine, Claude, 31, 119, 144, 146, 
 156, 172. 
 
 Louvre, The, 74, 75, 179 ; The Old, 
 1 86, 187. 
 
 Love's Silence, 168. 
 
 Lucca Madonna, 72, 185. 
 
 Luther, 66. 
 
 Lyons, 87 ; Palace of Justice at, 85. 
 See St. Nizier. 
 
 Lyric, 50. 
 
 Macbeth, 163, 164. 
 Madonnas, 72, 116, 117. 
 March, A, 221 ; to Moscow, 212. 
 Market of Athens, 79, 120-123, 289. 
 Marr, C., 255. 
 
 Marx, 274. 
 
 Mason, L., 43, 65, 67. 
 
 Massing, 74, 120, 209-222, 226, 266, 
 
 267, 278. 
 Material considerations in art, 40, 
 
 133- 
 Matter, relation to art, I, 6, 9, 14, 
 
 125, 127. 
 
 Matthews, B., 231. 
 Measures. See Metre. 
 Melody, 16, 25, 33, 50, 59, 64, 170, 
 
 198, 232, 233, 253, 273, 274. 
 Memphis, 70. 
 Merchant of Venice, 29. 
 Mercury, 75, 76, 85, 120. 
 Metaphors, 5 ; mixed, 36 ; parallel- 
 ism, 166. 
 Methods of art, 6 ; Table of those of 
 
 composition, 131. 
 Methuen, Epistle to, 272. 
 Metopes, 210. 
 Metre, 16, 42, 54, 55, 61, 64, 67, 
 
 68, 169, 170, 198. 
 Metropolitan Museum, N. Y., 30, 
 
 33, 83, 118, 255, 256. 
 McCarthy, J. H., 56. 
 Middle, The beginning and, in form, 
 
 99, no, 112'. 
 Miller, M. M., 108. 
 Millet, 144, 145. 
 Milton, J., 53, 166, 221, 253. 
 Mind, Representation of, in art, 2, 
 
 3, 5, 9, 10, 14, 15, 22, 125, 127, 
 
 233- 
 
 Missionary Hymn, 65. 
 Mithras Stabbing the Bull, 74, 120, 
 
 179, 180, 218. 
 Modern painters, 282. 
 Modulation, 29. See Transition. 
 Monkhouse, C., 232. 
 Monks in oratory, 256. 
 Monotony, 30, 198, 249. 
 Montgomery, 57, 104. 
 Montigny, Chateau, 31, 37, 77, 78, 
 
 124, 221, 222, 235, 251. 
 
 Moore, T., 168. 
 
 Moor, Moorish, 144, 238. 
 
 Morris, W., 53. 
 
 Mors et Vita, 108. 
 
 Moscow, Kremlin, 239 ; Retreat 
 
 from, 212. 
 Mosques, 77, 86, 90. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 307 
 
 Mozart, 25, 67. 
 
 Murillo, 1 20. 
 
 Museum, British, 29-31, 182-184 I 
 New York Metropolitan, 30, 33, 
 83, 118, 255, 256 ; Uffizi, 144. 
 
 Music, art of : abruptness, 274 ; al- 
 teration, 25, 198 ; alternation, 
 
 198, 199 ; balance, complement, 
 33, 50, 64-68, 171 ; central point, 
 170; comparison, 15, 16, 134, 189, 
 242-245 ; complication, 233 ; con- 
 fusion, 37, 39 ; congruity, 135, 
 
 141, 142 ; consonance, 244-251, 
 
 253, 254, 256 ; continuity, 234, 
 277 ; contrast, 29, 30, 33, 141, 
 142 ; counteraction, 33, 40, 42, 
 64-68 ; dissonance, 249, 250, 253, 
 
 254, 256 ; gradation, 273-275 ; 
 interchange, 250, 274 ; inter- 
 spersion, 221, 232 ; like with like, 
 9, 10, 15, 16, 59, 64, 134, 141, 
 170, 189, 198-200, 244, 245, 250, 
 274, 275 ; massing, 213 ; organic 
 form, 40, no, in ; origin of, 3- 
 5 ; parallelism, 170, 171 ; princi- 
 pality, 50, 59-61 ; progress, 234, 
 276, 277 ; repetition, 199, 200, 
 244, 245, 250 ; setting, 153, 170 ; 
 symmetry, 171 ; theme, develop- 
 ment of, 3, 4, 6, 44, 50, 59, 109- 
 iii, 133, 141, 170, 171, 189, 198, 
 
 199, 210, 213, 232, 233 ; transi- 
 tion, 250, 274, 275 ; unity, 52, 
 no, in, 142, 171 ; variety, see 
 Contrast. 
 
 Musical composition, 274. 
 
 Nancy, Gate of palace, 76, 218, 219. 
 
 Napoleon III. in Italy, 230. 
 
 Nature conditioning art, 2, 5, 10, 
 n, 14, 22, 36, 50, 98, 99, in, 
 115, 120, 122, 127, 129, 135, 137, 
 
 142, 144, 148, 154, 156, 159-161, 
 172, 176, 178, 186, 192-194, 214, 
 
 219, 221, 226, 238, 258, 264, 268, 
 
 269, 279, 28.1, 286, 287 ; represen- 
 tation of. in art, 3-6, 12, 14, 18, 
 20, 144 ; true to itself, 202, 203, 
 226, 227. 
 
 Nebo, Bust of, 183, 184. 
 
 New London, 193. 
 
 Night, 104. 
 
 Nile, Thousand miles up the, 70. 
 Niobe, Sculptured group of, 16, 144, 
 
 146, 204, 257, 298. 
 Nocturne, 107, 221. 
 Norman, 50, 144, 298. 
 Notes, Musical, 194, 198, 213, 244- 
 
 246, 253, 254. 
 
 Odd numbers in art, 79, 96. 
 
 Odyssey, 53. 
 
 Old Black Joe, 59, 170. 
 
 Old bridge at Coblentz, 48, 159, 
 
 174, 203. 
 O Mary, go and call the cattle 
 
 home, 107. 
 Ophelia, 29, 138. 
 Oratory, Organic form of, in. 
 Order, 34-37, 97, 131, 133, 134, 
 
 142, 149, 150, 180, 183, 192, 220, 
 
 222, 241, 242, 287, 297. 
 
 Organic form, 98-124, 130, 131, 
 134, 155, 160, 167, 169, 186, 266, 
 268. 
 
 Organism. See Organic Form. 
 
 Organ recital, 118. 
 
 Oriental, 77. 
 
 Ornament in art and dress, 39, 132, 
 204, 224. 
 
 Ornament, earliest, 200. 
 
 Othello, picture, 72, 174, 181, 239 ; 
 play, 29, 162, 229. 
 
 Outlines, 5, 26, 43, 50, 72, 115-120, 
 154, 158, 159, 172, 178, 180-183, 
 217, 224-242, 246, 262, 264, 268, 
 269, 281, 284, 295, 299. 
 
 Oval, 117, 159. See Contour, Curv- 
 ature. 
 
 Painting, abruptness, 269, 279 ; 
 alteration, 26, 202, 204, 255 ; 
 alternation, 194, 202-204 ! bal- 
 ance, complement, counteraction, 
 
 33, 43~48, 79-84, 256 ; central- 
 point and radiation, 151-154, 
 156-161, 172-174, 284 ; compari- 
 son, 15, 16, 18, 26, 134, 144, 189, 
 200-204, 254-257 ; complication, 
 222, 224, 234, 235 ; confusion, 
 
 34, 37-39, 242 ; congruity, 134, 
 144149, 183 ; consonance, 246, 
 249, 251, 254-257; continuity, 
 172, 224-227, 234, 235, 238, 242 ; 
 
308 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 contour, 44, 50, 115-118, 154, 
 159, 161, 172; contrast, 22, 26, 
 28, 32, 33, 148, 180; curvature, 
 43, 115, 117, 159, 174, 280-286; 
 gradation, 235, 256, 269, 278-287 ; 
 interchange, 251 ; interspersion, 
 221, 222, 234, 235 ; like with like, 
 9, 10, 15, 16, 18, 26, 134, 144, 151, 
 183, 189, 204, 210, 242, 246, 254- 
 256; massing, 72, 74, 210, 213-217 ; 
 order, 26, 34, 114, 115, 202, 204, 
 242 ; organic form, 44, 115-120 ; 
 origin of, 4-6 ; parallelism, 151, 
 159-161, 180-183, 222, 287 ; pic- 
 turesque, 222, 234 ; principality, 
 45, 48, 50, 70, 72, 172, 179, 210, 
 214 ; progress, 297, 298 ; repeti- 
 tion, 16, 134, 144, 189, 200, 202, 
 203, 246, 254-256 ; setting, 153, 
 179, 1 80 ; symmetry, 115, 131, 
 154, 156, 183, 185, 186 ; theme, 
 development of, 4, 5, 6, 10, 44, 
 50, 72, 115-120, 133, 142, 144, 
 148, 153, 172, 173, 187, 189, 194, 
 
 2O2, 2IO, 213-217, 221, 238, 246, 
 
 297 ; tone, 204, 250, 254-256 ; 
 
 transition, 256, 269, 285 ; unity, 
 
 39, 117, 144, 172, 226, 246, 255, 
 
 256 ; variety, see Contrast. 
 Pantoum, 231. 
 Palace of Justice, Lyons, 85, 87, 96, 
 
 261. 
 
 Paradise, 82. 
 
 Paradise Lost, 53, 54, 109, 221. 
 Parallelism, 131, 151-187, 202, 222, 
 
 239, 257, 261, 262, 268. 
 Paris, 50. 
 
 Parish register, 221. 
 Parliament, Houses of, 76, 78. 
 Patience, 139, 221. 
 Payne, H., 55 ; J., 196. 
 Perspective, Laws of, 158, 176, 286 ; 
 
 in nature, 159, 25. 
 Philosophy, relation to classification, 
 
 7- 
 
 Phonetic gradation, 271. 
 Phrase, 16, 50, 54, 61, 65, 70, 71, 
 
 107, 183, 195, 197, 274. 
 Piankli Receiving Submission, etc., 
 
 70, 189. 
 
 Picturesque, 222, 234. 
 Pisa, 297. 
 
 Pitch, 40, 130, 131, 209, 244, 245, 
 261, 270, 273, 274. 
 
 Poe, 50. 
 
 Poetry, Art of : abruptness, 272, 273 ; 
 accent, 42, 130, 131, 169, 171, 194, 
 195, 198, 251, 271 ; alliteration, 
 16, 195, 251 ; alteration, 24, 
 139, 198 ; alternation, 63, 195, 
 198 ; assonance, 16, 195 ; balance, 
 complement, 33, 50, 61-63, 68, 
 169, 101 ; central-point, 152, 153, 
 163-166,169; comparison, 15, 16, 
 18, 24, 53, 134, 166, 189 ; compli- 
 cation, 228232 ; confusion, 36, 
 37, 39 ; congruity, 136-141 ; con- 
 sonance, 244, 251-253; continuity, 
 
 238, 276 ; contrast, 22, 24, 25, 29, 
 33. 138-141 ; counteraction, 33, 40, 
 42, 61-63, 68 ; dissonance, 252 ; 
 form, 40, 100109 formlessness, 
 20 ; gradation, 270-272 ; inter- 
 spersion, 220, 228-232 ; like with 
 like, 9, 15, 16, 53, 134, 137, 166, 
 189, 195-198, 210, 251 ; massing, 
 210-212 ; organic form, 100-109; 
 origin of, 3-5 ; parallelism, 166- 
 169 ; phonetic gradation, 271 ; 
 principality, 45, 50, 52-59 ; prog- 
 ress, 276, 277 ; repetition, 195- 
 198 ; rhyme, 16, 55, 61, 189, 195, 
 197, 198, 251 ; rhythm, 37, 54, 
 130, 131, 169, 189, 198, 204, 230, 
 
 239, 251, 271 ; setting, 153, 163, 
 166, 169 ; theme, development of, 
 3, 4, 6, 10, 44, 50, 53, 59, 100- 
 109, 125-130, 133, 136-141, 151, 
 152, 153, 163-168, 189, 194-199, 
 210-212, 221, 228 ; transition, 
 272, 273 ; unity, 52, 54, 100-109, 
 137, 141, 168 ; variety, see Con- 
 trast. 
 
 Poetry, picture, 116. 
 
 Point, 152 ; vanishing, 158. See 
 Central-point. 
 
 Pope, 104, 136, 272. 
 
 Porch, 75. 
 
 Poutou Temple, 18, 124, 207, 208. 
 
 Presentiment, 107. 
 
 Princess, The, 58. 
 
 Principality, in form, 44, 45, 48, 50, 
 55-59. 6 9> 72, 76, 78, 9. 97, 99, 
 101, 126, 130, 131, 134, 142, 152, 
 
INDEX. 
 
 309 
 
 154, 158, 160, 172, 209, 214, 220, 
 
 266, 267, 278 ; in theme, 50, 53, 
 
 54, 59, 61, 64, 72, 75, 76, 164. 
 Product, The, of art, 2, 5, 9 ; how 
 
 developed from theme, 50. See 
 
 Themes. 
 
 Progress, 131, 266, 268, 270, 276,297. 
 Proportion, 84, 130, 131, 178, 184, 
 
 185, 189, 205, 265, 286, 300. 
 Propriety, 135. 
 Psalms, 167. 
 Public Library, New London, 123, 
 
 190, 193. 
 
 Quadroon Girl, 272. 
 Quality, 273, 274. 
 
 Radiation, in art, 72, 115, 152, 159, 
 
 1 60, 156, 172-176 ; in nature, 
 
 160. See Central-point. 
 Railroad rhyme, 59. 
 Randau, Chateau of, 124, 180, 258, 
 
 262. 
 Raphael, 6, 41, 72, 82, 116, 117, 
 
 147, 148, 242, 257, 287, 297. 
 Rathhouse, Brunswick, 294, 295. 
 Raven, The, 50. 
 Reformation, The, 242. 
 Refrain, 55, 195, 198. 
 Religion, relation to art, 2. 
 Rembrandt, 120, 214, 219. 
 Renaissance, 144. 
 Repetition, 46, 62, 64, in, 128- 
 
 132, 134, 144, 150, 189-208, 216, 
 
 226, 243, 245, 256, 257, 266, 267, 
 
 270, 284. 
 Representation, of nature, 2, 6, 9, 
 
 n, 12, 14, 2O2, 203, 226, 227 ; of 
 
 thought, 3, 9, 10. See Themes. 
 Return, Soldier's, 16, 26, 174, 176, 
 
 182, 257- 
 
 Reynolds, Sir J., 214. 
 Rhyme, 16, 55, 61, 189, 195, 197, 
 
 198, 251. 
 Rhythm, 37, 54, 57, 130, 131, 169, 
 
 189, 198, 202, 204, 230, 239, 251, 
 
 271. 
 
 Ring and the Book, 229, 272, 273. 
 Romanesque, 207. 
 Romans Besieging German Fortress, 
 
 16, 26, 27, 174, 182. 
 Rome, 77, 78, 263, 297. 
 
 Rondeau, 108, 195, 196. 
 Rondel, 56, 109, 195. 
 Roof, 123, 124. 
 Rose, Go, lovely, 105. 
 Rouen, 12, 37, 241, 295, 298. 
 Rubens, 16, 72, 73, 144, 214. 
 Ruskin, 31, 32, 69, 122, 123, 131, 
 160, 174, 203, 216, 219, 246, 282. 
 Ruysdael, 144. 
 
 Sacred Heart, Church of, 18, 49, 50, 
 190, 264. 
 
 Salisbury Cathedral, 18, 76, 186, 
 190, 206, 207, 261. 
 
 San Pedro de Cardena, 295, 296. 
 
 Saxe, 190. 
 
 School of Athens, 41, 82, 242. 
 
 Science, relation to art, 2, 7. 
 
 Scollard, C., 56, 109. 
 
 Scott, Sir W., 58. 
 
 Scourging of Christ, 72. 
 
 Sculpture, Art of: abruptness, 269, 
 285, 287 ; alteration, 26, 202 ; 
 alternation, 194, 201 ; balance, 
 complement, counteraction, 33, 
 43-48, 79, 84, 85 ; central-point, 
 151, 158, 174-176 ; comparison, 
 15, 16, 18, 26, 134, 144, 189, 200- 
 204, 257 ; complication, 222, 224, 
 2 34. 2 35 ; confusion, 37-39 ; con- 
 gruity, 134, 144-146, 183 ; conso- 
 nance, 246, 249, 257 ; continuity, 
 224, 227, 234, 235 ; contrast, 22, 
 26, 30, 33, 180 ; contour, 44, 120- 
 122, 159 ; curvature, 43, 159, 280- 
 
 286 ; gradation, 280, 282-286 ; 
 Greek, 286 ; interspersion, 227, 
 235 ; like with like, 9, 15, 16, 18, 
 26, 134, 144, 151, 183, 189, 204, 
 210, 257 ; massing, 210, 217, 218 ; 
 order, 26, 115, 204 ; organic form, 
 
 44, 1 20 ; origin of, 4, 5 ; parallel- 
 ism, 151-159, 161, 180-183, 222, 
 
 287 ; proportion, 286 ; principality, 
 
 45. 50, 70, 74, 75, J 79, 210; 
 progress, 298 ; repetition, 16, 134, 
 144, 189, 204, 257 ; setting, 180 ; 
 symmetry, 176, 183, 185, 186 ; 
 theme, development of, 4-6, 44, 
 50, 74, 75, 120, 122, 133, 144, 
 174, 183, 189, 210, 221, 297; 
 transition, 285. 
 
3 io 
 
 THE GENESIS OF ART-FORM. 
 
 Sehnsucht nach dem Fruhling, 67, 
 no. 
 
 Senses, lower, 6 ; higher, 126, 127. 
 
 Sentence, Organic form of, 100. 
 
 Serrano, Gate of, 47, 48, 79, 87, 96. 
 
 Setting, 131, 161-187, 209, 268. 
 
 Seventh, chord of, 254, 275. 
 
 Shade. See Light and Shade. 
 
 Shady Side Presbyterian Church, 91, 
 92, 96, 124, 186, 190. 
 
 Shakespeare, 6, 10, 29, 36, 37, 139, 
 163, 211, 212, 229, 252. 
 
 Shanley, 107. 
 
 Sharp, W., 195. 
 
 Shelley, 24. 
 
 Shepley, Rutan and Coolidge, 91. 
 
 Sherman, F. D., 107. 
 
 Sidney, Sir P., 168. 
 
 Sienna, Cathedral of, 18, 87, 207, 
 261, 291, 292. 
 
 Sight, expression in, 6, 43. 
 
 Sigurd the Volsung, 53. 
 
 Simile, 5, 166. 
 
 Sistine Chapel, 30, 297 ; Madonna, 
 116, 117. 
 
 Smith, H., 107. 
 
 Snowflake in May, 109. 
 
 Soldier's Return, 16, 26, 174, 176, 
 182, 257. 
 
 Soloman, 238. 
 
 Song, of Clan Alpine, 58 ; of Italy, 
 252. 
 
 Sonnet on his Blindness, 165. 
 
 Sordello, 36. 
 
 Sound, causing verse-form, 169 ; ex- 
 pression in, 6, 40, 52, 168 ; grada- 
 tion in, 269, 270 ; waves of, 244, 
 
 245. 
 
 Southey, 212. 
 Sower, The, 106. 
 Spanish Lady, 255. 
 Spencer, H., 4. 
 Spirit, Expression of, i, 40. 
 St. Agnes Eve, 137. 
 Star-Spangled Banner, 55. 
 St. Botolph Church, 260, 262. 
 Stedman, E. C., 102. 
 St. Hilaire Church, 237, 241, 251. 
 St. John, picture, 116. 
 St. Loo Cathedral, 234, 240. 
 St. Maclou Church, 295, 298. 
 St. Mark's Church, 18, 77, 87, 88, 
 
 90, 96, 124, 180, 186, 190, 207, 
 
 261, 262. 
 
 St. Martyn's Church, 261, 262. 
 St. Michael, picture, 116. 
 St. Nizier Church, 22, 189, 205, 206, 
 
 208, 261. 
 Storm, A, 144, 145. 
 
 St. Paul, Conversion of. 72. 
 
 St. Peter's Cathedral, 18, 77, 78, 87, 
 
 96, 124, 186, 207, 265. 
 St. Sophia Mosque, 16, 76, 77, 96, 
 
 123, 124, 180, 187, 190, 207, 261, 
 262. 
 
 Styles in architecture, 146, 205 ; 
 
 mixed, 146, 148, 149, 205-208, 
 
 295 ; new, 206, 293, 
 Subdominant, 254, 275. 
 Subordination, 45, 48, 50, 59, 64, 
 
 69, 90, 97, 99, 101, 126, 130, 131, 
 
 134, 153, 158, 164, 179, 190, 209, 
 
 249, 250, 262. 
 
 Suleymaniya Mosque, 82, 90. 
 Sullivan, 139, 221. 
 Swallow, Departure of, 103. 
 Swinburne, 63, 251, 271, 272. 
 Symmetrical, 184, 185. 
 Symmetry, 46, 82, 89, 115, 154,155, 
 
 209, 224, 268, 284. 
 Symphony, 221, 232 ; C Minor No. 
 
 5, 61, in, 170. 
 
 Table of methods of art composi- 
 tion, 131. 
 Taj Mahal, 18, 19, 75, 77, 87, 96, 
 
 124, 180, 186, 190, 207, 261. 
 Take them, O Death, 103. 
 Tannhauser, 142, 148, 221. 
 Tauro Farnese, 120. 
 Teniers, 16, 82, 144. 
 Tennyson, 58, 107, 137, 197, 271. 
 Texture by color, 255. 
 
 Thayer, S. H., 165. 
 
 Theatre, designs for, 22, 190, 191, 
 208, 261. 
 
 Themes, how developed into form, 
 3, 12, 14, 18, 20, 45, 50, 59, 61, 
 76, 100, 101, 109, 126-130, 133, 
 134, 137, 138, 142, 144, 154, 163, 
 
 164, 167, 189, 2O2, 2O4, 2O6, 2IO, 
 214, 217, 221, 228, 229, 232, 258, 
 264. 
 
 Theseus, 284, 285. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Thought, representation of, 2, 3, 5, 
 
 9, 14, 19, 52, 126, 189 ; in archi- 
 tecture, 76, 77. 
 
 Thousand miles up the Nile, 70. 
 Tides, The, 107. 
 Time, 16, 183, 273, 274, 297. 
 Timon of Athens, 37. 
 Tintoretto, 82. 
 Titian, 72, 214. 
 
 Titus, 74, 75, 85, 120, 180, 186, 289. 
 Tomlinson, W. W., 106. 
 Tone, color, 204, 250 ; sound, 189, 
 
 204, 246, 255, 256 ; prime and 
 
 partial, 244-248. 
 Ton-Halle, Design for, 22, 190, 191, 
 
 208, 261. 
 
 Tonic, 170, 254, 275. 
 Tower, 76, 87, 89, 90, 92 ; of Boris, 
 
 239, 241 ; of Chiavavalle, 240, 
 
 241 ; with ring, 31. 
 Towers, Italian, 291 ; gradation in, 
 
 289-291. 
 Traditionalism in art, 137, 146, 149, 
 
 206, 293. 
 Transfiguration, The, 72, 82, 116, 
 
 118, 147, 148, 257. 
 Transition, 29, 131, 249, 250, 256, 
 
 266, 269, 278-280. 
 Triglyphs, 2OI. 
 Triolet, 56, 63, 109, 195. 
 Troyon, C., 16, 172, 173. 
 Turner, 6, 10, 31, 48, 82, 156, 172, 
 
 174, 203, 238, 246. 
 Twenty years, 107. 
 Twin effects, 33, 40, 48, 78, 90. 
 Twin Villa, 77, 78, 123, 124, 187. 
 
 Unities, Law of the, 137. 
 
 Unity, 15-18, 33-35, 37, 4&, 5*. 97, 
 99, 117, 125, 131, 134, 142, 168, 
 172, 190, 197, 216, 220, 226, 238, 
 241, 242, 249, 256, 265-267, 270, 
 287, 299, 300 
 
 Un Quatuor, 255. 
 
 Valentine, 107. 
 
 Value of color, 255. 
 
 Variations in music, 59, 64, 232. 
 
 Variety, 22-37, 64, 97, 125, 131, 
 
 134, 180, 186, 189, 190, 226, 249, 
 
 281, 299. 
 
 Vatican,. 120, 176. 
 Venice, 88 ; Stones of, 122. 
 Vere de Vere, Lady Clara, 271. 
 Veronese, Paul, 82, 83. 
 Verse, 183; blank, 54, French, Forms 
 
 of, 55, 62, 107, 195. 
 Verses writ in an album, 168. 
 Vichy, 258. 
 
 Village Dance, 16, 82, 143, 144, 190. 
 Villanelle, 195, 232. 
 Ville d'Avray, 255. 
 Virgil, 53. 
 Vitruvian scroll, 200. 
 
 Waddington, S., 108. 
 
 Wagner, in, 142, 148, 221. 
 
 Waller, E., 105. 
 
 Walls, 122, 124. 
 
 Washerwomen, Brittany, 83. 
 
 Wedge-shaped contour, 117. 
 
 Whitman, 21, 54. 
 
 Whittier, 62. 
 
 Winchester Cathedral, 227, 240. 
 
 Wind and Stream, The, 107. 
 
 Window in the Alhambra, 37, 222, 
 
 225, 236. 
 
 Wings, 40, 48, 77, 82, 87. 
 Winkleman's ancient art, 174. 
 Woodland and Cattle, 255. 
 Wordsworth, 273. 
 Wrestlers, The, 75, 77, 85. 
 Writing, 4. 
 
 Zaragoza, 290. 
 Ziegler, 280. 
 
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